“I do not want to read the letter,” said Miss Woodley; “your looks tell me its contents.” “They will then discover to Lord Elmwood,” replied she, “what I feel; but Heaven forbid—that would sink me even lower than I am.” Scarce able to move, she rose, and looked in her glass, as if to arrange her features, and impose upon him: alas! it was of no avail—a serenity of mind could alone effect what she desired. “You must endeavour,” said Miss Woodley, “to feel the disposition you wish to make appear.” “I will,” replied she, “I will feel a proper pride—and a proper scorn of this treatment.” And so desirous was she to attain the appearance of these sentiments, that she made the strongest efforts to calm her thoughts, in order to acquire it. “I have but a few days to remain with him,” she said to herself, “and we part for ever—during those few days it is not only my duty to obey his commands, or rather comply with his request, but it is also my wish to leave upon his mind an impression, which may not add to the ill opinion he has formed of me, but, perhaps, serve to diminish it. If, in every other instance, my conduct has been blameable, he shall, at least in this, acknowledge its merit. The fate I have drawn upon myself, he shall find I can be resigned to; and he shall be convinced, that the woman, of whose weakness he has had so many fatal proofs, is yet in possession of some fortitude—fortitude, to bid him farewell, without discovering one affected or one real pang, though her death should be the immediate consequence.” Thus she resolved, and thus she acted. The severest judge could not have arraigned her conduct, from the day she received Lord Elmwood’s letter, to the day of his departure. She had, indeed, involuntary weaknesses, but none with which she did not struggle, and, in general, her struggles were victorious. The first time she saw him after the receipt of his letter, was on the evening of the same day—she had a little concert of amateurs of music, and was herself singing and playing when he entered the room: the connoisseurs immediately perceived she made a false cadence—but Lord Elmwood was no connoisseur in the art, and he did not observe it. They occasionally spoke to each other through the evening, but the subjects were general—and though their manners every time they spoke, were perfectly polite, they were not marked with the smallest degree of familiarity. To describe his behaviour exactly, it was the same as his letter, polite, friendly, composed, and resolved. Some of the company staid supper, which prevented the embarrassment that must unavoidably have arisen, had the family been by themselves. The next morning each breakfasted in his separate apartments—more company dined with them—in the evening, and at supper, Lord Elmwood was from home.