The colour spread over her face, and she replied—“I thought confessions were always to be in secret; however, as I am not a member of your church, I submit to the persecution of a heretic, and I answer—Lord Frederick has neither my word, nor any share in my affections.” Sandford, Dorriforth, and Miss Woodley looked at each other with a degree of surprise that for some time kept them silent. At length Dorriforth said, “And it is your firm intention never to become his wife?” To which she answered—“At present it is.” “At present! do you suspect you shall change your sentiments?” “Women sometimes do.” “But before that change can take place, your acquaintance will be at an end: for it is that which I shall next insist upon, and to which you can have no objection.” She replied, “I had rather it should continue.” “On what account?” cried Dorriforth. “Because it entertains me.” “For shame, for shame!” returned he; “it endangers your character and your happiness. Yet again, do not suffer me to interfere, if the breaking with Lord Frederick can militate against your felicity.” “By no means,” she answered; “Lord Frederick makes part of my amusement, but could never constitute my felicity.” “Miss Woodley,” said Dorriforth, “do you comprehend your friend in the same literal and unequivocal sense that I do?” “Certainly I do, Sir.” “And pray, Miss Woodley,” said he, “were those the sentiments which you have always entertained?” Miss Woodley hesitated—he continued. “Or has this conversation altered them?” She hesitated again, then answered—“This conversation has altered them.” “And yet you confide in it!” cried Sandford, looking at her with contempt. “Certainly I do,” replied Miss Woodley. “Do not you then, Mr. Sandford?” asked Dorriforth. “I would advise you to act as if I did,” replied Sandford. “Then, Miss Milner,” said Dorriforth, “you see Lord Frederick no more—and I hope I have your permission to apprize him of this arrangement.” “You have, Sir,” she replied with a completely unembarrassed countenance and voice. Her friend looked at her as if to discover some lurking wish, adverse to all these protestations, but she could not discern one. Sandford too fixed his penetrating eyes upon her, as if he would look through her soul, but finding it perfectly composed, he cried out, “Why then not write his dismission herself, and save you, Mr. Dorriforth, the trouble of any farther contest with him?” “Indeed, Miss Milner,” said Dorriforth, “that would oblige me; for it is with great reluctance that I meet him upon this subject—he was extremely impatient and importunate when he was last with me—he took advantage of my ecclesiastical situation to treat me with a levity and ill breeding, that I could ill have suffered upon any other consideration than a compliance with my duty.”