Lord Elmwood was by nature, and more from education, of a serious, thinking, and philosophic turn of mind. His religious studies had completely taught him to consider this world but as a passage to another; to enjoy with gratitude what Heaven in its bounty should bestow, and to bear with submission, whatever in its vengeance it might inflict. In a greater degree than most people he practised this doctrine; and as soon as the shock he received from Lady Elmwood’s conduct was abated, an entire calmness and resignation ensued; but still of that sensible and feeling kind, that could never suffer him to forget the happiness he had lost; and it was this sensibility, which urged him to fly from its more keen recollection as much as possible—this, he alleged as the reason why he would never permit Lady Elmwood, or even her child, to be named in his hearing. But this injunction (which all his friends, and even the servants in the house who attended his person, had received) was, by many people, suspected rather to proceed from his resentment, than his tenderness; nor did he deny, that resentment co-operated with his prudence: for prudence he called it, not to remind himself of happiness he could never taste again, and of ingratitude that might impel him to hatred: and prudence he called it, not to form another attachment near to his heart, more especially so near as a parent’s which might again expose him to all the torments of ingratitude, from an object whom he affectionately loved. Upon these principles he formed the unshaken resolution, never to acknowledge Lady Matilda as his child—or acknowledging her as such—never to see, to hear of, or take one concern whatever in her fate and fortune. The death of her mother appeared a favourable time, had he been so inclined, to have recalled this declaration which he had solemnly and repeatedly made—she was now destitute of the protection of her other parent, and it became his duty, at least, to provide her a guardian, if he did not chuse to take that tender title upon himself—but to mention either the mother or child to Lord Elmwood, was an equal offence, and prohibited in the strongest terms to all his friends and household; and as he was an excellent good master, a sincere friend, and a most generous patron, not one of his acquaintance or dependants, were hardy enough to draw upon themselves his certain displeasure, which was always violent in the extreme, by even the official intelligence of Lady Elmwood’s death.