It so happened, and it was unfortunate it did, that a lawsuit concerning some possessions in the West Indies, and other intricate affairs that came with his title and estate, frequently kept Lord Elmwood from his house part of the day; sometimes the whole evening; and when at home, would often closet him for hours with his lawyers. But while he was thus off his guard, Sandford never was—and had Miss Milner been the dearest thing on earth to him, he could not have watched her more narrowly; or had she been the frailest thing on earth, he could not have been more hard upon her, in all the accounts of her conduct he gave to her guardian. Lord Elmwood knew, on the other hand, that Sandford’s failing was to think ill of Miss Milner—he pitied him for it, and he pitied her for it—and in all the aggravation which his representations gave to her real follies, affection for them both, in the heart of Dorriforth, stood between that and every other impression. But facts are glaring; and he, at length, beheld those faults in their true colours, though previously pointed out by the prejudice of Mr. Sandford. As soon as Sandford perceived his friend’s uneasiness, “There, my Lord!” cried he, exultingly, “did I not always say the marriage was an improper one? but you would not be ruled—you would not see.” “Can you blame _me_ for not seeing,” replied his Lordship, “when _you_ were blind? Had you been dispassionate, had you seen Miss Milner’s virtues as well as her faults, I should have believed, and been guided by you—but you saw her failings only, and therein have been equally deceived with me, who have only beheld her perfections.” “My observations, however, my Lord, would have been of most use to you; for I have seen what to avoid.” “But mine have been the most gratifying,” replied he; “for I have seen—what I must always love.” Sandford sighed, and lifted up his hands. “Mr. Sandford,” resumed Lord Elmwood, with a voice and manner such as he used to put on when not all the power of Sandford, or of any other, could change his fixed determination, “Mr. Sandford, my eyes are now open to every failing, as well as to every accomplishment; to every vice, as well as to every virtue of Miss Milner; nor will I suffer myself to be again prepossessed in her favour, by your prejudice against her—for I believe it was compassion at your unkind treatment, that first gained her my heart.” “I, my Lord?” cried Sandford; “do not load me with the burthen—with the mighty burthen of your love for her.”