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Overcome with the want of rest for two nights, from her distracting fears, and all those fears now hushed; Matilda, soon after she was placed in the carriage with Lord Elmwood, dropped fast asleep; and thus, insensibly surprised, leaned her head against her father in the sweetest slumber that imagination can conceive.

When she awoke, instead of the usual melancholy scene before her view, she beheld her father, and heard the voice of the once dreaded Lord Elmwood tenderly saying,

"We will go no further to-night, the fatigue is too much for her; order beds here directly, and some proper person to sit up and attend her."

She could only turn to him with a look of love and duty; her lips could not utter a sentence.

In the morning she found her father by the side of her bed. He inquired "If she was in health sufficient to pursue her journey, or if she would remain where she was?"

"I am able to go with you," she answered instantly.

"Nay," replied he, "perhaps you ought to stay here till you are better?"

"I am better," said she, "and ready to go with you."——Half afraid that he meant to send her from him.

He perceived her fears, and replied, "Nay, if you stay, so shall I—and when I go, I shall take you along with me to my house."

"To Elmwood House?" she asked eagerly.

"No, to my house in town, where I intend to be all the winter, and where we shall live together."

She turned her face on the pillow to conceal tears of joy, but her sobs revealed them.

"Come," said he, "this kiss is a token you have nothing to fear." And he kissed her affectionately. "I shall send for Miss Woodley too immediately," continued he.

"Oh! I shall be overjoyed to see her, my Lord—and to see Mr. Sandford—and even Mr. Rushbrook."

"Do you know him?" said Lord Elmwood.

"Yes," she replied, "I have seen him two or three times."

The Earl hoping the air might be a means of re-establishing her strength and spirits, now left the room, and ordered his carriage to be prepared: while she arose, attended by one of his female servants, for whom he had sent to town, to bring such changes of apparel as were requisite.

When Matilda was ready to join her father in the next room, she felt a tremor seize her, that made it almost impossible to appear before him. No other circumstance now impending to agitate her heart, she felt more forcibly its embarrassment at meeting on terms of easy intercourse, him, of whom she had never been used to think, but with that distant reverence and fear, which his severity had excited; and she knew not how she should dare to speak to, or look on him, with that freedom her affection warranted.

After several efforts to conquer these nice and refined sensations, but to no purpose, she at last went to his apartment. He was reading; but as she entered, he put out his hand and drew her to him. Her tears wholly overcame her. He could have intermingled his—but assuming a grave countenance, he commanded her to desist from exhausting her spirits; and, after a few powerful struggles, she obeyed.

Before the morning was over, she experienced the extreme joy of sitting by her father's side as they drove to town, and of receiving, during his conversation, a thousand proofs of his love, and tokens of her lasting happiness.

It was now the middle of November; and yet, as Matilda passed along, never to her, did the sun shine so bright as upon this morning—never did her imagination comprehend, that the human heart could feel happiness true and genuine as hers!

On arriving at the house, there was no abatement of her felicity: all was respect and duty on the part of the domestics—all paternal care on the part of Lord Elmwood; and she would have been at that summit of her wishes which annihilates hope, but that the prospect of seeing Miss Woodley and Mr. Sandford, still kept this passion in existence.