“No; not at all to-day.”
“How came that about, my Lord?”
Miss Milner played the ace of diamonds instead of the king of hearts.
“I shall call to-morrow,” answered Lord Elmwood; and then walking with a very ceremonious air up to Miss Milner, said, “He hoped she was perfectly recovered.”
Mrs. Horton begged her “To mind what she was about.” She replied, “I am much better, Sir.”
He then returned to Sandford again; but never, during all this time, did his eye once encounter Miss Woodley’s; and she, with equal care, avoided his.
Some cold dishes were now brought up for supper—Miss Milner lost her deal, and the game ended.
As they were arranging themselves at the supper-table, “Do, Miss Milner,” said Mrs. Horton, “have something warm for your supper; a chicken boiled, or something of that kind; you have eat nothing to-day.”
With feelings of humanity, and apparently no other sensation—but never did he feel his philanthropy so forcible—Lord Elmwood said, “Let me beg of you, Miss Milner, to have something provided for you.”
The earnestness and emphasis with which these few words were pronounced, were more flattering than the finest turned compliment would have been; her gratitude was expressed in blushes, and by assuring him she was now “So well, as to sup on the dishes before her.” She spoke, however, and had not made the trial; for the moment she carried a morsel to her lips, she laid it on her plate again, and turned paler, from the vain endeavour to force her appetite. Lord Elmwood had always been attentive to her; but now he watched her as he would a child; and when he saw by her struggles that she could not eat, he took her plate from her; gave her something else; and all with a care and watchfulness in his looks, as if he had been a tender-hearted boy, and she his darling bird, the loss of which would embitter all the joy of his holidays.