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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Simple Story, by Mrs. Inchbald
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: A Simple Story
+
+Author: Mrs. Inchbald
+
+Editor: G. L. Strachey
+
+Release Date: July 5, 2007 [eBook #22002]
+[Most recently updated: October 1, 2021]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: David Edwards, Marcia Brooks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SIMPLE STORY ***
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY
+
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD
+
+WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
+
+G. L. STRACHEY
+
+LONDON
+HENRY FROWDE
+1908
+
+OXFORD: HORACE HART
+PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
+
+
+Transcriber’s Note: Table of Contents Added.
+Left Archaic spellings, but made minor changes to punctuation.
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+ INTRODUCTION
+ PREFACE.
+ Volume I
+ CHAPTER I.
+ CHAPTER II.
+ CHAPTER III.
+ CHAPTER IV.
+ CHAPTER V.
+ CHAPTER VI.
+ CHAPTER VII.
+ CHAPTER VIII.
+ CHAPTER IX.
+ CHAPTER X.
+ CHAPTER XI.
+ CHAPTER XII.
+ CHAPTER XIII.
+ CHAPTER XIV.
+ CHAPTER XV.
+ CHAPTER XVI.
+ CHAPTER XVII.
+ Volume II
+ CHAPTER I.
+ CHAPTER II.
+ CHAPTER III.
+ CHAPTER IV.
+ CHAPTER V.
+ CHAPTER VI.
+ CHAPTER VII.
+ CHAPTER VIII.
+ CHAPTER IX.
+ CHAPTER X.
+ CHAPTER XI.
+ CHAPTER XII.
+ Volume III
+ CHAPTER I.
+ CHAPTER II.
+ CHAPTER III.
+ CHAPTER IV.
+ CHAPTER V.
+ CHAPTER VI.
+ CHAPTER VII.
+ CHAPTER VIII.
+ CHAPTER IX.
+ CHAPTER X.
+ CHAPTER XI.
+ CHAPTER XII.
+ CHAPTER XIII.
+ CHAPTER XIV.
+ Volume IV
+ CHAPTER I.
+ CHAPTER II.
+ CHAPTER III.
+ CHAPTER IV.
+ CHAPTER V.
+ CHAPTER VI.
+ CHAPTER VII.
+ CHAPTER VIII.
+ CHAPTER IX.
+ CHAPTER X.
+ CHAPTER XI.
+ CHAPTER XII.
+ Plays written by Mrs. Inchbald
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+_A Simple Story_ is one of those books which, for some reason or other,
+have failed to come down to us, as they deserved, along the current of
+time, but have drifted into a literary backwater where only the
+professional critic or the curious discoverer can find them out. “The
+iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy;� and nowhere more
+blindly than in the republic of letters. If we were to inquire how it
+has happened that the true value of Mrs. Inchbald’s achievement has
+passed out of general recognition, perhaps the answer to our question
+would be found to lie in the extreme difficulty with which the mass of
+readers detect and appreciate mere quality in literature. Their
+judgment is swayed by a hundred side-considerations which have nothing
+to do with art, but happen easily to impress the imagination, or to fit
+in with the fashion of the hour. The reputation of Mrs. Inchbald’s
+contemporary, Fanny Burney, is a case in point. Every one has heard of
+Fanny Burney’s novels, and _Evelina_ is still widely read. Yet it is
+impossible to doubt that, so far as quality alone is concerned,
+_Evelina_ deserves to be ranked considerably below _A Simple Story_.
+But its writer was the familiar friend of the greatest spirits of her
+age; she was the author of one of the best of diaries; and her work was
+immediately and immensely popular. Thus it has happened that the name
+of Fanny Burney has maintained its place upon the roll of English
+novelists, while that of Mrs. Inchbald is forgotten.
+
+But the obscurity of Mrs. Inchbald’s career has not, of course, been
+the only reason for the neglect of her work. The merits of _A Simple
+Story_ are of a kind peculiarly calculated to escape the notice of a
+generation of readers brought up on the fiction of the nineteenth
+century. That fiction, infinitely various as it is, possesses at least
+one characteristic common to the whole of it—a breadth of outlook upon
+life, which can be paralleled by no other body of literature in the
+world save that of the Elizabethans. But the comprehensiveness of view
+shared by Dickens and Tolstoy, by Balzac and George Eliot, finds no
+place in Mrs. Inchbald’s work. Compared with _A Simple Story_ even the
+narrow canvases of Jane Austen seem spacious pictures of diversified
+life. Mrs. Inchbald’s novel is not concerned with the world at large,
+or with any section of society, hardly even with the family; its
+subject is a group of two or three individuals whose interaction forms
+the whole business of the book. There is no local colour in it, no
+complexity of detail nor violence of contrast; the atmosphere is vague
+and neutral, the action passes among ill-defined sitting-rooms, and the
+most poignant scene in the story takes place upon a staircase which has
+never been described. Thus the reader of modern novels is inevitably
+struck, in _A Simple Story_, by a sense of emptiness and thinness,
+which may well blind him to high intrinsic merits. The spirit of the
+eighteenth century is certainly present in the book, but it is the
+eighteenth century of France rather than of England. Mrs. Inchbald no
+doubt owed much to Richardson; her view of life is the indoor
+sentimental view of the great author of _Clarissa_; but her treatment
+of it has very little in common with his method of microscopic analysis
+and vast accumulation. If she belongs to any school, it is among the
+followers of the French classical tradition that she must be placed. _A
+Simple Story_ is, in its small way, a descendant of the Tragedies of
+Racine; and Miss Milner may claim relationship with Madame de Clèves.
+
+Besides her narrowness of vision, Mrs. Inchbald possesses another
+quality, no less characteristic of her French predecessors, and no less
+rare among the novelists of England. She is essentially a stylist—a
+writer whose whole conception of her art is dominated by stylistic
+intention. Her style, it is true, is on the whole poor; it is often
+heavy and pompous, sometimes clumsy and indistinct; compared with the
+style of such a master as Thackeray it sinks at once into
+insignificance. But the interest of her style does not lie in its
+intrinsic merit so much as in the use to which she puts it. Thackeray’s
+style is mere ornament, existing independently of what he has to say;
+Mrs. Inchbald’s is part and parcel of her matter. The result is that
+when, in moments of inspiration, she rises to the height of her
+opportunity, when, mastering her material, she invests her expression
+with the whole intensity of her feeling and her thought, then she
+achieves effects of the rarest beauty—effects of a kind for which one
+may search through Thackeray in vain. The most triumphant of these
+passages is the scene on the staircase of Elmwood House—a passage which
+would be spoilt by quotation and which no one who has ever read it
+could forget. But the same quality is to be found throughout her work.
+“Oh, Miss Woodley!� exclaims Miss Milner, forced at last to confess to
+her friend what she feels towards Dorriforth, “I love him with all the
+passion of a mistress, and with all the tenderness of a wife.� No young
+lady, even in the eighteenth century, ever gave utterance to such a
+sentence as that. It is the sentence, not of a speaker, but of a
+writer; and yet, for that very reason, it is delightful, and comes to
+us charged with a curious sense of emotion, which is none the less real
+for its elaboration. In _Nature and Art_, Mrs. Inchbald’s second novel,
+the climax of the story is told in a series of short paragraphs, which,
+for bitterness and concentration of style, are almost reminiscent of
+Stendhal:
+
+The jury consulted for a few minutes. The verdict was “Guilty�.
+
+She heard it with composure.
+
+But when William placed the fatal velvet on his head and rose to
+pronounce sentence, she started with a kind of convulsive motion,
+retreated a step or two back, and, lifting up her hands with a scream,
+exclaimed—
+
+“Oh, not from _you_!�
+
+The piercing shriek which accompanied these words prevented their being
+heard by part of the audience; and those who heard them thought little
+of their meaning, more than that they expressed her fear of dying.
+
+Serene and dignified, as if no such exclamation had been uttered,
+William delivered the fatal speech, ending with “Dead, dead, dead�.
+
+She fainted as he closed the period, and was carried back to prison in
+a swoon; while he adjourned the court to go to dinner.
+
+Here, no doubt, there is a touch of melodrama; but it is the melodrama
+of a rhetorician, and, in that fine “She heard it with composure�,
+genius has brushed aside the forced and the obvious, to express, with
+supreme directness, the anguish of a soul.
+
+For, in spite of Mrs. Inchbald’s artificialities, in spite of her lack
+of that kind of realistic description which seems to modern readers the
+very blood and breath of a good story, she has the power of doing what,
+after all, only a very few indeed of her fellow craftsmen have ever
+been able to do—she can bring into her pages the living pressure of a
+human passion, she can invest, if not with realism, with something
+greater than realism—with the sense of reality itself—the pains, the
+triumphs, and the agitations of the human heart. “The heart,� to use
+the old-fashioned phrase—there is Mrs. Inchbald’s empire, there is the
+sphere of her glory and her command. Outside of it, her powers are weak
+and fluctuating. She has no firm grasp of the masculine elements in
+character: she wishes to draw a rough man, Sandford, and she draws a
+rude one; she tries her hand at a hero, Rushbrook, and she turns out a
+prig. Her humour is not faulty, but it is exceedingly slight. What an
+immortal figure the dim Mrs. Horton would have become in the hands of
+Jane Austen! In _Nature and Art_, her attempts at social satire are
+superficial and overstrained. But weaknesses of this kind—and it would
+be easy to prolong the list—are what every reader of the following
+pages will notice without difficulty, and what no wise one will regard.
+“Il ne faut point juger des hommes par ce qu’ils ignorent, mais par ce
+qu’ils savent;� and Mrs. Inchbald’s knowledge was as profound as it was
+limited. Her Miss Milner is an original and brilliant creation, compact
+of charm and life. She is a flirt, and a flirt not only adorable, but
+worthy of adoration. Did Mrs. Inchbald take the suggestion of a heroine
+with imperfections from the little masterpiece which, on more sides
+than one, closely touches her’s—Manon Lescaut? Perhaps; and yet, if
+this was so, the borrowing was of the slightest, for it is only in the
+fact that she _is_ imperfect that Miss Milner bears to Manon any
+resemblance at all. In every other respect, the English heroine is the
+precise contrary of the French one: she is a creature of fiery will, of
+high bearing, of noble disposition; and her shortcomings are born, not
+of weakness, but of excess of strength. Mrs. Inchbald has taken this
+character, she has thrown it under the influence of a violent and
+absorbing passion, and, upon that theme, she has written her delicate,
+sympathetic, and artificial book.
+
+As one reads it, one cannot but feel that it is, if not directly and
+circumstantially, at least in essence, autobiographical. One finds
+oneself speculating over the author, wondering what was her history,
+and how much of it was Miss Milner’s. Unfortunately the greater part of
+what we should most like to know of Mrs. Inchbald’s life has vanished
+beyond recovery. She wrote her Memoirs, and she burnt them; and who can
+tell whether even there we should have found a self-revelation?
+Confessions are sometimes curiously discreet, and, in the case of Mrs.
+Inchbald, we may be sure that it is only what was indiscreet that would
+really be worth the hearing. Yet her life is not devoid of interest. A
+brief sketch of it may be welcome to her readers.
+
+Elizabeth Inchbald was born on the 15th of October, 1753, at
+Standingfield, near Bury St. Edmunds in Suffolk;[1] one of the numerous
+offspring of John and Mary Simpson. The Simpsons, who were Roman
+Catholics, held a moderate farm in Standingfield, and ranked among the
+gentry of the neighbourhood. In Elizabeth’s eighth year, her father
+died; but the family continued at the farm, the elder daughters
+marrying and settling in London, while Elizabeth grew up into a
+beautiful and charming girl. One misfortune, however, interfered with
+her happiness—a defect of utterance which during her early years
+rendered her speech so indistinct as to be unintelligible to strangers.
+She devoted herself to reading and to dreams of the great world. At
+thirteen, she declared she would rather die than live longer without
+seeing the world; she longed to go to London; she longed to go upon the
+stage. When, in 1770, one of her brothers became an actor at Norwich,
+she wrote secretly to his manager, Mr. Griffith, begging for an
+engagement. Mr. Griffith was encouraging, and, though no definite steps
+were taken, she was sufficiently charmed with him to write out his name
+at length in her diary, with the inscription “Each dear letter of thy
+name is harmony.� Was Mr. Griffith the hero of the company as well as
+its manager? That, at any rate, was clearly Miss Simpson’s opinion; but
+she soon had other distractions. In the following year she paid a visit
+to her married sisters in London, where she met another actor, Mr.
+Inchbald, who seems immediately to have fallen in love with her, and to
+have proposed. She remained cool. “In spite of your eloquent pen,� she
+wrote to him, with a touch of that sharp and almost bitter sense that
+was always hers, “matrimony still appears to me with less charms than
+terrors: the bliss arising from it, I doubt not, is superior to any
+other—but best not to be ventured for (in my opinion), till some little
+time have proved the emptiness of all other; which it seldom fails to
+do.� Nevertheless, the correspondence continued, and, early in 1772,
+some entries in her diary give a glimpse of her state of mind:—
+
+_Jan. 22_. Saw Mr. Griffith’s picture.
+
+_Jan. 28_. Stole it.
+
+_Jan. 29_. Rather disappointed at not receiving a letter from Mr.
+Inchbald.
+
+A few months later she did the great deed of her life: she stepped
+secretly into the Norwich coach, and went to London. The days that
+followed were full of hazard and adventure, but the details of them are
+uncertain. She was a girl of eighteen, absolutely alone, and
+astonishingly attractive—“tall,� we are told, “slender, straight, of
+the purest complexion, and most beautiful features; her hair of a
+golden auburn, her eyes full at once of spirit and sweetness;� and it
+was only to be expected that, in such circumstances, romance and daring
+would soon give place to discomfort and alarm. She attempted in vain to
+obtain a theatrical engagement; she found herself, more than once,
+obliged to shift her lodging; and at last, after ten days of
+trepidation, she was reduced to apply for help to her married sisters.
+This put an end to her difficulties, but, in spite of her efforts to
+avoid notice, her beauty had already attracted attention, and she had
+received a letter from a stranger, with whom she immediately entered
+into correspondence. She had all the boldness of innocence, and, in
+addition, a force of character which brought her safely through the
+risks she ran. While she was still in her solitary lodging, a
+theatrical manager, named Dodd, attempted to use his position as a
+cover for seduction. She had several interviews with him alone, and the
+story goes that, in the last, she snatched up a basin of hot water and
+dashed it in his face. But she was not to go unprotected for long; for
+within two months of her arrival in London she had married Mr.
+Inchbald.
+
+The next twelve years of Mrs. Inchbald’s life were passed amid the
+rough and tumble of the eighteenth-century stage. Her husband was
+thirty-seven when she married him, a Roman Catholic like herself, and
+an actor who depended for his living upon ill-paid and uncertain
+provincial engagements. Mrs. Inchbald conquered her infirmity of speech
+and threw herself into her husband’s profession. She accompanied him to
+Bristol, to Scotland, to Liverpool, to Birmingham, appearing in a great
+variety of rôles, but never with any very conspicuous success. The
+record of these journeys throws an interesting light upon the
+conditions of the provincial companies of those days. Mrs. Inchbald and
+her companions would set out to walk from one Scotch town to another;
+they would think themselves lucky if they could climb on to a passing
+cart, to arrive at last, drenched with rain perhaps, at some wretched
+hostelry. But this kind of barbarism did not stand in the way of an
+almost childish gaiety. In Yorkshire, we find the Inchbalds, the
+Siddonses, and Kemble retiring to the moors, in the intervals of
+business, to play blindman’s buff or puss in the corner. Such were the
+pastimes of Mrs. Siddons before the days of her fame. No doubt this
+kind of lightheartedness was the best antidote to the experience of
+being “saluted with volleys of potatoes and broken bottles�, as the
+Siddonses were by the citizens of Liverpool, for having ventured to
+appear on their stage without having ever played before the King. On
+this occasion, the audience, according to a letter from Kemble to Mrs.
+Inchbald, “extinguished all the lights round the house; then jumped
+upon the stage; brushed every lamp out with their hats; took back their
+money; left the theatre, and determined themselves to repeat this till
+they have another company.� These adventures were diversified by a
+journey to Paris, undertaken in the hope that Mr. Inchbald, who found
+himself without engagements, might pick up a livelihood as a painter of
+miniatures. The scheme came to nothing, and the Inchbalds eventually
+went to Hull, where they returned to their old profession. Here, in
+1779, suddenly and somewhat mysteriously, Mr. Inchbald died. To his
+widow the week that followed was one of “grief, horror, and almost
+despair�; but soon, with her old pertinacity, she was back at her work,
+settling at last in London, and becoming a member of the Covent Garden
+company. Here, for the next five years, she earned for herself a meagre
+living, until, quite unexpectedly, deliverance came. In her moments of
+leisure she had been trying her hand upon dramatic composition; she had
+written some farces, and, in 1784, one of them, _A Mogul Tale_, was
+accepted, acted, and obtained a great success. This was the
+turning-point of her career. She followed up her farce with a series of
+plays, either original or adapted, which, almost without exception,
+were well received, so that she was soon able to retire from the stage
+with a comfortable competence. She had succeeded in life; she was
+happy, respected, free.
+
+Mrs. Inchbald’s plays are so bad that it is difficult to believe that
+they brought her a fortune. But no doubt it was their faults that made
+them popular—their sentimentalities, their melodramatic absurdities,
+their strangely false and high-pitched moral tone. They are written in
+a jargon which resembles, if it resembles anything, an execrable prose
+translation from very flat French verse. “Ah, Manuel!� exclaims one of
+her heroines, “I am now amply punished by the Marquis for all my
+cruelty to Duke Cordunna—he to whom my father in my infancy betrothed
+me, and to whom I willingly pledged my faith, hoping to wed; till
+Romono, the Marquis of Romono, came from the field of glory, and with
+superior claims of person as of fame, seized on my heart by force, and
+perforce made me feel I had never loved till then.� Which is the more
+surprising—that actors could be found to utter such speeches, or that
+audiences could be collected to applaud them? Perhaps, for us, the most
+memorable fact about Mrs. Inchbald’s dramatic work is that one of her
+adaptations (from the German of Kotzebue) was no other than that
+_Lovers’ Vows_ which, as every one knows, was rehearsed so brilliantly
+at Ecclesford, the seat of the Right Hon. Lord Ravenshaw, in Cornwall,
+and which, after all, was _not_ performed at Sir Thomas Bertram’s. But
+that is an interest _sub specie aeternitatis_; and, from the temporal
+point of view, Mrs. Inchbald’s plays must be regarded merely as
+means—means towards her own enfranchisement, and that condition of
+things which made possible _A Simple Story_. That novel had been
+sketched as early as 1777; but it was not completely written until
+1790, and not published until the following year. A second edition was
+printed immediately, and several more followed; the present reprint is
+taken from the fourth, published in 1799—but with the addition of the
+characteristic preface, which, after the second edition, was dropped.
+The four small volumes of these early editions, with their large type,
+their ample spacing, their charming flavour of antiquity, delicacy, and
+rest—may be met with often enough in secluded corners of secondhand
+bookshops, or on some neglected shelf in the library of a country
+house. For their own generation, they represented a distinguished title
+to fame. Mrs. Inchbald—to use the expression of her biographer—“was
+ascertained to be one of the greatest ornaments of her sex.� She was
+painted by Lawrence, she was eulogized by Miss Edgeworth, she was
+complimented by Madame de Stael herself. She had, indeed, won for
+herself a position which can hardly be paralleled among the women of
+the eighteenth century—a position of independence and honour, based
+upon talent, and upon talent alone. In 1796 she published _Nature and
+Art_, and ten years later appeared her last work—a series of
+biographical and critical notices prefixed to a large collection of
+acting plays. During the greater part of the intervening period she
+lived in lodgings in Leicester Square—or “Leicester Fields� as the
+place was still often called—in a house opposite that of Sir Joshua
+Reynolds. The Å“conomy which she had learnt in her early days she
+continued to practise; dressing with extraordinary plainness, and often
+going without a fire in winter; so that she was able, through her
+self-sacrifice, to keep from want a large band of poor relatives and
+friends. The society she mixed with was various, but, for the most
+part, obscure. There were occasional visits from the now triumphant
+Mrs. Siddons; there were incessant propositions—but alas! they were
+equivocal—from Sir Charles Bunbury; for the rest, she passed her life
+among actor-managers and humble playwrights and unremembered medical
+men. One of her friends was William Godwin, who described her to Mrs.
+Shelley as a “piquante mixture between a lady and a milkmaid�, and who,
+it is said, suggested part of the plot of _A Simple Story_. But she
+quarreled with him when he married Mary Wollstonecraft, after whose
+death she wrote to him thus—“With the most sincere sympathy in all you
+have suffered—with the most perfect forgiveness of all you have said to
+me, there must nevertheless be an end to our acquaintance _for ever_. I
+respect your prejudices, but I also respect my own.� Far more intimate
+were her relations with Dr. Gisborne—a mysterious figure, with whom, in
+some tragic manner that we can only just discern, was enacted her final
+romance. His name—often in company with that of another physician, Dr.
+Warren, for whom, too, she had a passionate affection—occurs frequently
+among her papers; and her diary for December 17, 1794, has this
+entry:—“Dr. Gisborne drank tea here, and staid very late: he talked
+seriously of marrying—but not _me_.� Many years later, one September,
+she amused herself by making out a list of all the Septembers since her
+marriage, with brief notes as to her state of mind during each. The
+list has fortunately survived, and some of the later entries are as
+follows:—
+
+1791. London; after my novel, Simple Story ... very happy.
+
+1792. London; in Leicester Square ... cheerful, content, and sometimes
+rather happy....
+
+1794. Extremely happy, but for poor Debby’s death.
+
+1795. My brother George’s death, and an intimate acquaintance with Dr.
+Gisborne—not happy....
+
+1797. After an alteration in my teeth, and the death of Dr. Warren—yet
+far from unhappy.
+
+1798. Happy, but for suspicion amounting almost to certainty of a rapid
+appearance of age in my face....
+
+1802. After feeling wholly indifferent about Dr. Gisborne—very happy
+but for ill health, ill looks, &c.
+
+1803. After quitting Leicester Square probably for ever—after caring
+scarce at all or thinking of Dr. Gisborne ... very happy....
+
+1806.... After the death of Dr. Gisborne, too, often very unhappy, yet
+mostly cheerful, and on my return to London nearly happy.
+
+The record, with all its quaintness, produces a curious impression of
+stoicism—of a certain grim acceptance of the facts of life. It would
+have been a pleasure, certainly, but an alarming pleasure, to have
+known Mrs. Inchbald.
+
+In the early years of the century, she gradually withdrew from London,
+establishing herself in suburban boarding-houses, often among sisters
+of charity, and devoting her days to the practice of her religion. In
+her early and middle life she had been an indifferent Catholic:
+“Sunday. Rose late, dressed, and read in the Bible about David,
+&c.�—this is one of the very few references in her diary to anything
+approaching a religious observance during many years. But, in her old
+age, her views changed; her devotions increased with her retirement;
+and her retirement was at last complete. She died, in an obscure
+Kensington boarding-house, on August 1, 1821. She was buried in
+Kensington churchyard. But, if her ghost lingers anywhere, it is not in
+Kensington: it is in the heart of the London that she had always loved.
+Yet, even there, how much now would she find to recognize? Mrs.
+Inchbald’s world has passed away from us for ever; and, as we walk
+there to-day amid the press of the living, it is hard to believe that
+she too was familiar with Leicester Square.
+
+G. L. STRACHEY.
+
+[1] The following account is based upon the _Memoirs of Mrs. Inchbald,
+including her familiar correspondence with the most distinguished
+persons of her time_, edited by James Boaden, Esq.—a discursive, vague,
+and not unamusing book.
+
+
+
+
+A
+SIMPLE STORY,
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES,
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+
+
+
+VOL. I.
+
+_THE FOURTH EDITION._
+
+LONDON:
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,
+Paternoster Row.
+1799.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+It is said, _a book should be read with the same spirit with which it
+has been written_. In that case, fatal must be the reception of
+this—for the writer frankly avows, that during the time she has been
+writing it, she has suffered every quality and degree of weariness and
+lassitude, into which no other employment could have betrayed her.
+
+It has been the destiny of the writer of this Story to be occupied
+throughout her life, in what has the least suited either her
+inclination or capacity—with an invincible impediment in her speech, it
+was her lot for thirteen years to gain a subsistence by public
+speaking—and, with the utmost detestation to the fatigue of inventing,
+a constitution suffering under a sedentary life, and an education
+confined to the narrow boundaries prescribed her sex, it has been her
+fate to devote a tedious seven years to the unremitting labour of
+literary productions—whilst a taste for authors of the first rank has
+been an additional punishment, forbidding her one moment of those
+self-approving reflections, which are assuredly due to the industrious.
+But, alas! in the exercise of the arts, industry scarce bears the name
+of merit. What then is to be substituted in the place of genius? GOOD
+FORTUNE. And if these volumes should be attended by the good fortune
+that has accompanied her other writings, to that divinity, and that
+alone, she shall attribute their success.
+
+Yet, there is a _first cause_ still, to whom I cannot here forbear to
+mention my obligations.
+
+The Muses, I trust, will pardon me, that to them I do not feel myself
+obliged—for, in justice to their heavenly inspirations, I believe they
+have never yet favoured me with one visitation; but sent in their
+disguise NECESSITY, who, being the mother of Invention, gave me all
+mine—while FORTUNE kindly smiled, and was accessory to the cheat.
+
+But this important secret I long wished, and endeavoured to conceal;
+yet one unlucky moment candidly, though unwittingly, divulged it—I
+frankly owned, “That Fortune having chased away Necessity, there
+remained no other incitement to stimulate me to a labour I abhorred.�
+It happened to be in the power of the person to whom I confided this
+secret, to send NECESSITY once more. Once more, then, bowing to its
+empire, I submit to the task it enjoins.
+
+This case has something similar to a theatrical anecdote told (I think)
+by Colly Cibber:
+
+“A performer of a very mean salary, played the Apothecary in Romeo and
+Juliet so exactly to the satisfaction of the audience, that this little
+part, independent of the other characters, drew immense houses whenever
+the play was performed. The manager in consequence, thought it but
+justice to advance the actor’s salary; on which the poor man (who, like
+the character he represented, had been half starved before) began to
+live so comfortably, he became too plump for the part; and being of no
+importance in any thing else, the manager of course now wholly
+discharged him—and thus, actually reducing him to the want of a piece
+of bread, in a short time he became a proper figure for the part
+again.�
+
+Welcome, then, thou all-powerful principle, NECESSITY! THOU, who art
+the instigator of so many bad authors and actors—THOU, who from my
+infancy seldom hast forsaken me, still abide with me. I will not
+complain of any hardship thy commands require, so thou dost not urge my
+pen to prostitution. In all thy rigour, oh! do not force my toil to
+libels—or what is equally pernicious—panegyric on the unworthy!
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Dorriforth, bred at St. Omer’s in all the scholastic rigour of that
+college, was, by education, and the solemn vows of his order, a Roman
+Catholic priest—but nicely discriminating between the philosophical and
+the superstitious part of that character, and adopting the former only,
+he possessed qualities not unworthy the first professors of
+Christianity. Every virtue which it was his vocation to preach, it was
+his care to practise; nor was he in the class of those of the
+religious, who, by secluding themselves from the world, fly the merit
+they might have in reforming mankind. He refused to shelter himself
+from the temptations of the layman by the walls of a cloister, but
+sought for, and found that shelter in the centre of London, where he
+dwelt, in his own prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance.
+
+He was about thirty, and had lived in the metropolis near five years,
+when a gentleman above his own age, but with whom he had from his youth
+contracted a most sincere friendship, died, and left him the sole
+guardian of his daughter, who was then eighteen.
+
+The deceased Mr. Milner, on his approaching dissolution, perfectly
+sensible of his state, thus reasoned with himself before he made the
+nomination:—“I have formed no intimate friendship during my whole life,
+except one—I can be said to know the heart of no man, except the heart
+of Dorriforth. After knowing his, I never sought acquaintance with
+another—I did not wish to lessen the exalted estimation of human nature
+which he had inspired. In this moment of trembling apprehension for
+every thought which darts across my mind, and more for every action
+which I must soon be called to answer for; all worldly views here
+thrown aside, I act as if that tribunal, before which I every moment
+expect to appear, were now sitting in judgment upon my purpose. The
+care of an only child is the great charge that in this tremendous
+crisis I have to execute. These earthly affections that bind me to her
+by custom, sympathy, or what I fondly call parental love, would direct
+me to study her present happiness, and leave her to the care of those
+whom she thinks her dearest friends; but they are friends only in the
+sunshine of fortune; in the cold nipping frost of disappointment,
+sickness, or connubial strife, they will forsake the house of care,
+although the very house which they may have themselves built.�
+
+Here the excruciating anguish of the father, overcame that of the dying
+man.
+
+“In the moment of desertion,� continued he, “which I now picture to
+myself, where will my child find comfort? That heavenly aid which
+religion gives, and which now, amidst these agonizing tortures, cheers
+with humbler hope my afflicted soul; that, she will be denied.�
+
+It is in this place proper to remark, that Mr. Milner was a member of
+the church of Rome, but on his marriage with a lady of Protestant
+tenets, they mutually agreed their sons should be educated in the
+religious opinion of their father, and their daughters in that of their
+mother. One child only was the result of their union, the child whose
+future welfare now occupied the anxious thoughts of her expiring
+father. From him the care of her education had been with-held, as he
+kept inviolate his promise to her departed mother on the article of
+religion, and therefore consigned his daughter to a boarding-school for
+Protestants, whence she returned with merely such ideas of religion as
+ladies of fashion at her age mostly imbibe. Her little heart employed
+in all the endless pursuits of personal accomplishments, had left her
+mind without one ornament, except such as nature gave; and even they
+were not wholly preserved from the ravages made by its rival, _Art_.
+
+While her father was in health he beheld, with extreme delight, his
+accomplished daughter, without one fault which taste or elegance could
+have imputed to her; nor ever enquired what might be her other
+failings. But, cast on a bed of sickness, and upon the point of leaving
+her to her fate, those failings at once rushed on his thought—and all
+the pride, the fond enjoyment he had taken in beholding her open the
+ball, or delight her hearers with her wit, escaped his remembrance; or,
+not escaping it, were lamented with a sigh of compassion, or a
+contemptuous frown, at such frivolous qualifications.
+
+“Something essential,� said he to himself, “must be
+considered—something to prepare her for an hour like this. Can I then
+leave her to the charge of those who themselves never remember such an
+hour will come? Dorriforth is the only person I know, who, uniting the
+moral virtues to those of religion, and pious faith to native honour,
+will protect, without controlling, instruct, without tyrannizing,
+comfort, without flattering; and, perhaps in time, make good by choice,
+rather than by constraint, the dear object of his dying friend’s sole
+care.�
+
+Dorriforth, who came post from London to visit Mr. Milner in his
+illness, received a few moments before his death all his injunctions,
+and promised to fulfil them. But, in this last token of his friend’s
+esteem, he still was restrained from all authority to direct his ward
+in one religious opinion, contrary to those her mother had professed,
+and in which she herself had been educated.
