“I saw her, my Lord, taken away by force—two ruffians seized and carried her away, while she screamed in vain to me for help, and tore her hair in distraction.” “Man, what do you mean?” cried the Earl. “Lord Margrave,” replied the stranger, “we have no doubt, has formed this plot—he has for some time past beset the house where she lived; and when his visits were refused, he threatened this. Besides, one of his servants attended the carriage; I saw, and knew him.” Lord Elmwood listened to the last part of this account with seeming composure—then turning hastily to Rushbrook, he said, “Where are my pistols, Harry?” Sandford rose from his seat, and forgetting all the anger between them, caught hold of the Earl’s hand, and cried, “Will you then prove yourself a father?” Lord Elmwood only answered, “Yes,” and left the room. Rushbrook followed, and begged with all the earnestness he felt, to be permitted to accompany his uncle. While Sandford shook hands with the farmer a thousand times; and he, in his turn, rejoiced, as if he had already seen Lady Matilda restored to liberty. Rushbrook in vain entreated Lord Elmwood; he laid his commands upon him not to go a step from the Castle; while the agitation of his own mind, was too great, to observe the rigour of this sentence on his nephew. During the hasty preparations for the Earl’s departure, Sandford received from Miss Woodley the sad intelligence of what had happened; but he returned an answer to recompence her for all she had suffered on the occasion. Within a few hours Lord Elmwood set off, accompanied by his guide, the farmer, and other attendants furnished with every requisite to ascertain the success of their enterprise—while poor Matilda little thought of a deliverer nigh, much less, that her deliverer should prove her father. CHAPTER X. Lord Margrave, black as this incident of his life must make him appear to the reader, still nursed in his conscience a reserve of specious virtue, to keep him in peace with himself. It was his design to plead, to argue, to implore, nay even to threaten, long before he put his threats in force; and with this and the following reflection, he reconciled—as most bad men can—what he had done, not only to the laws of humanity, but to the laws of honour. “I have stolen a woman certainly;” said he to himself, “but I will make her happier than she was in that humble state from which I have taken her. I will even,” said he, “now that she is in my power, win her affections—and when, in fondness, hereafter she hangs upon me, how will she thank me for this little trial, through which I shall have conducted her to happiness!” Thus did he hush his remorse, while he waited impatiently at home, in expectation of his prize.