There was a degree of truth, and a degree of passionate feeling, in the conclusion of this speech, that alarmed Sandford—he caught up one of the candles, and, laying hold of his friend’s elbow, drew him out of the room, crying, “Come, my Lord, come to your bed-chamber—it is very late—it is morning—it is time to rise.” And by a continual repetition of these words, in a very loud voice, drowned whatever Lord Elmwood, or any other person might have wished either to have said or to have heard. In this manner, Lord Elmwood was forced out of the apartment, and the evening’s entertainment concluded. CHAPTER X. Two whole days passed in the bitterest suspense on the part of Miss Milner, while neither one word or look from Lord Elmwood, denoted the most trivial change of the sentiments he had declared, on the night of the masquerade. Still those sentiments, or intentions, were not explicitly delivered; they were more like intimations, than solemn declarations—for though he had said, “He would never reproach her _for the future_,” and that “She might expect they should part,” he had not positively said they should; and upon this doubtful meaning of his words, she hung with the strongest agitation of hope and of fear. Miss Woodley seeing the distress of her mind, (much as she endeavoured to conceal it) entreated, nay implored of her, to permit her to be a mediator; to suffer her to ask for a private interview with Lord Elmwood, and if she found him inflexible, to behave with a proper spirit in return; but if he appeared not absolutely averse to a reconciliation, to offer it in so cautious a manner, that it might take place without farther uneasiness on either side. But Miss Milner peremptorily forbade this, and acknowledging to her friend every weakness she felt on the occasion, yet concluded with solemnly declaring, “That after what had passed between her and Lord Elmwood, _he_ must be the first to make a concession, before she herself would condescend to be reconciled.” “I believe I know Lord Elmwood’s temper,” replied Miss Woodley, “and I do not think he will be easily induced to beg pardon for a fault which he thinks _you_ have committed.” “Then he does not love me.” “Pshaw! Miss Milner, this is the old argument. He may love you too well to spoil you—consider that he is your guardian as well as your lover, he means also to become your husband; and he is a man of such nice honour, that he will not indulge you with any power before marriage, to which he does not intend to submit hereafter.” “But tenderness, affection, the politeness due from a lover to his mistress demands his submission; and as I now despair of enticing, I will oblige him to it—at least I’ll make the trial, and know my fate at once.” “What do you mean to do?” “Invite Lord Frederick to the house, and ask my guardian’s consent for our immediate union; you will then see, what effect that will have upon his pride.”