+
+“Never perplex her mind with an idea that may disturb, but cannot
+reform�—were his latest words; and Dorriforth’s reply gave him entire
+satisfaction.
+
+Miss Milner was not with her father at this affecting period—some
+delicately nervous friend, with whom she was on a visit at Bath,
+thought proper to conceal from her not only the danger of his death,
+but even his indisposition, lest it might alarm a mind she thought too
+susceptible. This refined tenderness gave poor Miss Milner the almost
+insupportable agony of hearing that her father was no more, even before
+she was told he was not in health. In the bitterest anguish she flew to
+pay her last duty to his remains, and performed it with the truest
+filial love, while Dorriforth, upon important business, was obliged to
+return to town.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Dorriforth returned to London heavily afflicted for the loss of his
+friend; and yet, perhaps, with his thoughts more engaged upon the trust
+which that friend had reposed in him. He knew the life Miss Milner had
+been accustomed to lead; he dreaded the repulses his admonitions might
+possibly meet; and feared he had undertaken a task he was too weak to
+execute—the protection of a young woman of fashion.
+
+Mr. Dorriforth was nearly related to one of our first Catholic Peers;
+his income was by no means confined, but approaching to affluence; yet
+such was his attention to those in poverty, and the moderation of his
+own desires, that he lived in all the careful plainness of Å“conomy. His
+habitation was in the house of a Mrs. Horton, an elderly gentlewoman,
+who had a maiden niece residing with her, not many years younger than
+herself. But although Miss Woodley was thirty-five, and in person
+exceedingly plain, yet she possessed such an extreme cheerfulness of
+temper, and such an inexhaustible fund of good nature, that she escaped
+not only the ridicule, but even the appellation of an old maid.
+
+In this house Dorriforth had lived before the death of Mr. Horton; nor
+upon that event had he thought it necessary, notwithstanding his
+religious vow of celibacy, to fly the roof of two such innocent females
+as Mrs. Horton and her niece. On their part, they regarded him with all
+that respect and reverence which the most religious flock shews to its
+pastor; and his friendly society they not only esteemed a spiritual,
+but a temporal advantage, as the liberal stipend he allowed for his
+apartments and board, enabled them to continue in the large and
+commodious house which they had occupied during the life of Mr. Horton.
+
+Here, upon Mr. Dorriforth’s return from his journey, preparations were
+made for the reception of his ward; her father having made it his
+request that she might, for a time at least, reside in the same house
+with her guardian, receive the same visits, and cultivate the
+acquaintance of his companions and friends.
+
+When the will of her father was made known to Miss Milner, she
+submitted, without the least reluctance, to all he had required. Her
+mind, at that time impressed with the most poignant sorrow for his
+loss, made no distinction of happiness that was to come; and the day
+was appointed, with her silent acquiescence, when she was to arrive in
+London, and there take up her abode, with all the retinue of a rich
+heiress.
+
+Mrs. Horton was delighted with the addition this acquisition to her
+family was likely to make to her annual income, and style of living.
+The good-natured Miss Woodley was overjoyed at the expectation of their
+new guest, yet she herself could not tell why—but the reason was, that
+her kind heart wanted a more ample field for its benevolence; and now
+her thoughts were all pleasingly employed how she should render, not
+only the lady herself, but even all her attendants, happy in their new
+situation.
+
+The reflections of Dorriforth were less agreeably engaged—Cares,
+doubts, fears, possessed his mind—and so forcibly possessed it, that
+upon every occasion which offered, he would inquisitively endeavour to
+gain intelligence of his ward’s disposition before he saw her; for he
+was, as yet, a stranger not only to the real propensities of her mind,
+but even to her person; a constant round of visits having prevented his
+meeting her at her father’s, the very few times he had been at his
+house, since her final return from school. The first person whose
+opinion he, with all proper reserve, asked concerning Miss Milner, was
+Lady Evans, the widow of a Baronet, who frequently visited at Mrs.
+Horton’s.
+
+But that the reader may be interested in what Dorriforth says and does,
+it is necessary to give some description of his person and manners. His
+figure was tall and elegant, but his face, except a pair of dark bright
+eyes, a set of white teeth, and a graceful fall in his clerical curls
+of brown hair, had not one feature to excite admiration—yet such a
+gleam of sensibility was diffused over each, that many people mistook
+his face for handsome, and all were more or less attracted by it—in a
+word, the charm, that is here meant to be described, is a
+_countenance_—on _his_ you read the feelings of his heart—saw all its
+inmost workings—the quick pulses that beat with hope and fear, or the
+gentle ones that moved in a more equal course of patience and
+resignation. On this countenance his thoughts were pourtrayed; and as
+his mind was enriched with every virtue that could make it valuable, so
+was his face adorned with every expression of those virtues—and they
+not only gave a lustre to his aspect, but added a harmonious sound to
+all he uttered; it was persuasive, it was perfect eloquence; whilst in
+his looks you beheld his thoughts moving with his lips, and ever
+coinciding with what he said.
+
+With one of those interesting looks which revealed the anxiety of his
+heart, and yet with that graceful restraint of all gesticulation, for
+which he was remarkable, even in his most anxious concerns, he
+addressed Lady Evans, who had called on Mrs. Horton to hear and to
+request the news of the day: “Your Ladyship was at Bath last spring—you
+know the young lady to whom I have the honour of being appointed
+guardian. Pray,�—
+
+He was earnestly intent upon asking a question, but was prevented by
+the person interrogated.
+
+“Dear Mr. Dorriforth, do not ask me any thing about Miss Milner—when I
+saw her she was very young: though indeed that is but three months ago,
+and she can’t be much older now.�
+
+“She is eighteen,� answered Dorriforth, colouring with regret at the
+doubts which this lady had increased, but not inspired.
+
+“And she is very beautiful, that I can assure you,� said Lady Evans.
+
+“Which I call no qualification,� said Dorriforth, rising from his chair
+in evident uneasiness.
+
+“But where there is nothing else, let me tell you, beauty is
+something.�
+
+“Much worse than nothing, in my opinion,� returned Dorriforth.
+
+“But now, Mr. Dorriforth, do not from what I have said, frighten
+yourself, and imagine your ward worse than she really is—all I know of
+her, is merely, that she’s young, idle, indiscreet, and giddy, with
+half a dozen lovers in her suite; some coxcombs, others men of
+gallantry, some single, and others married.�
+
+Dorriforth started. “For the first time of my life,� cried he with a
+manly sorrow, “I wish I had never known her father.�
+
+“Nay,� said Mrs. Horton, who expected every thing to happen just as she
+wished, (for neither an excellent education, the best company, or long
+experience had been able to cultivate or brighten this good lady’s
+understanding,) “Nay,� said she, “I am sure, Mr. Dorriforth, you will
+soon convert her from all her evil ways.�
+
+“Dear me,� returned Lady Evans, “I am sure I never meant to hint at any
+thing evil—and for what I have said, I will give you up my authors if
+you please; for they were not observations of my own; all I do is to
+mention them again.�
+
+The good-natured Miss Woodley, who sat working at the window, an
+humble, but an attentive listener to this discourse, ventured here to
+say exactly six words: “Then don’t mention them any more.�
+
+“Let us change the subject,� said Dorriforth.
+
+“With all my heart,� cried Lady Evans; “and I am sure it will be to the
+young lady’s advantage.�
+
+“Is Miss Milner tall or short?� asked Mrs. Horton, still wishing for
+farther information.
+
+“Oh, tall enough of all conscience,� returned she; “I tell you again
+that no fault can be found with her person.�
+
+“But if her mind is defective�—exclaimed Dorriforth, with a sigh——
+
+“That may be improved as well as the person,� cried Miss Woodley.
+
+“No, my dear,� returned Lady Evans, “I never heard of a pad to make
+straight an ill-shapen disposition.�
+
+“Oh, yes,� answered Miss Woodley, “good company, good books,
+experience, and the misfortunes of others, may have more power to form
+the mind to virtue, than�——
+
+Miss Woodley was not permitted to proceed, for Lady Evans rising
+hastily from her seat, cried, “I must be gone—I have an hundred people
+waiting for me at home—besides, were I inclined to hear a sermon, I
+should desire Mr. Dorriforth to preach, and not you.�
+
+Just then Mrs. Hillgrave was announced. “And here is Mrs. Hillgrave,�
+continued she—“I believe, Mrs. Hillgrave, you know Miss Milner, don’t
+you? The young lady who has lately lost her father.�
+
+Mrs. Hillgrave was the wife of a merchant who had met with severe
+losses: as soon as the name of Miss Milner was uttered, she lifted up
+her hands, and the tears started in her eyes.
+
+“There!� cried Lady Evans, “I desire you will give your opinion of her,
+and I am sorry I cannot stay to hear it.� Saying this, she curtsied and
+took her leave.
+
+When Mrs. Hillgrave had been seated a few minutes, Mrs. Horton, who
+loved information equally with the most inquisitive of her sex, asked
+the new visitor—“If she might be permitted to know, why, at the mention
+of Miss Milner, she had seemed so much affected?�
+
+This question exciting the fears of Dorriforth, he turned anxiously
+round, attentive to the reply.
+
+“Miss Milner,� answered she, “has been my benefactress and the best I
+ever had.� As she spoke, she took out her handkerchief and wiped away
+the tears that ran down her face.
+
+“How so?� cried Dorriforth eagerly, with his own eyes moistened with
+joy, nearly as much as her’s were with gratitude.
+
+“My husband, at the commencement of his distresses,� replied Mrs.
+Hillgrave, “owed a sum of money to her father, and from repeated
+provocations, Mr. Milner was determined to seize upon all our
+effects—his daughter, however, by her intercessions, procured us time,
+in order to discharge the debt; and when she found _that_ time was
+insufficient, and her father no longer to be dissuaded from his
+intention, she secretly sold some of her most valuable ornaments to
+satisfy his demand, and screen us from its consequences.�
+
+Dorriforth, pleased at this recital, took Mrs. Hillgrave by the hand,
+and told her, “she should never want a friend.�
+
+“Is Miss Milner tall, or short?� again asked Mrs. Horton, fearing, from
+the sudden pause which had ensued, the subject should be dropped.
+
+“I don’t know,� answered Mrs. Hillgrave.
+
+“Is she handsome, or ugly?�
+
+“I really can’t tell.�
+
+“It is very strange you should not take notice!�
+
+“I did take notice, but I cannot depend upon my own judgment—to me she
+appeared beautiful as an angel; but perhaps I was deceived by the
+beauties of her disposition.�
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+This gentlewoman’s visit inspired Mr. Dorriforth with some confidence
+in the principles and character of his ward. The day arrived on which
+she was to leave her late father’s seat, and fix her abode at Mrs.
+Horton’s; and her guardian, accompanied by Miss Woodley, went in his
+carriage to meet her, and waited at an inn on the road for her
+reception.
+
+After many a sigh paid to the memory of her father, Miss Milner, upon
+the tenth of November, arrived at the place, half-way on her journey to
+town, where Dorriforth and Miss Woodley were expecting her. Besides
+attendants, she had with her a gentleman and lady, distant relations of
+her mother’s, who thought it but a proper testimony of their civility
+to attend her part of the way, but who so much envied her guardian the
+trust Mr. Milner had reposed in him, that as soon as they had delivered
+her safe into his care, they returned.
+
+When the carriage, which brought Miss Milner, stopped at the inn gate,
+and her name was announced to Dorriforth, he turned pale—something like
+a foreboding of disaster trembled at his heart, and consequently spread
+a gloom over all his face. Miss Woodley was even obliged to rouse him
+from the dejection into which he was cast, or he would have sunk
+beneath it: she was obliged also to be the first to welcome his lovely
+charge.—Lovely beyond description.
+
+But the natural vivacity, the gaiety which report had given to Miss
+Milner, were softened by her recent sorrow to a meek sadness—and that
+haughty display of charms, imputed to her manners, was changed to a
+pensive demeanor. The instant Dorriforth was introduced to her by Miss
+Woodley as her “Guardian, and her deceased father’s most beloved
+friend,� she burst into tears, knelt down to him for a moment, and
+promised ever to obey him as her father. He had his handkerchief to his
+face at the time, or she would have beheld the agitation—the remotest
+sensations of his heart.
+
+This affecting introduction being over, after some minutes passed in
+general conversation, the carriages were again ordered; and, bidding
+farewell to the relations who had accompanied her, Miss Milner, her
+guardian, and Miss Woodley departed for town; the two ladies in Miss
+Milner’s carriage, and Dorriforth in that in which he came.
+
+Miss Woodley, as they rode along, made no attempts to ingratiate
+herself with Miss Milner; though, perhaps, such an honour might
+constitute one of her first wishes—she behaved to her but as she
+constantly behaved to every other human creature—that, was sufficient
+to gain the esteem of a person possessed of an understanding equal to
+Miss Milner’s—she had penetration to discover Miss Woodley’s unaffected
+worth, and was soon induced to reward it with the warmest friendship.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+After a night’s rest in London, less violently impressed with the loss
+of her father, reconciled, if not already attached to her new
+acquaintance, her thoughts pleasingly occupied with the reflection that
+she was in that gay metropolis—a wild and rapturous picture of which
+her active fancy had often formed—Miss Milner waked from a peaceful and
+refreshing sleep, with much of that vivacity, and with all those airy
+charms, which for a while had yielded their transcendent power to the
+weaker influence of her filial sorrow.
+
+Beautiful as she had appeared to Miss Woodley and to Dorriforth on the
+preceding day, when she joined them this morning at breakfast,
+re-possessed of her lively elegance and dignified simplicity, they
+gazed at her, and at each other alternately, with astonishment!—and
+Mrs. Horton, as she sat at the head of her tea-table, felt herself but
+as a menial servant: such command has beauty if united with sense and
+virtue. In Miss Milner it was so united. Yet let not our
+over-scrupulous readers be misled, and extend their idea of her virtue
+so as to magnify it beyond that which frail mortals commonly possess;
+nor must they cavil, if, on a nearer view, they find it less—but let
+them consider, that if she had more faults than generally belong to
+others, she had likewise more temptations.
+
+From her infancy she had been indulged in all her wishes to the extreme
+of folly, and started habitually at the unpleasant voice of control.
+She was beautiful; she had been too frequently told the high value of
+that beauty, and thought every moment passed in wasteful idleness
+during which she was not gaining some new conquest. She had a quick
+sensibility, which too frequently discovered itself in the immediate
+resentment of injuries or neglect. She had, besides, acquired the
+dangerous character of a wit; but to which she had no real pretensions,
+although the most discerning critic, hearing her converse, might fall
+into this mistake. Her replies had all the effect of repartee, not
+because she possessed those qualities which can properly be called wit,
+but that what she said was delivered with an energy, an instantaneous
+and powerful conception of the sentiment, joined with a real or a
+well-counterfeited simplicity, a quick turn of the eye, and an arch
+smile. Her words were but the words of others, and, like those of
+others, put into common sentences; but the delivery made them pass for
+wit, as grace in an ill-proportioned figure will often make it pass for
+symmetry.
+
+And now—leaving description—the reader must form a judgment of her by
+her actions; by all the round of great or trivial circumstances that
+shall be related.
+
+At breakfast, which had just begun at the commencement of this chapter,
+the conversation was lively on the part of Miss Milner, wise on the
+part of Dorriforth, good on the part of Miss Woodley, and an endeavour
+at all three on the part of Mrs. Horton. The discourse at length drew
+from Mr. Dorriforth this observation:
+
+“You have a greater resemblance of your father, Miss Milner, than I
+imagined you had from report: I did not expect to find you so like
+him.�
+
+“Nor did I, Mr. Dorriforth, expect to find you any thing like what you
+are.�
+
+“No?—pray what did you expect to find me?�
+
+“I expected to find you an elderly man, and a plain man.�
+
+This was spoken in an artless manner, but in a tone which obviously
+declared she thought her guardian young and handsome. He replied, but
+not without some little embarrassment, “A plain man you shall find me
+in all my actions.�
+
+“Then your actions are to contradict your appearance.�
+
+For in what she said, Miss Milner had the quality peculiar to wits, of
+hazarding the thought that first occurs, which thought, is generally
+truth. On this, he paid her a compliment in return.
+
+“You, Miss Milner, I should suppose, must be a very bad judge of what
+is plain, and what is not.�
+
+“How so?�
+
+“Because I am sure you will readily own you do not think yourself
+handsome; and allowing that, you instantly want judgment.�
+
+“And I would rather want judgment than beauty,� she replied, “and so I
+give up the one for the other.�
+
+With a serious face, as if proposing a very serious question,
+Dorriforth continued, “And you really believe you are not handsome?�
+
+“I should, if I consulted my own opinion, believe that I was not; but
+in some respects I am like Roman Catholics; I don’t believe upon my own
+understanding, but from what other people tell me.�
+
+“And let this convince you,� replied Dorriforth, “that what we teach is
+truth; for you find you would be deceived did you not trust to persons
+who know better than yourself. But, my dear Miss Milner, we will talk
+upon some other topic, and never resume this again—we differ in
+opinion, I dare say, on one subject only, and this difference I hope
+will never extend itself to any other. Therefore, let not religion be
+named between us; for as I have resolved never to persecute you, in
+pity be grateful, and do not persecute me.�
+
+Miss Milner looked with surprise that any thing so lightly said, should
+be so seriously received. The kind Miss Woodley ejaculated a short
+prayer to herself, that heaven would forgive her young friend the
+involuntary sin of religious ignorance—while Mrs. Horton, unperceived,
+as she imagined, made the sign of the cross upon her forehead as a
+guard against the infectious taint of heretical opinions. This pious
+ceremony Miss Milner by chance observed, and now shewed such an evident
+propensity to burst into a fit of laughter, that the good lady of the
+house could no longer contain her resentment, but exclaimed, “God
+forgive you,� with a severity so different from the idea which the
+words conveyed, that the object of her anger was, on this, obliged
+freely to indulge that impulse which she had in vain been struggling to
+suppress; and no longer suffering under the agony of restraint, she
+gave way to her humour, and laughed with a liberty so uncontrolled,
+that soon left her in the room with none but the tender-hearted Miss
+Woodley a witness of her folly.
+
+“My dear Miss Woodley,� (then cried Miss Milner, after recovering
+herself) “I am afraid you will not forgive me.�
+
+“No, indeed I will not,� returned Miss Woodley.
+
+But how unimportant, how weak, how ineffectual are _words_ in
+conversation—looks and manners alone express—for Miss Woodley, with her
+charitable face and mild accents, saying she would not forgive, implied
+only forgiveness—while Mrs. Horton, with her enraged voice and aspect,
+begging heaven to pardon the offender, palpably said, she thought her
+unworthy of all pardon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Six weeks have now elapsed since Miss Milner has been in London
+partaking with delight all its pleasures, while Dorriforth has been
+sighing with apprehension, attending to her with precaution, and
+praying with zealous fervour for her safety. Her own and her guardian’s
+acquaintance, and, added to them, the new friendships (to use the
+unmeaning language of the world) which she was continually forming,
+crowded so perpetually to the house, that seldom had Dorriforth even a
+moment left him from her visits or visitors, to warn her of her
+danger:—yet when a moment offered, he caught it eagerly—pressed the
+necessity of “Time not always passed in society; of reflection; of
+reading; of thoughts for a future state; and of virtues acquired to
+make old age supportable.� That forcible power of genuine feeling,
+which directs the tongue to eloquence, had its effect while she
+listened to him, and she sometimes put on the looks and gesture of
+assent—sometimes even spoke the language of conviction; but this the
+first call of dissipation would change to ill-timed raillery, or
+peevish remonstrance, at being limited in delights her birth and
+fortune entitled her to enjoy.
+
+Among the many visitors who attended at her levees, and followed her
+wherever she went, there was one who seemed, even when absent from her,
+to share her thoughts. This was Lord Frederick Lawnly, the younger son
+of a Duke, and the avowed favourite of all the most discerning women of
+taste.
+
+He was not more than twenty-three; animated, elegant, extremely
+handsome, and possessed of every accomplishment that would captivate a
+heart less susceptible of love than Miss Milner’s was supposed to be.
+With these allurements, no wonder if she took pleasure in his
+company—no wonder if she took pride in having it known that he was
+among the number of her devoted admirers. Dorriforth beheld this
+growing intimacy with alternate pain and pleasure—he wished to see Miss
+Milner married, to see his charge in the protection of another, rather
+than of himself; yet under the care of a young nobleman, immersed in
+all the vices of the town, without one moral excellence, but such as
+might result eventually from the influence of the moment—under such
+care he trembled for her happiness—yet trembled more lest her heart
+should be purloined without even the authority of matrimonial views.
+
+With sentiments like these, Dorriforth could never disguise his
+uneasiness at the sight of Lord Frederick, nor could the latter help
+discerning the suspicion of the guardian, and consequently each was
+embarrassed in the presence of the other. Miss Milner observed, but
+observed with indifference, the sensations of both—there was but one
+passion which then held a place in her bosom, and that was vanity;
+vanity defined into all the species of pride, vain-glory,
+self-approbation—an inordinate desire of admiration, and an immoderate
+enjoyment of the art of pleasing, for her own individual happiness, and
+not for the happiness of others. Still had she a heart inclined, and
+oftentimes affected by tendencies less unworthy; but those approaches
+to what was estimable, were in their first impulse too frequently met
+and intercepted by some darling folly.
+
+Miss Woodley (who could easily discover a virtue, although of the most
+diminutive kind, and scarce through the magnifying glass of calumny
+could ever perceive a fault) was Miss Milner’s inseparable companion at
+home, and her zealous advocate with Dorriforth, whenever, during her
+absence, she became the subject of discourse. He listened with hope to
+the praises of her friend, but saw with despair how little they were
+merited. Sometimes he struggled to subdue his anger, but oftener strove
+to suppress tears of pity for her hapless state.
+
+By this time all her acquaintance had given Lord Frederick to her as a
+lover; the servants whispered it, and some of the public prints had
+even fixed the day of marriage;—but as no explanation had taken place
+on his part, Dorriforth’s uneasiness was increased, and he seriously
+told his ward, he thought it would be indispensably prudent in her to
+entreat Lord Frederick to discontinue his visits. She smiled with
+ridicule at the caution, but finding it repeated, and in a manner that
+indicated authority, she promised not only to make, but to enforce the
+request. The next time he came she did so, assuring him it was by her
+guardian’s desire; “Who, from motives of delicacy, had permitted her to
+solicit as a favour, what he could himself make a demand.� Lord
+Frederick reddened with anger—he loved Miss Milner; but he doubted
+whether, from the frequent proofs he had experienced of his own
+inconstancy, he should continue to love—and this interference of her
+guardian threatened an explanation or a dismission, before he became
+thoroughly acquainted with his own heart.—Alarmed, confounded, and
+provoked, he replied,
+
+“By heaven, I believe Mr. Dorriforth loves you himself, and it is
+jealousy that makes him treat me in this manner.�
+
+“For shame, my Lord!� cried Miss Woodley, who was present, and who
+trembled with horror at the sacrilegious idea.
+
+“Nay, shame to him if he is not in love�—answered his Lordship, “for
+who but a savage could behold beauty like her’s without owning its
+power?�
+
+“Habit,� replied Miss Milner, “is every thing—Mr. Dorriforth sees and
+converses with beauty, but from habit he does not fall in love; as you,
+my Lord, from habit, so often do.�
+
+“Then you believe that love is not in my nature?�
+
+“No more of it, my Lord, than habit could very soon extinguish.�
+
+“But I would not have it extinguished—I would rather it should mount to
+a flame, for I think it a crime to be insensible of the divine
+blessings love can bestow.�
+
+“Then you indulge the passion to avoid a sin?—this very motive deters
+Mr. Dorriforth from that indulgence.�
+
+“It ought to deter him, for the sake of his oaths—but monastick vows,
+like those of marriage, were made to be broken—and surely when your
+guardian looks at you, his wishes�——
+
+“Are never less pure,� she replied eagerly, “than those which dwell in
+the bosom of my _celestial_ guardian.�
+
+At that instant Dorriforth entered the room. The colour had mounted
+into Miss Milner’s face from the warmth with which she had delivered
+her opinion, and his accidental entrance at the very moment this praise
+had been conferred upon him in his absence, heightened the blush to a
+deep glow on every feature—confusion and earnestness caused even her
+lips to tremble and her whole frame to shake.
+
+“What’s the matter?� cried Dorriforth, looking with concern on her
+discomposure.
+
+“A compliment paid by herself to you, Sir,� replied Lord Frederick,
+“has affected your ward in the manner you have seen.�
+
+“As if she blushed at the untruth,� said Dorriforth.
+
+“Nay, that is unkind,� cried Miss Woodley; “for if you had been here�——
+
+“—I would not have said what I did,� replied Miss Milner, “but left him
+to vindicate himself.�
+
+“Is it possible that I can want any vindication? Who would think it
+worth their while to slander so unimportant a person as I am?�
+
+“The man who has the charge of Miss Milner,� replied Lord Frederick,
+“derives a consequence from her.�
+
+“No ill consequence, I hope, my Lord?� said Dorriforth, with a firmness
+in his voice, and with an eye so fixed, that his antagonist hesitated
+for a moment in want of a reply—and Miss Milner softly whispering to
+him, as her guardian turned his head, to avoid an argument, he bowed
+acquiescence. And then, as if in compliment to her, he changed the
+subject;—with an air of ridicule he cried,
+
+“I wish, Mr. Dorriforth, you would give me absolution of all my sins,
+for I confess they are many, and manifold.�
+
+“Hold, my Lord,� exclaimed Dorriforth, “do not confess before the
+ladies, lest, in order to excite their compassion, you should be
+tempted to accuse yourself of sins you have never yet committed.�
+
+At this Miss Milner laughed, seemingly so well pleased, that Lord
+Frederick, with a sarcastic sneer, repeated,
+
+“From Abelard it came,
+And Eloisa still must love the name.�
+
+
+Whether from an inattention to the quotation, or from a consciousness
+it was wholly inapplicable, Dorriforth heard it without one emotion of
+shame or of anger—while Miss Milner seemed shocked at the implication;
+her pleasantry was immediately suppressed, and she threw open the sash
+and held her head out at the window, to conceal the embarrassment these
+lines had occasioned.
+
+The Earl of Elmwood was at that juncture announced—a Catholic nobleman,
+just come of age, and on the eve of marriage. His visit was to his
+cousin, Mr. Dorriforth, but as all ceremonious visits were alike
+received by Dorriforth, Miss Milner, and Mrs. Horton’s family, in one
+common apartment, Lord Elmwood was ushered into this, and of course
+directed the conversation to a different subject.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+With an anxious desire that the affection, or acquaintance, between
+Lord Frederick and Miss Milner might be finally dissolved, her guardian
+received with infinite satisfaction, overtures of marriage from Sir
+Edward Ashton. Sir Edward was not young or handsome; old or ugly; but
+immensely rich, and possessed of qualities that made him worthy of the
+happiness to which he aspired. He was the man whom Dorriforth would
+have chosen before any other for the husband of his ward, and his
+wishes made him sometimes hope, against his cooler judgment, that Sir
+Edward would not be rejected—he was resolved, at all events, to try the
+force of his own power in the strongest recommendation of him.
+
+Notwithstanding that dissimilarity of opinion which, in almost every
+instance, subsisted between Miss Milner and her guardian, there was in
+general the most punctilious observance of good manners from each
+towards the other—on the part of Dorriforth more especially; for his
+politeness would sometimes appear even like the result of a system
+which he had marked out for himself, as the only means to keep his ward
+restrained within the same limitations. Whenever he addressed her there
+was an unusual reserve upon his countenance, and more than usual
+gentleness in the tone of his voice; this appeared the effect of
+sentiments which her birth and situation inspired, joined to a studied
+mode of respect, best calculated to enforce the same from her. The
+wished-for consequence was produced—for though there was an instinctive
+rectitude in the understanding of Miss Milner that would have taught
+her, without other instruction, what manners to observe towards her
+deputed father; yet, from some volatile thought, or some quick sense of
+feeling, which she had not been accustomed to subdue, she was
+perpetually on the verge of treating him with levity; but he would
+immediately recall her recollection by a reserve too awful, and a
+gentleness too sacred for her to violate. The distinction which both
+required, was thus, by his skilful management alone, preserved.
+
+One morning he took an opportunity, before her and Miss Woodley, to
+introduce and press the subject of Sir Edward Ashton’s hopes. He first
+spoke warmly in his praise, then plainly said that he believed she
+possessed the power of making so deserving a man happy to the summit of
+his wishes. A laugh of ridicule was the only answer; but a sudden frown
+from Dorriforth having put an end to it, he resumed his usual
+politeness, and said,
+
+“I wish you would shew a better taste, than thus pointedly to
+disapprove of Sir Edward.�
+
+“How, Mr. Dorriforth, can you expect me to give proofs of a good taste,
+when Sir Edward, whom you consider with such high esteem, has given so
+bad an example of his, in approving me?�
+
+Dorriforth wished not to flatter her by a compliment she seemed to have
+sought for, and for a moment hesitated what answer to make.
+
+“Reply, Sir, to that question,� she said.
+
+“Why then, Madam,� returned he, “it is my opinion, that supposing what
+your humility has advanced be just, yet Sir Edward will not suffer by
+the suggestion; for in cases where the heart is so immediately
+concerned, as I believe Sir Edward’s to be, taste, or rather reason,
+has no power to act.�
+
+“You are in the right, Mr. Dorriforth; this is a proper justification
+of Sir Edward—and when I fall in love, I beg that you will make the
+same excuse for me.�
+
+“Then,� said he earnestly, “before your heart is in that state which I
+have described, exert your reason.�
+
+“I shall,� answered she, “and not consent to marry a man whom I could
+never love.�
+
+“Unless your heart is already given away, Miss Milner, what can make
+you speak with such a degree of certainty?�
+
+He thought on Lord Frederick when he said this, and he riveted his eyes
+upon her as if to penetrate her sentiments, and yet trembled for what
+he should find there. She blushed, and her looks would have confirmed
+her guilty, if the unembarrassed and free tone of her voice, more than
+her words, had not preserved her from that sentence.
+
+“No,� she replied, “my heart is not given away; and yet I can venture
+to declare, Sir Edward will never possess an atom of it.�
+
+“I am sorry, for both your sakes, that these are your sentiments,� he
+replied. “But as your heart is still your own,� (and he seemed rejoiced
+to find it was) “permit me to warn you how you part with a thing so
+precious—the dangers, the sorrows you hazard in bestowing it, are
+greater than you may be aware of. The heart once gone, our thoughts,
+our actions, are no more our own, than that is.� He seemed _forcing_
+himself to utter all this, and yet broke off as if he could have said
+much more, if the extreme delicacy of the subject had not prevented
+him.
