When the time for Miss Woodley’s departure arrived, Miss Milner entreated earnestly to accompany her home, and made the most solemn promises that she would guard not only her behaviour, but her very thoughts, within the limitation her friend should prescribe. Miss Woodley at length yielded thus far, “That as soon as Lord Elmwood was set out on his journey to Italy, where she had heard him say that he should soon be obliged to go, she would no longer deny her the pleasure of returning; and if (after the long absence which must consequently take place between him and her) she could positively affirm the suppression of her passion was the happy result, she would then take her word, and risk the danger of seeing them once more reside together.” This concession having been obtained, they parted; and as winter was now far advanced, Miss Woodley returned to her aunt’s house in town, from whence Mrs. Horton was, however, preparing to remove, in order to superintend Lord Elmwood’s house, (which had been occupied by the late Earl,) in Grosvenor Square; and her niece was to accompany her. If Lord Elmwood was not desirous Miss Milner should conclude her visit and return to his protection, it was partly from the multiplicity of affairs in which he was at this time engaged, and partly from having Mr. Sandford now entirely placed with him as his chaplain; for he dreaded, that living in the same house, their natural antipathy might be increased even to aversion. Upon this account, he once thought of advising Mr. Sandford to take up his abode elsewhere; but the great pleasure he took in his society, joined to the bitter mortification he knew such a proposal would be to his friend, would not suffer him to make it. Miss Milner all this time was not thinking upon those she hated, but on those she loved. Sandford never came into her thoughts, while the image of Lord Elmwood never left them. One morning, as she sat talking to Lady Luneham on various subjects, but thinking alone on him, Sir Harry Luneham, with another gentleman, a Mr. Fleetmond, came in, and the conversation turned upon the improbability, during the present Lord Elmwood’s youth, that he should ever inherit the title and estate which had now fallen to him—and, said Mr. Fleetmond, “Independent of rank and fortune, it must be matter of infinite joy to Mr. Dorriforth.” “No,” answered Sir Harry, “independent of rank and fortune, it must be a motive of concern to him; for he must now regret, beyond measure, his folly in taking priest’s orders, thus depriving himself of the hopes of an heir, so that his title, at his death, will be lost.” “By no means,” replied Mr. Fleetmond; “he may yet have an heir, for he will certainly marry.” “Marry!” cried the Baronet. “Yes,” answered the other, “it was that I meant by the joy it might probably give him, beyond the possession of his estate and title.” “How he married?” said Lady Luneham, “Has he not taken a vow never to marry?”