"Oh, Madam," cried Sandford, "he is grown a libertine now, and I would not believe his word, if he were to give it you."

"Then, Sir," returned Dorriforth angrily, "you _may_ believe my word, for I will keep that which I gave to _you._ I will give Lord Frederick all the rest.i.tution in my power. But my dear Miss Milner, let not this alarm you; we may not find it convenient to meet this many a day; and most probably some fortunate explanation may prevent our meeting at all.

If not, reckon but among the many duels that are fought, how few are fatal: and even in that case, how small would be the loss to society, if----" He was proceeding.

"I should ever deplore the loss!" cried Miss Milner; "on such an occasion, I could not survive the death of either."

"For my part," he replied, "I look upon my life as much forfeited to my Lord Frederick, to whom I have given a high offence, as it might in other instances have been forfeited to the offended laws of the land.

Honour, is the law of the polite part of the land; we know it; and when we transgress against it knowingly, we justly incur our punishment.

However, Miss Milner, this affair will not be settled immediately, and I have no doubt, but that all will be as you could wish. Do you think I should appear thus easy," added he with a smile, "if I were going to be shot at by my Lord Frederick?"

"Very well!" cried Sandford, with a look that evinced he was better informed.

"You will stay within then, all this day?" said Miss Milner.

"I am engaged to dinner," he replied; "it is unlucky--I am sorry for it--but I'll be at home early in the evening."

"Stained with human blood," cried Sandford, "or yourself a corpse."

The ladies lifted up their hands!--Miss Milner rose from her seat, and threw herself at her guardian's feet.

"You kneeled to me last night, I now kneel to you," (she cried) "kneel, never desiring to rise again, if you persist in your intention. I am weak, I am volatile, I am indiscreet, but I have a heart from which some impressions can never--oh! never, be erased."

He endeavoured to raise her, she persisted to kneel--and here the affright, the terror, the anguish, she endured, discovered to her, her own sentiments--which, till that moment, she had doubted--and she continued,

"I no longer pretend to conceal my pa.s.sion--I love Lord Frederick Lawnly."

Her guardian started.

"Yes, to my shame I love him:" (cried she, all emotion) "I meant to have struggled with the weakness, because I supposed it would be displeasing to you--but apprehension for his safety has taken away every power of restraint, and I beseech you to spare his life."

"This is exactly what I thought," cried Sandford, with an air of triumph.

"Good heaven!" cried Miss Woodley.

"But it is very natural," said Mrs. Horton.

"I own," said Dorriforth, (struck with amaze, and now taking her from his feet with a force that she could not resist) "I own, Miss Milner, I am greatly affected and wounded at this contradiction in your character."--

"But did not I say so?" cried Sandford, interrupting him.

"However," continued he, "you may take my word, though you have deceived me in your's, that Lord Frederick's life is secure. For your sake, I would not endanger it for the universe. But let this be a warning to you"----

He was proceeding with the most austere looks, and pointed language, when observing the shame, and the self-reproach that agitated her mind, he divested himself in great measure of his resentment, and said, mildly,

"Let this be a warning to you, how you deal in future with the friends who wish you well. You have hurried me into a mistake that might have cost me my life, or the life of the man you love; and thus exposed _you_ to misery, more bitter than death."

"I am not worthy of your friendship, Mr. Dorriforth," said she, sobbing with grief, "and from this moment forsake me."

"No, Madam, not in the moment you first discover to me, how I can make you happy."

The conversation appearing now to become of a nature in which the rest of the company could have no share whatever, they were all, except Mr.

Sandford, retiring; when Miss Milner called Miss Woodley back, saying, "Stay you with me; I was never so unfit to be left without your friendship."

"Perhaps at present you can dispense with mine?" said Dorriforth. She made no answer. He then, once more a.s.sured her Lord Frederick's life was safe, and was quitting the room--but when he recollected in what humiliation he had left her, turning towards her as he opened the door, he added,

"And be a.s.sured, Madam, that my esteem for you, shall be _the same as ever._"

Sandford, as he followed him, bowed, and repeated the same words--"And, Madam, be a.s.sured that my esteem for you, shall be the same as ever."

CHAPTER XV.

This taunting reproof from Sandford made little impression upon Miss Milner, whose thoughts were all fixed on a subject of much more importance than the opinion which he entertained of her. She threw her arms about her friend the moment they were left alone, and asked, with anxiety, "What she thought of her behaviour?" Miss Woodley, who could not approve of the duplicity she had betrayed, still wished to reconcile her as much as possible to her own conduct, and replied, she "Highly commended the frankness with which she had, at last, acknowledged her sentiments."

"Frankness!" cried Miss Milner, starting. "Frankness, my dear Miss Woodley! What you have just now heard me say, is all a falsehood."

"How, Miss Milner!"

"Oh, Miss Woodley," returned she, sobbing upon her bosom, "pity the agonies of my heart, my heart, by nature sincere, when such are the fatal propensities it cherishes, that I must submit to the grossest falsehoods rather than reveal the truth."

"What can you mean?" cried Miss Woodley, with the strongest amazement in her face.

"Do you suppose I love Lord Frederick? Do you suppose I _can_ love him?

Oh fly, and prevent my guardian from telling him such an untruth."

"What can you mean?" repeated Miss Woodley; "I protest you terrify me."

For this inconsistency in the behaviour of Miss Milner, appeared as if her senses had been deranged.

"Fly," she resumed, "and prevent the inevitable ill consequence which will ensue, if Lord Frederick should be told this falsehood. It will involve us all in greater disquiet than we suffer at present."

"Then what has influenced you, my dear Miss Milner?"

"That which impels all my actions--an unsurmountable instinct--a fatality, that will for ever render me the most miserable of human beings; and yet you, even you, my dear Miss Woodley, will not pity me."

Miss Woodley pressed her closely in her arms, and vowed, "That while she was unhappy, from whatever cause, she still would pity her."

"Go to Mr. Dorriforth then, and prevent him from imposing upon Lord Frederick."

"But that imposition is the only means of preventing the duel," replied Miss Woodley. "The moment I have told him that your affection was but counterfeited, he will no longer refuse accepting the challenge."

"Then at all events I am undone," exclaimed Miss Milner, "for the duel is horrible, even beyond every thing else."

"How so?" returned Miss Woodley, "since you have declared you do not care for Lord Frederick?"

"But are you so blind," returned Miss Milner with a degree of madness in her looks, "as to believe I do not care for Mr. Dorriforth? Oh! Miss Woodley! I love him with all the pa.s.sion of a mistress, and with all the tenderness of a wife."