"It is, my Lord.--She wrote it a few days before she died, and enjoined me to deliver it to you, with my own hands."

"I refuse to read it:" cried he, putting it from him--and trembling while he did so.

"She desired me," said Sandford, (still presenting the letter) "to conjure you to read it, _for her father's sake._"

Lord Elmwood took it instantly. But as soon as it was in his hand, he seemed distressed to know what he should do with it--in what place to go and read it--or how to fortify himself against its contents. He appeared ashamed too, that he had been so far prevailed upon, and said, by way of excuse,

"For Mr. Milner's sake I would do much--nay, any thing, but that to which I have just now sworn never to consent. For his sake I have borne a great deal--for his sake alone, his daughter died my wife. You know, no other motive than respect for him, prevented my divorcing her. Pray (and he hesitated) was she buried with him?"

"No, my Lord--she expressed no such desire; and as that was the case, I did not think it necessary to carry the corpse so far."

At the word corpse, Lord Elmwood shrunk, and looked shocked beyond measure--but recovering himself, said, "I am sorry for it; for he loved _her_ sincerely, if she did not love him--and I wish they had been buried together."

"It is not then too late," said Sandford, and was going on--but the other interrupted him.

"No, no--we will have no disturbing the dead."

"Read her letter then," said Sandford, "and bid her rest in peace."

"If it is in my power," returned he, "to grant what she asks, I will--but if her demand is what I apprehend, I cannot, I will not, bid her rest by complying. You know my resolution, my disposition, and take care how you provoke me. You may do an injury to the very person you are seeking to befriend--the very maintenance I mean to allow her daughter I can withdraw."

Poor Sandford, all alarmed at this menace, replied with energy, "My Lord, unless you begin the subject, I never shall presume to mention it again."

"I take you at your word, and in consequence of that, but of that alone, we are friends. Good night, Sir."

Sandford bowed with humility, and they went to their separate bedchambers.

CHAPTER IV.

After Lord Elmwood had retired into his chamber, it was some time before he read the letter Sandford had given him. He first walked backwards and forwards in the room--he then began to take off some part of his dress, but he did it slowly. At length, he dismissed his valet, and sitting down, took the letter from his pocket. He looked at the seal, but not at the direction; for he seemed to dread seeing Lady Elmwood's handwriting.

He then laid it on the table, and began again to undress. He did not proceed, but taking up the letter quickly, (with a kind of effort in making the resolution) broke it open. These were its contents:

"My Lord,

"Who writes this letter I well know--I well know also to whom it is addressed--I feel with the most powerful force both our situations; nor should I dare to offer you even this humble pet.i.tion, but that at the time you receive it, there will be no such person as I am, in existence.

"For myself, then, all concern will be over--but there is a care that pursues me to the grave, and threatens my want of repose even there.

"I leave a child--I will not call her mine: that has undone her--I will not call her yours; that will be of no avail--I present her before you as the granddaughter of Mr. Milner. Oh! do not refuse an asylum even in your own house, to the dest.i.tute offspring of your friend; the last, and only remaining branch of his family.

"Receive her into your household, be her condition there ever so abject. I cannot write distinctly what I would--my senses are not impaired, but the powers of expression are. The complaint of the unfortunate child in the scriptures (a lesson I have studied) has made this wish cling so fast to my heart, that without the distant hope of its being fulfilled, death would have more terrors than my weak mind could support.

"'_I will go to my father; how many servants live in my father's house, and are fed with plenty, while I starve in a foreign land?_'

"I do not ask a parent's festive rejoicing at her approach--I do not even ask her father to behold her; but let her live under his protection. For her grandfather's sake do not refuse this--to the child of his child, whom he entrusted to your care, do not refuse it.

"Be her host; I remit the tie of being her parent. Never see her--but let her sometimes live under the same roof with you.

"It is Miss Milner, your ward, to whom you never refused a request, who supplicates you--not now for your nephew, Rushbrook, but for one so much more dear, that a denial----she dares not suffer her thoughts to glance that way.--She will hope--and in that hope, bids you farewell, with all the love she ever bore you.

"Farewell Dorriforth--farewell Lord Elmwood--and before you throw this letter from you with contempt or anger, cast your imagination into the grave where I am lying. Reflect upon all the days of my past life--the anxious moments I have known, and what has been their end. Behold _me_, also--in my altered face there is no anxiety--no joy or sorrow--all is over.----My whole frame is motionless--my heart beats no more. Look at my horrid habitation, too,--and ask yourself--whether I am an object of resentment?"

While Lord Elmwood read this letter, it trembled in his hand: he once or twice wiped the tears from his eyes as he read, and once laid the letter down for a few minutes. At its conclusion, the tears flowed fast down his face; but he seemed both ashamed and angry they did, and was going to throw the paper upon the fire--he however suddenly checked his hand, and putting it hastily into his pocket, went to bed.

CHAPTER V.

The next morning, when Lord Elmwood and Sandford met at breakfast, the latter was pale with fear for the success of Lady Elmwood's letter--the Earl was pale too, but there was besides upon his face, something which evidently marked he was displeased. Sandford observed it, and was all humbleness, both in his words and looks, in order to soften him.

As soon as the breakfast was removed, Lord Elmwood drew the letter from his pocket, and holding it towards Sandford, said,

"That, may be of more value to you, than it is to me, therefore I give it you."

Sandford called up a look of surprise, as if he did not know the letter again.

"'Tis Lady Elmwood's letter," said Lord Elmwood, "and I return it to you for two reasons."

Sandford took it, and putting it up, asked fearfully, "What those two reasons were?"

"First," said he, "because I think it is a relick you may like to preserve--my second reason is, that you may shew it to her daughter, and let her know why, and on what conditions, I grant her mother's request."

"You _do_ then grant it?" cried Sandford joyfully; "I thank you--you are kind--you are considerate."

"Be not hasty in your grat.i.tude; you may have cause to recall it."

"I know what you have said;" replied Sandford, "you have said you grant Lady Elmwood's request--you cannot recall these words, nor I my grat.i.tude."

"Do you know what her request is?" returned he.

"Not exactly, my Lord--I told you before, I did not; but it is no doubt something in favour of her child."

"I think not," he replied: "such as it is, however, I grant it: but in the strictest sense of the word--no farther--and one neglect of my commands, releases me from this promise totally."

"We will take care, Sir, not to disobey them."

"Then listen to what they are, for to you I give the charge of delivering them again. Lady Elmwood has pet.i.tioned me in the name of her father, (a name I reverence) to give his grandchild the sanction of my protection. In the literal sense, to suffer that she may reside at one of my seats; dispensing at the same time with my ever seeing her."

"And you will comply?"

"I will, till she encroaches on this concession, and dares to hope for a greater. I will, while she avoids my sight, or the giving me any remembrance of her. But if, whether by design or by accident, I ever see or hear from her, that moment, my compliance to her mother's supplication ceases, and I abandon her once more."