Rushbrook, who, at twenty miles distance, could have no conjecture what had passed at Elmwood House, during the short visit Lord Elmwood made there, went that way with his dogs and gun in order to meet him on his return, and accompany him in the chaise back—he did so—and getting into the carriage, told him eagerly the sport he had had during the day; laughed at an accident that had befallen one of his dogs; and for some time did not perceive but that his uncle was perfectly attentive. At length, observing he answered more negligently than usual to what he said, Rushbrook turned his eyes quickly upon him, and cried, “My Lord, are you not well?” “Yes; perfectly well, I thank you, Rushbrook,” and he leaned back against the carriage. “I thought, Sir,” returned Rushbrook, “you spoke languidly—I beg your pardon.” “I have the head-ache a little,” answered he:—then taking off his hat, brushed the powder from it, and as he put it on again, fetched a most heavy sigh; which no sooner had escaped him, than, to drown its sound, he said briskly, “And so you tell me you have had good sport to-day?” “No, my Lord, I said but indifferent.” “True, so you did. Bid the man drive faster—it will be dark before we get home.” “You will shoot to-morrow, my Lord?” “Certainly.” “How does Mr. Sandford do, Sir?” “I did not see him.” “Not see Mr. Sandford, My Lord? but he was out I suppose—for they did not expect you at Elmwood House.” “No, they did not.” In such conversation Rushbrook and his uncle continued to the end of their journey. Dinner was then immediately served, and Lord Elmwood appeared much in his usual spirits; at least, not suspecting any cause for their abatement, Rushbrook did not observe any alteration. Lord Elmwood went, however, earlier to bed than ordinary, or rather to his bed-chamber; for though he retired some time before his nephew, when Rushbrook passed his chamber door it was open, and he not in bed, but sitting in a musing posture, as if he had forgot to shut it. When Rushbrook’s valet came to attend his master, he said to him, “I suppose, Sir, you do not know what has happened at the Castle?” “For heaven’s sake what?” cried Rushbrook. “My Lord has met Lady Matilda:” replied the man. “How? Where? What’s the consequence?” “We don’t know yet, Sir; but all the servants suppose her Ladyship will not be suffered to remain there any longer.” “They all suppose wrong,” returned Rushbrook hastily—“My Lord loves her I am certain, and this event may be the happy means of his treating her as his child from this day.” The servant smiled and shook his head. “Why, what more do you know?” “Nothing more than I have told you, Sir; except that his Lordship took no kind of notice of her Ladyship that appeared like love.”