+
+When he left the room, and she heard the door shut after him, she said,
+with an inquisitive thoughtfulness, “What can make good people so
+skilled in all the weaknesses of the bad? Mr. Dorriforth, with all
+those prudent admonitions, appears rather like a man who has passed his
+life in the gay world, experienced all its dangerous allurements, all
+its repentant sorrows; than like one who has lived his whole time
+secluded in a monastery, or in his own study. Then he speaks with such
+exquisite sensibility on the subject of love, that he commends the very
+thing which he attempts to depreciate. I do not think my Lord Frederick
+would make the passion appear in more pleasing colours by painting its
+delights, than Mr. Dorriforth could in describing its sorrows—and if he
+talks to me frequently in this manner, I shall certainly take pity on
+Lord Frederick, for the sake of his adversary’s eloquence.�
+
+Miss Woodley, who heard the conclusion of this speech with the
+tenderest concern, cried, “Alas! you then think seriously of Lord
+Frederick!�
+
+“Suppose I do, wherefore that _alas!_ Miss Woodley?�
+
+“Because I fear you will never be happy with him.�
+
+“That is plainly telling me he will not be happy with me.�
+
+“I do not know—I cannot speak of marriage from experience,� answered
+Miss Woodley, “but I think I can guess what it is.�
+
+“Nor can I speak of love from experience,� replied Miss Milner, “but I
+think I can guess what it is.�
+
+“But do not fall in love, my dear,� (cried Miss Woodley, with her
+accustomed simplicity of heart, as if she had been asking a favour that
+depended upon the will of the person entreated,) “pray do not fall in
+love without the approbation of your guardian.�
+
+Her young friend smiled at the inefficacious prayer, but promised to do
+all she could to oblige her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Sir Edward, not wholly discouraged by the denial with which Dorriforth
+had, with delicacy, acquainted him, still hoped for a kind reception,
+and was so often at the house of Mrs. Horton, that Lord Frederick’s
+jealousy was excited, and the tortures he suffered in consequence,
+convinced him, beyond a doubt, of the sincerity of his affection. Every
+time he beheld the object of his passion, (for he still continued his
+visits, though not so frequently as heretofore) he pleaded his cause
+with such ardour, that Miss Woodley, who was sometimes present, and
+ever compassionate, could not resist wishing him success. He now
+unequivocally offered marriage, and entreated that he might lay his
+proposals before Mr. Dorriforth, but this was positively forbidden.
+
+Her reluctance he imputed, however, more to the known partiality of her
+guardian for the addresses of Sir Edward, than to any motive which
+depended upon herself; and to Mr. Dorriforth he conceived a greater
+dislike than ever; believing that through his interposition, in spite
+of his ward’s attachment, he might yet be deprived of her. But Miss
+Milner declared both to him and to her friend, that love had, at
+present, gained no influence over her mind. Yet did the watchful Miss
+Woodley oftentimes hear a sigh escape from her unknown to herself, till
+she was reminded of it, and then a sudden blush would instantly
+overspread her face. This seeming struggle with her passion, endeared
+her more than ever to Miss Woodley, and she would even risk the
+displeasure of Dorriforth by her compliance with every new pursuit that
+might amuse the time, which else her friend passed in heaviness of
+heart.
+
+Balls, plays, incessant company, at length roused her guardian from
+that mildness with which he had been accustomed to treat her. Night
+after night his sleep had been disturbed by fears for her when abroad;
+morning after morning it had been broken by the clamour of her return.
+He therefore gravely said to her one forenoon as he met her
+accidentally upon the staircase,
+
+“I hope, Miss Milner, you pass this evening at home?�
+
+Unprepared for the sudden question, she blushed and replied,
+“Yes.�—Though she knew she was engaged to a brilliant assembly, for
+which her milliner had been consulted a whole week.
+
+She, however, flattered herself that what she had said might be excused
+as a mistake, the lapse of memory, or some other trifling fault, when
+he should know the truth. The truth was earlier divulged than she
+expected—for just as dinner was removed, her footman delivered a
+message to her from her milliner concerning a new dress for the
+evening—the _present evening_ particularly marked. Her guardian looked
+astonished.
+
+“I thought, Miss Milner, you gave me your word that you would pass this
+evening at home?�
+
+“I mistook—for I had before given my word that I should pass it
+abroad.�
+
+“Indeed!� cried he.
+
+“Yes, indeed; and I believe it is right that I should keep my first
+promise; is it not?�
+
+“The promise you gave me then, you do not think of any consequence?�
+
+“Yes, certainly, if you do.�
+
+“I do.�
+
+“And mean, perhaps, to make it of more consequence than it deserves, by
+being offended.�
+
+“Whether or not, I _am_ offended—you shall find I am.� And he looked
+so.
+
+She caught his piercing eyes—hers were immediately cast down; and she
+trembled—either with shame or with resentment.
+
+Mrs. Horton rose from her seat—moved the decanters and fruit round the
+table—stirred the fire—and came back to her seat again, before another
+word was uttered. Nor had this good woman’s officious labours taken the
+least from the awkwardness of the silence, which, as soon as the bustle
+she had made was over, returned in its full force.
+
+At last, Miss Milner rising with alacrity, was preparing to go out of
+the room, when Dorriforth raised his voice, and in a tone of authority
+said,
+
+“Miss Milner, you shall not leave the house this evening.�
+
+“Sir!� she exclaimed with a kind of doubt of what she had heard—a
+surprise, which fixed her hand on the door she had half opened, but
+which now she shewed herself irresolute whether to open wide in
+defiance, or to shut submissively. Before she could resolve, he rose
+from his chair, and said, with a force and warmth she had never heard
+him use before,
+
+“I command you to stay at home this evening.� And he walked immediately
+out of the apartment by another door.
+
+Her hand fell motionless from that which she held—she appeared
+motionless herself—till Mrs. Horton, “Beseeching her not to be uneasy
+at the treatment she had received,� made her tears flow as if her heart
+was breaking.
+
+Miss Woodley would have said something to comfort her, but she had
+caught the infection, and could not utter a word. It was not from any
+real cause of grief that she wept; but there was a magnetic quality in
+tears, which always attracted hers.
+
+Mrs. Horton secretly enjoyed this scene, though the real well meaning
+of her heart, and ease of her conscience, did not suffer her to think
+so. She, however, declared she had “long prognosticated it would come
+to this;� and she “only thanked heaven it was no worse.�
+
+“What could be worse, Madam?� cried Miss Milner; “am not I disappointed
+of the ball?�
+
+“You don’t mean to go then?� said Mrs. Horton; “I commend your
+prudence; and I dare say it is more than your guardian gives you credit
+for.�
+
+“Do you think I would go,� answered Miss Milner, with an eagerness that
+for a time suppressed her tears, “in contradiction to his will?�
+
+“It is not the first time, I believe, you have acted contrary to that,
+Miss Milner,� replied Mrs. Horton, and affected a tenderness of voice,
+to soften the harshness of her words.
+
+“If you think so, Madam, I see nothing that should prevent me now.� And
+she flung out of the room as if she had resolved to disobey him. This
+alarmed poor Miss Woodley.
+
+“My dear aunt,� she cried to Mrs. Horton, “follow and prevail upon Miss
+Milner to give up her design; she means to be at the ball in opposition
+to her guardian’s will.�
+
+“Then,� said Mrs. Horton, “I’ll not be instrumental in detering her—if
+she does it may be for the best; it may give Mr. Dorriforth a clearer
+knowledge what means are proper to convert her from evil.�
+
+“But, my dear Madam, she must be preserved from the evil of
+disobedience; and as you tempted, you will be the most likely to
+dissuade her. But if you will not, I must endeavour.�
+
+Miss Woodley was leaving the room to perform this good work, when Mrs.
+Horton, in imitation of the example given her by Dorriforth, cried,
+
+“Niece, I command you not to stir out of this room this evening.�
+
+Miss Woodley obediently sat down—and though her thoughts and heart were
+in the chamber of her friend, she never marked by one impertinent word,
+or by one line of her face, the restraint she suffered.
+
+At the usual hour, Mr. Dorriforth and his ward were summoned to tea:—he
+entered with a countenance which evinced the remains of anger; his eye
+gave testimony of his absent thoughts; and though he took up a pamphlet
+affecting to read, it was plain to discern that he scarcely knew he
+held it in his hand.
+
+Mrs. Horton began to make tea with a mind as intent upon something else
+as Dorriforth’s—she longed for the event of this misunderstanding; and
+though she wished no ill to Miss Milner, yet with an inclination bent
+upon seeing something new—without the fatigue of going out of her own
+house—she was not over scrupulous what that novelty might be. But for
+fear she should have the imprudence to speak a word upon the subject
+which employed her thoughts, or even to look as if she thought of it at
+all; she pinched her lips close together, and cast her eyes on vacancy,
+lest their significant regards might expose her to detection. And for
+fear any noise should intercept even the sound of what might happen,
+she walked across the room more softly than usual, and more softly
+touched every thing she was obliged to lay her hand on.
+
+Miss Woodley thought it her duty to be mute; and now the gingle of a
+tea spoon was like a deep-toned bell, all was so quiet.
+
+Mrs. Horton, too, in the self-approving reflection that she was not in
+a quarrel or altercation of any kind, felt herself at this moment
+remarkably peaceful and charitable. Miss Woodley did not recollect
+_herself_ so, but was so in reality—in her, peace and charity were
+instinctive virtues, accident could not increase them.
+
+The tea had scarce been made, when a servant came with Miss Milner’s
+compliments, and she “did not mean to have any tea.� The pamphlet shook
+in Dorriforth’s hand while this message was delivered—he believed her
+to be dressing for her evening’s entertainment, and now studied in what
+manner he should prevent, or resent her disobedience to his commands.
+He coughed—drank his tea—endeavoured to talk, but found it
+difficult—sometimes read—and in this manner near two hours were passed
+away, when Miss Milner came into the room.—Not dressed for a ball, but
+as she had risen from dinner. Dorriforth read on, and seemed afraid of
+looking up, lest he should see what he could not have pardoned. She
+drew a chair and sat at the table by the side of her delighted friend.
+
+After a few minutes’ pause, and some little embarrassment on the part
+of Mrs. Horton, at the disappointment she had to encounter from this
+unexpected dutiful conduct, she asked Miss Milner, “if she would now
+have any tea?� She replied, “No, I thank you, Ma’am,� in a voice so
+languid, compared with her usual one, that Dorriforth lifted up his
+eyes from the book; and seeing her in the same dress that she had worn
+all the day, turned them hastily away from her again—not with a look of
+triumph, but of confusion.
+
+Whatever he might have suffered if he had seen her decorated, and
+prepared to bid defiance to his commands, yet even upon that trial, he
+would not have endured half the painful sensations he now for a moment
+felt—he felt himself to blame.
+
+He feared that he had treated her with too much severity—he admired her
+condescension, accused himself for having exacted it—he longed to ask
+her pardon—he did not know how.
+
+A cheerful reply from her, to a question of Miss Woodley’s, embarrassed
+him still more—he wished that she had been sullen, he then would have
+had a temptation, or pretence, to have been sullen too.
+
+With all these sentiments crowding fast upon his heart, he still read,
+or seemed to read, as if he took no notice of what was passing; till a
+servant came into the room and asked Miss Milner at what time she
+should want the carriage? to which she replied, “I don’t go out
+to-night.� Dorriforth then laid the book out of his hand, and by the
+time the servant had left the room, thus began:
+
+“Miss Milner, I give you, I fear, some unkind proofs of my regard. It
+is often the ungrateful task of a friend to be troublesome—sometimes
+unmannerly. Forgive the duties of my office, and believe that no one is
+half so much concerned if it robs you of any degree of happiness, as I
+myself am.�
+
+What he said, he looked with so much sincerity, that had she been
+burning with rage at his late behaviour, she must have forgiven him,
+for the regret which he so forcibly exprest. She was going to reply,
+but found she could not, without accompanying her words with tears,
+therefore, after the first attempt, she desisted.
+
+On this he rose from his chair, and going to her, said, “Once more shew
+your submission by obeying me a second time to-day. Keep your
+appointment, and be assured that I shall issue my commands with more
+circumspection for the future, as I find how strictly they are complied
+with.�
+
+Miss Milner, the gay, the vain, the dissipated, the haughty Miss
+Milner, sunk underneath this kindness, and wept with a gentleness and
+patience, which did not give more surprise than it gave joy to
+Dorriforth. He was charmed to find her disposition so
+tractable—prophesied to himself the future success of his guardianship,
+and her eternal as well as temporal happiness from this specimen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Although Dorriforth was the good man that he has been described, there
+were in his nature shades of evil—there was an obstinacy which he
+himself, and his friends termed firmness of mind; but had not religion
+and some opposite virtues weighed heavily in the balance, it would
+frequently have degenerated into implacable stubbornness.
+
+The child of a sister once beloved, who married a young officer against
+her brother’s consent, was at the age of three years left an orphan,
+destitute of all support but from his uncle’s generosity: but though
+Dorriforth maintained, he would never see him. Miss Milner, whose heart
+was a receptacle for the unfortunate, no sooner was told the melancholy
+history of Mr. and Mrs. Rushbrook, the parents of the child, than she
+longed to behold the innocent inheritor of her guardian’s resentment,
+and took Miss Woodley with her to see the boy. He was at a farm house a
+few miles from town; and his extreme beauty and engaging manners,
+wanted not the sorrows to which he had been born, to give him farther
+recommendation to the kindness of her, who had come to visit him. She
+looked at him with admiration and pity, and having endeared herself to
+him by the most affectionate words and caresses, on her bidding him
+farewell, he cried most pitiously to go along with her. Unused at any
+time to resist temptations, whether to reprehensible, or to laudable
+actions, she yielded to his supplications, and having overcome a few
+scruples of Miss Woodley’s, determined to take young Rushbrook to town,
+and present him to his uncle. This idea was no sooner formed than
+executed. By making a present to the nurse, she readily gained her
+consent to part with him for a day or two, and the signs of joy denoted
+by the child on being put into the carriage, repaid her beforehand for
+every reproof she might receive from her guardian, for the liberty she
+had taken.
+
+“Besides,� said she to Miss Woodley, who had still her fears, “do you
+not wish his uncle should have a warmer interest in his care than
+duty?—it is duty alone which induces Mr. Dorriforth to provide for him;
+but it is proper that affection should have some share in his
+benevolence—and how, hereafter, will he be so fit an object of the love
+which compassion excites, as he is at present?�
+
+Miss Woodley acquiesced. But before they arrived at their own door it
+came into Miss Milner’s remembrance, that there was a grave sternness
+in the manners of her guardian when provoked, the recollection of which
+made her a little apprehensive for what she had done—her friend, who
+knew him better than she did, was more so. They both became silent as
+they approached the street where they lived—for Miss Woodley having
+once represented her fears, and having suppressed them in resignation
+to Miss Milner’s better judgment, would not repeat them—and Miss Milner
+would not confess they were now troubling her.
+
+Just, however, as the coach stopped at the door, she had the forecast
+and the humility to say, “We will not tell Mr. Dorriforth the child is
+his nephew, unless he should appear fond, and pleased with him, and
+then I think we may venture without any danger.�
+
+This was agreed; and when Dorriforth entered the room just before
+dinner, poor Harry Rushbrook was introduced as the son of a lady who
+frequently visited there. The deception passed—his uncle shook hands
+with him, and at length highly pleased with his engaging manner, and
+applicable replies, took him on his knee, and kissed him with
+affection. Miss Milner could scarce restrain the joy it gave her; but
+unluckily, Dorriforth said soon after to the child, “And now tell me
+your name.�
+
+“Harry Rushbrook,� replied he, with force and clearness of voice.
+
+Dorriforth was holding him fondly round the waist as he stood with his
+feet upon his knees; and at this reply he did not _throw_ him from
+him—but he removed his hands, which had supported him, so suddenly,
+that the child, to prevent falling on the floor, threw himself about
+his uncle’s neck. Miss Milner and Miss Woodley turned aside to conceal
+their tears. “I had like to have been down,� cried Harry, fearing no
+other danger. But his uncle took hold of each hand which had twined
+around him, and placed him immediately on the ground. The dinner being
+that instant served, he gave no greater marks of his resentment than
+calling for his hat, and walking instantly out of the house.
+
+Miss Milner cried for anger; yet she did not shew less kindness to the
+object of this vexatious circumstance: she held him in her arms while
+she sat at table, and repeatedly said to him, (though he had not the
+sense to thank her) “That she would always be his friend.�
+
+The first emotions of resentment against Dorriforth being passed, she
+returned with her little charge to the farm house, before it was likely
+his uncle should come back; another instance of obedience, which Miss
+Woodley was impatient her guardian should know; she therefore enquired
+where he was, and sent him a note for the sole purpose of acquainting
+him with it, offering at the same time an apology for what had
+happened. He returned in the evening seemingly reconciled, nor was a
+word mentioned of the incident which had occurred in the former part of
+the day; yet in his countenance remained a perfect remembrance of it,
+without one trait of compassion for his helpless nephew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+There are few things so mortifying to a proud spirit as to suffer by
+immediate comparison—men can hardly bear it, but to women the
+punishment is intolerable; and Miss Milner now laboured under this
+humiliation to a degree which gave her no small inquietude.
+
+Miss Fenton, young, of exquisite beauty, elegant manners, gentle
+disposition, and discreet conduct, was introduced to Miss Milner’s
+acquaintance by her guardian, and frequently, sometimes inadvertently,
+held up by him as a pattern for her to follow—for when he did not say
+this in direct terms, it was insinuated by the warmth of his panegyric
+on those virtues in which Miss Fenton excelled, and in which his ward
+was obviously deficient. Conscious of her own inferiority in these
+subjects of her guardian’s praise, Miss Milner, instead of being
+inspired to emulation, was provoked to envy.
+
+Not to admire Miss Fenton was impossible—to find one fault with her
+person or sentiments was equally impossible—and yet to love her was
+unlikely.
+
+That serenity of mind which kept her features in a continual placid
+form, though enchanting at the first glance, upon a second or third,
+fatigued the sight for want of variety; and to have seen her distorted
+with rage, convulsed with mirth, or in deep dejection, had been to her
+advantage. But her superior soul appeared above those emotions, and
+there was more inducement to worship her as a saint than to love her as
+a woman. Yet Dorriforth, whose heart was not formed (at least not
+educated) for love, regarding her in the light of friendship only,
+beheld her as the most perfect model for her sex. Lord Frederick on
+first seeing her was struck with her beauty, and Miss Milner
+apprehended she had introduced a rival; but he had not seen her three
+times, before he called her “The most insufferable of Heaven’s
+creatures,� and vowed there was more charming variation in the plain
+features of Miss Woodley.
+
+Miss Milner had a heart affectionate to her own sex, even where she saw
+them in possession of superior charms; but whether from the spirit of
+contradiction, from feeling herself more than ordinarily offended by
+her guardian’s praise of this lady, or that there was a reserve in Miss
+Fenton that did not accord with her own frank and ingenuous
+disposition, so as to engage her esteem, certain it is that she took
+infinite satisfaction in hearing her beauty and virtues depreciated or
+turned into ridicule, particularly if Mr. Dorriforth was present. This
+was painful to him upon many accounts; perhaps an anxiety for his
+ward’s conduct was not among the least; and whenever the circumstance
+occurred, he could with difficulty restrain his anger. Miss Fenton was
+not only a person whose amiable qualities he admired, but she was soon
+to be allied to him by her marriage with his nearest relation, Lord
+Elmwood, a young nobleman whom he sincerely loved.
+
+Lord Elmwood had discovered all that beauty in Miss Fenton which every
+common observer could not but see. The charms of her mind and of her
+fortune had been pointed out by his tutor; and the utility of the
+marriage, in perfect submission to his precepts, he never permitted
+himself to question.
+
+This preceptor held with a magisterial power the government of his
+pupil’s passions; nay, governed them so entirely, that no one could
+perceive (nor did the young Lord himself know) that he had any.
+
+This rigid monitor and friend was a Mr. Sandford, bred a Jesuit in the
+same college at which Dorriforth had since been educated, but before
+his time the order was compelled to take another name. Sandford had
+been the tutor of Dorriforth as well as of his cousin, Lord Elmwood,
+and by this double tie seemed now entailed upon the family. As a
+Jesuit, he was consequently a man of learning; possessed of steadiness
+to accomplish the end of any design once meditated, and of sagacity to
+direct the conduct of men more powerful, but less ingenious, than
+himself. The young Earl, accustomed in his infancy to fear him as his
+master, in his youthful manhood received every new indulgence with
+gratitude, and at length loved him as a father—nor had Dorriforth as
+yet shaken off similar sensations.
+
+Mr. Sandford perfectly knew how to influence the sentiments and
+sensations of all human kind, but yet he had the forbearance not to
+“draw all hearts towards him.� There were some whose hatred he thought
+not unworthy of his pious labours; and in that pursuit he was more
+rapid in his success than even in procuring esteem. It was an
+enterprise in which he succeeded with Miss Milner even beyond his most
+sanguine wish.
+
+She had been educated at an English boarding school, and had no idea of
+the superior and subordinate state of characters in a foreign
+seminary—besides, as a woman, she was privileged to say any thing she
+pleased; and as a beautiful woman, she had a right to expect that
+whatever she pleased to say, should be admired.
+
+Sandford knew the hearts of women, as well as those of men, though he
+had passed little of his time in their society—he saw Miss Milner’s
+heart at the first view of her person; and beholding in that little
+circumference a weight of folly that he wished to eradicate, he began
+to toil in the vineyard, eagerly courting her detestation of him, in
+the hope he could also make her abominate herself. In the
+mortifications of slight he was expert; and being a man of talents,
+whom all companies, especially her friends, respected, he did not begin
+by wasting that reverence so highly valued upon ineffectual
+remonstrances, of which he could foresee the reception, but wakened her
+attention by his neglect of her. He spoke of her in her presence as of
+an indifferent person, sometimes forgetting even to name her when the
+subject required it; then would ask her pardon, and say that he “Really
+did not recollect her,� with such seeming sorrow for his fault, that
+she could not think the offence intended, and of course felt the
+affront more acutely.
+
+While, with every other person she was the principle, the cause upon
+whom a whole party depended for conversation, cards, musick, or
+dancing, with Mr. Sandford she found that she was of no importance.
+Sometimes she tried to consider this disregard of her as merely the
+effect of ill-breeding; but he was not an ill-bred man: he was a
+gentleman by birth, and one who had kept the best company—a man of
+sense and learning. “And such a man slights me without knowing it,� she
+said—for she had not dived so deeply into the powers of simulation, as
+to suspect that such careless manners were the result of art.
+
+This behaviour of Mr. Sandford had its desired effect—it humbled her in
+her own opinion more than a thousand sermons would have done preached
+on the vanity of youth and beauty. She felt an inward shame at the
+insignificance of these qualities that she never knew before, and would
+have been cured of all her pride, had she not possessed a degree of
+spirit beyond the generality of her sex—such a degree as even Mr.
+Sandford, with all his penetration, did not expect. She determined to
+resent his treatment; and, entering the lists as his declared enemy,
+give to the world a reason why he did not acknowledge her sovereignty,
+as well as the rest of her devoted subjects.
+
+She now commenced hostilities against all his arguments, his learning,
+and his favourite axioms; and by a happy talent of ridicule, in want of
+other weapons for this warfare, she threw in the way of the holy Father
+as great trials of his patience, as any that his order could have
+substituted in penance. Many things he bore like a martyr—at others,
+his fortitude would forsake him, and he would call on her guardian, his
+former pupil, to interpose with his authority: she would then declare
+that she only had acted thus “to try the good man’s temper, and that if
+he had combated with his fretfulness a few moments longer, she would
+have acknowledged his claim to canonization; but that having yielded to
+the sallies of his anger, he must now go through numerous other
+probations.�
+
+If Miss Fenton was admired by Dorriforth, by Sandford she was
+adored—and, instead of placing her as an example to Miss Milner, he
+spoke of her as of one endowed beyond Miss Milner’s power of imitation.
+Often, with a shake of his head and a sigh, would he say,
+
+“No; I am not so hard upon you as your guardian: I only desire you to
+love Miss Fenton; to resemble her, I believe, is above your ability.�
+
+This was too much to bear composedly—and poor Miss Woodley, who was
+generally a witness of these controversies, felt a degree of sorrow at
+every sentence which like the foregoing chagrined and distressed her
+friend. Yet as she suffered too for Mr. Sandford, the joy of her
+friend’s reply was abated by the uneasiness it gave to _him_. But Mrs.
+Horton felt for none but the right reverend priest; and often did she
+feel so violently interested in his cause, that she could not refrain
+giving an answer herself in his behalf—thus doing the duty of an
+adversary with all the zeal of an advocate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Mr. Sandford finding his friend Dorriforth frequently perplexed in the
+management of his ward, and he himself thinking her incorrigible, gave
+his counsel, that a suitable match should be immediately sought out for
+her, and the care of so dangerous a person given into other hands.
+Dorriforth acknowledged the propriety of this advice, but lamented the
+difficulty of pleasing his ward as to the quality of her lover; for she
+had refused, besides Sir Edward Ashton, many others of equal
+pretensions. “Depend upon it then,� cried Sandford, “that her
+affections are engaged; and it is proper that you should know to whom.�
+Dorriforth thought he did know, and mentioned Lord Frederick; but said
+that he had no farther authority for the supposition than what his
+observation had given him, for that every explanation both upon his and
+her side had been evaded. “Take her then,� cried Sandford, “into the
+country, and if Lord Frederick should not follow, there is an end of
+your suspicions.�
+
+“I shall not easily prevail upon Miss Milner to leave town,� replied
+he, “while it is in the highest fashion.�
+
+“You can but try,� returned Sandford; “and if you should not succeed
+now, at least fix the time you mean to go during the autumn, and be
+firm to your determination.�
+
+“But in the autumn,� replied Dorriforth, “Lord Frederick will of course
+be in the country; and as his uncle’s estate is near our residence, he
+will not then so evidently follow her, as he would if I could induce
+her to go now.�
+
+It was agreed the attempt should be made. Instead of receiving this
+abrupt proposal with uneasiness, Miss Milner, to the surprise of all
+present, immediately consented; and gave her guardian an opportunity of
+saying several of the kindest and politest things upon her ready
+compliance.
+
+“A token of approbation from you, Mr. Dorriforth,� returned she, “I
+always considered with high estimation—but your commendations are now
+become infinitely superior in value by their scarcity; for I do not
+believe that since Miss Fenton and Mr. Sandford came to town, I have
+received one testimony of your esteem.�
+
+Had these words been uttered with pleasantry, they might have passed
+without observation; but at the conclusion of the period, resentment
+flew to Miss Milner’s face, and she darted a piercing look at Mr.
+Sandford, which more pointedly expressed that she was angry with him,
+than if she had spoken volumes in her usual strain of raillery.
+Dorriforth was confused—but the concern which she had so plainly
+evinced for his good opinion throughout all that she had been saying,
+silenced any rebuke he might else have given her, for this
+unwarrantable charge against his friend. Mrs. Horton was shocked at the
+irreverent manner in which Mr. Sandford was treated—and Miss Woodley
+turned to him with a benevolent smile upon her face, hoping to set him
+an example of the manner in which he should receive the reproach. Her
+good wishes did not succeed—yet he was perfectly unruffled, and replied
+with coolness,
+
+“The air of the country has affected the lady already—but it is a
+comfortable thing,� continued he, “that in the variety of humours to
+which some women are exposed, they cannot be uniform even in deceit.�
+
+“Deceit!� cried Miss Milner, “in what am I deceitful? did I ever
+pretend that I had an esteem for you?�
+
+“That would not have been deceit, Madam, but merely good manners.�
+
+“I never, Mr. Sandford, sacrificed truth to politeness.�
+
+“Except when the country has been proposed, and you thought it
+politeness to appear satisfied.�
+
+“And I _was_ satisfied, till I recollected that you might probably be
+of the party—then, every grove was changed into a wilderness, every
+rivulet into a stagnated pool, and every singing bird into a croaking
+raven.�
+
+“A very poetical description,� returned he calmly. “But, Miss Milner,
+you need not have had any apprehensions of _my_ company in the country,
+for I understand the seat to which your guardian means to go, belongs
+to you; and you may depend upon it, Madam, that I shall never enter a
+house in which you are the mistress.�
+
+“Nor any house, I am certain, Mr. Sandford, but in which you are
+yourself the master.�
+
+“What do you mean, Madam? (and for the first time he elevated his
+voice,) am I the master here?�
+
+“Your servants,� replied she, looking at the company, “will not tell
+you so; but I do.�
+
+“You condescend, Mr. Sandford,� cried Mrs. Horton, “in talking so much
+to a young heedless woman; but I know you do it for her good.�
+
+“Well, Miss Milner,� cried Dorriforth, (and the most cutting thing he
+could say,) “since I find my proposal of the country has put you out of
+humour, I shall mention it no more.�
+
+With all that quantity of resentment, anger, or rage, which sometimes
+boiled in the veins of Miss Milner, she was yet never wanting in that
+respect towards her guardian, which with-held her from ever uttering
+one angry sentence, directed immediately to him; and a severe word of
+his, instead of exasperating, was sure to subdue her. This was the case
+at present—his words wounded her to the heart, but she had not the
+asperity to reply to them as she thought they merited, and she burst
+into tears. Dorriforth, instead of being concerned, as he usually was
+at seeing her uneasy, appeared on the present occasion provoked. He
+thought her weeping was a new reproach to his friend Mr. Sandford, and
+that to suffer himself to be moved by it, would be a tacit condemnation
+of his friend’s conduct. She understood his thoughts, and getting the
+better of her tears, apologised for her weakness; adding,
+
+“She could never bear with indifference an unjust accusation.�
+
+“To prove that mine was unjust, Madam,� replied Dorriforth; “be
+prepared to quit London, without any marks of regret, in a few days.�
+
+She bowed assent; the necessary preparations were agreed upon; and
+while with apparent satisfaction she adjusted the plan of her journey,
+(like those who behave well, not so much to please themselves as to vex
+their enemies,) she secretly triumphed in the mortification she hoped
+that Mr. Sandford would receive from her obedient behaviour.
+
+The news of this intended journey was of course soon made public. There
+is a secret charm in being pitied, when the misfortune is but ideal;
+and Miss Milner found infinite gratification in being told, “That her’s
+was a cruel case, and that it was unjust and barbarous to force so much
+beauty into concealment while London was filled with her admirers; who,
+like her, would languish in consequence of her solitude.� These things,
+and a thousand such, a thousand times repeated, she still listened to
+with pleasure; yet preserved the constancy not to shrink from her
+resolution of submitting.
+
+Those involuntary sighs, however, that Miss Woodley had long ago
+observed, became still more frequent; and a tear half starting in her
+eye was an additional subject of her friend’s observation. Yet though
+Miss Milner at those times was softened into melancholy, she by no
+means appeared unhappy. Her friend was acquainted with love only by
+name; yet she was confirmed from these increased symptoms, in what she
+before only suspected, that _love_ must be the foundation of her care.
