After some mature deliberations, Sandford was now preparing to go to Lord Elmwood at his house in town, and there, to deliver himself the news that must sooner or later be told; and he meant also to venture, at the same time, to keep the promise he had made to his dying Lady--but the news reached his Lordship before Sandford arrived; it was announced in the public papers, and by that means first came to his knowledge.

He was breakfasting by himself, when the newspaper that first gave the intelligence of Lady Elmwood's death, was laid before him--the paragraph contained these words:

"On Wednesday last died, at Dring Park, a village in Northumberland, the right honourable Countess Elmwood.--This lady, who has not been heard of for many years in the fashionable world, was a rich heiress, and of extreme beauty; but although she received overtures from many men of the first rank, she preferred her guardian, the present Lord Elmwood (then Mr. Dorriforth) to them all--and it is said, their marriage was followed by an uncommon share of felicity, till his Lordship going abroad, and remaining there some time, the consequences (to a most captivating young woman left without a protector) were such as to cause a separation on his return. Her Ladyship has left one child by the Earl, a daughter, about fifteen."

Lord Elmwood had so much feeling upon reading this, as to lay down the paper, and not take it up again for several minutes--nor did he taste his chocolate during this interval, but leaned his elbow on the table and rested his head upon his hand. He then rose up--walked two or three times across the room--sat down again--took up the paper--and read as usual.--Nor let the vociferous mourner, or the perpetual weeper, here complain of his want of sensibility--but let them remember that Lord Elmwood was a man--a man of understanding--of courage--of fort.i.tude--above all, a man of the nicest feelings--and who shall say, but that at the time he leaned his head upon his hand, and rose to walk away the sense of what he felt, he might not feel as much as Lady Elmwood did in her last moments.

Be this as it may, his susceptibility on the occasion was not suspected by any one--yet he pa.s.sed that day the same as usual; the next day too, and the day after. On the morning of the fourth, he sent for his steward to his study, and after talking of other business, said to him;

"Is it true that Lady Elmwood is dead?"

"It is, my Lord."

His Lordship looked unusually grave, and at this reply, fetched an involuntary sigh.

"Mr. Sandford, my lord," continued the steward, "sent me word of the news, but left it to my own discretion, whether I would make your Lordship acquainted with it or not: I let him know I declined."

"Where is Sandford?" asked Lord Elmwood.

"He was with my Lady," replied the steward.

"When she died?" asked he.

"Yes, my Lord."

"I am glad of it--he will see that every thing she desired is done--Sandford is a good man, and would be a friend to every body."

"He is a very good man indeed, my Lord."

There was now a silence.----Mr. Giffard then bowing, said, "Has your Lordship any further commands?"

"Write to Sandford," said Lord Elmwood, hesitating as he spoke, "and tell him to have every thing performed as she desired. And whoever she may have selected for the guardian of her child, has my consent to act as such.--Nor in one instance, where I myself am not concerned, shall I oppose her will." The tears rushed into his eyes as he said this, and caused them to start in the steward's--observing which, he sternly resumed,

"Do not suppose from this conversation, that any of those resolutions I have long since taken, are, or will be changed--they are the same; and shall continue inflexible."

"I understand you, my Lord," replied Mr. Giffard, "your express orders, to me, as well as to every other person, remain just the same as formerly, never to mention this subject to you again."

"They do, Sir."

"My Lord, I always obeyed you, and hope I always shall."

"I hope so too," he replied in a threatening accent--"Write to Sandford,"

continued he, "to let him know my pleasure, and that is all you have to do."

The steward bowed and withdrew.

But before his letter arrived to Sandford, Sandford arrived in town; and Mr. Giffard related, word for word, what had pa.s.sed between him and his Lord. Upon every occasion, and upon every topic, except that of Lady Elmwood and her child, Sandford was just as free with Lord Elmwood as he had ever been; and as usual (after his interview with the steward) went into his apartment without any previous notice. Lord Elmwood shook him by the hand, as upon all other meetings; and yet, whether his fear suggested it or not, Sandford thought he appeared more cool and reserved with him than formerly.

During the whole day, the slightest mention of Lady Elmwood, or of her child, was cautiously avoided--and not till the evening, (after Sandford had risen to retire, and had wished Lord Elmwood good night) did he dare to mention the subject. He then, after taking leave, and going to the door--turned back and said, "My Lord,"--

It was easy to guess on what he was preparing to speak--his voice failed, the tears began to trickle down his cheeks, he took out his handkerchief, and could proceed no farther.

"I thought," said Lord Elmwood, angrily, "I thought I had given my orders upon the subject--did not my steward write them to you?"

"He did, my Lord," said Sandford, humbly, "but I was set out before they arrived."

"Has he not _told_ you my mind then?" cried he, more angrily still.

"He has;" replied Sandford,--"But"----

"But what, Sir?" cried Lord Elmwood.

"Your Lordship," continued Sandford, "was mistaken in supposing that Lady Elmwood left a will, she left none."

"No will? no will at all?" returned he, surprised.

"No, my Lord," answered Sandford, "she wished every thing to be as you willed."

"She left me all the trouble, then, you mean?"

"No great trouble, Sir; for there are but two persons whom she has left behind her, to hope for your protection."

"And who are those two?" cried he hastily.

"One, my Lord, I need not name--the other is Miss Woodley."

There was a delicacy and humility in the manner in which Sandford delivered this reply, that Lord Elmwood could _not_ resent, and he only returned,

"Miss Woodley--is she yet living?"

"She is--I left her at the house I came from."

"Well then," answered he, "you must see that my steward provides for those two persons. That care I leave to you--and should there be any complaints, on you they fall."

Sandford bowed and was going.

"And now," resumed Lord Elmwood, in a more stern voice, "let me never hear again on this subject. You have power to act in regard to the persons you have mentioned; and upon you their situation, the care, the whole management of them depends--but be sure you never let them be named before me, from this moment."

"Then," said Sandford, "as this must be the last time they are mentioned, I must now take the opportunity to disburden my mind of a charge"--

"What charge?" cried Lord Elmwood, morosely interrupting him.

"Though Lady Elmwood, my Lord, left no will behind her, she left a request."

"A request!" said he, starting, "If it is for me to see her daughter, I tell you now before you ask, that I will not grant it--for by heaven (and he spoke and looked most solemnly) though I have no resentment against the innocent child, and wish her happy, yet I will never see her. Never, for her mother's sake, suffer my heart again to be softened by an object I might dote upon. Therefore, Sir, if that is the request, it is already answered; my will is fixed."

"The request, my Lord," replied Sandford, (and he took out a pocket-book from whence he drew several papers) "is contained in this letter; nor do I rightly know what its contents are." And he held it out to him.

"Is it Lady Elmwood's writing?" asked Lord Elmwood, extremely discomposed.