The just construction she put upon his looks and behaviour upon this occasion, kept up her spirits for some little time; and she blessed heaven, repeatedly, for the singular favour of shewing to her, clearly, by this accident, his negligence of her sorrows, his total indifference. The next day was the eve of that on which he was to depart—of the day on which she was to bid adieu to Dorriforth, to her guardian, to Lord Elmwood; to all her hopes at once. The moment she awoke on Monday morning, the recollection, that this was, perhaps, the last day she was ever again to see him, softened all the resentment his yesterday’s conduct had raised: forgetting his austerity, and all she had once termed cruelties, she now only remembered his friendship, his tenderness, and his love. She was impatient to see him, and promised herself, for this last day, to neglect no one opportunity of being with him. For that purpose she did not breakfast in her own room, as she had done for several mornings before, but went into the breakfast-room, where all the family in general met. She was rejoiced on hearing his voice as she opened the door, yet the sound made her tremble so much, that she could scarcely totter to the table. Miss Woodley looked at her as she entered, and was never so shocked at seeing her; for never had she yet seen her look so ill. As she approached, she made an inclination of her head to Mrs. Horton, then to her guardian, as was her custom, when she first saw them in a morning—he looked in her face as he bowed in return, then fixed his eyes upon the fire-place, rubbed his forehead, and began talking with Mr. Sandford. Sandford, during breakfast, by accident cast a glance upon Miss Milner; his attention was caught by her deadly countenance, and he looked earnestly. He then turned to Lord Elmwood to see if he was observing her appearance—he was not—and so much were her thoughts engaged on him alone, that she did not once perceive Sandford gazing at her. Mrs. Horton, after a little while observed, “It was a beautiful morning.” Lord Elmwood said, “He thought he heard it rain in the night.” Sandford cried, “For his part he slept too well to know.” And then (unasked) held a plate with biscuits to Miss Milner—it was the first civility he had ever in his life offered her; she smiled at the whimsicality of the circumstance, but she took one in return for his attention. He looked grave beyond his usual gravity, and yet not with his usual ill temper. She did not eat what she had so politely taken, but laid it down soon after. Lord Elmwood was the first who rose from breakfast, and he did not return to dinner. At dinner, Mrs. Horton said, “She hoped he would, however, favour them with his company at supper.” To which Sandford replied, “No doubt, for you will hardly any of you see him in the morning; as we shall be off by six, or soon after.” Sandford was not going abroad with Lord Elmwood, but was to go with him as far as Dover.