Sandford, as soon as Lord Elmwood had asked the last question, ran hastily to the table, at the other side of the room, took something from it, and returned to his place again—and when the maid said, “It was not the night of the masquerade,” he exclaimed, “But it is, my Lord, it is—yes, it is,” and shewing a newspaper in his hand, pointed to the paragraph which contained the information. “Leave the room,” said Lord Elmwood to the woman, “I have done with you.” She withdrew. “Yes, yes, here it is,” repeated Sandford, with the paper in his hand.——He then read the paragraph: “‘_The masquerade at the honorable Mrs. G——’s this evening_’—This evening, my Lord, you find—‘_it is expected will be the most brilliant, of any thing of the kind for these many years past._’” “They should not put such things in the papers,” said Mrs. Horton, “to tempt young women to their ruin.” The word ruin grated upon Lord Elmwood’s ear, and he said to the servant who came to wait on him, while he supped, “Take the supper away.” He had not attempted either to eat, or even to sit down; and he now walked backwards and forwards in the room, lost in thought and care. A little time after, one of Miss Milner’s footmen came in upon some occasion, and Mr. Sandford said to him, “Pray did you attend your lady to the masquerade?” “Yes, Sir,” replied the man. Lord Elmwood stopped himself short in his walk, and said to the servant, “You did?” “Yes, my Lord,” replied he. He walked again. “I should like to know what she was dressed in,” said Mrs. Horton: and turning to the servant, “Do you know what your lady had on?” “Yes, Madam,” replied the man, “she was in men’s clothes.” “How!” cried Lord Elmwood. “You tell a story, to be sure,” said Mrs. Horton to the servant. “No,” cried Sandford, “I am sure he does not; for he is an honest good young man, and would not tell a lie upon any account—would you, George?” Lord Elmwood ordered Miss Milner’s woman to be again sent up. She came. “In what dress did your lady go to the masquerade?” asked he, and with a look so extremely morose, it seemed to command the answer in a single word, and that word to be truth. A mind, with a spark of sensibility more than this woman possessed, could not have equivocated with such an interrogator, but her reply was, “She went in her own dress, my Lord.” “Was it a man’s or a woman’s?” asked he, with a look of the same command. “Ha, ha, my Lord,” (half laughing and half crying) “a woman’s dress, to be sure, my Lord.” On which Sandford cried—— “Call the footman up, and let him confront her.” He was called; but Lord Elmwood, now disgusted at the scene, withdrew to the further end of the room, and left Sandford to question them. With all the authority and consequence of a country magistrate, Sandford—his back to the fire, and the witnesses before him, began with the footman. “In what dress do you say, that you saw your lady, when you attended, and went along with her, to the masquerade?”