+“Her senses have been captivated by the person and accomplishments of
+Lord Frederick,� said Miss Woodley to herself, “but her understanding
+compels her to see his faults, and reproaches her passion.—And, oh!�
+cried she, “could her guardian and Mr. Sandford know of this conflict,
+how much would they have to admire; how little to condemn!�
+
+With such friendly thoughts, and with the purest intentions, Miss
+Woodley did not fail to give both gentlemen reason to believe, a
+contention of this nature was the actual state of Miss Milner’s mind.
+Dorriforth was affected at the description, and Sandford urged more
+than ever the necessity of leaving town. In a few days they departed;
+Mrs. Horton, Miss Woodley, Miss Milner, and Mr. Dorriforth, accompanied
+by Miss Fenton, whom Miss Milner, knowing it to be the wish of her
+guardian, invited, for three months before her marriage, to her country
+seat. Elmwood House, or rather Castle, the seat of Lord Elmwood, was
+only a few miles distant from this residence, and he was expected to
+pass great part of the summer there, with his tutor, Mr. Sandford.
+
+In the neighbourhood was also (as it has been already said) an estate
+belonging to an uncle of Lord Frederick’s, and most of the party
+suspected they should soon see him on a visit there. To that
+expectation they in great measure attributed Miss Milner’s visible
+content.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+With this party Miss Milner arrived at her country house, and for near
+six weeks, all around was the picture of tranquillity; her satisfaction
+was as evident as every other person’s; and all severe admonition being
+at this time unnecessary, either to exhort her to her duty, or to warn
+her against her folly, she was even in perfect good humour with Miss
+Fenton, and added friendship to hospitality.
+
+Mr. Sandford, who came with Lord Elmwood to the neighbouring seat,
+about a week after the arrival of Miss Milner at her’s, was so
+scrupulously exact in the observance of his word, “_Never to enter a
+house of Miss Milner’s,_� that he would not even call upon his friend
+Dorriforth there—but in their walks, and at Lord Elmwood’s, the two
+parties would occasionally join, and of course Sandford and she at
+those times met—yet so distant was the reserve on either side, that not
+a single word upon any occasion was ever exchanged between them.
+
+Miss Milner did not like Mr. Sandford; yet as there was no cause of
+inveterate rancour, admiring him too as a man who meant well, and being
+besides of a most forgiving temper, she frequently felt concerned that
+he did not speak to her, although it had been to find fault as
+usual—and one morning as they were all, after a long ramble, drawing
+towards her house, where Lord Elmwood was invited to dine, she could
+not restrain dropping a tear at seeing Sandford turn back and wish them
+a “Good day.�
+
+But though she had the generosity to forgive an affront, she had not
+the humility to make a concession; and she foresaw that nothing less
+than some very humble atonement on her part would prevail upon the
+haughty priest to be reconciled. Dorriforth saw her concern upon this
+last trifling occasion with a secret pleasure, and an admiration that
+she had never before excited. She once insinuated to him to be a
+mediator between them; but before any accommodation could take place,
+the peace and composure of their abode were disturbed by the arrival of
+Sir Edward Ashton at Lord Elmwood’s, where it appeared as if he had
+been invited in order to pursue his matrimonial plan.
+
+At a dinner given by Lord Elmwood, Sir Edward was announced as an
+unexpected visitor; Miss Milner did not suppose him such, and she
+turned pale when his name was uttered. Dorriforth fixed his eyes upon
+her with some tokens of compassion, while Sandford seemed to exult, and
+by his repeated “Welcomes� to the Baronet, gave proofs how much he was
+rejoiced to see him. All the declining enmity of Miss Milner was
+renewed at this behaviour, and suspecting Sandford as the instigator of
+the visit, she could not overcome her displeasure, but gave way to it
+in a manner she thought the most mortifying. Sir Edward, in the course
+of conversation, enquired “What neighbours were in the country;� and
+she, with an appearance of high satisfaction, named Lord Frederick
+Lawnly as being hourly expected at his uncle’s. The colour spread over
+Sir Edward’s face—Dorriforth was confounded—and Mr. Sandford looked
+enraged.
+
+“Did Lord Frederick tell _you_ he should be down?� Sandford asked of
+Dorriforth.
+
+To which he replied, “No.�
+
+“But I hope, Mr. Sandford, you will permit _me_ to know?� said Miss
+Milner. For as she now meant to torment him by what she said, she no
+longer constrained herself to silence—and as he harboured the same kind
+intention towards her, he had no longer any objection to make a reply,
+and therefore answered,
+
+“No, madam, if it depended upon my permission, you should _not_ know.�
+
+“Not _any thing_, Sir, I dare say; you would keep me in utter
+ignorance.�
+
+“I would.�
+
+“From a self-interested motive, Mr. Sandford—that I might have a
+greater respect for you.�
+
+Some of the company laughed—Mrs. Horton coughed—Miss Woodley
+blushed—Lord Elmwood sneered—Dorriforth frowned—and Miss Fenton looked
+just as she did before.
+
+The conversation was changed as soon as possible, and early in the
+evening the party from Milner Lodge returned home.
+
+Miss Milner had scarce left her dressing room, where she had been
+taking off some part of her dress, when Dorriforth’s servant came to
+acquaint her that his master was alone in his study, and begged to
+speak with her. She felt herself tremble—she immediately experienced a
+consciousness that she had not acted properly at Lord Elmwood’s; for
+she felt a presentiment that her guardian was going to upbraid her, and
+her heart whispered that he had never yet reproached her without a
+cause.
+
+Miss Woodley just then entered her apartment, and she found herself so
+much a coward, as to propose that she should go with her, and aid her
+with a word or two occasionally in her excuse.
+
+“What you, my dear,� returned Miss Woodley, “who not three hours ago
+had the courage to vindicate your own cause before a whole company, of
+whom many were your adversaries; do _you_ want an advocate before your
+guardian alone, who has ever treated you with tenderness?�
+
+“It is that very tenderness which frightens me; which intimidates, and
+strikes me dumb. Is it possible I can return impertinence to the
+language and manners which Mr. Dorriforth uses? and as I am debarred
+from that resource, what can I do but stand before him like a guilty
+creature, acknowledging my faults.�
+
+She again entreated her friend to go with her; but on a positive
+refusal, from the impropriety of such an intrusion, she was obliged at
+length to go by herself.
+
+How much does the difference of exterior circumstances influence not
+only the manners, but even the persons of some people! Miss Milner in
+Lord Elmwood’s drawing room, surrounded by listeners, by admirers, (for
+even her enemies could not look at her without admiration) animated
+with approbation and applause—and Miss Milner, with no giddy observer
+to give her actions a false éclat, destitute of all but her own
+understanding, (which secretly condemns her) upon the point of
+receiving censure from her guardian and friend, are two different
+beings. Though still beautiful beyond description, she does not look
+even in person the same. In the last-mentioned situation, she was
+shorter in stature than in the former—she was paler—she was thinner—and
+a very different contour presided over her whole air, and all her
+features.
+
+When she arrived at the door of the study, she opened it with a
+trepidation she could hardly account for, and entered to Dorriforth the
+altered woman she has been represented. His heart had taken the most
+decided part against her, and his face had assumed the most severe
+aspect of reproach; but her appearance gave an instantaneous change to
+his whole mind, and countenance.
+
+She halted, as if she feared to approach—he hesitated, as if he knew
+not how to speak. Instead of the anger with which he was prepared to
+begin, his voice involuntarily softened, and without knowing what he
+said, he began,
+
+“My dear Miss Milner.�—
+
+She expected he was angry, and in her confusion his gentleness was lost
+upon her. She imagined that what he said might be censure, and she
+continued to tremble, though he repeatedly assured her, that he meant
+only to advise, not upbraid her.
+
+“For as to all those little disputes between Mr. Sandford and you,�
+said he, “I should be partial if I blamed you more than him—indeed,
+when you take the liberty to condemn him, his character makes the
+freedom appear in a more serious light than when he complains of
+you—and yet, if he provokes your retorts, he alone must answer for
+them; nor will I undertake to decide betwixt you. But I have a question
+to ask you, and to which I require a serious and unequivocal answer. Do
+you expect Lord Frederick in the country?�
+
+Without hesitation she replied, “I do.�
+
+“One more question I have to ask, madam, and to which I expect a reply
+equally unreserved. Is Lord Frederick the man you approve for your
+husband?�
+
+Upon this close interrogation she discovered an embarrassment, beyond
+any she had ever yet betrayed, and faintly replied,
+
+“No, he is not.�
+
+“Your words tell me one thing,� answered Dorriforth, “but your looks
+declare another—which am I to believe?�
+
+“Which you please,� was her answer, while she discovered an insulted
+dignity, that astonished, without convincing him.
+
+“But then why encourage him to follow you hither, Miss Milner?�
+
+“Why commit a thousand follies (she replied in tears) every hour of my
+life?�
+
+“You then promote the hopes of Lord Frederick without one serious
+intention of completing them? This is a conduct against which it is my
+duty to guard you, and you shall no longer deceive either him or
+yourself. The moment he arrives, it is my resolution that you refuse to
+see him, or consent to become his wife.�
+
+In answer to the alternative thus offered, she appeared averse to both
+propositions; and yet came to no explanation why; but left her guardian
+at the end of the conference as much at a loss to decide upon her true
+sentiments, as he was before he had thus seriously requested he might
+be informed of them; but having stedfastly taken the resolution which
+he had just communicated, he found that resolution a certain relief to
+his mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Sir Edward Ashton, though not invited by Miss Milner, yet frequently
+did himself the honour to visit her at her house; sometimes he
+accompanied Lord Elmwood, at other times he came to see Dorriforth
+alone, who generally introduced him to the ladies. But Sir Edward was
+either so unwilling to give pain to the object of his love, or so
+intimidated by her frowns, that he seldom addressed her with a single
+word, except the usual compliments at entering, and retiring. This
+apprehension of offending, without one hope of pleasing, had the most
+awkward effect upon the manners of the worthy Baronet; and his
+endeavours to insinuate himself into the affections of the woman he
+loved, merely by not giving her offence either in speaking to her or
+looking at her, formed a character so whimsical, that it frequently
+forced a smile from Miss Milner, though his very name had often power
+to throw a gloom over her face: she looked upon him as the cause of her
+being hurried to the election of a lover, before her own mind could
+well direct her where to fix. Besides, his pursuit was troublesome,
+while it was no triumph to her vanity, which by the addresses of Lord
+Frederick, was in the highest manner gratified.
+
+His Lordship now arrives in the country, and calls one morning at Miss
+Milner’s; her guardian sees his carriage coming up the avenue, and
+gives orders to the servants, to say their lady is not at home, but
+that Mr. Dorriforth is: Lord Frederick leaves his compliments and goes
+away.
+
+The ladies all observed his carriage and servants. Miss Milner flew to
+her glass, adjusted her dress, and in her looks expressed every sign of
+palpitation—but in vain she keeps her eye fixed upon the door of the
+apartment; no Lord Frederick appears.
+
+After some minutes of expectation, the door opens and her guardian
+comes in;—she was disappointed; he perceived that she was, and he
+looked at her with a most serious face;—she immediately called to mind
+the assurance he had given her, “That her acquaintance with Lord
+Frederick in its then improper state should not continue,� and between
+chagrin and confusion, she was at a loss how to behave.
+
+Though the ladies were all present, Dorriforth said, without the
+smallest reserve, “Perhaps, Miss Milner, you may think I have taken an
+unwarrantable liberty, in giving orders to your servants to deny you to
+Lord Frederick; but until his Lordship and I have had a private
+conference, or you condescend to declare your sentiments more fully in
+regard to his visits, I think it my duty to put an end to them.�
+
+“You will always perform your duty, Mr. Dorriforth, I have no doubt,
+whether I concur or not.�
+
+“Yet believe me, madam, I should perform it more cheerfully, if I could
+hope that it was sanctioned by your inclinations.�
+
+“I am not mistress of my inclinations, Sir, or they should conform to
+yours.�
+
+“Place them under my direction, and I will answer for it they will.�
+
+A servant came in—“Lord Frederick is returned, Sir, and says he should
+be glad to see you.�
+
+“Shew him into the study,� cried Dorriforth hastily, and rising from
+his chair, left the room.
+
+“I hope they won’t quarrel,� said Mrs. Horton, meaning, that she
+thought they would.
+
+“I am sorry to see you so uneasy, Miss Milner,� said Miss Fenton, with
+perfect unconcern.
+
+As the badness of the weather had prevented their usual morning’s
+exercise, the ladies were employed at their needles till the dinner
+bell called them away. “Do you think Lord Frederick is gone?� then
+whispered Miss Milner to Miss Woodley.—“I think not,� she replied.—“Go
+ask of the servants, dear creature.� And Miss Woodley went out of the
+room. She soon returned and said, apart, “He is now getting into his
+chariot; I saw him pass in violent haste through the hall; he seemed to
+fly.�
+
+“Ladies, the dinner is waiting,� cried Mrs. Horton, and they repaired
+to the dining room, where Dorriforth soon after came, and engrossed
+their whole attention by his disturbed looks, and unusual silence.
+Before dinner was over, he was, however, more himself, but still he
+appeared thoughtful and dissatisfied. At the time of their evening walk
+he excused himself from accompanying them, and they saw him in a
+distant field with Mr. Sandford in earnest conversation; for Sandford
+and he often stopped on one spot for a quarter of an hour, as if the
+interest of the subject had so engaged them, they stood still without
+knowing it. Lord Elmwood, who had joined the ladies, walked home with
+them; Dorriforth entered soon after, in a much less gloomy humour than
+when he went out, and told his relation, that he and the ladies would
+dine with him the next day if he was disengaged; and it was agreed they
+should.
+
+Still Dorriforth was in some perturbation, but the immediate cause was
+concealed till the day following, when, about an hour before the
+company’s departure from the Castle, Miss Milner and Miss Woodley were
+desired, by a servant, to walk into a separate apartment, in which they
+found Mr. Dorriforth with Mr. Sandford waiting for them. Her guardian
+made an apology to Miss Milner for the form, the ceremony, of which he
+was going to make use; but he trusted, the extreme weight which
+oppressed his mind, lest he should mistake the real sentiments of a
+person whose happiness depended upon his correct knowledge of them,
+would plead his excuse.
+
+“I know, Miss Milner,� continued he, “the world in general allows to
+unmarried women great latitude in disguising their mind with respect to
+the man they love. I too, am willing to pardon any little dissimulation
+that is but consistent with a modesty that becomes every woman upon the
+subject of marriage. But here, to what point I may limit, or you may
+extend, this kind of venial deceit, may so widely differ, that it is
+not impossible for me to remain unacquainted with your sentiments, even
+after you have revealed them to me. Under this consideration, I wish
+once more to hear your thoughts in regard to matrimony, and to hear
+them before one of your own sex, that I may form an opinion by her
+constructions.�
+
+To all this serious oration, Miss Milner made no other reply than by
+turning to Mr. Sandford, and asking, “If he was the person of her own
+sex, to whose judgment her guardian was to submit his own?�
+
+“Madam,� cried Sandford angrily, “you are come hither upon serious
+business.�
+
+“Any business must be serious to me, Mr. Sandford, in which you are
+concerned; and if you had called it _sorrowful_, the epithet would have
+suited as well.�
+
+“Miss Milner,� said her guardian, “I did not bring you here to contend
+with Mr. Sandford.�
+
+“Then why, Sir, bring him hither? for where he and I are, there must be
+contention.�
+
+“I brought him hither, Madam, or I should rather say, brought you to
+this house, merely that he might be present on this occasion, and with
+his discernment relieve me from a suspicion, that my own judgment is
+neither able to suppress nor to confirm.�
+
+“Are there any more witnesses you may wish to call in, Sir, to remove
+your doubts of my veracity? if there are, pray send for them before you
+begin your interrogations.�
+
+He shook his head—she continued.
+
+“The whole world is welcome to hear what I say, and every different
+person is welcome to judge me differently.�
+
+“Dear Miss Milner,�—cried Miss Woodley, with a tone of reproach for the
+vehemence with which she had spoken.
+
+“Perhaps, Miss Milner,� said Dorriforth, “you will not now reply to
+those questions I was going to put?�
+
+“Did I ever refuse, Sir,� returned she with a self-approving air, “to
+comply with any request that you have seriously made? Have I ever
+refused obedience to your commands whenever you thought proper to lay
+them upon me? If not, you have no right to suppose that I will do so
+now.�
+
+He was going to reply, when Mr. Sandford sullenly interrupted him, and
+making towards the door, cried, “When you come to the point for which
+you brought me here, send for me again.�
+
+“Stay now,� said Dorriforth. “And Miss Milner,� continued he, “I not
+only entreat, but command you to tell me—have you given your word, or
+your affections to Lord Frederick Lawnly?�
+
+The colour spread over her face, and she replied—“I thought confessions
+were always to be in secret; however, as I am not a member of your
+church, I submit to the persecution of a heretic, and I answer—Lord
+Frederick has neither my word, nor any share in my affections.�
+
+Sandford, Dorriforth, and Miss Woodley looked at each other with a
+degree of surprise that for some time kept them silent. At length
+Dorriforth said, “And it is your firm intention never to become his
+wife?�
+
+To which she answered—“At present it is.�
+
+“At present! do you suspect you shall change your sentiments?�
+
+“Women sometimes do.�
+
+“But before that change can take place, your acquaintance will be at an
+end: for it is that which I shall next insist upon, and to which you
+can have no objection.�
+
+She replied, “I had rather it should continue.�
+
+“On what account?� cried Dorriforth.
+
+“Because it entertains me.�
+
+“For shame, for shame!� returned he; “it endangers your character and
+your happiness. Yet again, do not suffer me to interfere, if the
+breaking with Lord Frederick can militate against your felicity.�
+
+“By no means,� she answered; “Lord Frederick makes part of my
+amusement, but could never constitute my felicity.�
+
+“Miss Woodley,� said Dorriforth, “do you comprehend your friend in the
+same literal and unequivocal sense that I do?�
+
+“Certainly I do, Sir.�
+
+“And pray, Miss Woodley,� said he, “were those the sentiments which you
+have always entertained?�
+
+Miss Woodley hesitated—he continued. “Or has this conversation altered
+them?�
+
+She hesitated again, then answered—“This conversation has altered
+them.�
+
+“And yet you confide in it!� cried Sandford, looking at her with
+contempt.
+
+“Certainly I do,� replied Miss Woodley.
+
+“Do not you then, Mr. Sandford?� asked Dorriforth.
+
+“I would advise you to act as if I did,� replied Sandford.
+
+“Then, Miss Milner,� said Dorriforth, “you see Lord Frederick no
+more—and I hope I have your permission to apprize him of this
+arrangement.�
+
+“You have, Sir,� she replied with a completely unembarrassed
+countenance and voice.
+
+Her friend looked at her as if to discover some lurking wish, adverse
+to all these protestations, but she could not discern one. Sandford too
+fixed his penetrating eyes upon her, as if he would look through her
+soul, but finding it perfectly composed, he cried out,
+
+“Why then not write his dismission herself, and save you, Mr.
+Dorriforth, the trouble of any farther contest with him?�
+
+“Indeed, Miss Milner,� said Dorriforth, “that would oblige me; for it
+is with great reluctance that I meet him upon this subject—he was
+extremely impatient and importunate when he was last with me—he took
+advantage of my ecclesiastical situation to treat me with a levity and
+ill breeding, that I could ill have suffered upon any other
+consideration than a compliance with my duty.�
+
+“Dictate what you please, Mr. Dorriforth, and I will write it,� said
+she, with a warmth like the most unaffected inclination. “And while
+you, Sir,� she continued, “are so indulgent as not to distress me with
+the importunities of any gentleman to whom I am averse, I think myself
+equally bound to rid you of the impertinence of every one to whom you
+may have objection.�
+
+“But,� answered he, “rest assured I have no material objection to my
+Lord Frederick, except from that dilemma, in which your acquaintance
+with him has involved us all; and I should conceive the same against
+any other man, where the same circumstance occurred. As you have now,
+however, freely and politely consented to the manner in which it has
+been proposed that you shall break with him, I will not trouble you a
+moment longer upon a subject on which I have so frequently explained my
+wishes, but conclude it by assuring you, that your ready acquiescence
+has given me the sincerest satisfaction.�
+
+“I hope, Mr. Sandford,� said she, turning to him with a smile, “I have
+given _you_ satisfaction likewise?�
+
+Sandford could not say yes, and was ashamed to say no; he, therefore,
+made answer only by his looks, which were full of suspicion. She,
+notwithstanding, made him a very low courtesy. Her guardian then handed
+her out of the apartment into her coach, which was waiting to take her,
+Miss Woodley, and himself, home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+Notwithstanding the seeming readiness with which Miss Milner had
+resigned all farther acquaintance with Lord Frederick, during the short
+ride home she appeared to have lost great part of her wonted spirits;
+she was thoughtful, and once sighed heavily. Dorriforth began to fear
+that she had not only made a sacrifice of her affections, but of her
+veracity; yet, why she had done so, he could not comprehend.
+
+As the carriage moved slowly through a lane between Elmwood Castle and
+her own house, on casting her eyes out of the window, Miss Milner’s
+countenance was brightened in an instant, and that instant Lord
+Frederick, on horse-back, was at the coach door, and the coachman
+stopped.
+
+“Oh, Miss Milner,� cried he, (with a voice and manner that could give
+little suspicion of the truth of what he said) “I am overjoyed at the
+happiness of seeing you, even though it is but an accidental meeting.�
+
+She was evidently glad to see _him_; but the earnestness with which he
+spoke, put her upon her guard not to express the like, and she said, in
+a cool constrained manner, she “Was glad to see his Lordship.�
+
+The reserve with which she spoke, gave Lord Frederick immediate
+suspicion who was in the coach with her, and turning his head quickly,
+he met the stern eye of Dorriforth; upon which, without the smallest
+salutation, he turned from him again abruptly and rudely. Miss Milner
+was confused, and Miss Woodley in torture, at this palpable affront, to
+which Dorriforth alone appeared indifferent.
+
+“Go on,� said Miss Milner to the footman, “desire the coachman to drive
+on.�
+
+“No,� cried Lord Frederick, “not till you have told me when I shall see
+you again.�
+
+“I will write you word, my Lord,� replied she, something alarmed. “You
+shall have a letter immediately after I get home.�
+
+As if he guessed what its contents were to be, he cried out with
+warmth, “Take care, then, Madam, how you treat me in that letter—and
+you, Mr. Dorriforth,� turning to him, “do you take care what it
+contains; for if it is dictated by you, to you I shall send the
+answer.�
+
+Dorriforth, without making any reply, or casting a look at him, put his
+head out of the window on the opposite side, and called, in a very
+angry tone, to the coachman, “How dare you not drive on, when your Lady
+orders you?�
+
+The sound of Dorriforth’s voice in anger, was to the servants so
+unusual, that it acted like electricity upon the man, and he drove on
+at the instant with such rapidity, that Lord Frederick was in a moment
+left many yards behind. As soon, however, as he recovered from the
+surprise into which this sudden command had thrown him, he rode with
+speed after the carriage, and followed it, till it arrived at the door
+of Miss Milner’s house; there, giving himself up to the rage of love,
+or to rage against Dorriforth for the contempt he had shewn to him, he
+leaped from his horse when Miss Milner stepped from her carriage, and
+seizing her hand, entreated her “Not to desert him, in compliance with
+the injunctions of monkish hypocrisy.�
+
+Dorriforth heard this, standing silently by, with a manly scorn upon
+his countenance.
+
+Miss Milner struggled to loose her hand, saying, “Excuse me from
+replying to you now, my Lord.�
+
+In return, he lifted her hand eagerly to his lips, and began to devour
+it with kisses; when Dorriforth, with an instantaneous impulse, rushed
+forward, and struck him a violent blow in the face. Under the force of
+this assault, and the astonishment it excited, Lord Frederick
+staggered, and letting fall the hand of Miss Milner, her guardian
+immediately laid hold of it, and led her into the house.
+
+She was terrified beyond description; and with extreme difficulty Mr.
+Dorriforth conveyed her to her own chamber, without taking her in his
+arms. When, by the assistance of her maid, he had placed her upon a
+sofa—covered with shame and confusion for what he had done, he fell
+upon his knees before her, and earnestly “Entreated her forgiveness for
+the indelicacy he had been guilty of in her presence.� And that he had
+alarmed her, and had forgot the respect which he thought sacredly her
+due, seemed the only circumstance which then dwelt upon his thoughts.
+
+She felt the indecorum of the posture he had condescended to take, and
+was shocked. To see her guardian at her feet, struck her with a sense
+of impropriety, as if she had seen a parent there. All agitation and
+emotion, she implored him to rise, and, with a thousand protestations,
+declared, “That she thought the rashness of the action was the highest
+proof of his regard for her.�
+
+Miss Woodley now entered; her care being ever employed upon the
+unfortunate, Lord Frederick had been the object of it: she had waited
+by his side, and, with every good purpose, had preached patience to
+him, while he was smarting under the pain, but more under the shame, of
+his chastisement. At first, his fury threatened a retort upon the
+servants around him (and who refused his entrance into the house) of
+the punishment he had received. But, in the certainty of an _amende
+honorable_, which must hereafter be made, he overcame the many
+temptations which the moment offered, and re-mounting his horse rode
+away from the scene of his disgrace.
+
+No sooner had Miss Woodley entered the room, and Dorriforth had
+resigned to her the care of his ward, than he flew to the spot where he
+had left Lord Frederick, negligent of what might be the event if he
+still remained there. After enquiring, and being told that he was gone,
+Dorriforth returned to his own apartment; and with a bosom torn by more
+excruciating sensations than those which he had given to his adversary.
+
+The reflection that struck him first with remorse, as he shut the door
+upon himself, was:—“I have departed from my character—from the sacred
+character, and the dignity of my profession and sentiments—I have
+departed from myself. I am no longer the philosopher, but the ruffian—I
+have treated with an unpardonable insult a young nobleman, whose only
+offence was love, and a fond desire to insinuate himself into the
+favour of his mistress. I must atone for this outrage in whatever
+manner he may choose; and the law of honour and of justice (though in
+this one instance contrary to the law of religion) enjoins, that if he
+demands my life in satisfaction for his wounded feelings, it is his
+due. Alas! that I could have laid it down this morning, unsullied with
+a cause for which it will make but inadequate atonement.�
+
+His next reproach was—“I have offended and filled with horror, a
+beautiful young woman, whom it was my duty to have protected from those
+brutal manners, to which I myself have exposed her.�
+
+Again—“I have drawn upon myself the just upbraidings of my faithful
+preceptor and friend; of the man in whose judgment it was my delight to
+be approved—above all, I have drawn upon myself the stings of my
+conscience.�
+
+“Where shall I pass this sleepless night?� cried he, walking repeatedly
+across his chamber; “Can I go to the ladies? I am unworthy of their
+society. Shall I go and repose my disturbed mind on Sandford? I am
+ashamed to tell him the cause of my uneasiness. Shall I go to Lord
+Frederick, and humbling myself before him, beg his forgiveness? He
+would spurn me for a coward. No�——(and he lifted up his eyes to Heaven)
+“Thou all great, all wise and omnipotent Being, Thou whom I have most
+offended, it is to Thee alone that I have recourse in this hour of
+tribulation, and from Thee alone I solicit comfort. And the confidence
+in which I now address myself to Thee, encouraged by that long
+intercourse which religion has effected, repays me amply in this one
+moment, for the many years of my past life devoted with my best, though
+imperfect, efforts to thy service.�
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Although Miss Milner had not foreseen any fatal event resulting from
+the indignity offered to Lord Frederick, yet she passed a night very
+different from those to which she had been accustomed. No sooner was
+she falling into a sleep, than a thousand vague, but distressing, ideas
+darted across her imagination. Her heart would sometimes whisper to her
+when she was half asleep, “Lord Frederick is banished from you for
+ever.� She shakes off the uneasiness this idea brings along with it—she
+then starts, and sees the blow still aimed at him by Dorriforth. No
+sooner has she driven away this painful image, than she is again
+awakened by beholding her guardian at her feet sueing for pardon. She
+sighs, she trembles, and is chilled with terror.
+
+Relieved by tears, towards the morning she sinks into a slumber, but
+waking, finds the same images crowding all together upon her mind: she
+is doubtful to which to give the preference—one, however, rushes the
+foremost, and continues so. She knows not the fatal consequence of
+ruminating, nor why she dwells upon that, more than upon all the rest,
+but it will give place to none.
+
+She rises languid and disordered, and at breakfast, adds fresh pain to
+Dorriforth by her altered appearance.
+
+He had scarce left the room, when an officer waited upon him with a
+challenge from Lord Frederick. To the message delivered by this
+gentleman, he replied,
+
+“Sir, as a clergyman, more especially of the church of Rome, I know not
+whether I am not exempt from answering a demand of this kind; but not
+having had forbearance to avoid an offence, I will not claim an
+exemption that would only indemnify me from making reparation.�
+
+“You will then, Sir, meet Lord Frederick at the appointed hour?� said
+the officer.
+
+“I will, Sir; and my immediate care shall be to find a gentleman who
+will accompany me.�
+
+The officer withdrew, and when Dorriforth was again alone, he was going
+once more to reflect, but he durst not. Since yesterday, reflection,
+for the first time, was become painful to him; and even as he rode the
+short way to Lord Elmwood’s immediately after, he found his own
+thoughts were so insufferable, that he was obliged to enter into
+conversation with his servant. Solitude, that formerly charmed him,
+would, at those moments, have been worse than death.
+
+At Lord Elmwood’s, he met Sandford in the hall, and the sight of him
+was no longer welcome—he knew how different the principles which he had
+just adopted were to those of that reverend friend, and without his
+complaining, or even suspecting what had happened, his presence was a
+sufficient reproach. He passed him as hastily as he could, and
+enquiring for Lord Elmwood, disclosed to him his errand. It was to ask
+him to be his second;—the young Earl started, and wished to consult his
+tutor, but that, his kinsman strictly forbade; and having urged his
+reasons with arguments, which at least _he_ could not refute, he was at
+length prevailed upon to promise that he would accompany him to the
+field, which was at the distance only of a few miles, and the parties
+were to be there at seven on the same evening.
+
+As soon as his business with Lord Elmwood was settled, Dorriforth
+returned home, to make preparations for the event which might ensue
+from this meeting. He wrote letters to several of his friends, and one
+to his ward, in writing which, he could with difficulty preserve the
+usual firmness of his mind. Sandford going into Lord Elmwood’s library
+soon after his relation had left him, expressed his surprise at finding
+he was gone; upon which that nobleman having answered a few questions,
+and given a few significant hints that he was entrusted with a secret,
+frankly confessed, what he had promised to conceal.
+
+Sandford, as much as a holy man could be, was enraged at Dorriforth for
+the cause of the challenge, but was still more enraged at his
+wickedness in accepting it. He applauded his pupil’s virtue in making
+the discovery, and congratulated himself that he should be the
+instrument of saving not only his friend’s life, but of preventing the
+scandal of his being engaged in a duel.
