Sandford, who were to dine without other company. She curtsied assent, and flew to tell Matilda what had occurred. After listening with anxiety and with joy to all she told, Matilda laid hold of that hand which she said Lord Elmwood had held, and pressed it to her lips with love and reverence. When Miss Woodley made her appearance at dinner, Sandford, (who had not seen her since the invitation, and did not know of it) looked amazed; on which Lord Elmwood said, “Do you know, Sandford, I met Miss Woodley this morning, and had it not been for Giffard, I should have passed her without knowing her—but Miss Woodley, if I am not so much altered but that you knew me, I take it unkind you did not speak first.” She was unable to speak even now—he saw it, and changed the conversation; when Sandford eagerly joined in discourse, which relieved him from the pain of the former. As they advanced in their dinner, the embarrassment of Miss Woodley and of Mr. Sandford diminished; Lord Elmwood in his turn became, not embarrassed, but absent and melancholy. He now and then sighed heavily—and called for wine much oftener than he was accustomed. When Miss Woodley took her leave, he invited her to dine with him and Sandford whenever it was convenient to her; he said, besides, many things of the same kind, and all with the utmost civility, yet not with that warmth with which he had spoken in the morning—into _that_ he had been surprised—his coolness was the effect of reflection. When she came to Lady Matilda, and Sandford had joined them, they talked and deliberated on what had passed. “You acknowledge Mr. Sandford,” said Miss Woodley, “that you think my presence affected Lord Elmwood, so as to make him much more thoughtful than usual; if you imagine these thoughts were upon Lady Elmwood, I will never intrude again; but if you suppose that I made him think upon his daughter, I cannot go too often.” “I don’t see how he can divide those two objects in his mind,” replied Sandford, “therefore you must e’en visit him on, and take your chance, what reflections you may cause—but, be they what they will, time will steal away from you that power of affecting him.” She concurred in the opinion, and occasionally she walked into Lord Elmwood’s apartments, dined, or took her coffee with him, as the accident suited; and observed, according to Sandford’s prediction, that time wore off the impression her visits first made. Lord Elmwood now became just the same before her as before others. She easily discerned, too, through all that politeness which he assumed—that he was no longer the considerate, the forbearing character he formerly was; but haughty, impatient, imperious, and more than ever, _implacable_. CHAPTER VIII.