“Why, on my observing that I thought Mr. Rushbrook looked paler than usual, and appeared not to be in perfect health, (which was really the case) your father expressed the greatest anxiety imaginable; he said he could not bear to see him look so ill, begged him, with all the tenderness of a parent, to take the advice of a physician, and added a thousand other affectionate things.” “I detest Mr. Rushbrook,” said Matilda, with her eyes flashing indignation. “Nay, for shame,” returned Miss Woodley; “do you suppose I told you this, to make you hate him?” “No, there was no occasion for that,” replied Matilda; “my sentiments (though I have never before avowed them) were long ago formed; he was always an object which added to my unhappiness; but since his daring intrusion into my apartments, he has been an object of my hatred.” “But now, perhaps, I may tell you something to please you,” cried Miss Woodley. “And what is that?” said Matilda, with indifference; for the first intelligence had hurt her spirits too much to suffer her to listen with pleasure to anything. “Mr. Rushbrook,” continued Miss Woodley, “replied to your father, that his indisposition was but a slight nervous fever, and he would defer a physician’s advice till he went to London”—on which Lord Elmwood said, “And when do you expect to be there?”—he replied, “Within a week or two, I suppose, my Lord.” But your father answered, “I do not mean to go myself till after Christmas.” “No indeed, my Lord!” said Mr. Sandford, with surprise: “you have not passed your Christmas here these many years.” “No,” returned your father; “but I think I feel myself more attached to this house at present, than ever I did in my life.” “You imagine, then, my father thought of me, when he said this?” cried Matilda eagerly. “But I may be mistaken,” replied Miss Woodley. “I leave you to judge. Though I am sure Mr. Sandford imagined he thought of you, for I saw a smile over his whole face immediately.” “Did you, Miss Woodley?” “Yes; it appeared on every feature except his lips; those he kept fast closed, for fear Lord Elmwood should perceive it.” Miss Woodley, with all her minute intelligence, did not however acquaint Matilda, that Rushbrook followed her to the window when the Earl was out of the room, and Sandford half asleep at the other end of it, and inquired respectfully but anxiously for _her_; adding, “It is my concern for Lady Matilda which makes me thus indisposed: I suffer more than she does; but I am not permitted to tell her so, nor can I hope, Miss Woodley, you will.” She replied, “You are right, Sir.” Nor did she reveal this conversation, while not a sentence that passed except that, was omitted.