The moment the opera was finished, she flew hastily down stairs, as if to fly from the sufferings she experienced. She did not go into the coffee-room, though repeatedly urged by Miss Woodley, but waited at the door till her carriage drew up. Piqued—heart-broken—full of resentment against the object of her uneasiness, and inattentive to all that passed, a hand gently touched her own; and the most humble and insinuating voice said, “Will you permit me to lead you to your carriage?” She was awakened from her revery, and found Lord Frederick Lawnly by her side. Her heart, just then melting with tenderness to another, was perhaps more accessible than heretofore; or bursting with resentment, thought this the moment to retaliate. Whatever passion reigned that instant, it was favourable to the desires of Lord Frederick, and she looked as if she was glad to see him: he beheld this with the rapture and the humility of a lover; and though she did not feel the least particle of love in return, she felt gratitude in proportion to the insensibility with which she had been treated by her guardian; and Lord Frederick’s supposition was not very erroneous, if he mistook this gratitude for a latent spark of affection. The mistake, however, did not force from him his respect: he handed her to her carriage, bowed low, and disappeared. Miss Woodley wished to divert her thoughts from the object which could only make her wretched, and as they rode home, by many encomiums upon Lord Frederick, endeavoured to incite her to a regard for him; Miss Milner was displeased at the attempt, and exclaimed, “What! love a rake, a man of professed gallantry? impossible. To me, a common rake is as odious as a common prostitute is to a man of the nicest feelings. Where can be the joy, the pride, of inspiring a passion which fifty others can equally inspire?” “Strange,” cried Miss Woodley, “that you, who possess so many follies incident to your sex, should, in the disposal of your heart, have sentiments so contrary to women in general.” “My dear Miss Woodley,” returned she, “put in competition the languid addresses of a libertine, with the animated affection of a sober man, and judge which has the dominion? Oh! in my calendar of love, a solemn Lord Chief Justice, or a devout archbishop, ranks before a licentious king.” Miss Woodley smiled at an opinion which she knew half her sex would ridicule; but by the air of sincerity with which it was delivered, she was convinced her recent behaviour to Lord Frederick was but the mere effect of chance. Lord Elmwood’s carriage drove to his door just at the time her’s did; Mr. Sandford was with him, and they were both come from passing the evening at Mr. Fenton’s. “So, my Lord,” said Miss Woodley, as soon as they met in the apartment, “you did not come to us?” “No,” answered he, “I was sorry; but I hope you did not expect me.” “Not expect you, my Lord?” cried Miss Milner; “Did not you say that you would come?”