Stimulated, however, by his friends to one more trial, in spite of the formal dismission he had twice received, he intruded another visit on Lady Matilda at the Farm. Provoked beyond bearing at such unfeeling assurance, Matilda refused to come into the room where he was, and Miss Woodley alone received him, and expressed her surprise at the little attention he had paid to her explicit desire. “Madam,” replied the nobleman, “to be plain with you, I am in love.” “I do not the least doubt it, my Lord,” replied Miss Woodley: “nor ought you to doubt the truth of what I advance, when I assure you, that you have not the smallest reason to hope your love will be returned; for Lady Matilda is resolved _never_ to listen to your passion.” “That man,” he replied, “is to blame, who can relinquish his hopes, upon the mere resolution of a lady.” “And that lady would be wrong,” replied Miss Woodley, “who should entrust her happiness in the care of a man, who can think thus meanly of her and of her sex.” “I think highly of them all,” he replied; “and to convince you in how high an estimation I hold _her_ in particular, my whole fortune is at her command.” “Your entire absence from this house, my Lord, she would consider as a much greater mark of your respect.” A long conversation, as uninteresting as this, ensued: the unexpected arrival of Mr. Sandford, put an end to it. He started at the sight of Lord Margrave; but the Viscount was much more affected at the sight of him. “My Lord,” said Sandford boldly to him, “have you received any encouragement from Lady Matilda to authorize this visit?” “None, upon my honour, Mr. Sandford; but I hope you know how to pardon a lover!” “A rational one I do—but you, my Lord, are not of that class while you persecute the pretended object of your affection.” “Do you call it persecution that I once offered her a share of my title and fortune—and even now, declare my fortune is at her disposal?” Sandford was uncertain whether he understood his meaning—but Lord Margrave, provoked at his ill reception, felt a triumph in removing his doubts, and proceeded thus: “For the discarded daughter of Lord Elmwood, cannot expect the same proposals, which I made, while she was acknowledged, and under the protection of her father.” “What proposals then, my Lord?” asked Sandford hastily. “Such,” replied he, “as the Duke of Avon made to her mother.” Miss Woodley quitted the room that instant. But Sandford, who never felt resentment but against those in whom he saw some virtue, calmly replied, “My Lord, the Duke of Avon was a gentleman, a man of elegance and breeding; and what have you to offer in recompense for your defects in qualities like these?” “My wealth,” replied he, “opposed to her indigence.” Sandford smiled, and answered,