, that I
mean to upbraid you: I am, on the contrary, going to release you from
any such apprehension _for the future._"

Those last three words he delivered with a countenance so serious and so
determined, with an accent so firm and so decided, they pierced through
her heart. Yet she did not weep, or even sigh; but her friend, knowing
what she felt, exclaimed, "Oh?" as if for her.

She herself strove with her anguish, and replied, (but with a faltering
voice) "I expected as much, my Lord."

"Then, Madam, you perhaps expect _all_ that I intend?"

"In regard to myself," she replied, "I suppose I do."

"Then," said he, "you may expect that in a few days we shall part."

"I am prepared for it, my Lord," she answered, and, while she said so,
sunk upon a chair.

"My Lord, what you have to say farther," said Miss Woodley, in tears,
"defer till the morning--Miss Milner, you see, is not able to bear it
now."

"I have nothing to _say_ further," replied he coolly--"I have now only to
act."

"Lord Elmwood," cried Miss Milner, divided between grief and anger, "you
think to terrify me by your menaces--but I can part with you--heaven knows
I can--your late behaviour has reconciled me to a separation."

On this he was going out of the room--but Miss Woodley, catching hold of
him, cried, "Oh! my Lord, do not leave her in this sorrow--pity her
weakness, and forgive it." She was proceeding; and he seemed as if
inclined to listen, when Sandford called out in a tone of voice so
harsh,

"Miss Woodley, what do you mean?"--She gave a start, and desisted.

Lord Elmwood then turned to Sandford, and said, "Nay, Mr. Sandford, you
need entertain no doubts of me--I have judged, and have deter----"

He was going to say _determined_; but Miss Milner, who dreaded the word,
interrupted the period, and exclaimed, "Oh! could my poor father know
the days of sorrow I have experienced since his death, how would he
repent his fatal choice of a protector!"

This sentence, in which his friend's memory was recalled, with an
additional allusion to her long and secret love for him, affected Lord
Elmwood much--he was moved, but ashamed of being so, and as soon as
possible conquered the propensity to forgive. Yet, for a short interval,
he did not know whether to go out of the room, or to remain in it;
whether to speak, or to be silent. At length he turned towards her, and
said,

"Appeal to your father in some other form--in that (pointing at her