+
+In the ardour of his designs, he went immediately to Miss
+Milner’s—entered that house which he had so long refused to enter, and
+at a time when he was upon aggravated bad terms with its owner.
+
+He asked for Dorriforth, went hastily into his apartment, and poured
+upon him a torrent of rebukes. Dorriforth bore all he said with the
+patience of a devotee, but with the firmness of a man. He owned his
+fault, but no eloquence could make him recall the promise he had given
+to repair the injury. Unshaken by the arguments, persuasions, and
+menaces of Sandford, he gave an additional proof of that inflexibility
+for which he had been long distinguished—and after a dispute of two
+hours, they parted, neither of them the better for what either had
+advanced, but Dorriforth something the worse; his conscience gave
+testimony to Sandford’s opinion, “that he was bound by ties more sacred
+than worldly honour.� But while he owned, he would not yield to the
+duty.
+
+Sandford left him, determined, however, that Lord Elmwood should not be
+accessory in his guilt, and this he declared; upon which Dorriforth
+took the resolution of seeking another second.
+
+In passing through the house on his return home, Sandford met, by
+accident, Mrs. Horton, Miss Milner, and the other two ladies returning
+from a saunter in the garden. Surprised at the sight of Mr. Sandford in
+her house, Miss Milner would not express that surprise, but going up to
+him with all the friendly benevolence which in general played about her
+heart, she took hold of one of his hands, and pressed it with a
+kindness which told him more forcibly that he was welcome, than if she
+had made the most elaborate speech to convince him of it. He, however,
+seemed little touched with her behaviour, and as an excuse for breaking
+his word, cried,
+
+“I beg your pardon, madam, but I was brought hither in my anxiety to
+prevent murder.�
+
+“Murder!� exclaimed all the ladies.
+
+“Yes,� answered he, addressing himself to Miss Fenton, “your betrothed
+husband is a party concerned; he is going to be second to Mr.
+Dorriforth, who means this very evening to be killed by my Lord
+Frederick, or to kill him, in addition to the blow that he gave him
+last night.�
+
+Mrs. Horton exclaimed, “if Mr. Dorriforth dies, he dies a martyr.�
+
+Miss Woodley cried with fervour, “Heaven forbid!�
+
+Miss Fenton cried, “dear me!�
+
+While Miss Milner, without uttering one word, sunk speechless on the
+floor.
+
+They lifted her up and brought her to the door which entered into the
+garden. She soon recovered; for the tumult of her mind would not suffer
+her to remain inactive, and she was rouzed, in spite of her weakness,
+to endeavour to ward off the impending disaster. In vain, however, she
+attempted to walk to her guardian’s apartment—she sunk as before, and
+was taken to a settee, while Miss Woodley was dispatched to bring him
+to her.
+
+Informed of the cause of her indisposition, he followed Miss Woodley
+with a tender anxiety for her health, and with grief and confusion that
+he had so carelessly endangered it. On his entering the room Sandford
+beheld the inquietude of his mind, and cried, “Here is your
+_Guardian_,� with a cruel emphasis on the word.
+
+He was too much engaged by the sufferings of his ward to reply to
+Sandford. He placed himself on the settee by her, and with the utmost
+tenderness, reverence, and pity, entreated her not to be concerned at
+an accident in which he, and he alone, had been to blame; but which he
+had no doubt would be accommodated in the most amicable manner.
+
+“I have one favour to require of you, Mr. Dorriforth,� said she, “and
+that is, your promise, your solemn promise, which I know is ever
+sacred, that you will not meet my Lord Frederick.�
+
+He hesitated.
+
+“Oh, Madam,� cried Sandford, “he is grown a libertine now, and I would
+not believe his word, if he were to give it you.�
+
+“Then, Sir,� returned Dorriforth angrily, “you _may_ believe my word,
+for I will keep that which I gave to _you_. I will give Lord Frederick
+all the restitution in my power. But my dear Miss Milner, let not this
+alarm you; we may not find it convenient to meet this many a day; and
+most probably some fortunate explanation may prevent our meeting at
+all. If not, reckon but among the many duels that are fought, how few
+are fatal: and even in that case, how small would be the loss to
+society, if——� He was proceeding.
+
+“I should ever deplore the loss!� cried Miss Milner; “on such an
+occasion, I could not survive the death of either.�
+
+“For my part,� he replied, “I look upon my life as much forfeited to my
+Lord Frederick, to whom I have given a high offence, as it might in
+other instances have been forfeited to the offended laws of the land.
+Honour, is the law of the polite part of the land; we know it; and when
+we transgress against it knowingly, we justly incur our punishment.
+However, Miss Milner, this affair will not be settled immediately, and
+I have no doubt, but that all will be as you could wish. Do you think I
+should appear thus easy,� added he with a smile, “if I were going to be
+shot at by my Lord Frederick?�
+
+“Very well!� cried Sandford, with a look that evinced he was better
+informed.
+
+“You will stay within then, all this day?� said Miss Milner.
+
+“I am engaged to dinner,� he replied; “it is unlucky—I am sorry for
+it—but I’ll be at home early in the evening.�
+
+“Stained with human blood,� cried Sandford, “or yourself a corpse.�
+
+The ladies lifted up their hands!—Miss Milner rose from her seat, and
+threw herself at her guardian’s feet.
+
+“You kneeled to me last night, I now kneel to you,� (she cried) “kneel,
+never desiring to rise again, if you persist in your intention. I am
+weak, I am volatile, I am indiscreet, but I have a heart from which
+some impressions can never—oh! never, be erased.�
+
+He endeavoured to raise her, she persisted to kneel—and here the
+affright, the terror, the anguish, she endured, discovered to her, her
+own sentiments—which, till that moment, she had doubted—and she
+continued,
+
+“I no longer pretend to conceal my passion—I love Lord Frederick
+Lawnly.�
+
+Her guardian started.
+
+“Yes, to my shame I love him:� (cried she, all emotion) “I meant to
+have struggled with the weakness, because I supposed it would be
+displeasing to you—but apprehension for his safety has taken away every
+power of restraint, and I beseech you to spare his life.�
+
+“This is exactly what I thought,� cried Sandford, with an air of
+triumph.
+
+“Good heaven!� cried Miss Woodley.
+
+“But it is very natural,� said Mrs. Horton.
+
+“I own,� said Dorriforth, (struck with amaze, and now taking her from
+his feet with a force that she could not resist) “I own, Miss Milner, I
+am greatly affected and wounded at this contradiction in your
+character.�—
+
+“But did not I say so?� cried Sandford, interrupting him.
+
+“However,� continued he, “you may take my word, though you have
+deceived me in your’s, that Lord Frederick’s life is secure. For your
+sake, I would not endanger it for the universe. But let this be a
+warning to you�——
+
+He was proceeding with the most austere looks, and pointed language,
+when observing the shame, and the self-reproach that agitated her mind,
+he divested himself in great measure of his resentment, and said,
+mildly,
+
+“Let this be a warning to you, how you deal in future with the friends
+who wish you well. You have hurried me into a mistake that might have
+cost me my life, or the life of the man you love; and thus exposed
+_you_ to misery, more bitter than death.�
+
+“I am not worthy of your friendship, Mr. Dorriforth,� said she, sobbing
+with grief, “and from this moment forsake me.�
+
+“No, Madam, not in the moment you first discover to me, how I can make
+you happy.�
+
+The conversation appearing now to become of a nature in which the rest
+of the company could have no share whatever, they were all, except Mr.
+Sandford, retiring; when Miss Milner called Miss Woodley back, saying,
+“Stay you with me; I was never so unfit to be left without your
+friendship.�
+
+“Perhaps at present you can dispense with mine?� said Dorriforth. She
+made no answer. He then, once more assured her Lord Frederick’s life
+was safe, and was quitting the room—but when he recollected in what
+humiliation he had left her, turning towards her as he opened the door,
+he added,
+
+“And be assured, Madam, that my esteem for you, shall be _the same as
+ever_.�
+
+Sandford, as he followed him, bowed, and repeated the same words—“And,
+Madam, be assured that my esteem for you, shall be the same as ever.�
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+This taunting reproof from Sandford made little impression upon Miss
+Milner, whose thoughts were all fixed on a subject of much more
+importance than the opinion which he entertained of her. She threw her
+arms about her friend the moment they were left alone, and asked, with
+anxiety, “What she thought of her behaviour?� Miss Woodley, who could
+not approve of the duplicity she had betrayed, still wished to
+reconcile her as much as possible to her own conduct, and replied, she
+“Highly commended the frankness with which she had, at last,
+acknowledged her sentiments.�
+
+“Frankness!� cried Miss Milner, starting. “Frankness, my dear Miss
+Woodley! What you have just now heard me say, is all a falsehood.�
+
+“How, Miss Milner!�
+
+“Oh, Miss Woodley,� returned she, sobbing upon her bosom, “pity the
+agonies of my heart, my heart, by nature sincere, when such are the
+fatal propensities it cherishes, that I must submit to the grossest
+falsehoods rather than reveal the truth.�
+
+“What can you mean?� cried Miss Woodley, with the strongest amazement
+in her face.
+
+“Do you suppose I love Lord Frederick? Do you suppose I _can_ love him?
+Oh fly, and prevent my guardian from telling him such an untruth.�
+
+“What can you mean?� repeated Miss Woodley; “I protest you terrify me.�
+For this inconsistency in the behaviour of Miss Milner, appeared as if
+her senses had been deranged.
+
+“Fly,� she resumed, “and prevent the inevitable ill consequence which
+will ensue, if Lord Frederick should be told this falsehood. It will
+involve us all in greater disquiet than we suffer at present.�
+
+“Then what has influenced you, my dear Miss Milner?�
+
+“That which impels all my actions—an unsurmountable instinct—a
+fatality, that will for ever render me the most miserable of human
+beings; and yet you, even you, my dear Miss Woodley, will not pity me.�
+
+Miss Woodley pressed her closely in her arms, and vowed, “That while
+she was unhappy, from whatever cause, she still would pity her.�
+
+“Go to Mr. Dorriforth then, and prevent him from imposing upon Lord
+Frederick.�
+
+“But that imposition is the only means of preventing the duel,� replied
+Miss Woodley. “The moment I have told him that your affection was but
+counterfeited, he will no longer refuse accepting the challenge.�
+
+“Then at all events I am undone,� exclaimed Miss Milner, “for the duel
+is horrible, even beyond every thing else.�
+
+“How so?� returned Miss Woodley, “since you have declared you do not
+care for Lord Frederick?�
+
+“But are you so blind,� returned Miss Milner with a degree of madness
+in her looks, “as to believe I do not care for Mr. Dorriforth? Oh! Miss
+Woodley! I love him with all the passion of a mistress, and with all
+the tenderness of a wife.�
+
+Miss Woodley at this sentence sat down—it was on a chair that was close
+to her—her feet could not have taken her to any other. She trembled—she
+was white as ashes, and deprived of speech. Miss Milner, taking her by
+the hand, said,
+
+“I know what you feel—I know what you think of me—and how much you hate
+and despise me. But Heaven is witness to all my struggles—nor would I,
+even to myself, acknowledge the shameless prepossession, till forced by
+a sense of his danger�——
+
+“Silence,� cried Miss Woodley, struck with horror.
+
+“And even now,� resumed Miss Milner, “have I not concealed it from all
+but you, by plunging myself into a new difficulty, from which I know
+not how I shall be extricated? And do I entertain a hope? No, Miss
+Woodley, nor ever will. But suffer me to own my folly to you—to entreat
+your soothing friendship to free me from my weakness. And, oh! give me
+your advice, to deliver me from the difficulties which surround me.�
+
+Miss Woodley was still pale, and still silent.
+
+Education, is called second nature; in the strict (but not enlarged)
+education of Miss Woodley, it was more powerful than the first—and the
+violation of oaths, persons, or things consecrated to Heaven, was, in
+her opinion, if not the most enormous, yet among the most terrific in
+the catalogue of crimes.
+
+Miss Milner had lived so long in a family who had imbibed those
+opinions, that she was convinced of their existence; nay, her own
+reason told her that solemn vows of every kind, ought to be sacred; and
+the more she respected her guardian’s understanding, the less did she
+call in question his religious tenets—in esteeming him, she esteemed
+all his notions; and among the rest, venerated those of his religion.
+Yet that passion, which had unhappily taken possession of her whole
+soul, would not have been inspired, had there not subsisted an early
+difference, in their systems of divine faith. Had she been early taught
+what were the sacred functions of a Roman ecclesiastic, though all her
+esteem, all her admiration, had been attracted by the qualities and
+accomplishments of her guardian, yet education, would have given such a
+prohibition to her love, that she would have been precluded from it, as
+by that barrier which divides a sister from a brother.
+
+This, unfortunately, was not the case; and Miss Milner loved Dorriforth
+without one conscious check to tell her she was wrong, except that
+which convinced her—her love would be avoided by him with detestation,
+and with horror.
+
+Miss Woodley, something recovered from her first surprise, and
+sufferings—for never did her susceptible mind suffer so
+exquisitely—amidst all her grief and abhorrence, felt that pity was
+still predominant—and reconciled to the faults of Miss Milner by her
+misery, she once more looked at her with friendship, and asked, “What
+she could do to render her less unhappy?�
+
+“Make me forget,� replied Miss Milner, “every moment of my life since I
+first saw you—that moment was teeming with a weight of cares, under
+which I must labour till my death.�
+
+“And even in death,� replied Miss Woodley, “do not hope to shake them
+off. If unrepented in this world�——
+
+She was proceeding—but the anxiety her friend endured, would not suffer
+her to be free from the apprehension, that, notwithstanding the
+positive assurance of her guardian, if he and Lord Frederick should
+meet, the duel might still take place; she therefore rang the bell and
+enquired if Mr. Dorriforth was still at home?—the answer was—“He had
+rode out. You remember,� said Miss Woodley, “he told you he should dine
+from home.� This did not, however, dismiss her fears, and she
+dispatched two servants different ways in pursuit of him, acquainting
+them with her suspicions, and charging them to prevent the duel.
+Sandford had also taken his precautions; but though he knew the time,
+he did not know the exact place of their appointment, for that Lord
+Elmwood had forgot to enquire.
+
+The excessive alarm which Miss Milner discovered upon this occasion,
+was imputed by the servants, and by others who were witnesses of it, to
+her affection for Lord Frederick; while none but Miss Woodley knew, or
+had the most distant suspicion of the real cause.
+
+Mrs. Horton and Miss Fenton, who were sitting together expatiating on
+the duplicity of their own sex in the instance just before them, had,
+notwithstanding the interest of the discourse, a longing desire to
+break it off; for they were impatient to see this poor frail being whom
+they were loading with their censure. They longed to see if she would
+have the confidence to look them in the face: them, to whom she had so
+often protested, that she had not the smallest attachment to Lord
+Frederick, but from motives of vanity.
+
+These ladies heard with infinite satisfaction that dinner had been
+served, but met Miss Milner at the table with a less degree of pleasure
+than they had expected; for her mind was so totally abstracted from any
+consideration of _them_, that they could not discern a single blush, or
+confused glance, which their presence occasioned. No, she had before
+them divulged nothing of which she was ashamed; she was only ashamed
+that what she had said was not true. In the bosom of Miss Woodley alone
+was that secret entrusted which could call a blush into her face, and
+before her, she _did_ feel confusion—before the gentle friend, to whom
+she had till this time communicated all her faults without
+embarrassment, she now cast down her eyes in shame.
+
+Soon after the dinner was removed, Lord Elmwood entered; and that
+gallant young nobleman declared—“Mr. Sandford had used him ill, in not
+permitting him to accompany his relation; for he feared that Mr.
+Dorriforth would now throw himself upon the sword of Lord Frederick,
+without a single friend near to defend him.� A rebuke from the eye of
+Miss Woodley, which from this day had a command over Miss Milner,
+restrained her from expressing the affright she suffered from this
+intimation. Miss Fenton replied, “As to that, my Lord, I see no reason
+why Mr. Dorriforth and Lord Frederick should not now be friends.�
+“Certainly,� said Mrs. Horton; “for as soon as my Lord Frederick is
+made acquainted with Miss Milner’s confession, all differences must be
+reconciled.�
+
+“What confession?� asked Lord Elmwood.
+
+Miss Milner, to avoid hearing a repetition of that which gave her pain
+even to recollect, rose in order to retire into her own apartment, but
+was obliged to sit down again, till she received the assistance of Lord
+Elmwood and her friend, who led her into her dressing room. She
+reclined upon a sofa there, and though left alone with that friend, a
+silence followed of half an hour; nor when the conversation began, was
+the name of Dorriforth once uttered—they were grown cool and
+considerate since the discovery, and both were equally fearful of
+naming him.
+
+The vanity of the world, the folly of riches, the charms of retirement,
+and such topics engaged their discourse, but not their thoughts, for
+near two hours; and the first time the word Dorriforth was spoken, was
+by a servant, who with alacrity opened the dressing room door, without
+previously rapping, and cried, “Madam, Mr. Dorriforth.�
+
+Dorriforth immediately came in, and went eagerly to Miss Milner. Miss
+Woodley beheld the glow of joy and of guilt upon her face, and did not
+rise to give him her seat, as was her custom, when she was sitting by
+his ward and he came to her with intelligence. He therefore stood while
+he repeated all that had happened in his interview with Lord Frederick.
+
+But with her gladness to see her guardian safe, she had forgot to
+enquire of the safety of his antagonist; of the man whom she had
+pretended to love so passionately—even smiles of rapture were upon her
+face, though Dorriforth might be returned from putting him to death.
+This incongruity of behaviour Miss Woodley observed, and was
+confounded—but Dorriforth, in whose thoughts a suspicion either of her
+love for him, or indifference for Lord Frederick, had no place, easily
+reconciled this inconsistency, and said,
+
+“You see by my countenance that all is well, and therefore you smile on
+me before I tell you what has passed.�
+
+This brought her to the recollection of her conduct, and now with looks
+ill constrained, she attempted the expression of an alarm she did not
+feel.
+
+“Nay, I assure you Lord Frederick is safe,� he resumed, “and the
+disgrace of his blow washed entirely away, by a few drops of blood from
+this arm.� And he laid his hand upon his left arm, which rested in his
+waistcoat as a kind of sling.
+
+She cast her eyes there, and seeing where the ball had entered the coat
+sleeve, she gave an involuntary scream, and sunk upon the sofa. Instead
+of that affectionate sympathy which Miss Woodley used to exert upon her
+slightest illness or affliction, she now addressed her in an unpitying
+tone, and said, “Miss Milner, you have heard Lord Frederick is safe,
+you have therefore nothing to alarm you.� Nor did she run to hold a
+smelling bottle, or to raise her head. Her guardian seeing her near
+fainting, and without any assistance from her friend, was going himself
+to give it; but on this, Miss Woodley interfered, and having taken her
+head upon her arm, assured him, “It was a weakness to which Miss Milner
+was accustomed: that she would ring for her maid, who knew how to
+relieve her instantly with a few drops.� Satisfied with this,
+Dorriforth left the room; and a surgeon being come to examine his
+wound, he retired into his own chamber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+The power delegated by the confidential to those entrusted with their
+secrets, Miss Woodley was the last person on earth to abuse—but she was
+also the last, who, by an accommodating complacency, would participate
+in the guilt of her friend—and there was no guilt, except that of
+murder, which she thought equal to the crime in question, if it was
+ever perpetrated. Adultery, reason would perhaps have informed her, was
+a more pernicious evil to society; but to a religious mind, what sound
+is so horrible as _sacrilege_? Of vows made to God or to man, the
+former must weigh the heaviest. Moreover, the sin of infidelity in the
+married state, is not a little softened to common understandings, by
+its frequency; whereas, of religious vows broken by a devotee she had
+never heard; unless where the offence had been followed by such
+examples of divine vengeance, such miraculous punishments in this
+world, (as well as eternal punishment in the other) as served to
+exaggerate the wickedness.
+
+She, who could, and who did pardon Miss Milner, was the person who saw
+her passion in the severest light, and resolved upon every method,
+however harsh, to root it from her heart—nor did she fear success,
+resting on the certain assurance, that however deep her love might be
+fixed, it would never be returned. Yet this confidence did not prevent
+her taking every precaution, lest Dorriforth should come to the
+knowledge of it. She would not have his composed mind disturbed with
+such a thought—his steadfast principles so much as shaken by the
+imagination—nor overwhelm him with those self-reproaches which his
+fatal attraction, unpremeditated as it was, would still have drawn upon
+him.
+
+With this plan of concealment, in which the natural modesty of Miss
+Milner acquiesced, there was but one effort for which this unhappy ward
+was not prepared; and that was an entire separation from her guardian.
+She had, from the first, cherished her passion without the most remote
+prospect of a return—she was prepared to see Dorriforth, without ever
+seeing him more nearly connected to her than as her guardian and
+friend; but not to see him at all—for _that_, she was not prepared.
+
+But Miss Woodley reflected upon the inevitable necessity of this
+measure before she made the proposal; and then made it with a firmness
+that might have done honour to the inflexibility of Dorriforth himself.
+
+During the few days that intervened between her open confession of a
+passion for Lord Frederick and this proposed plan of separation, the
+most intricate incoherence appeared in the character of Miss Milner—and
+in order to evade a marriage with him, and conceal, at the same time,
+the shameful propensity which lurked in her breast, she was once even
+on the point of declaring a passion for Sir Edward Ashton.
+
+In the duel which had taken place between Lord Frederick and
+Dorriforth, the latter had received the fire of his antagonist, but
+positively refused to return it; by which he had kept his promise not
+to endanger his Lordship’s life, and had reconciled Sandford, in great
+measure, to his behaviour—and Sandford now (his resolution once broken)
+no longer refused entering Miss Milner’s house, but came whenever it
+was convenient, though he yet avoided the mistress of it as much as
+possible; or showed by every word and look, when she was present, that
+she was still less in his favour than she had ever been.
+
+He visited Dorriforth on the evening of his engagement with Lord
+Frederick, and the next morning breakfasted with him in his own
+chamber; nor did Miss Milner see her guardian after his first return
+from that engagement before the following noon. She enquired, however,
+of his servant how he did, and was rejoiced to hear that his wound was
+but slight—yet this enquiry she durst not make before Miss Woodley.
+
+When Dorriforth made his appearance the next day, it was evident that
+he had thrown from his heart a load of cares; and though they had left
+a languor upon his face, content was in his voice, in his manners, in
+every word and action. Far from seeming to retain any resentment
+against his ward, for the danger into which her imprudence had led him,
+he appeared rather to pity her indiscretion, and to wish to soothe the
+perturbation which the recollection of her own conduct had evidently
+raised in her mind. His endeavours were successful—she was soothed
+every time he spoke to her; and had not the watchful eye of Miss
+Woodley stood guard over her inclinations, she had plainly discovered,
+that she was enraptured with the joy of seeing him again himself, after
+the danger to which he had been exposed.
+
+These emotions, which she laboured to subdue, passed, however, the
+bounds of her ineffectual resistance, when at the time of retiring
+after dinner, he said to her in a low voice, but such as it was meant
+the company should hear, “Do me the favour, Miss Milner, to call at my
+study some time in the evening; I have to speak with you upon
+business.�
+
+She answered, “I will, Sir.� And her eyes swam with delight, in
+expectation of the interview.
+
+Let not the reader, nevertheless, imagine, there was in that ardent
+expectation, one idea which the most spotless mind, in love, might not
+have indulged without reproach. Sincere love (at least among the
+delicate of the female sex) is often gratified by that degree of
+enjoyment, or rather forbearance, which would be torture in the pursuit
+of any other passion. Real, delicate, and restrained love, such as Miss
+Milner’s, was indulged in the sight of the object only; and having
+bounded her wishes by her hopes, the height of her happiness was
+limited to a conversation, in which no other but themselves took a
+part.
+
+Miss Woodley was one of those who heard the appointment, but the only
+one who conceived with what sensation it was received.
+
+While the ladies remained in the same room with Dorriforth, Miss Milner
+thought of little, except of him. As soon as they withdrew into another
+apartment, she remembered Miss Woodley; and turning her head suddenly,
+saw her friend’s face imprinted with suspicion and displeasure: this at
+first was painful to her—but recollecting that in a couple of hours she
+was to meet her guardian alone—to speak to him, and hear him speak to
+her only—every other thought was absorbed in that one, and she
+considered with indifference, the uneasiness, or the anger of her
+friend.
+
+Miss Milner, to do justice to her heart, did not wish to beguile
+Dorriforth into the snares of love: could any supernatural power have
+endowed her with the means, and at the same time have shewn to her the
+ills that must arise from such an effect of her charms, she had
+assuredly virtue enough to have declined the conquest; but without
+enquiring what she proposed, she never saw him, without previously
+endeavouring to look more attractive, than she would have desired,
+before any other person. And now, without listening to the thousand
+exhortations that spoke in every feature of Miss Woodley, she flew to a
+looking-glass, to adjust her dress in a manner that she thought most
+enchanting.
+
+Time stole away, and the time of going to her guardian arrived. In his
+presence, unsupported by the presence of any other, every grace that
+she had practised, every look that she had borrowed to set off her
+charms, were annihilated; and she became a native beauty, with the
+artless arguments of reason only for her aid. Awed thus by his power,
+from every thing but what she really was, she never was perhaps half so
+bewitching, as in those timid, respectful, and embarrassed moments she
+passed alone with him. He caught at those times her respect, her
+diffidence, nay, even her embarrassment; and never would one word of
+anger pass on either side.
+
+On the present occasion, he first expressed the high satisfaction that
+she had given him, by at length revealing to him the real state of her
+mind.
+
+“And when I take every thing into consideration, Miss Milner,� added
+he, “I rejoice that your sentiments happen to be such as you have
+owned. For, although my Lord Frederick is not the very man I could have
+wished for your perfect happiness; yet, in the state of human
+perfection and human happiness, you might have fixed your affections
+with perhaps less propriety; and still, where my unwillingness to
+thwart your inclinations might not have permitted me to contend with
+them.�
+
+Not a word of reply did this demand; or if it had, not a word could she
+have given.
+
+“And now, Madam, the reason of my desire to speak with you—is, to know
+the means you think most proper to pursue, in order to acquaint Lord
+Frederick, that notwithstanding this late repulse, there are hopes of
+your partiality in his favour.�
+
+“Defer the explanation,� she replied eagerly.
+
+“I beg your pardon—it cannot be. Besides, how can you indulge a
+disposition thus unpitying? Even so ardently did I desire to render the
+man who loves you happy, that though he came armed against my life, had
+I not reflected, that previous to our engagement it would appear like
+fear, and the means of bartering for his forgiveness, I should have
+revealed your sentiments the moment I had seen him. When the engagement
+was over, I was too impatient to acquaint you with his safety, to think
+then on gratifying him. And indeed, the delicacy of the declaration,
+after the many denials which you have no doubt given him, should be
+considered. I therefore consult your opinion upon the manner in which
+it shall be made.�
+
+“Mr. Dorriforth, can you allow nothing to the moments of surprise, and
+that pity, which the fate impending inspired? and which might urge me
+to express myself of Lord Frederick, in a manner my cooler thoughts
+will not warrant?�
+
+“There was nothing in your expressions, my dear Miss Milner, the least
+equivocal—if you were off your guard when you pleaded for Lord
+Frederick, as I believe you were, you said more sincerely what you
+thought; and no discreet, or rather indiscreet attempts to retract, can
+make me change these sentiments.�
+
+“I am very sorry,� she replied, confused and trembling.
+
+“Why sorry? Come give me commission to reveal your partiality. I’ll not
+be too hard upon you—a hint from me will do. Hope is ever apt to
+interpret the slightest words to its own use, and a lover’s hope is
+beyond all others, sanguine.�
+
+“I never gave Lord Frederick hope.�
+
+“But you never plunged him into despair.�
+
+“His pursuit intimates that I never have, but he has no other proof.�
+
+“However light and frivolous you have been upon frivolous subjects, yet
+I must own, Miss Milner, that I did expect when a case of this
+importance came seriously before you, you would have discovered a
+proper stability in your behaviour.�
+
+“I do, Sir; and it was only when I was affected with a weakness, which
+arose from accident, that I have betrayed inconsistency.�
+
+“You then assert again, that you have no affection for my Lord
+Frederick?�
+
+“Not enough to become his wife.�
+
+“You are alarmed at marriage, and I do not wonder you should be so; it
+shews a prudent foresight which does you honour—but, my dear, are there
+no dangers in a single state? If I may judge, Miss Milner, there are
+many more to a young lady of your accomplishments, than if you were
+under the protection of a husband.�
+
+“My father, Mr. Dorriforth, thought your protection sufficient.�
+
+“But that protection was rather to direct your choice, than to be the
+cause of your not choosing at all. Give me leave to point out an
+observation which, perhaps, I have too frequently made before, but upon
+this occasion I must intrude it once again. Miss Fenton is its
+object—her fortune is inferior to your’s, her personal attractions are
+less�——
+
+Here the powerful glow of joy, and of gratitude, for an opinion so
+negligently, and yet so sincerely expressed, flew to Miss Milner’s
+face, neck, and even to her hands and fingers; the blood mounted to
+every part of her skin that was visible, for not a fibre but felt the
+secret transport, that Dorriforth thought her more beautiful than the
+beautiful Miss Fenton.
+
+If he observed her blushes, he was unsuspicious of the cause, and went
+on.
+
+“There is, besides, in the temper of Miss Fenton, a sedateness that
+might with less hazard ensure her safety in an unmarried life; and yet
+she very properly thinks it her duty, as she does not mean to seclude
+herself by any vows to the contrary, to become a wife—and in obedience
+to the counsel of her friends, will be married within a very few
+weeks.�
+
+“Miss Fenton may marry from obedience, I never will.�
+
+“You mean to say, that love shall alone induce you.�
+
+“I do.�
+
+“If you would point out a subject upon which I am the least able to
+reason, and on which my sentiments, such as they are, are formed only
+from theory, (and even there, more cautioned than instructed) it is the
+subject of love. And yet, even that little which I know, tells me,
+without a doubt, that what you said yesterday, pleading for Lord
+Frederick’s life, was the result of the most violent and tender love.�
+
+“The _little you know_ then, Mr. Dorriforth, has deceived you; had you
+_known more_, you would have judged otherwise.�
+
+“I submit to the merit of your reply; but without allowing me a judge
+at all, I will appeal to those who were present with me.�
+
+“Are Mrs. Horton and Mr. Sandford to be the connoisseurs?�
+
+“No; I’ll appeal to Miss Fenton and Miss Woodley.�
+
+“And yet, I believe,� replied she with a smile, “I believe theory must
+only be the judge even there.�
+
+“Then from all you have said, Madam, on this occasion, I am to conclude
+that you still refuse to marry Lord Frederick?�
+
+“You are.�
+
+“And you submit never to see him again?�
+
+“I do.�
+
+“All you then said to me, yesterday, was false?�
+
+“I was not mistress of myself at the time.�
+
+“Therefore it was truth!—for shame, for shame!�
+
+At that moment the door opened, and Mr. Sandford walked in—he started
+back on seeing Miss Milner, and was going away; but Dorriforth called
+to him to stay, and said with warmth,
+
+“Tell me, Mr. Sandford, by what power, by what persuasion, I can
+prevail upon Miss Milner to confide in me as her friend; to lay her
+heart open, and credit mine when I declare to her, that I have no view
+in all the advice I give to her, but her immediate welfare.�
+
+“Mr. Dorriforth, you know my opinion of that lady,� replied Sandford;
+“it has been formed ever since my first acquaintance with her, and it
+continues the same.�
+
+“But instruct me how I am to inspire her with confidence,� returned
+Dorriforth; “how I am to impress her with a sense of that, which is for
+her advantage?�
+
+“You can work no miracles,� replied Sandford, “you are not holy
+enough.�
+
+“And yet my ward,� answered Dorriforth, “appears to be acquainted with
+that mystery; for what but the force of a miracle can induce her to
+contradict to-day, what before you, and several other witnesses, she
+positively acknowledged yesterday?�
+
+“Do you call that miraculous?� cried Sandford; “the miracle had been if
+she had _not_ done so—for did she not yesterday contradict what she
+acknowledged the day before? and will she not to-morrow disavow what
+she says to-day?�
+
+“I wish that she may—� replied Dorriforth mildly, for he saw the tears
+flowing down her face at the rough and severe manner in which Sandford
+had spoken, and he began to feel for her uneasiness.
