“Be her host; I remit the tie of being her parent. Never see her—but let her sometimes live under the same roof with you. “It is Miss Milner, your ward, to whom you never refused a request, who supplicates you—not now for your nephew, Rushbrook, but for one so much more dear, that a denial——she dares not suffer her thoughts to glance that way.—She will hope—and in that hope, bids you farewell, with all the love she ever bore you. “Farewell Dorriforth—farewell Lord Elmwood—and before you throw this letter from you with contempt or anger, cast your imagination into the grave where I am lying. Reflect upon all the days of my past life—the anxious moments I have known, and what has been their end. Behold _me_, also—in my altered face there is no anxiety—no joy or sorrow—all is over.——My whole frame is motionless—my heart beats no more. Look at my horrid habitation, too,—and ask yourself—whether I am an object of resentment?” While Lord Elmwood read this letter, it trembled in his hand: he once or twice wiped the tears from his eyes as he read, and once laid the letter down for a few minutes. At its conclusion, the tears flowed fast down his face; but he seemed both ashamed and angry they did, and was going to throw the paper upon the fire—he however suddenly checked his hand, and putting it hastily into his pocket, went to bed. CHAPTER V. The next morning, when Lord Elmwood and Sandford met at breakfast, the latter was pale with fear for the success of Lady Elmwood’s letter—the Earl was pale too, but there was besides upon his face, something which evidently marked he was displeased. Sandford observed it, and was all humbleness, both in his words and looks, in order to soften him. As soon as the breakfast was removed, Lord Elmwood drew the letter from his pocket, and holding it towards Sandford, said, “That, may be of more value to you, than it is to me, therefore I give it you.” Sandford called up a look of surprise, as if he did not know the letter again. “’Tis Lady Elmwood’s letter,” said Lord Elmwood, “and I return it to you for two reasons.” Sandford took it, and putting it up, asked fearfully, “What those two reasons were?” “First,” said he, “because I think it is a relick you may like to preserve—my second reason is, that you may shew it to her daughter, and let her know why, and on what conditions, I grant her mother’s request.” “You _do_ then grant it?” cried Sandford joyfully; “I thank you—you are kind—you are considerate.” “Be not hasty in your gratitude; you may have cause to recall it.” “I know what you have said;” replied Sandford, “you have said you grant Lady Elmwood’s request—you cannot recall these words, nor I my gratitude.” “Do you know what her request is?” returned he. “Not exactly, my Lord—I told you before, I did not; but it is no doubt something in favour of her child.”