The conversation was changed as soon as possible, and early in the evening the party from Milner Lodge returned home. Miss Milner had scarce left her dressing room, where she had been taking off some part of her dress, when Dorriforth’s servant came to acquaint her that his master was alone in his study, and begged to speak with her. She felt herself tremble—she immediately experienced a consciousness that she had not acted properly at Lord Elmwood’s; for she felt a presentiment that her guardian was going to upbraid her, and her heart whispered that he had never yet reproached her without a cause. Miss Woodley just then entered her apartment, and she found herself so much a coward, as to propose that she should go with her, and aid her with a word or two occasionally in her excuse. “What you, my dear,” returned Miss Woodley, “who not three hours ago had the courage to vindicate your own cause before a whole company, of whom many were your adversaries; do _you_ want an advocate before your guardian alone, who has ever treated you with tenderness?” “It is that very tenderness which frightens me; which intimidates, and strikes me dumb. Is it possible I can return impertinence to the language and manners which Mr. Dorriforth uses? and as I am debarred from that resource, what can I do but stand before him like a guilty creature, acknowledging my faults.” She again entreated her friend to go with her; but on a positive refusal, from the impropriety of such an intrusion, she was obliged at length to go by herself. How much does the difference of exterior circumstances influence not only the manners, but even the persons of some people! Miss Milner in Lord Elmwood’s drawing room, surrounded by listeners, by admirers, (for even her enemies could not look at her without admiration) animated with approbation and applause—and Miss Milner, with no giddy observer to give her actions a false éclat, destitute of all but her own understanding, (which secretly condemns her) upon the point of receiving censure from her guardian and friend, are two different beings. Though still beautiful beyond description, she does not look even in person the same. In the last-mentioned situation, she was shorter in stature than in the former—she was paler—she was thinner—and a very different contour presided over her whole air, and all her features. When she arrived at the door of the study, she opened it with a trepidation she could hardly account for, and entered to Dorriforth the altered woman she has been represented. His heart had taken the most decided part against her, and his face had assumed the most severe aspect of reproach; but her appearance gave an instantaneous change to his whole mind, and countenance. She halted, as if she feared to approach—he hesitated, as if he knew not how to speak. Instead of the anger with which he was prepared to begin, his voice involuntarily softened, and without knowing what he said, he began, “My dear Miss Milner.”—