+
+“I beg pardon,� cried Sandford, “for speaking so rudely to the mistress
+of the house—I have no business here, I know; but where _you_ are, Mr.
+Dorriforth, unless I am turned out, I shall always think it my duty to
+come.�
+
+Miss Milner curtsied, as much as to say, he was welcome to come. He
+continued,
+
+“I was to blame, that upon a nice punctilio, I left you so long without
+my visits, and without my counsel; in that time, you have run the
+hazard of being murdered, and what is worse, of being excommunicated;
+for had you been so rash as to have returned your opponent’s fire, not
+all my interest at Rome would have obtained remission of the
+punishment.�
+
+Miss Milner, through all her tears, could not now restrain her
+laughter. On which he resumed;
+
+“And here do I venture, like a missionary among savages—but if I can
+only save you from their scalping knives—from the miseries which that
+lady is preparing for you, I am rewarded.�
+
+Sandford spoke this with great fervour, and the offence of her love
+never appeared to her in so tremendous a point of view, as when thus,
+unknowingly, alluded to by him.
+
+“_The miseries that lady is preparing for you_,� hung upon her ears
+like the notes of a raven, and sounded equally ominous. The words
+“_murder_� and “_excommunication_� he had likewise uttered; all the
+fatal effects of sacrilegious love. Frightful superstitions struck her
+to the heart, and she could scarcely prevent falling down under their
+oppression.
+
+Dorriforth beheld the difficulty she had in sustaining herself, and
+with the utmost tenderness went towards her, and supporting her, said,
+“I beg your pardon—I invited you hither with a far different intention
+than your uneasiness, and be assured——�
+
+Sandford was beginning to speak, when Dorriforth resumed,—“Hold, Mr.
+Sandford, the lady is under my protection, and I know not whether it is
+not requisite that you should apologize to her, and to me, for what you
+have already said.�
+
+“You asked my opinion, or I had not given it you—would you have me,
+like _her_, speak what I do not think?�
+
+“Say no more, Sir,� cried Dorriforth—and leading her kindly to the
+door, as if to defend her from his malice, told her, “He would take
+another opportunity of renewing the subject.�
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+When Dorriforth was alone with Sandford, he explained to him what
+before he had only hinted; and this learned Jesuit frankly confessed,
+“That the mind of woman was far above, or rather beneath, his
+comprehension.� It was so, indeed—for with all his penetration, and few
+even of that school had more, he had not yet penetrated into the
+recesses of Miss Milner’s heart.
+
+Miss Woodley, to whom she repeated all that had passed between herself,
+her guardian, and Sandford, took this moment, in the agitation of her
+spirits, to alarm her still more by prophetic insinuations; and at
+length represented to her here, for the first time, the necessity,
+“That Mr. Dorriforth and she no longer should remain under the same
+roof.� This was like the stroke of sudden death to Miss Milner, and
+clinging to life, she endeavoured to avert the blow by prayers, and by
+promises. Her friend loved her too sincerely to be prevailed upon.
+
+“But in what manner can I accomplish the separation?� cried she, “for
+till I marry we are obliged, by my father’s request, to live in the
+same house.�
+
+“Miss Milner,� answered Miss Woodley, “much as I respect the will of a
+dying man, I regard your and Mr. Dorriforth’s present and eternal
+happiness much more; and it is my resolution that you _shall part_. If
+_you_ will not contrive the means, that duty falls on me, and without
+any invention I see the measure at once.�
+
+“What is it?� cried Miss Milner eagerly.
+
+“I will reveal to Mr. Dorriforth, without hesitation, the real state of
+your heart; which your present inconsistency of conduct will but too
+readily confirm.�
+
+“You would not plunge me into so much shame, into so much anguish!�
+cried she, distractedly.
+
+“No,� replied Miss Woodley, “not for the world, if you will separate
+from him by any mode of your own—but that you _shall_ separate is my
+determination; and in spite of all your sufferings, this shall be the
+expedient, unless you instantly agree to some other.�
+
+“Good Heaven, Miss Woodley! is this your friendship?�
+
+“Yes—and the truest friendship I have to bestow. Think what a task I
+undertake for your sake and his, when I condemn myself to explain to
+him your weakness. What astonishment! what confusion! what remorse, do
+I foresee painted upon his face! I hear him call you by the harshest
+names, and behold him fly from your sight for ever, as an object of his
+detestation.�
+
+“Oh spare the dreadful picture.—Fly from my sight for ever! Detest my
+name! Oh! my dear Miss Woodley, let but his friendship for me still
+remain, and I will consent to any thing. You may command me. I will go
+away from him directly—but let us part in friendship—Oh! without the
+friendship of Mr. Dorriforth, life would be a heavy burthen indeed.�
+
+Miss Woodley immediately began to contrive schemes for their
+separation; and, with all her invention alive on the subject, the
+following was the only natural one that she could form.
+
+Miss Milner, in a letter to her distant relation at Bath, was to
+complain of the melancholy of a country life, which she was to say her
+guardian imposed upon her; and she was to entreat the lady to send a
+pressing invitation that she would pass a month or two at her house;
+this invitation was to be laid before Dorriforth for his approbation,
+and the two ladies were to enforce it, by expressing their earnest
+wishes for his consent. This plan having been properly regulated, the
+necessary letter was sent to Bath, and Miss Woodley waited with
+patience, but with a watchful guard upon the conduct of her friend,
+till the answer should arrive.
+
+During this interim a tender and complaining epistle from Lord
+Frederick was delivered to Miss Milner; to which, as he received no
+answer, he prevailed upon his uncle, with whom he resided, to wait upon
+her, and obtain a verbal reply; for he still flattered himself, that
+fear of her guardian’s anger, or perhaps his interception of the letter
+which he had sent, was the sole cause of her apparent indifference.
+
+The old gentleman was introduced both to Miss Milner and to Mr.
+Dorriforth, but received from each an answer so explicit, that left his
+nephew no longer in doubt but that all farther pursuit was vain.
+
+Sir Edward Ashton about this time also submitted to a formal
+dismission; and had the mortification to reflect, that he was bestowing
+upon the object of his affections, the tenderest proof of his regard,
+by absenting himself entirely from her society.
+
+Upon this serious and certain conclusion to the hopes of Lord
+Frederick, Dorriforth was more astonished than ever at the conduct of
+his ward. He had once thought her behaviour in this respect was
+ambiguous, but since her confession of a passion for that nobleman, he
+had no doubt but in the end she would become his wife. He lamented to
+find himself mistaken, and thought it proper now to condemn her
+caprice, not merely in words, but in the general tenor of his
+behaviour. He consequently became more reserved, and more austere than
+he had been since his first acquaintance with her; for his manners, not
+from design, but imperceptibly to himself, had been softened since he
+became her guardian, by that tender respect which he had uniformly paid
+to the object of his protection.
+
+Notwithstanding the severity he now assumed, his ward, in the prospect
+of parting from him, grew melancholy; Miss Woodley’s love to her friend
+rendered her little otherwise; and Dorriforth’s peculiar gravity,
+frequently rigour, could not but make their whole party less cheerful
+than it had been. Lord Elmwood too, at this time was lying dangerously
+ill of a fever; Miss Fenton of course was as much in sorrow as her
+nature would permit her to be, and both Sandford and Dorriforth in
+extreme concern upon his Lordship’s account.
+
+In this posture of affairs, the letter of invitation arrives from Lady
+Luneham at Bath; it was shewn to Dorriforth; and to prove to his ward
+that he is so much offended, as no longer to feel that excessive
+interest in her concerns which he once felt, he gives an opinion on the
+subject with indifference—he desires “Miss Milner will do what she
+herself thinks proper.� Miss Woodley instantly accepts this permission,
+writes back, and appoints the day upon which her friend means to set
+off for the visit.
+
+Miss Milner is wounded at the heart by the cold and unkind manners of
+her guardian, but dares not take one step to retrieve his opinion.
+Alone, or to her friend, she sighs and weeps: he discovers her sorrow,
+and is doubtful whether the departure of Lord Frederick from that part
+of the country is not the cause.
+
+When the time she was to set out for Bath was only two days off, the
+behaviour of Dorriforth took, by degrees, its usual form, if not a
+greater share of polite and tender attention than ever. It was the
+first time he had parted from Miss Milner since he became her guardian,
+and he felt upon the occasion, a reluctance. He had been angry with
+her, he had shewn her that he was, and he now began to wish that he had
+not. She is not happy, (he considered within himself) every word and
+action declares she is not; I may have been too severe, and added
+perhaps to her uneasiness. “At least we will part on good terms,� said
+he—“Indeed, my regard for her is such, I cannot part otherwise.�
+
+She soon discerned his returning kindness, and it was a gentle tie that
+would have fastened her to that spot for ever, but for the firm
+resistance of Miss Woodley.
+
+“What will the absence of a few months effect?� said she, pleading her
+own cause; “At the end of a few months at farthest, he will expect me
+back, and where then will be the merit of this separation?�
+
+“In that time,� replied Miss Woodley, “we may find some method to make
+it longer.� To this she listened with a kind of despair, but uttered,
+she “Was resigned,�—and she prepared for her departure.
+
+Dorriforth was all anxiety that every circumstance of her journey
+should be commodious; he was eager she should be happy; and he was
+eager she should see that he entirely forgave her. He would have gone
+part of the way with her, but for the extreme illness of Lord Elmwood,
+in whose chamber he passed most of the day, and slept in Elmwood House
+every night.
+
+On the morning of her journey, when Dorriforth gave his hand and
+conducted Miss Milner to the carriage, all the way he led her she could
+not restrain her tears; which increased, as he parted from her, to
+convulsive sobs. He was affected by her grief; and though he had
+previously bid her farewell, he drew her gently on one side, and said,
+with the tenderest concern,
+
+“My dear Miss Milner, we part friends?—I hope we do?—On my side, depend
+upon it, that I regret nothing so much at our separation, as having
+ever given you a moment’s pain.�
+
+“I believe so,� was all she could utter, for she hastened from him,
+lest his discerning eye should discover the cause of the weakness which
+thus overcame her. But her apprehensions were groundless; the rectitude
+of his own heart was a bar to the suspicion of her’s. He once more
+kindly bade her adieu, and the carriage drove away.
+
+Miss Fenton and Miss Woodley accompanied her part of the journey, about
+thirty miles, where they were met by Sir Harry and Lady Luneham. Here
+was a parting nearly as affecting as that between her and her guardian.
+Miss Woodley, who for several weeks had treated her friend with a
+rigidness she herself hardly supposed was in her nature, now bewailed
+that she had done so; implored her forgiveness; promised to correspond
+with her punctually, and to omit no opportunity of giving her every
+consolation short of cherishing her fatal passion—but in that, and that
+only, was the heart of Miss Milner to be consoled.
+
+END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
+
+
+
+
+A
+SIMPLE STORY,
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES,
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+
+
+
+VOL. II.
+
+_THE FOURTH EDITION._
+
+LONDON:
+
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,
+Paternoster Row.
+
+1799.
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+When Miss Milner arrived at Bath, she thought it the most altered place
+she had ever seen—she was mistaken—it was herself that was changed.
+
+The walks were melancholy, the company insipid, the ball-room
+fatiguing—for, she had left behind all that could charm or please her.
+
+Though she found herself much less happy than when she was at Bath
+before, yet she felt, that she would not, even to enjoy all that past
+happiness, be again reduced to the being she was at that period. Thus
+does the lover consider the extinction of his passion with the same
+horror as the libertine looks upon annihilation; the one would rather
+live hereafter, though in all the tortures described as constituting
+his future state, than cease to exist; so, there are no tortures which
+a lover would not suffer, rather than cease to love.
+
+In the wide prospect of sadness before her, Miss Milner’s fancy caught
+hold of the only comfort which presented itself; and this, faint as it
+was, in the total absence of every other, her imagination painted to
+her as excessive. The comfort was a letter from Miss Woodley—a letter,
+in which the subject of her love would most assuredly be mentioned, and
+in whatever terms, it would still be the means of delight.
+
+A letter arrived—she devoured it with her eyes. The post mark denoting
+from whence it came, the name of “Milner Lodge� written on the top,
+were all sources of pleasure—and she read slowly every line it
+contained, to procrastinate the pleasing expectation she enjoyed, till
+she should arrive at the name of Dorriforth. At last, her impatient eye
+caught the word, three lines beyond the place she was
+reading—irresistibly, she skipped over those lines, and fixed on the
+point to which she was attracted.
+
+Miss Woodley was cautious in her indulgence; she made the slightest
+mention of Dorriforth; saying only, “He was extremely concerned, and
+even dejected, at the little hope there was of his cousin, Lord
+Elmwood’s, recovery.� Short and trivial as this passage was, it was
+still more important to Miss Milner than any other in the letter—she
+read it again and again, considered, and reflected upon it. Dejected,
+thought she, what does that word exactly mean?—did I ever see Mr.
+Dorriforth dejected?—how, I wonder, does he look in that state? Thus
+did she muse, while the cause of his dejection, though a most serious
+one, and pathetically described by Miss Woodley, scarce arrested her
+attention once. She ran over with haste the account of Lord Elmwood’s
+state of health; she certainly pitied him while she thought of him, but
+she did not think of him long. To die, was a hard fate for a young
+nobleman just in possession of his immense fortune, and on the eve of
+marriage with a beautiful young woman; but Miss Milner thought that an
+abode in Heaven might be still better than all this, and she had no
+doubt but his Lordship would go thither. The forlorn state of Miss
+Fenton ought to have been a subject for compassion, but she knew that
+lady had resignation to bear any lot with patience, and that a trial of
+her fortitude might be more flattering to her vanity than to be
+Countess of Elmwood: in a word, she saw no one’s misfortunes equal to
+her own, because she saw no one so little able to bear misfortune.
+
+She replied to Miss Woodley’s letter, and dwelt very long on that
+subject which her friend had passed over lightly; this was another
+indulgence; and this epistolary intercourse was now the only enjoyment
+she possessed. From Bath she paid several visits with Lady Luneham—all
+were alike tedious and melancholy.
+
+But her guardian wrote to her, and though it was on a topic of sorrow,
+the letter gave her joy—the sentiments it expressed were merely
+common-place, yet she valued them as the dearest effusions of
+friendship and affection; and her hands trembled, and her heart beat
+with rapture while she wrote the answer, though she knew it would not
+be received by him with one emotion like those which she experienced.
+In her second letter to Miss Woodley, she prayed like a person insane
+to be taken home from confinement, and like a lunatic protested, in
+sensible language, she “Had no disorder.� But her friend replied, “That
+very declaration proves its violence.� And she assured her, nothing
+less than placing her affections elsewhere, should induce her to
+believe but that she was incurable.
+
+The third letter from Milner Lodge brought the news of Lord Elmwood’s
+death. Miss Woodley was exceedingly affected by this event, and said
+little else on any other subject. Miss Milner was shocked when she read
+the words “He is dead�, and instantly thought,
+
+“How transient are all sublunary things! Within a few years _I_ shall
+be dead—and how happy will it then be, if I have resisted every
+temptation to the alluring pleasures of this life!� The happiness of a
+peaceful death occupied her contemplation for near an hour; but at
+length, every virtuous and pious sentiment this meditation inspired,
+served but to remind her of the many sentences she had heard from her
+guardian’s lips upon the same subject—her thoughts were again fixed on
+him, and she could think of nothing besides.
+
+In a short time after this, her health became impaired from the
+indisposition of her mind; she languished, and was once in imminent
+danger. During a slight delirium of her fever, Miss Woodley’s name and
+her guardian’s were incessantly repeated; Lady Luneham sent them
+immediate word of this, and they both hastened to Bath, and arrived
+there just as the violence and danger of her disorder had ceased. As
+soon as she became perfectly recollected, her first care, knowing the
+frailty of her heart, was to enquire what she had uttered while
+delirious. Miss Woodley, who was by her bedside, begged her not to be
+alarmed on that account, and assured her she knew, from all her
+attendants, that she had only spoken with a friendly remembrance (as
+was really the case) of those persons who were dear to her.
+
+She wished to know whether her guardian was come to see her, but she
+had not the courage to ask before her friend; and she in her turn was
+afraid by the too sudden mention of his name, to discompose her. Her
+maid, however, after some little time, entered the chamber, and
+whispered Miss Woodley. Miss Milner asked inquisitively “What she
+said?�
+
+The maid replied softly, “Lord Elmwood, Madam, wishes to come and see
+you for a few moments, if you will allow him.�
+
+At this reply Miss Milner stared wildly.
+
+“I thought,� said she, “I thought Lord Elmwood had been dead—are my
+senses disordered still?�
+
+“No, my dear,� answered Miss Woodley, “it is the present Lord Elmwood
+who wishes to see you; he whom you left ill when you came hither, _is_
+dead.�
+
+“And who is the present Lord Elmwood?� she asked.
+
+Miss Woodley, after a short hesitation, replied—“Your guardian.�
+
+“And so he is,� cried Miss Milner; “he is the next heir—I had forgot.
+But is it possible that he is here?�
+
+“Yes—� returned Miss Woodley with a grave voice and manner, to moderate
+that glow of satisfaction which for a moment sparkled even in her
+languid eye, and blushed over her pallid countenance. “Yes—as he heard
+you were ill, he thought it right to come and see you.�
+
+“He is very good,� she answered, and the tear started in her eyes.
+
+“Would you please to see his Lordship?� asked her maid.
+
+“Not yet, not yet,� she replied; “let me recollect myself first.� And
+she looked with a timid doubt upon her friend, to ask if it was proper.
+
+Miss Woodley could hardly support this humble reference to her
+judgment, from the wan face of the poor invalid, and taking her by the
+hand, whispered, “You shall do what you please.� In a few minutes Lord
+Elmwood was introduced.
+
+To those who sincerely love, every change of situation or circumstances
+in the object beloved, appears an advantage. So, the acquisition of a
+title and estate was, in Miss Milner’s eye, an inestimable advantage to
+her guardian; not on account of their real value; but that any change,
+instead of diminishing her passion, would have served only to increase
+it—even a change to the utmost poverty.
+
+When he entered—the sight of him seemed to be too much for her, and
+after the first glance she turned her head away. The sound of his voice
+encouraged her to look once more—and then she riveted her eyes upon
+him.
+
+“It is impossible, my dear Miss Milner,� he gently whispered, “to say,
+what joy I feel that your disorder has subsided.�
+
+But though it was impossible to say, it was possible to _look_ what he
+felt, and his looks expressed his feelings. In the zeal of those
+sensations, he laid hold of her hand, and held it between his—this he
+did not himself know—but she did.
+
+“You have prayed for me, my Lord, I make no doubt?� said she, and
+smiled, as if thanking him for those prayers.
+
+“Fervently, ardently!� returned he; and the fervency with which he had
+prayed spoke in every feature.
+
+“But I am a protestant, you know, and if I had died such, do you
+believe I should have gone to Heaven?�
+
+“Most assuredly, that would not have prevented you.�
+
+“But Mr. Sandford does not think so.�
+
+“He must; for he means to go there himself.�
+
+To keep her guardian with her, Miss Milner seemed inclined to converse;
+but her solicitous friend gave Lord Elmwood a look, which implied that
+it might be injurious to her, and he retired.
+
+They had only one more interview before he left the place; at which
+Miss Milner was capable of sitting up—he was with her, however, but a
+very short time, some necessary concerns relative to his late kinsman’s
+affairs, calling him in haste to London. Miss Woodley continued with
+her friend till she saw her entirely reinstated in her health: during
+which time her guardian was frequently the subject of their private
+conversation; and upon those occasions Miss Milner has sometimes
+brought Miss Woodley to acknowledge, “That could Mr. Dorriforth have
+possibly foreseen the early death of the last Lord Elmwood, it had been
+more for the honour of his religion (as that ancient title would now
+after him become extinct), if he had preferred marriage vows to those
+of celibacy.�
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+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?�
+
+“Yes,� answered Mr. Fleetmond, “but there are no _religious_ vows, from
+which the sovereign Pontiff at Rome cannot grant a dispensation, as
+those commandments which are made by the church, the church has always
+the power to revoke; and when it is for the general good of religion,
+his Holiness thinks it incumbent on him, to publish his bull, and remit
+all penalties for their non-observance; and certainly it is for the
+honour of the Catholics, that this Earldom should continue in a
+Catholic family. In short, I’ll venture to lay a wager, my Lord Elmwood
+is married within a year.�
+
+Miss Milner, who listened with attention, feared she was in a dream, or
+deceived by the pretended knowledge of Mr. Fleetmond, who might know
+nothing—yet all that he had said was very probable; and he was himself
+a Roman Catholic, so that he must be well informed on the subject upon
+which he spoke. If she had heard the direst news that ever sounded in
+the ears of the most susceptible of mortals, the agitation of her mind
+and person could not have been stronger—she felt, while every word was
+speaking, a chill through all her veins—a pleasure too exquisite, not
+to bear along with it the sensation of exquisite pain; of which she was
+so sensible, that for a few moments it made her wish that she had not
+heard the intelligence; though, very soon after, she would not but have
+heard it for the world.
+
+As soon as she had recovered from her first astonishment and joy, she
+wrote to Miss Woodley an exact account of what she had heard, and
+received this answer:
+
+“I am sorry any body should have given you this piece of information,
+because it was a task, in executing which, I had promised myself
+extreme satisfaction—but from the fear that your health was not yet
+strong enough to support, without some danger, the burthen of hopes
+which I knew would, upon this occasion, press upon you, I deferred my
+communication and it has been anticipated. Yet, as you seem in doubt as
+to the reality of what you have been told, perhaps this confirmation of
+it may fall very little short of the first news; especially when it is
+enforced by my request, that you will come to us, as soon as you can
+with propriety leave Lady Luneham.
+
+“Come, my dear Miss Milner, and find in your once rigid monitor a
+faithful confidante. I will no longer threaten to disclose a secret you
+have trusted me with, but leave it to the wisdom, or sensibility of
+_his_ heart, (who is now to penetrate into the hearts of our sex, in
+search of one that may beat in unison with his own) to find it out. I
+no longer condemn, but congratulate you on your passion; and will
+assist you with all my advice and my earnest wishes, that it may obtain
+a return.�
+
+This letter was another of those excruciating pleasures, that almost
+reduced Miss Milner to the grave. Her appetite forsook her; and she
+vainly endeavoured, for several nights, to close her eyes. She thought
+so much upon the prospect of accomplishing her wishes, that she could
+admit no other idea; nor even invent one probable excuse for leaving
+Lady Luneham before the appointed time, which was then at the distance
+of two months. She wrote to Miss Woodley to beg her contrivance, to
+reproach her for keeping the secret so long from her, and to thank her
+for having revealed it in so kind a manner at last. She begged also to
+be acquainted how Mr. Dorriforth (for still she called him by that
+name) spoke and thought of this sudden change in his destiny.
+
+Miss Woodley’s reply was a summons for her to town upon some pretended
+business, which she avoided explaining, but which entirely silenced
+Lady Luneham’s entreaties for her stay.
+
+To her question concerning Lord Elmwood she answered, “It is a subject
+on which he seldom speaks—he appears just the same he ever did, nor
+could you by any part of his conduct, conceive that any such change had
+taken place.� Miss Milner exclaimed to herself, “I am glad he is not
+altered—if his words, looks, or manners, were any thing different from
+what they formerly were, I should not like him so well.� And just the
+reverse would have been the case, had Miss Woodley sent her word he was
+changed. The day for her leaving Bath was fixed; she expected it with
+rapture, but before its arrival, sunk under the care of expectation;
+and when it came, was so much indisposed, as to be obliged to defer her
+journey for a week.
+
+At length she found herself in London—in the house of her guardian—and
+that guardian no longer bound to a single life, but _enjoined_ to
+marry. He appeared in her eyes, as in Miss Woodley’s, the same as ever;
+or perhaps more endearing than ever, as it was the first time she had
+beheld him with hope. Mr. Sandford did _not_ appear the same; yet he
+was in reality as surly and as disrespectful in his behaviour to her as
+usual; but she did not observe, or she did not feel his morose temper
+as heretofore—he seemed amiable, mild, and gentle; at least this was
+the happy medium through which her self-complacent mind began to see
+him; for good humour, like the jaundice, makes every one of its own
+complexion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Lord Elmwood was preparing to go abroad, for the purpose of receiving
+in form, the dispensation from his vows; it was, however, a subject he
+seemed carefully to avoid speaking upon; and when by any accident he
+was obliged to mention it, it was without any marks either of
+satisfaction or concern.
+
+Miss Milner’s pride began to be alarmed. While he was Mr. Dorriforth,
+and confined to a single life, his indifference to her charms was
+rather an honourable than a reproachful trait in his character, and in
+reality, she admired him for the insensibility. But on the eve of being
+at liberty, and on the eve of making his choice, she was offended
+_that_ choice was not immediately fixed upon her. She had been
+accustomed to receive the devotion of every man who saw her, and not to
+obtain it of the man from whom, of all others, she most wished it, was
+cruelly humiliating. She complained to Miss Woodley, who advised her to
+have patience; but that was one of the virtues in which she was the
+least practised.
+
+Encouraged, nevertheless, by her friend in the commendable desire of
+gaining the affections of him, who possessed all her own, she, however,
+left no means unattempted for the conquest—but she began with too great
+a certainty of success, not to be sensible of the deepest mortification
+in the disappointment—nay, she anticipated a disappointment, as she had
+before anticipated her success; by turns feeling the keenest emotions
+from hope and from despair.
+
+As these passions alternately governed her, she was alternately in
+spirits or dejected; in good or in ill humour; and the vicissitudes of
+her prospect at length gave to her behaviour an air of caprice, which
+not all her follies had till now produced. This was not the way to
+secure the affections of Lord Elmwood; she knew it was not; and before
+him she was under some restriction. Sandford observed this, and without
+reserve, added to the list of her other failings, hypocrisy. It was
+plain to see that Mr. Sandford esteemed her less and less every day;
+and as he was the person who most influenced the opinion of her
+guardian, he became to her, very soon, an object not merely of dislike,
+but of abhorrence.
+
+These mutual sentiments were discoverable in every word and action,
+while they were in each other’s company; but still in his absence, Miss
+Milner’s good nature, and total freedom from malice, never suffered her
+to utter a sentence injurious to his interest. Sandford’s charity did
+not extend thus far; and speaking of her with severity one evening
+while she was at the opera, “His meaning,� as he said, “but to caution
+her guardian against her faults,� Lord Elmwood replied,
+
+“There is one fault, however, Mr. Sandford, I cannot lay to her
+charge.�
+
+“And what is that, my Lord?� cried Sandford, eagerly, “What is that one
+fault, which Miss Milner has not?�
+
+“I never,� replied Lord Elmwood, “heard Miss Milner, in your absence,
+utter a syllable to your disadvantage.�
+
+“She dares not, my Lord, because she is in fear of you and she knows
+you would not suffer it.�
+
+“She then,� answered his Lordship, “pays me a much higher compliment
+than you do; for you freely censure _her_, and yet imagine I _will_
+suffer it.�
+
+“My Lord,� replied Sandford, “I am undeceived now, and shall never take
+that liberty again.�
+
+As Lord Elmwood always treated Sandford with the utmost respect, he
+began to fear he had been deficient upon this occasion; and the
+disposition which had induced him to take his ward’s part, was likely,
+in the end, to prove unfavourable to her; for perceiving Sandford was
+offended at what had passed, as the only means of retribution, he began
+himself to lament her volatile and captious propensities; in which
+lamentation, Sandford, now forgetting his affront, joined with the
+heartiest concurrence, adding,
+
+“You, Sir, having now other cares to employ your thoughts, ought to
+insist upon her marrying, or retiring into the country.�
+
+She returned home just as this conversation was finished, and Sandford,
+the moment she entered, rang for his candle to retire. Miss Woodley,
+who had been at the opera with Miss Milner, cried,
+
+“Bless me, Mr. Sandford, are you not well, you are going to leave us so
+early?�
+
+He replied, “No, I have a pain in my head.�
+
+Miss Milner, who never listened to complaints without sympathy, rose
+immediately from her seat, saying,
+
+“I think I never heard you, Mr. Sandford, complain of indisposition
+before. Will you accept of my specific for the head-ache? Indeed it is
+a certain relief—I’ll fetch it instantly.�
+
+She went hastily out of the room, and returned with a bottle, which,
+she assured him, “Was a present from Lady Luneham, and would certainly
+cure him.� And she pressed it upon him with such an anxious
+earnestness, that with all his churlishness he could not refuse taking
+it.
+
+This was but a common-place civility, such as is paid by one enemy to
+another every day; but the _manner_ was the material part. The
+unaffected concern, the attention, the good will, she demonstrated in
+this little incident, was that which made it remarkable, and
+immediately took from Lord Elmwood the displeasure to which he had been
+just before provoked, or rather transformed it into a degree of
+admiration. Even Sandford was not insensible to her behaviour, and in
+return, when he left the room, “Wished her a good night.�
+
+To her and Miss Woodley, who had not been witnesses of the preceding
+conversation, what she had done appeared of no merit; but to the mind
+of Lord Elmwood, the merit was infinite; and upon the departure of
+Sandford, he began to be unusually cheerful. He first pleasantly
+reproached the ladies for not offering him a place in their box at the
+opera.
+
+“Would you have gone, my Lord?� asked Miss Milner, highly delighted.
+
+“Certainly,� returned he, “had you invited me.�
+
+“Then from this day I give you a general invitation; nor shall any
+other company be admitted but those whom you approve.�
+
+“I am very much obliged to you,� said he.
