Miss Milner, through all her tears, could not now restrain her laughter. On which he resumed; “And here do I venture, like a missionary among savages—but if I can only save you from their scalping knives—from the miseries which that lady is preparing for you, I am rewarded.” Sandford spoke this with great fervour, and the offence of her love never appeared to her in so tremendous a point of view, as when thus, unknowingly, alluded to by him. “_The miseries that lady is preparing for you_,” hung upon her ears like the notes of a raven, and sounded equally ominous. The words “_murder_” and “_excommunication_” he had likewise uttered; all the fatal effects of sacrilegious love. Frightful superstitions struck her to the heart, and she could scarcely prevent falling down under their oppression. Dorriforth beheld the difficulty she had in sustaining herself, and with the utmost tenderness went towards her, and supporting her, said, “I beg your pardon—I invited you hither with a far different intention than your uneasiness, and be assured——” Sandford was beginning to speak, when Dorriforth resumed,—“Hold, Mr. Sandford, the lady is under my protection, and I know not whether it is not requisite that you should apologize to her, and to me, for what you have already said.” “You asked my opinion, or I had not given it you—would you have me, like _her_, speak what I do not think?” “Say no more, Sir,” cried Dorriforth—and leading her kindly to the door, as if to defend her from his malice, told her, “He would take another opportunity of renewing the subject.” CHAPTER XVII. When Dorriforth was alone with Sandford, he explained to him what before he had only hinted; and this learned Jesuit frankly confessed, “That the mind of woman was far above, or rather beneath, his comprehension.” It was so, indeed—for with all his penetration, and few even of that school had more, he had not yet penetrated into the recesses of Miss Milner’s heart. Miss Woodley, to whom she repeated all that had passed between herself, her guardian, and Sandford, took this moment, in the agitation of her spirits, to alarm her still more by prophetic insinuations; and at length represented to her here, for the first time, the necessity, “That Mr. Dorriforth and she no longer should remain under the same roof.” This was like the stroke of sudden death to Miss Milner, and clinging to life, she endeavoured to avert the blow by prayers, and by promises. Her friend loved her too sincerely to be prevailed upon. “But in what manner can I accomplish the separation?” cried she, “for till I marry we are obliged, by my father’s request, to live in the same house.” “Miss Milner,” answered Miss Woodley, “much as I respect the will of a dying man, I regard your and Mr. Dorriforth’s present and eternal happiness much more; and it is my resolution that you _shall part_. If _you_ will not contrive the means, that duty falls on me, and without any invention I see the measure at once.”