Soon after breakfast, Mr. Sandford withdrew to his own apartment: Mrs. Horton, in a little time, went to hers: Lord Elmwood and Miss Woodley were left alone. He immediately rose from his seat, and said, “I think, Miss Woodley, Miss Milner was extremely to blame, though I did not chuse to tell her so before Mr. Sandford, in giving Lord Frederick an opportunity of speaking to her, unless she means that he shall renew his addresses.” “That, I am certain,” replied Miss Woodley, “she does _not_ mean—and I assure you, my Lord, seriously, it was by mere accident she saw him yesterday evening, or permitted his attendance upon her to her carriage.” “I am glad to hear it,” he returned quickly; “for although I am not of a suspicious nature, yet in regard to her affections for him, I cannot but still have my doubts.” “You need have none, my Lord,” replied Miss Woodley, with a smile of confidence. “And yet you must own her behaviour has warranted them—has it not been in this particular incoherent and unaccountable?” “The behaviour of a person in love, no doubt,” answered Miss Woodley. “Don’t I say so?” replied he warmly; “and is not that a just reason for my suspicions?” “But is there only one man in the world on whom those suspicions can fix?” said Miss Woodley, with the colour mounting into her face. “Not that I know of—not one more that I know of,” he replied, with astonishment at what she had insinuated, and yet with a perfect assurance that she was in the wrong. “Perhaps I am mistaken,” answered she. “Nay, that is impossible too,” returned he with anxiety—“You share her confidence—you are perpetually with her; and if she did not confide in you, (which I know, and rejoice that she does) you would yet be acquainted with all her inclinations.” “I believe I am _perfectly_ acquainted with them,” replied Miss Woodley, with a significance in her voice and manner which convinced him there was some secret to learn. After a hesitation—— “It is far from me,” replied he, “to wish to be entrusted with the private sentiments of those who desire to with-hold them from me; much less would I take any unfair means to be informed of them. To ask any more questions of you, I believe, would be unfair. Yet I cannot but lament that I am not as well informed as you are. I wish to prove my friendship to Miss Milner, but she will not suffer me—and every step that I take for her happiness, I take in the most perplexing uncertainty.” Miss Woodley sighed—but she did not speak. He seemed to wait for her reply; but as she made none, he proceeded— “If ever breach of confidence could be tolerated, I certainly know no occasion that would so justly authorise it as the present. I am not only proper from character, but from circumstances, to be relied upon—my interest is so nearly connected with the interest, and my happiness with the happiness of my ward, that those principles, as well as my honour, would protect her against every peril arising from my being trusted.”