+
+“And you,� continued she, “who have been accustomed only to
+church-music, will be more than any one, enchanted with hearing the
+softer music of love.�
+
+“What ravishing pleasures you are preparing for me!� returned he—“I
+know not whether my weak senses will be able to support them!�
+
+She had her eyes upon him when he spoke this, and she discovered in
+his, that were fixed upon her, a sensibility unexpected—a kind of
+fascination which enticed her to look on, while her eyelids fell
+involuntarily before its mighty force, and a thousand blushes crowded
+over her face. He was struck with these sudden signals; hastily
+recalled his former countenance, and stopped the conversation.
+
+Miss Woodley, who had been a silent observer for some time, now thought
+a word or two from her would be acceptable rather than troublesome.
+
+“And pray, my Lord,� said she, “when do you go to France?�
+
+“To Italy you mean;—I shall not go at all,� said he. “My superiors are
+very indulgent, for they dispense with all my duties. I ought, and I
+meant, to have gone abroad; but as a variety of concerns require my
+presence in England, every necessary ceremony has taken place here.�
+
+“Then your Lordship is no longer in orders?� said Miss Woodley.
+
+“No; they have been resigned these five days.�
+
+“My Lord, I give you joy,� said Miss Milner.
+
+He thanked her, but added with a sigh, “If I have given up content in
+search of joy, I shall perhaps be a loser by the venture.� Soon after
+this, he wished them a good night, and retired.
+
+Happy as Miss Milner found herself in his company, she saw him leave
+the room with infinite satisfaction, because her heart was impatient to
+give a loose to its hopes on the bosom of Miss Woodley. She bade Mrs.
+Horton immediately good night; and, in her friend’s apartment, gave way
+to all the language of passion, warmed with the confidence of meeting
+its return. She described the sentiments she had read in Lord Elmwood’s
+looks; and though Miss Woodley had beheld them too, Miss Milner’s fancy
+heightened the expression of every glance, till her construction
+became, by degrees, so extremely favourable to her own wishes, that had
+not her friend been present, and known in what measure to estimate
+those symptoms, she must infallibly have thought, by the joy to which
+they gave birth, that he had openly avowed a passion for her.
+
+Miss Woodley, therefore, thought it her duty to allay these ecstasies,
+and represented to her, she might be deceived in her hopes—or even
+supposing his wishes inclined towards her, there were yet great
+obstacles between them.—“Would not Sandford, who directed his every
+thought and purpose, be consulted upon this? and if he was, upon what,
+but the most romantic affection on the part of Lord Elmwood, had Miss
+Milner to depend? and his Lordship was not a man to be suspected of
+submitting to the excess of any passion.� Thus did Miss Woodley argue,
+lest her friend should be misled by her wishes; yet, in her own mind,
+she scarce harboured a doubt that any thing would thwart them. The
+succeeding circumstance proved she was mistaken.
+
+Another gentleman of family and fortune made overtures to Miss Milner;
+and her guardian, so far from having his thoughts inclined towards her
+on his own account, pleaded this lover’s cause even with more zeal than
+he had pleaded for Sir Edward and Lord Frederick; thus at once
+destroying all those plans of happiness which poor Miss Milner had
+formed.
+
+In consequence, her melancholy humour was now predominant; she confined
+herself at home, and yet, by her own order, was denied to all her
+visitors. Whether this arose from pure melancholy, or the still
+lingering hope of making her conquest, by that sedateness of manners
+which she knew her guardian admired, she herself perhaps did not
+perfectly know. Be that as it may, Lord Elmwood could not but observe
+this change, and one morning thought fit to mention, and to applaud it.
+
+Miss Woodley and she were at work together when he came into the room;
+and after sitting several minutes, and talking upon indifferent
+subjects, to which his ward replied with a dejection in her voice and
+manner—he said,
+
+“Perhaps I am wrong, Miss Milner, but I have observed that you are
+lately more thoughtful than usual.�
+
+She blushed, as she always did when the subject was herself. He
+continued, “Your health appears perfectly restored, and yet I have
+observed you take no delight in your former amusements.�
+
+“Are you sorry for that, my Lord?�
+
+“No, I am extremely glad; and I was going to congratulate you upon the
+change. But give me leave to enquire, to what lucky accident we may
+attribute this alteration?�
+
+“Your Lordship then thinks all my commendable deeds arise from
+accident, and that I have no virtues of my own.�
+
+“Pardon me, I think you have many.� This he spoke emphatically; and her
+blushes increased.
+
+He resumed—“How can I doubt of a lady’s virtues, when her countenance
+gives me such evident proofs of them? Believe me, Miss Milner, that in
+the midst of your gayest follies, while you thus continue to blush, I
+shall reverence your internal sensations.�
+
+“Oh! my Lord, did you know some of them, I am afraid you would think
+them unpardonable.�
+
+This was so much to the purpose, that Miss Woodley found herself
+alarmed—but without reason—Miss Milner loved too sincerely to reveal it
+to the object. He answered,
+
+“And did you know some of mine, you might think them _equally_
+unpardonable.�
+
+She turned pale, and could no longer guide her needle—in the fond
+transport of her heart she imagined that his love for her, was among
+the sensations to which he alluded. She was too much embarrassed to
+reply, and he continued,
+
+“We have all much to pardon in one another: and I know not whether the
+officious person who forces, even his good advice, is not as blameable
+as the obstinate one, who will not listen to it. And now, having made a
+preface to excuse you, should you once more refuse mine, I shall
+venture to give it.�
+
+“My Lord, I have never yet refused to follow your advice, but where my
+own peace of mind was so nearly concerned, as to have made me culpable,
+had I complied.�
+
+“Well, Madam, I submit to your determinations; and shall never again
+oppose your inclination to remain single.�
+
+This sentence, as it excluded the idea of soliciting for himself, gave
+her the utmost pain; and her eye glanced at him, full of reproach. He
+did not observe it, but went on.
+
+“While you continue unmarried, it seems to have been your father’s
+intention that you should continue under my immediate care; but as I
+mean for the future to reside chiefly in the country—answer me
+candidly, do you think you could be happy there, for at least three
+parts of the year?�
+
+After a short hesitation, she replied, “I have no objection.�
+
+“I am glad to hear it,� he returned eagerly, “for it is my earnest
+desire to have you with me—your welfare is dear to me as my own; and
+were we apart, continual apprehensions would prey upon my mind.�
+
+The tear started in her eye, at the earnestness that accompanied these
+words; he saw it, and to soften her still more with the sense of his
+esteem for her, he increased his earnestness while he said,
+
+“If you will take the resolution to quit London for the time I mention,
+there shall be no means omitted to make the country all you can wish—I
+shall insist upon Miss Woodley’s company for both our sakes; and it
+will not only be _my_ study to form such a society as you may approve,
+but I am certain it will be likewise the study of Lady Elmwood——�
+
+He was going on, but as if a poniard had thrust her to the heart, she
+writhed under this unexpected stroke.
+
+He saw her countenance change—he looked at her steadfastly.
+
+It was not a common change from joy to sorrow, from content to
+uneasiness, which Miss Milner discovered—she felt, and she expressed
+anguish—Lord Elmwood was alarmed and shocked. She did not weep, but she
+called Miss Woodley to come to her, with a voice that indicated a
+degree of agony.
+
+“My Lord,� (cried Miss Woodley, seeing his consternation and trembling
+lest he should guess the secret,) “My Lord, Miss Milner has again
+deceived you—you must not take her from London—it is that, and that
+alone, which is the cause of her uneasiness.�
+
+He seemed more amazed still—and still more shocked at her duplicity
+than at her torture. “Good Heaven!� exclaimed he, “How am I to
+accomplish her wishes? What am I to do? How can I judge, if she will
+not confide in me, but thus for ever deceive me?�
+
+She leaned, pale as death, on the shoulder of Miss Woodley, her eye
+fixed with apparent insensibility to all that was said, while he
+continued,
+
+“Heaven is my witness, if I knew—If I could conceive the means how to
+make her happy, I would sacrifice my own happiness to hers.�
+
+“My Lord,� said Miss Woodley with a smile, “perhaps I may call upon you
+hereafter to fulfil your word.�
+
+He was totally ignorant what she meant, nor had he leisure, from the
+confusion of his thoughts, to reflect upon her meaning; he nevertheless
+replied, with warmth, “Do. You shall find I’ll perform it.—Do. I will
+faithfully perform it.�
+
+Though Miss Milner was conscious this declaration could not, in
+delicacy, be ever adduced against him; yet the fervent and solemn
+manner in which he made it, cheered her spirits; and as persons enjoy
+the reflection of having in their possession some valuable gem, though
+they are determined never to use it, so she upon this, was comforted
+and grew better. She now lifted up her head, and leaned it on her hand,
+as she sat by the side of a table—still she did not speak, but seemed
+overcome with sorrow. As her situation became, however, less alarming,
+her guardian’s pity and affright began to take the colour of
+resentment; and though he did not say so, he was, and looked, highly
+offended.
+
+At this juncture Mr. Sandford entered. On beholding the present party,
+it required not his sagacity to see at the first view, that they were
+all uneasy; but instead of the sympathy this might have excited in some
+dispositions, Mr. Sandford, after casting a look at each of them,
+appeared in high spirits.
+
+“You seem unhappy, my Lord,� said he, with a smile.
+
+“You do _not_—Mr. Sandford,� Lord Elmwood replied.
+
+“No, my Lord, nor would I, were I in your situation. What should make a
+man of sense out of temper but a worthy object!� And he looked at Miss
+Milner.
+
+“There are no objects unworthy our care:� replied Lord Elmwood.
+
+“But there are objects on whom all care is fruitless, your Lordship
+will allow.�
+
+“I never yet despaired of any one, Mr. Sandford.�
+
+“And yet there are persons, of whom it is presumption to entertain
+hopes.� And he looked again at Miss Milner.
+
+“Does your head ache, Miss Milner?� asked her friend, seeing her hold
+it with her hand.
+
+“Very much,� returned she.
+
+“Mr. Sandford,� said Miss Woodley, “did you use all those drops Miss
+Milner gave you for a pain in the head?�
+
+“Yes:� answered he, “I did.� But the question at that moment somewhat
+embarrassed him.
+
+“And I hope you found benefit from them:� said Miss Milner, with great
+kindness, as she rose from her seat, and walked slowly out of the room.
+
+Though Miss Woodley followed her, so that Mr. Sandford was left alone
+with Lord Elmwood, and might have continued his unkind insinuations
+without one restraint, yet his lips were closed for the present. He
+looked down on the carpet—twitched himself upon his chair—and began to
+talk of the weather.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+When the first transports of despair were past, Miss Milner suffered
+herself to be once more in hope. She found there were no other means to
+support her life; and to her comfort, her friend was much less severe
+on the present occasion than she expected. No engagement between
+mortals was, in Miss Woodley’s opinion, binding like that entered into
+with heaven; and whatever vows Lord Elmwood had possibly made to
+another, she justly supposed that no woman’s love for him equalled Miss
+Milner’s—it was prior to all others too; that established her claim to
+contend at least for success; and in a contention, what rival would not
+fall before her?
+
+It was not difficult to guess who this rival was; or if they were a
+little time in suspence, Miss Woodley soon arrived at the certainty, by
+inquiring of Mr. Sandford; who, unsuspecting why she asked, readily
+informed her the intended Lady Elmwood was no other than Miss Fenton;
+and that their marriage would be solemnized as soon as the mourning for
+the late Lord Elmwood was over. This last intelligence made Miss
+Woodley shudder—she repeated it, however, to Miss Milner, word for
+word.
+
+“Happy! happy woman!� exclaimed Miss Milner of Miss Fenton; “she has
+received the first fond impulse of his heart, and has had the
+transcendent happiness of teaching him to love!�
+
+“By no means,� returned Miss Woodley, finding no other suggestion
+likely to comfort her; “do not suppose that his marriage is the result
+of love—it is no more than a duty, a necessary arrangement, and this
+you may plainly see by the wife on whom he has fixed. Miss Fenton was
+thought a proper match for his cousin, and that same propriety has
+transferred her to him.�
+
+It was easy to convince Miss Milner that all her friend said was truth,
+for she wished it so. “And oh!� she exclaimed, “could I but stimulate
+passion, against the cold influence of propriety;—Do you think, my dear
+Miss Woodley,� (and she looked with such begging eyes, it was
+impossible not to answer as she wished,) “do you think it would be
+unjust to Miss Fenton, were I to inspire her destined husband with a
+passion which she may not have inspired, and which I believe _she_
+cannot feel?�
+
+Miss Woodley paused a minute, and then answered, “No:�—but there was a
+hesitation in her manner of delivery—she _did_ say, “No:� but she
+looked as if she was afraid she ought to have said “Yes.� Miss Milner,
+however, did not give her time to recall the word, or to alter its
+meaning by adding others to it, but ran on eagerly, and declared, “As
+that was her opinion, she would abide by it, and do all she could to
+supplant her rival.� In order, nevertheless, to justify this
+determination, and satisfy the conscience of Miss Woodley, they both
+concluded that Miss Fenton’s heart was not engaged in the intended
+marriage, and consequently that she was indifferent whether it ever
+took place or not.
+
+Since the death of the late Earl, she had not been in town; nor had the
+present Earl been near the place where she resided, since the week in
+which her lover died; of course, nothing similar to love could have
+been declared at so early a period; and if it had been made known at a
+later, it must only have been by letter, or by the deputation of Mr.
+Sandford, who they knew had been once in the country to visit her; but
+how little he was qualified to enforce a tender passion, was a
+comfortable reflection.
+
+Revived by these conjectures, of which some were true, and others
+false; the very next day a gloom overspread their bright prospects, on
+Mr. Sandford’s saying, as he entered the breakfast-room,
+
+“Miss Fenton, ladies, desired me to present her compliments.�
+
+“Is she in town?� asked Mrs. Horton.
+
+“She came yesterday morning,� returned Sandford, “and is at her
+brother’s, in Ormond-street; my Lord and I supped there last night, and
+that made us so late home.�
+
+Lord Elmwood entered soon after, and bowing to his ward, confirmed what
+had been said, by telling her, that “Miss Fenton had charged him with
+her kindest respects.�
+
+“How does poor Miss Fenton look?� Mrs. Horton asked Lord Elmwood.
+
+To which question Sandford replied, “Beautiful—she looks beautifully.�
+
+“She has got over her uneasiness, I suppose then?� said Mrs. Horton—not
+dreaming that she was asking the questions before her new lover.
+
+“Uneasy!� replied Sandford, “uneasy at any trial this world can send?
+That would be highly unworthy of her.�
+
+“But sometimes women do fret at such things:� replied Mrs. Horton,
+innocently.
+
+Lord Elmwood asked Miss Milner—“If she meant to ride, this delightful
+day?�
+
+While she was hesitating—
+
+“There are different kinds of women,� (said Sandford, directing his
+discourse to Mrs. Horton;) “there is as much difference between some
+women, as between good and evil spirits.�
+
+Lord Elmwood asked Miss Milner again—If she took an airing?
+
+She replied, “No.�
+
+“And beauty,� continued Sandford, “when endowed upon spirits that are
+evil, is a mark of their greater, their more extreme wickedness.
+Lucifer was the most beautiful of all the angels in Paradise�—
+
+“How do you know?� said Miss Milner.
+
+“But the beauty of Lucifer,� (continued Sandford, in perfect neglect
+and contempt of her question,) “was an aggravation of his guilt;
+because it shewed a double share of ingratitude to the Divine Creator
+of that beauty.�
+
+“Now you talk of angels,� said Miss Milner, “I wish I had wings; and I
+should like to fly through the park this morning.�
+
+“You would be taken for an angel in good earnest,� said Lord Elmwood.
+
+Sandford was angry at this little compliment, and cried, “I should
+think the serpent’s skin would be much more characteristic.�
+
+“My Lord,� cried she, “does not Mr. Sandford use me ill?� Vext with
+other things, she felt herself extremely hurt at this, and made the
+appeal almost in tears.
+
+“Indeed, I think he does.� And he looked at Sandford as if he was
+displeased.
+
+This was a triumph so agreeable to her, that she immediately pardoned
+the offence; but the offender did not so easily pardon her.
+
+“Good morning, ladies,� said Lord Elmwood, rising to go away.
+
+“My Lord,� said Miss Woodley, “you promised Miss Milner to accompany
+her one evening to the opera; this is opera night.�
+
+“Will you go, my Lord?� asked Miss Milner, in a voice so soft, that he
+seemed as if he wished, but could not resist it.
+
+“I am to dine at Mr. Fenton’s to-day,� he replied; “and if he and his
+sister will go, and you will allow them part of your box, I will
+promise to come.�
+
+This was a condition by no means acceptable to her; but as she felt a
+desire to see him in company of his intended bride, (for she fancied
+she could perceive his secret sentiments, could she once see them
+together) she answered not ungraciously, “Yes, my compliments to Mr.
+and Miss Fenton, and I hope they will favour me with their company.�
+
+“Then, Madam, if they come, you may expect me—else not.� He bowed and
+left the room.
+
+All the day was passed in anxious expectation by Miss Milner, what
+would be the event of the evening: for upon her penetration that
+evening all her future prospects she thought depended. If she saw by
+his looks, by his words, or assiduities, that he loved Miss Fenton, she
+flattered herself she would never think of him again with hope; but if
+she observed him treat her with inattention or indifference, she would
+cherish, from that moment, the fondest expectations. Against that short
+evening her toilet was consulted the whole day: the alternate hope and
+fear which fluttered in her heart, gave a more than usual brilliancy to
+her eyes, and more than usual bloom to her complection. But vain was
+her beauty; vain all her care to decorate that beauty; vain her many
+looks to her box-door in hopes to see it open—Lord Elmwood never came.
+
+The music was discord—every thing she saw was disgusting—in a word, she
+was miserable.
+
+She longed impatiently for the curtain to drop, because she was uneasy
+where she was—yet she asked herself, “Shall I be less unhappy at home?
+Yes; at home I shall see Lord Elmwood, and that will be happiness. But
+he will behold me with neglect, and that will be misery! Ungrateful
+man! I will no longer think of him.� Yet could she have thought of him,
+without joining in the same idea Miss Fenton, her anguish had been
+supportable; but while she painted them as lovers, the tortures of the
+rack are but a few degrees more painful than those which she endured.
+
+There are but few persons who ever felt the real passion of jealousy,
+because few have felt the real passion of love; but with those who have
+experienced them both, jealousy not only affects the mind, but every
+fibre of their frame; and Miss Milner’s every limb felt agonizing
+torment, when Miss Fenton, courted and beloved by Lord Elmwood, was
+present to her imagination.
+
+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?�
+
+“If I had, I certainly should have come,� returned he, “but I only said
+so conditionally.�
+
+“That I am a witness to,� cried Sandford, “for I was present at the
+time, and he said it should depend upon Miss Fenton.�
+
+“And she, with her gloomy disposition,� said Miss Milner, “chose to sit
+at home.�
+
+“Gloomy disposition!� repeated Sandford: “She has a great share of
+sprightliness—and I think I never saw her in better spirits than she
+was this evening, my Lord.�
+
+Lord Elmwood did not speak.
+
+“Bless me, Mr. Sandford,� cried Miss Milner, “I meant no reflection
+upon Miss Fenton’s disposition; I only meant to censure her taste for
+staying at home.�
+
+“I think,� replied Mr. Sandford, “a much heavier censure should be
+passed upon those who prefer rambling abroad.�
+
+“But I hope, ladies, my not coming,� said Lord Elmwood, “was no
+inconvenience to you; for you had still, I see, a gentleman with you.�
+
+“Oh! yes, two gentlemen:� answered the son of Lady Evans, a lad from
+school, whom Miss Milner had taken along with her.
+
+“What two?� asked Lord Elmwood.
+
+Neither Miss Milner nor Miss Woodley answered.
+
+“You know, Madam,� said young Evans, “that handsome gentleman who
+handed you into your carriage, and you called my Lord.�
+
+“Oh! he means Lord Frederick Lawnly:� said Miss Milner carelessly, but
+a blush of shame spread over her face.
+
+“And did he hand you into your coach?� asked Lord Elmwood earnestly.
+
+“By mere accident, my Lord,� Miss Woodley replied, “for the crowd was
+so great——�
+
+“I think, my Lord,� said Sandford, “it was very lucky that you were
+_not_ there.�
+
+“Had Lord Elmwood been with us, we should not have had occasion for the
+assistance of any other,� said Miss Milner.
+
+“Lord Elmwood has been with you, Madam,� returned Sandford, “very
+frequently, and yet—�
+
+“Mr. Sandford,� said Lord Elmwood, interrupting him, “it is near
+bed-time, your conversation keeps the ladies from retiring.�
+
+“Your Lordship’s does not,� said Miss Milner, “for you say nothing.�
+
+“Because, Madam, I am afraid to offend.�
+
+“But do not you also hope to please? and without risking the one, it is
+impossible to arrive at the other.�
+
+“I think, at present, the risk would be too hazardous, and so I wish
+you a good night.� And he went out of the room somewhat abruptly.
+
+“Lord Elmwood,� said Miss Milner, “is very grave—he does not look like
+a man who has been passing the evening with the woman he loves.�
+
+“Perhaps he is melancholy at parting from her,� said Miss Woodley.
+
+“More likely offended,� said Sandford, “at the manner in which that
+lady has spoken of her.�
+
+“Who, I? I protest I said nothing——�
+
+“Nothing! Did not you say that she was gloomy?�
+
+“Nothing but what I thought—I was going to add, Mr. Sandford.�
+
+“When you think unjustly, you should not express your thoughts.�
+
+“Then, perhaps, I should never speak.�
+
+“And it were better you did not, if what you say is to give pain. Do
+you know, Madam, that my Lord is going to be married to Miss Fenton?�
+
+“Yes,� answered Miss Milner.
+
+“Do you know that he loves her?�
+
+“No,� answered Miss Milner.
+
+“How! do you suppose he does not?�
+
+“I suppose that he does, yet I don’t know it.�
+
+“Then if you suppose that he does, how can you have the imprudence to
+find fault with her before him?�
+
+“I did not. To call her gloomy, was, I knew, to commend her both to him
+and to you, who admire such tempers.�
+
+“Whatever her temper is, _every one_ admires it; and so far from its
+being what you have described, she has great vivacity; vivacity which
+comes from the heart.�
+
+“No, if it _came_ from thence, I should admire it too; but, if she has
+any, it rests there, and no one is the better for it.�
+
+“Pshaw!� said Miss Woodley, “it is time for us to retire; you and Mr.
+Sandford must finish your dispute in the morning.�
+
+“Dispute, Madam!� said Sandford, “I never disputed with any one beneath
+a doctor of divinity in my life. I was only cautioning your friend not
+to make light of those virtues which it would do her honour to possess.
+Miss Fenton is a most amiable young woman, and worthy of just such a
+husband as my Lord Elmwood will make her.�
+
+“I am sure,� said Miss Woodley, “Miss Milner thinks so—she has a high
+opinion of Miss Fenton—she was at present only jesting.�
+
+“But, Madam, a jest is a very pernicious thing, when delivered with a
+malignant sneer. I have known a jest destroy a lady’s reputation—I have
+known a jest give one person a distaste for another—I have known a jest
+break off a marriage.�
+
+“But I suppose there is no apprehension of that in the present case?�
+said Miss Woodley—wishing he might answer in the affirmative.
+
+“Not that I can foresee. No, Heaven forbid,� he replied, “for I look
+upon them to be formed for each other—their dispositions, their
+pursuits, their inclinations the same. Their passions for each other
+just the same—pure—white as snow.�
+
+“And I dare say, not warmer,� replied Miss Milner.
+
+He looked provoked beyond measure.
+
+“My dear,� cried Miss Woodley, “how can you talk thus? I believe in my
+heart you are only envious, because my Lord Elmwood has not offered
+himself to you.�
+
+“To her!� said Sandford, affecting an air of the utmost surprise; “to
+her! Do you think he received a dispensation from his vows, to become
+the husband of a coquette—a——.�—He was going on.
+
+“Nay, Mr. Sandford,� cried Miss Milner, “I believe, after all, my worst
+crime, in your eyes, is that of being a heretic.�
+
+“By no means—it is the only circumstance that can apologize for your
+faults; and if you had not that excuse, there would be none for you.�
+
+“Then, at present, there _is_ an excuse—I thank you, Mr. Sandford—this
+is the kindest thing you ever said to me. But I am vext to see that you
+are sorry you have said it.�
+
+“Angry at your being a heretic!� he resumed—“Indeed I should be much
+more concerned to see you a disgrace to our religion.�
+
+Miss Milner had not been in a good humour the whole evening—she had
+been provoked several times to the full extent of her patience: but
+this harsh sentence hurried her beyond all bounds, and she arose from
+her seat in the most violent agitation, exclaiming, “What have I done
+to be thus treated?�
+
+Though Mr. Sandford was not a man easily intimidated, he was upon this
+occasion evidently alarmed; and stared about him with so violent an
+expression of surprise, that it partook, in some degree, of fear. Miss
+Woodley clasped her friend in her arms, and cried with the tenderest
+affection and pity, “My dear Miss Milner, be composed.�
+
+Miss Milner sat down, and was so for a minute; but her dead silence was
+almost as alarming to Sandford as her rage had been; and he did not
+perfectly recover himself till he saw tears pouring down her face. He
+then heaved a sigh of content that all had thus ended; but in his heart
+resolved never to forget the ridiculous affright into which he had been
+thrown. He stole out of the room without uttering a syllable—but as he
+never retired to rest before he had repeated a long form of evening
+prayer, when this evening he came to that part which supplicates “Grace
+for the wicked,� he mentioned Miss Milner’s name with the most fervent
+devotion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Of the many restless nights that Miss Milner passed, this was not one.
+It is true, she had a weight of care upon her heart, even heavier than
+usual, but the burden had overcome her strength: wearied out with
+hopes, with fears, and, at the end, with disappointment and rage, she
+sunk at once into a deep slumber. But the more forgetfulness had then
+prevailed, the more powerful was the force of remembrance when she
+awoke. At first, so sound her sleep had been, that she had a difficulty
+in calling to mind why she was unhappy; but that she _was_ unhappy she
+well recollected—when the cause came to her memory, she would have
+slept again—but it was impossible.
+
+Though her rest had been sound, it had not been refreshing—she was far
+from well, and sent word of her indisposition, as an apology for not
+being present at breakfast. Lord Elmwood looked concerned when the
+message was delivered—Mr. Sandford shook his head.
+
+“Miss Milner’s health is not good!� said Mrs. Horton a few minutes
+after.
+
+Lord Elmwood laid down the newspaper to attend to her.
+
+“To me, there is something very extraordinary about her!� continued
+Mrs. Horton, finding she had caught his Lordship’s attention.
+
+“So there is to me!� added Sandford, with a sarcastic sneer.
+
+“And so there is to me!� said Miss Woodley, with a serious face and a
+heartfelt sigh.
+
+Lord Elmwood gazed by turns at each, as each delivered their
+sentiments—and when they were all silent, he looked bewildered, not
+knowing what judgment to form from any of these sentences.
+
+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.�
+
+“Oh! my Lord,� cried Miss Woodley, with a most forcible accent, “_You_
+are the last person on earth she would pardon me for entrusting.�
+
+“Why so?� said he, warmly. “But that is the way—the person who is our
+friend we distrust—where a common interest is concerned, we are ashamed
+of drawing on a common danger—afraid of advice, though that advice is
+to save us.——Miss Woodley,� said he, changing his voice with excess of
+earnestness, “do you not believe, that I would do anything to make Miss
+Milner happy?�
+
+“Any thing in honour, my Lord.�
+
+“She can desire nothing farther,� he replied in agitation. “Are her
+desires so unwarrantable, that I cannot grant them?�
+
+Miss Woodley again did not speak—and he continued——
+
+“Great as my friendship is, there are certainly bounds to it—bounds
+that shall save her in spite of herself:�—and he raised his voice.
+
+“In the disposal of themselves,� resumed he, with a less vehement tone,
+“that great, that terrific disposal in marriage, (at which I have
+always looked with fear and dismay) there is no accounting for the
+rashness of a woman’s choice, or sometimes for the depravity of her
+taste. But in such a case, Miss Milner’s election of a husband shall
+not direct mine. If she does not know how to estimate her own value, I
+do. Independent of her fortune, she has beauty to captivate the heart
+of any man; and with all her follies, she has a frankness in her
+manner, an unaffected wisdom in her thoughts, a vivacity in her
+conversation, and withal, a softness in her demeanour, that might alone
+engage the affections of a man of the nicest sentiments, and the
+strongest understanding. I will not see all these qualities and
+accomplishments debased. It is my office to protect her from the
+consequences of a degrading choice, and I will.�
+
+“My Lord, Miss Milner’s taste is not a depraved one; it is but too
+refined.�
+
+“What can you mean by that, Miss Woodley? You talk mysteriously. Is she
+not afraid that I will thwart her inclinations?�
+
+“She is sure that you will, my Lord.�
+
+“Then must the person be unworthy of her.�
+
+Miss Woodley rose from her seat—she clasped her hands—every look and
+every gesture proved her alternate resolution and irresolution of
+proceeding. Lord Elmwood’s attention was arrested before; but now it
+was fixed to a degree which her extraordinary manner only could
+occasion.
+
+“My Lord,� said she, with a tremulous voice, “promise me, declare to
+me, nay, swear to me, that it shall ever remain a secret in your own
+breast, and I will reveal to you, on whom she has placed her
+affections.�
+
+This preparation made Lord Elmwood tremble, and he ran over instantly
+in his mind all the persons he could recollect, in order to arrive at
+the knowledge by thought, quicker than by words. It was in vain he
+tried; and he once more turned his inquiring eyes upon Miss Woodley. He
+saw her silent and covered with confusion. Again he searched his own
+thoughts; nor ineffectually as before. At the first glance, the object
+was presented, and he beheld—_himself_.
+
+The rapid emotion of varying passions, which immediately darted over
+his features, informed Miss Woodley that her secret was discovered—she
+hid her face, while the tears that fell down to her bosom, confirmed
+the truth of his suggestion, beyond what oaths could have done. A short
+interval of silence followed, during which, she suffered tortures for
+the manner in which he would next address her—two seconds gave her this
+reply:
+
+“For God’s sake take care what you are doing—you are destroying my
+prospects of futurity—you are making this world too dear to me.�
+
+Her drooping head was then lifted up, and she caught the eye of
+Dorriforth; she saw it beam expectation, amazement, joy, ardour, and
+love.——Nay, there was a fire, a vehemence in the quick fascinating rays
+it sent forth, she never before had seen—it filled her with alarm—she
+wished him to love Miss Milner, but to love her with moderation. Miss
+Woodley was too little versed in the subject, to know, this would have
+been not to love at all; at least, not to the extent of breaking
+through engagements, and all the various obstacles that still militated
+against their union.
+
+Lord Elmwood was sensible of the embarrassment his presence gave Miss
+Woodley, and understood the reproaches which she seemed to vent upon
+herself in silence. To relieve her from both, he laid his hand with
+force upon his heart, and said, “Do you believe me?�
+
+“I do, my Lord,� she answered, trembling.
+
+“I will make no unjust use of what I know,� he replied with firmness.
