“I don’t know on what point you fix real delicacy; but if it consists in sorrow, the young man gives a proof he possesses it, for he shed tears when I last heard him mention your name.” “I have more cause to weep at the mention of his.” “Perhaps so.—But let me tell you, Lady Matilda, that your father might have preferred a more unworthy object.” “Still had he been to me,” she cried, “an object of envy. And as I frankly confess my envy of Mr. Rushbrook, I hope you will pardon my malice, which is, you know, but a consequent crime.” The subject now turned again upon Lord Margrave; and all of them being firmly persuaded, this last reception would put an end to every further intrusion from him, they treated his pretensions, and himself, with the contempt they inspired—but not with the caution that was requisite. CHAPTER VI. The next morning early, Mr. Sandford returned to Elmwood House, but with his spirits depressed, and his heart overcharged with sorrow. He had seen Lady Matilda, the object of his visit, but he had beheld her considerably altered in her looks and in her health; she was become very thin, and instead of the vivid bloom that used to adorn her cheeks, her whole complexion was of a deadly pale—her countenance no longer expressed hope or fear, but a fixed melancholy—she shed no tears, but was all sadness. He had beheld this, and he had heard her insulted by the licentious proposals of a nobleman, from whom there was no satisfaction to be demanded, because she had no friend to vindicate her honour. Rushbrook, who suspected where Sandford was gone, and imagined he would return that day, took his morning’s ride, so as to meet him on the road, at the distance of a few miles from the Castle; for, since his perilous situation with Lord Elmwood, he was so fully convinced of the general philanthropy of Sandford’s character, that in spite of his churlish manners, he now addressed him, free from that reserve to which his rough behaviour had formerly given birth. And Sandford, on his part, believing he had formed an illiberal opinion of Lord Elmwood’s heir, though he took no pains to let him know that his opinion was changed, yet resolved to make him restitution upon every occasion that offered. Their mutual greetings when they met, were unceremonious, but cordial; and Rushbrook turned his horse and rode back with Sandford; yet, intimidated by his respect and tenderness for Lady Matilda, rather than by fear of the rebuffs of his companion, he had not the courage to name her, till the ride was just finished, and they came within a few yards of the house—incited then by the apprehension, he might not soon again enjoy so fit an opportunity, he said, “Pardon me, Mr. Sandford, if I guess where you have been, and if my curiosity forces me to inquire for Miss Woodley’s and Lady Matilda’s health?”