Lord Elmwood’s departure to town forwarded this hope, and flattering himself that the humiliating state in which Matilda must feel herself in the house of her father might gladly induce her to take shelter under any other protection, he boldly advanced as soon as the Earl was gone, to make such overture as his wishes and his vanity told him, could not be rejected. Inquiring for Miss Woodley, he easily gained admittance; but at the sight of so much modesty and dignity in the person of Matilda, the appearance of so much good will, and yet such circumspection in her companion; and charmed at the good sense and proper spirit which were always apparent in the manners of Sandford, he fell once more into the despondency of never becoming to Lady Matilda any thing of more importance to his reputation, than a husband. Even that humble hope was sometimes denied him, while Sandford set forth the impropriety of troubling Lord Elmwood on such a subject at present; and while the Viscount’s penetration, small as it was, discovered in his fair one, more to discourage, than to favour his wishes. Plunged, however, too deep in his passion to emerge from it in haste, he meant still to visit, and wait for a change to happier circumstances, when he was peremptorily desired by Mr. Sandford to desist from ever coming again. “And why, Mr. Sandford?” cried he. “For two reasons, my Lord;—in the first place, your visits might be displeasing to Lord Elmwood; in the next place, I know they are so to his daughter.” Unaccustomed to be addressed so plainly, particularly in a case where his heart was interested, he nevertheless submitted with patience; but in his own mind determined how long this patience should continue—no longer than it served as the means to prove his obedience, and by that artifice, to secure his better reception at some future period.