“Your vanity would be equal to your temerity—_you_ entreat? She must greatly esteem those paternal favours which _your_ entreaties gained her! Do you forget, young man, how short a time it is, since you were _entreated for_?” “I prove that I do not, while this anxiety for Lady Matilda, arises, from what I feel on that account.” “Remove your anxiety, then, from her to yourself; for were I to let Lord Elmwood know what has now passed”— “It is for your own sake, not for mine, if you do not.” “You shall not dare me to it, Mr. Rushbrook.” And he rose from his seat: “You shall not dare me to do you an injury. But to avoid the temptation, I will never again come into your company, unless my friend, Lord Elmwood, be present, to protect me and his child from your insults.” Rushbrook rose in yet more warmth than Sandford “Have you the injustice to say that I have insulted Lady Matilda?” “To speak of her at all, is in you an insult. But you have done more—you have dared to visit her—to force into her presence and shock her with your offers of services which she scorns; and with your compassion, which she is above.” “Did she complain to you?” “She or her friend did.” “I rather suppose, Mr. Sandford, that you have bribed some of the servants to reveal this.” “The suspicion becomes Lord Elmwood’s heir.” “It becomes the man, who lives in a house with you.” “I thank you, Mr. Rushbrook, for what has passed this day—it has taken a weight off my mind. I thought my disinclination to you, might perhaps arise from prejudice—this conversation has relieved me from those fears, and—I thank you.” Saying this he calmly walked out of the room, and left Rushbrook to reflect on what he had been doing. Heated with the wine he had drank (and which Sandford, engaged on his book, had not observed) no sooner was he alone, than he became by degrees cool and repentant. “What had he done?” was the first question to himself—“He had offended Sandford.”—The man, whom reason as well as prudence had ever taught him to respect, and even to revere. He had grossly offended the firm friend of Lady Matilda, by the unreserved and wanton use of her name. All the retorts he had uttered came now to his memory; with a total forgetfulness of all that Sandford had said to provoke them. He once thought to follow him and beg his pardon; but the contempt with which he had been treated, more than all the anger, with-held him. As he sat forming plans how to retrieve the opinion, ill as it was, which Sandford formerly entertained of him, he received a letter from Lord Elmwood, kindly enquiring after his health, and saying that he should be down early in the following week. Never were the friendly expressions of his uncle half so welcome to him; for they served to sooth his imagination, racked with Sandford’s wrath, and his own displeasure. CHAPTER XIII.