Lady Matilda once asked him—“Are you certain, Mr. Sandford, you made no mistake in respect to what Lord Elmwood said, when he granted my mother’s request? Are you sure he _did_ grant it? Was there nothing equivocal on which he may ground his displeasure should he be told that I am here? Oh do not let me hazard being once again turned out of his house! Oh! save me from provoking him perhaps to curse me.” And here she clasped her hands together with the most fervent petition, in the dread of what might happen. “If you doubt my words or my senses,” said Sandford, “call Giffard, and let him inform you; the same words were repeated to him as to me.” Though from her reason, Matilda could not doubt of any mistake from Mr. Sandford, yet her fears suggested a thousand scruples; and this reference to the steward she received with the utmost satisfaction, (though she did not think it necessary to apply to him) as it perfectly convinced her of the folly of the suspicions she had entertained. “And yet, Mr. Sandford,” said she, “if it is so, why are you less cheerful than you were? I cannot help thinking but it must be your expectation of Lord Elmwood, which has occasioned this change.” “I don’t know,” replied Sandford, carelessly, “but I believe I am grown afraid of your father. His temper is a great deal altered from what it once was—he raises his voice, and uses harsh expressions upon the least provocation—his eyes flash lightning, and his face is distorted with anger upon the slightest motives—he turns away his old servants at a moment’s warning, and no concession can make their peace. In a word, I am more at my ease when I am away from him—and I really believe,” added he with a smile, but with a tear at the same time, “I really believe, I am more afraid of _him_ in my age, than he was of _me_ when he was a boy.” Miss Woodley was present; she and Matilda looked at one another; and each of them saw the other turn pale at this description. The day at length came, on which Lord Elmwood was expected to dinner. It would have been a high gratification to his daughter to have gone to the topmost window of the house, and have only beheld his carriage enter the avenue; but it was a gratification which her fears, her tremor, her extreme sensibility would not permit her to enjoy. Miss Woodley and she, sat down that day to dinner in their retired apartments, which were detached from the other part of the house by a gallery; and of the door leading to the gallery, they had a key to impede any one from passing that way, without first ringing a bell; to answer which, was the sole employment of a servant, who was placed there during the Earl’s residence, lest by any accident he might chance to come near that unfrequented part of the house, on which occasion the man was to give immediate notice to his Lady.