+
+“I believe you, my Lord.�
+
+“But for what my passions now dictate,� continued he, “I will not
+answer. They are confused—they are triumphant at present. I have never
+yet, however, been vanquished by them; and even upon this occasion, my
+reason shall combat them to the last—and my reason shall fail me,
+before I do wrong.�
+
+He was going to leave the room—she followed him, and cried, “But, my
+Lord, how shall I see again the unhappy object of my treachery?�
+
+“See her,� replied he, “as one to whom you meant no injury, and to whom
+you have done none.�
+
+“But she would account it an injury.�
+
+“We are not judges of what belongs to ourselves,� he replied—“I am
+transported at the tidings you have revealed, and yet, perhaps, I had
+better never have heard them.�
+
+Miss Woodley was going to say something farther, but as if incapable of
+attending to her, he hastened out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Miss Woodley stood for some time to consider which way she was to go.
+The first person she met, would enquire why she had been weeping? and
+if Miss Milner was to ask the question, in what words could she tell,
+or in what manner deny the truth? To avoid her was her first caution,
+and she took the only method; she had a hackney-coach ordered, rode
+several miles out of town, and returned to dinner with so little
+remains of her swoln eyes, that complaining of the head-ache was a
+sufficient excuse for them.
+
+Miss Milner was enough recovered to be present at dinner, though she
+scarce tasted a morsel. Lord Elmwood did not dine at home, at which
+Miss Woodley rejoiced, but at which Mr. Sandford appeared highly
+disappointed. He asked the servants several times, what he said when he
+went out? They replied, “Nothing more than that he should not be at
+home to dinner.�
+
+“I can’t imagine where he dines?� said Sandford.
+
+“Bless me, Mr. Sandford, can’t you guess?� (cried Mrs. Horton, who by
+this time was made acquainted with his intended marriage) “He dines
+with Miss Fenton to be sure.�
+
+“No,� replied Sandford, “he is not there; I came from thence just now,
+and they had not seen him all day.� Poor Miss Milner, on this, ate
+something; for where we hope for nothing, we receive small indulgencies
+with joy.
+
+Notwithstanding the anxiety and trouble under which Miss Woodley had
+laboured all the morning, her heart for many weeks had not felt so
+light as it did this day at dinner. The confidence that she reposed in
+the promises of Lord Elmwood—the firm reliance she had upon his
+delicacy and his justice—the unabated kindness with which her friend
+received her, while she knew that no one suspicious thought had taken
+harbour in her bosom—and the conscious integrity of her own intentions,
+though she might have been misled by her judgment, all comforted her
+with the hope, she had done nothing she ought to wish recalled. But
+although she felt thus tranquil, in respect to what she had divulged,
+yet she was a good deal embarrassed with the dread of next seeing Lord
+Elmwood.
+
+Miss Milner, not having spirits to go abroad, passed the evening at
+home. She read part of a new opera, played upon her guitar, mused,
+sighed, occasionally talked with Miss Woodley, and so passed the
+tedious hours till near ten, when Mrs. Horton asked Mr. Sandford to
+play a game at piquet, and on his excusing himself, Miss Milner offered
+in his stead, and was gladly accepted. They had just begun to play when
+Lord Elmwood came into the room—Miss Milner’s countenance immediately
+brightened, and though she was in a negligent morning dress, and looked
+paler than usual, she did not look less beautiful. Miss Woodley was
+leaning on the back of her chair to observe the game, and Mr. Sandford
+sat reading one of the Fathers at the other side of the fire place.
+Lord Elmwood, as he advanced to the table, bowed, not having seen the
+ladies since the morning, or Miss Milner that day: they returned the
+salute, and he was going up to Miss Milner, (as if to enquire of her
+health) when Mr. Sandford, laying down his book, said,
+
+“My Lord, where have you been all day?�
+
+“I have been very busy,� replied he, and walking from the card-table,
+went up to him.
+
+Miss Milner played one card for another.
+
+“You have been at Mr. Fenton’s this evening, I suppose?� said Sandford.
+
+“No; not at all to-day.�
+
+“How came that about, my Lord?�
+
+Miss Milner played the ace of diamonds instead of the king of hearts.
+
+“I shall call to-morrow,� answered Lord Elmwood; and then walking with
+a very ceremonious air up to Miss Milner, said, “He hoped she was
+perfectly recovered.�
+
+Mrs. Horton begged her “To mind what she was about.� She replied, “I am
+much better, Sir.�
+
+He then returned to Sandford again; but never, during all this time,
+did his eye once encounter Miss Woodley’s; and she, with equal care,
+avoided his.
+
+Some cold dishes were now brought up for supper—Miss Milner lost her
+deal, and the game ended.
+
+As they were arranging themselves at the supper-table, “Do, Miss
+Milner,� said Mrs. Horton, “have something warm for your supper; a
+chicken boiled, or something of that kind; you have eat nothing
+to-day.�
+
+With feelings of humanity, and apparently no other sensation—but never
+did he feel his philanthropy so forcible—Lord Elmwood said, “Let me beg
+of you, Miss Milner, to have something provided for you.�
+
+The earnestness and emphasis with which these few words were
+pronounced, were more flattering than the finest turned compliment
+would have been; her gratitude was expressed in blushes, and by
+assuring him she was now “So well, as to sup on the dishes before her.�
+She spoke, however, and had not made the trial; for the moment she
+carried a morsel to her lips, she laid it on her plate again, and
+turned paler, from the vain endeavour to force her appetite. Lord
+Elmwood had always been attentive to her; but now he watched her as he
+would a child; and when he saw by her struggles that she could not eat,
+he took her plate from her; gave her something else; and all with a
+care and watchfulness in his looks, as if he had been a tender-hearted
+boy, and she his darling bird, the loss of which would embitter all the
+joy of his holidays.
+
+This attention had something in it so tender, so officious, and yet so
+sincere, that it brought the tears into Miss Woodley’s eyes, attracted
+the notice of Mr. Sandford, and the observation of Mrs. Horton; while
+the heart of Miss Milner overflowed with a gratitude, that gave place
+to no sentiment except her love.
+
+To relieve the anxiety which her guardian expressed, she endeavoured to
+appear cheerful, and that anxiety, at length, really made her so. He
+now pressed her to take one glass of wine with such solicitude, that he
+seemed to say a thousand things besides. Sandford still made his
+observations, and being unused to conceal his thoughts before the
+present company, he said bluntly,
+
+“Miss Fenton was indisposed the other night, my Lord, and you did not
+seem half thus anxious about her.�
+
+Had Sandford laid all Lord Elmwood’s estate at Miss Milner’s feet, or
+presented her with that eternal bloom which adorns the face of a
+goddess, he would have done less to endear himself to her, than by this
+one sentence—she looked at him with a most benign countenance, and felt
+affliction that she had ever offended him.
+
+“Miss Fenton,� Lord Elmwood replied, “has a brother with her: her
+health and happiness are in _his_ care—Miss Milner’s are in mine.�
+
+“Mr. Sandford,� said Miss Milner, “I am afraid that I behaved uncivilly
+to you last night—will you accept of an atonement?�
+
+“No, Madam,� returned he, “I accept no expiation without amendment.�
+
+“Well, then,� said she, smiling, “suppose I promise never to offend you
+again, what then?�
+
+“Why, then, you’ll break your promise.�
+
+“Do not promise him,� said Lord Elmwood, “for he means to provoke you
+to it.�
+
+In the like conversation the evening passed, and Miss Milner retired to
+rest in far better spirits than her morning’s prospect had given her
+the least pretence to hope. Miss Woodley, too, had cause to be well
+pleased; but her pleasure was in great measure eclipsed by the
+reflection, that there was such a person as Miss Fenton—she wished she
+had been equally acquainted with her’s as with Miss Milner’s heart, and
+she would then have acted without injustice to either; but Miss Fenton
+had of late shunned their society, and even in their company was of a
+temper too reserved ever to discover her mind; Miss Woodley was
+obliged, therefore, to act to the best of her own judgment only, and
+leave all events to Providence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Within a few days, in the house of Lord Elmwood, every thing, and every
+person, wore a new face. He, was the professed lover of Miss
+Milner—she, the happiest of human beings—Miss Woodley partaking in the
+joy—Mr. Sandford lamenting, with the deepest concern, that Miss Fenton
+had been supplanted; and what added poignantly to his concern was, that
+she had been supplanted by Miss Milner. Though a churchman, he bore his
+disappointment with the impatience of one of the laity: he could hardly
+speak to Lord Elmwood; he would not look at Miss Milner, and was
+displeased with every one. It was his intention, when he first became
+acquainted with Lord Elmwood’s resolution, to quit his house; and as
+the Earl had, with the utmost degree of inflexibility, resisted all his
+good counsel upon this subject, he resolved, in quitting him, never to
+be his adviser again. But, in preparing to leave his friend, his pupil,
+his patron, and yet him, who, upon most occasions, implicitly obeyed
+his will, the spiritual got the better of the temporal man, and he
+determined to stay, lest in totally abandoning him to the pursuit of
+his own passions, he should make his punishment even greater than his
+offence. “My Lord,� said he, “on the stormy sea, upon which you are
+embarked, though you will not shun the rocks that your faithful pilot
+would point out, he will, nevertheless, sail in your company, and
+lament over your watery grave. The more you slight my advice, the more
+you want it; so that, until you command me to leave your house, (as I
+suppose you will soon do, to oblige your Lady) I will continue along
+with you.�
+
+Lord Elmwood liked him sincerely, and was glad that he took this
+resolution; yet as soon as his reason and affections had once told him
+that he ought to break with Miss Fenton, and marry his ward, he became
+so decidedly of this opinion, that Sandford’s never had the most
+trivial weight; nor would he even flatter the supposed authority he
+possessed over him, by urging him to remain in his house a single day,
+contrary to his inclinations. Sandford observed, with grief, this
+firmness; but finding it vain to contend, submitted—not, however, with
+a good grace.
+
+Amidst all the persons affected by this change in Lord Elmwood’s
+marriage-designs, Miss Fenton was, perhaps, affected the least—she
+would have been content to have married, she was content to live
+single. Mr. Sandford had been the first who made overtures to her on
+the part of Lord Elmwood, and was the first sent to ask her to dispense
+with the obligation.—She received both of these proposals with the same
+insipid smile of approbation, and the same cold indifference at the
+heart.
+
+It was a perfect knowledge of this disposition in his intended wife
+which had given to Lord Elmwood’s thoughts on matrimony, the idea of
+dreary winter; but the sensibility of Miss Milner had now reversed that
+prospect into perpetual spring; or the dearer variety of spring,
+summer, and autumn.
+
+It was a knowledge also of this torpor in Miss Fenton’s nature, from
+which he formed the purpose of breaking with her; for Lord Elmwood
+still retained enough of the sanctity of his former state to have
+yielded up his own happiness, and even that of his beloved ward, rather
+than have plunged one heart into affliction by his perfidy. This,
+before he offered his hand to Miss Milner, he was perfectly convinced
+would not be the case—even Miss Fenton herself assured him, that her
+thoughts were more upon the joys of Heaven than upon those of earth;
+and as this circumstance would, she believed, induce her to retire into
+a convent, she thought it a happy, rather than an unhappy, event. Her
+brother, on whom her fortune devolved if she took this resolution, was
+exactly of her opinion.
+
+Lost in the maze of happiness that surrounded her, Miss Milner
+oftentimes asked her heart, and her heart whispered like a flatterer,
+“Yes;� Are not my charms even more invincible than I ever believed them
+to be? Dorriforth, the grave, the pious, the anchorite Dorriforth, by
+their force, is animated to all the ardour of the most impassioned
+lover—while the proud priest, the austere guardian is humbled, if I but
+frown, into the veriest slave of love. She then asked, “Why did I not
+keep him longer in suspense? He could not have loved me more, I
+believe: but my power over him might have been greater still. I am the
+happiest of women in the affection he has proved to me, but I wonder
+whether it would exist under ill treatment? If it would not, he still
+does not love me as I wish to be loved—if it would, my triumph, my
+felicity, would be enhanced.� These thoughts were mere phantoms of the
+brain, and never, by system, put into action; but, repeatedly indulged,
+they were practised by casual occurrences; and the dear-bought
+experiment of being loved in spite of her faults, (a glory proud women
+ever aspire to) was, at present, the ambition of Miss Milner.
+
+Unthinking woman! she did not reflect, that to the searching eye of
+Lord Elmwood, she had faults, with her utmost care to conceal or
+overcome them, sufficient to try all his love, and all his patience.
+But what female is not fond of experiments? To which, how few do not
+fall a sacrifice!
+
+Perfectly secure in the affections of the man she loved, her declining
+health no longer threatened her; her declining spirits returned as
+before; and the suspicions of her guardian being now changed to the
+liberal confidence of a doting lover, she again professed all her
+former follies, all her fashionable levities, and indulged them with
+less restraint than ever.
+
+For a while, blinded by his passion, Lord Elmwood encouraged and
+admired every new proof of her restored happiness; nor till sufferance
+had tempted her beyond her usual bounds, did he remonstrate. But she,
+who, as his ward, had been ever gentle, and (when he strenuously
+opposed) always obedient; became, as a mistress, sometimes haughty,
+and, to opposition, always insolent. He was surprised, but the novelty
+pleased him. And Miss Milner, whom he tenderly loved, could put on no
+change, or appear in no new character that did not, for the time she
+adopted it, seem to become her.
+
+Among the many causes of complaint which she gave him, want of Å“conomy,
+in the disposal of her income, was one. Bills and drafts came upon him
+without number, while the account, on her part, of money expended,
+amounted chiefly to articles of dress that she sometimes never wore,
+toys that were out of fashion before they were paid for, and charities
+directed by the force of whim. Another complaint was, as usual, extreme
+late hours, and often company that he did not approve.
+
+She was charmed to see his love struggling with his censure—his
+politeness with his anxiety—and by the light, frivolous, or resentful
+manner in which she treated his admonitions, she triumphed in shewing
+to Miss Woodley, and, more especially to Mr. Sandford, how much she
+dared upon the strength of his affections.
+
+Everything in preparation for their marriage, which was to take place
+at Elmwood House during the summer months, she resolved for the short
+time she had to remain in London to let no occasion pass of tasting all
+those pleasures that were not likely ever to return; but which, though
+eager as she was in their pursuit, she never placed in competition with
+those she hoped would succeed—those more sedate and superior joys, of
+domestic and conjugal happiness. Often, merely to hasten on the tedious
+hours that intervened, she varied and diverted them, with the many
+recreations her intended husband could not approve.
+
+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.�
+
+“Do not interrupt me. Whatever your meaning has been, the effect of it
+is what I have described. Now, I will no longer,� continued he, “have
+an enemy, such as you have been, to heighten her charms, which are too
+transcendent in their native state. I will hear no more complaints
+against her, but I will watch her closely myself—and if I find her mind
+and heart (such as my suspicions have of late whispered) too frivolous
+for that substantial happiness I look for with an object so beloved,
+depend upon my word—the marriage shall yet be broken off.�
+
+“I depend upon your word; it _will_ then,�—replied Sandford eagerly.
+
+“You are unjust, Sir, in saying so before the trial,� replied Lord
+Elmwood, “and your injustice shall make me more cautious, lest I follow
+your example.�
+
+“But, my Lord——�
+
+“My mind is made up, Mr. Sandford,� returned he, interrupting him; “I
+am no longer engaged to Miss Milner than she shall deserve I should
+be—but, in my strict observations upon her conduct, I will take care
+not to wrong her as you have done.�
+
+“My Lord, call my observations wrong, when you have reflected upon them
+as a man, and not as a lover—divest yourself of your passion, and meet
+me upon equal ground.�
+
+“I will meet no one—I will consult no one—my own judgment shall be the
+judge, and in a few months marry, or—_banish me from her for ever_.�
+
+There was something in these last words, in the tone and firmness with
+which they were delivered, that the heart of Sandford rested upon with
+content—they bore the symptoms of a menace that would be executed; and
+he parted from his patron with congratulations upon his wisdom, and
+with giving him the warmest assurances of his firm reliance on his
+_word_.
+
+Lord Elmwood having come to this resolution, was more composed than he
+had been for several days before; while the horror of domestic
+wrangles—a family without subordination—a house without œconomy—in a
+word, a wife without discretion, had been perpetually present to his
+mind.
+
+Mr. Sandford, although he was a man of understanding, of learning, and
+a complete casuist, yet all the faults he himself committed, were
+entirely—for want of knowing better. He constantly reproved faults in
+others, and he was most assuredly too good a man not to have corrected
+and amended his own, had they been known to him—but they were not. He
+had been for so long a time the superior of all with whom he lived, had
+been so busied with instructing others, that he had not recollected
+that himself wanted instructions—and in such awe did his habitual
+severity keep all about him, that although he had numerous friends, not
+one told him of his failings—except just now Lord Elmwood, but whom, in
+this instance, as a man in love, he would not credit. Was there not
+then some reason for him to suppose he _had_ no faults? his enemies,
+indeed, hinted that he had, but enemies he never harkened to; and thus,
+with all his good sense, wanted the sense to follow the rule, _Believe
+what your enemies say of you, rather than what is said by your
+friends_. This rule attended to, would make a thousand people amiable,
+who are now the reverse; and would have made _him_ a perfectly upright
+character. For could an enemy to whom he would have listened, have
+whispered to Sandford as he left Lord Elmwood, “Cruel, barbarous man!
+you go away with your heart satisfied, nay, even elated, in the
+prospect that Miss Milner’s hopes, on which she alone exists, those
+hopes which keep her from the deepest affliction, and cherish her with
+joy and gladness, will all be disappointed. You flatter yourself it is
+for the sake of your friend, Lord Elmwood, that you rejoice, and
+because he has escaped a danger. You wish him well; but there is
+another cause for your exultation which you will not seek to know—it
+is, that in his safety, shall dwell the punishment of his ward. For
+shame! for shame! forgive her faults, as this of yours requires to be
+forgiven.�
+
+Had any one said this to Sandford, whom he would have credited, or had
+his own heart suggested it, he was a man of that rectitude and
+conscientiousness, that he would have returned immediately to Lord
+Elmwood, and have strengthened all his favourable opinions of his
+intended wife—but having no such monitor, he walked on, highly
+contented, and meeting Miss Woodley, said, with an air of triumph,
+
+“Where’s your friend? where’s Lady Elmwood?�
+
+Miss Woodley smiled, and answered—She was gone with such and such
+ladies to an auction. “But why give her that title already, Mr.
+Sandford?�
+
+“Because,� answered he, “I think she will never have it.�
+
+“Bless me, Mr. Sandford,� said Miss Woodley, “you shock me!�
+
+“I thought I should,� replied he, “and therefore I told it you.�
+
+“For Heaven’s sake what has happened?�
+
+“Nothing new—her indiscretions only.�
+
+“I know she is imprudent,� said Miss Woodley—“I can see that her
+conduct is often exceptionable—but then Lord Elmwood surely loves her,
+and love will overlook a great deal.�
+
+“He _does_ love her—but he has understanding and resolution. He loved
+his sister too, tenderly loved her, and yet when he had taken the
+resolution, and passed his word that he would never see her again—even
+upon her death-bed he would not retract it—no entreaties could prevail
+upon him. And now, though he maintains, and I dare say loves, her
+child, yet you remember, when you brought him home, that he would not
+suffer him in his sight.�
+
+“Poor Miss Milner!� said Miss Woodley, in the most pitying accents.
+
+“Nay,� said Sandford, “Lord Elmwood has not _yet_ passed his word, that
+he will never see her more—he has only threatened to do it; but I know
+enough of him to know, that his threats are generally the same as if
+they were executed.�
+
+“You are very good,� said Miss Woodley, “to acquaint me of this in
+time—I may now warn Miss Milner of it, and she may observe more
+circumspection.�
+
+“By no means,� cried Sandford, hastily—“What would you warn her for? It
+will do her no good—besides,� added he, “I don’t know whether Lord
+Elmwood does not expect secrecy on my part; and if he does——�
+
+“But, with all deference to your opinion,� said Miss Woodley, (and with
+all deference did she speak) “don’t you think, Mr. Sandford, that
+secrecy upon this occasion would be wicked? For consider the anguish
+that it may occasion to my friend; and if, by advising her, we can save
+her from——� She was going on.——
+
+“You may call it wicked, Madam, not to inform her of what I have hinted
+at,� cried he; “but I call it a breach of confidence—if it _was_
+divulged to me in confidence——�
+
+He was going to explain; but Miss Milner entered, and put an end to the
+discourse. She had been passing the whole morning at an auction, and
+had laid out near two hundred pounds in different things for which she
+had no one use, but bought them because they were said to be
+cheap—among the rest was a lot of books upon chemistry, and some Latin
+authors.
+
+“Why, Madam,� cried Sandford, looking over the catalogue where her
+purchases were marked by a pencil, “do you know what you have done? You
+can’t read a word of these books.�
+
+“Can’t I, Mr. Sandford? But I assure you that you will be very much
+pleased with them, when you see how elegantly they are bound.�
+
+“My dear,� said Mrs. Horton, “why have you bought china? You and my
+Lord Elmwood have more now, than you have places to put them in.�
+
+“Very true, Mrs. Horton—I forgot that—but then you know I can give
+these away.�
+
+Lord Elmwood was in the room at the conclusion of this conversation——he
+shook his head and sighed.
+
+“My Lord,� said she, “I have had a very agreeable morning; but I wished
+for you—if you had been with me, I should have bought a great many
+other things; but I did not like to appear unreasonable in your
+absence.�
+
+Sandford fixed his inquisitive eyes upon Lord Elmwood, to observe his
+countenance—he smiled, but appeared thoughtful.
+
+“And, oh! my Lord, I have bought you a present,� said she.
+
+“I do not wish for a present, Miss Milner.�
+
+“What not from me? Very well.�
+
+“If you present me with yourself, it is all that I ask.�
+
+Sandford moved upon his chair, as if he sat uneasy.
+
+“Why then, Miss Woodley,� said Miss Milner, “_you_ shall have the
+present. But then it won’t suit you—it is for a gentleman. I’ll keep it
+and give it to my Lord Frederick the first time I meet with him. I saw
+him this morning, and he looked divinely—I longed to speak to him.�
+
+Miss Woodley cast, by stealth, an eye of apprehension upon Lord
+Elmwood’s face, and trembled at seeing it flushed with resentment.
+
+Sandford stared with both his eyes full upon him: then threw himself
+upright on his chair, and took a pinch of snuff upon the strength of
+the Earl’s uneasiness.
+
+A silence ensued.
+
+After a short time—“You all appear melancholy,� said Miss Milner: “I
+wish I had not come home yet.�
+
+Miss Woodley was in agony—she saw Lord Elmwood’s extreme displeasure,
+and dreaded lest he should express it by some words he could not
+recall, or she could not forgive—therefore, whispering to her she had
+something particular to say, she took her out of the room.
+
+The moment she was gone, Mr. Sandford rose nimbly from his seat, rubbed
+his hands, walked briskly across the room, then asked Lord Elmwood in a
+cheerful tone, “Whether he dined at home to-day?�
+
+That which had given Sandford cheerfulness, had so depressed Lord
+Elmwood, that he sat dejected and silent. At length he answered in a
+faint voice, “No, I believe I shall _not_ dine at home.�
+
+“Where is your Lordship going to dine?� asked Mrs. Horton; “I thought
+we should have had your company to-day; Miss Milner dines at home, I
+believe.�
+
+“I have not yet determined where I shall dine,� replied he, taking no
+notice of the conclusion of her speech.
+
+“My Lord, if you mean to go to the hotel, I’ll go with you, if you
+please,� cried Sandford officiously.
+
+“With all my heart, Sandford—� and they both went out together, before
+Miss Milner returned to the apartment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Miss Woodley, for the first time, disobeyed the will of Mr. Sandford;
+and as soon as Miss Milner and she were alone, repeated all he had
+revealed to her; accompanying the recital, with her usual testimonies
+of sympathy and affection. But had the genius of Sandford presided over
+this discovery, it could not have influenced the mind of Miss Milner to
+receive the intelligence with a temper more exactly the opposite of
+that which it was the intention of the informer to recommend. Instead
+of shuddering at the menace Lord Elmwood had uttered, she said, she
+“Dared him to perform it.� “He dares not,� repeated she.
+
+“Why dares not?� said Miss Woodley.
+
+“Because he loves me too well—because his own happiness is too dear to
+him.�
+
+“I believe he loves you,� replied Miss Woodley, “and yet there is a
+doubt if——�
+
+“There shall be no longer a doubt,� cried Miss Milner, “I’ll put him to
+the proof.�
+
+“For shame, my dear! you talk inconsiderately—what can you mean by
+proof?�
+
+“I mean I will do something that no prudent man _ought_ to forgive; and
+yet, with all his vast share of prudence, _he_ shall forgive it, and
+make a sacrifice of just resentment to partial affection.�
+
+“But if you should be disappointed, and he should _not_ make the
+sacrifice?� said Miss Woodley.
+
+“Then I have only lost a man who had no regard for me.�
+
+“He may have a great regard for you, notwithstanding.�
+
+“But for the love I have felt, and do still feel, for my Lord Elmwood,
+I will have something more than a _great regard_ in return.�
+
+“You have his love, I am sure.�
+
+“But is it such as mine? _I_ could love _him_ if he had a thousand
+faults. And yet,� said she, recollecting herself, “and yet, I believe
+his being faultless, was the first cause of my passion.�
+
+Thus she talked on—sometimes in anger, sometimes apparently
+jesting—till her servant came to let her know the dinner was served.
+Upon entering the dining-room, and seeing Lord Elmwood’s place at table
+vacant, she started back. She was disappointed of the pleasure she
+expected in dining with him; and his sudden absence, so immediately
+after the intelligence that she had received from Miss Woodley,
+increased her uneasiness. She drew her chair, and sat down with an
+indifference, that said she should not eat; and as soon as she was
+seated, she put her fingers sullenly to her lips, nor touched her knife
+and fork, nor spoke a word in reply to any thing that was said to her
+during the whole dinner. Miss Woodley and Mrs. Horton were both too
+well acquainted with the good disposition of her heart, to take
+offence, or appear to notice this behaviour. They dined, and said
+nothing either to provoke or sooth her. Just as the dinner was going to
+be removed, a loud rap came at the door—“Who is that?� said Mrs.
+Horton. One of the servants went to the window, and answered, “My Lord
+and Mr. Sandford, Madam.�
+
+“Come back to dinner as I live,� cried Mrs. Horton.
+
+Miss Milner continued her position and said nothing—but at the corners
+of her mouth, which her fingers did not entirely cover, there were
+discoverable, a thousand dimpled graces like small convulsive fibres,
+which a restrained smile upon Lord Elmwood’s return, had sent there.
+
+Lord Elmwood and Sandford entered.
+
+“I am glad you are returned, my Lord,� said Mrs. Horton, “for Miss
+Milner would not eat a morsel.�
+
+“It was only because I had no appetite,� returned she, blushing like
+crimson.
+
+“We should not have come back,� said Sandford, “but at the place where
+we went to dine, all the rooms were filled with company.�
+
+Lord Elmwood put the wing of a fowl on Miss Milner’s plate, but without
+previously asking if she chose any; yet she condescended to eat—they
+spoke to each other too in the course of conversation, but it was with
+a reserve that appeared as if they had been quarrelling, and felt so to
+themselves, though no such circumstance had happened.
+
+Two weeks passed away in this kind of distant behaviour on both sides,
+without either of them venturing a direct quarrel, and without either
+of them expressing (except inadvertently) their strong affection for
+each other.
+
+During this time they were once, however, very near becoming the
+dearest friends in expression, as well as in sentiment. This arose from
+a favour that he had granted in compliance with her desire, though that
+desire had not been urged, but merely insinuated; and as it was a
+favour which he had refused to the repeated requests of many of his
+friends, the value of the obligation was heightened.
+
+She and Miss Woodley had taken an airing to see the poor child, young
+Rushbrook. Lord Elmwood inquiring of the ladies how they had passed
+their morning, Miss Milner frankly told him; and added, “What pain it
+gave her to leave the child behind, as he had again cried to come away
+with her.�
+
+“Go for him then to-morrow,� said Lord Elmwood, “and bring him home.�
+
+“Home!� she repeated, with surprise.
+
+“Yes,� replied he, “if you desire it, this shall be his home—you shall
+be a mother, and I will, henceforward, be a father to him.�
+
+Sandford, who was present, looked unusually sour at this high token of
+regard for Miss Milner; yet, with resentment on his face, he wiped a
+tear of joy from his eye, for the boy’s sake—his frown was the force of
+prejudice, his tear the force of nature.
+
+Rushbrook was brought home; and whenever Lord Elmwood wished to shew a
+kindness to Miss Milner, without directing it immediately to her, he
+took his nephew upon his knee, talked to him, and told him, he “Was
+glad they had become acquainted.�
+
+In the various, though delicate, struggles for power between Miss
+Milner and her guardian, there was not one person a witness to these
+incidents, who did not suppose, that all would at last end in
+wedlock—for the most common observer perceived, that ardent love was
+the foundation of every discontent, as well as of every joy they
+experienced. One great incident, however, totally reversed the hope of
+all future accommodation.
+
+The fashionable Mrs. G—— gave a masked ball; tickets were presented to
+persons of quality and fashion; among the rest, three were sent to Miss
+Milner. She had never been at a masquerade, and received them with
+ecstasy—the more especially, as the masque being at the house of a
+woman of fashion, she did not conceive there could be any objection to
+her going. She was mistaken—the moment she mentioned it to Lord
+Elmwood, he desired her, somewhat sternly, “Not to think of being
+there.� She was vexed at the prohibition, but more at the manner in
+which it was delivered, and boldly said, “That she should certainly
+go.�
+
+She expected a rebuke for this, but what alarmed her much more, he said
+not a word; but looked with a resignation, which foreboded her sorrow
+greater than the severest reproaches would have done. She sat for a
+minute, reflecting how to rouse him from this composure—she first
+thought of attacking him with upbraidings; then she thought of soothing
+him; and at last of laughing at him. This was the most dangerous of
+all, and yet, this she ventured upon.
+
+“I am sure your Lordship,� said she, “with all your saintliness, can
+have no objection to my being present at the masquerade, if I go as a
+Nun.�
+
+He made no reply.
+
+“That is a habit,� continued she, “which covers a multitude of
+faults—and, for that evening, I may have the chance of making a
+conquest even of you—nay, I question not, if under that inviting
+attire, even the pious Mr. Sandford would not ogle me.�
+
+“Hush!� said Miss Woodley.
+
+“Why hush?� cried Miss Milner, aloud, though Miss Woodley had spoken in
+a whisper, “I am sure,� continued she, “I am only repeating what I have
+read in books about nuns and their confessors.�
+
+“Your conduct, Miss Milner,� replied Lord Elmwood “gives evident proofs
+of the authors you have read; you may spare yourself the trouble of
+quoting them.�
+
+Her pride was hurt at this, beyond bearing; and as she could not, like
+him, govern her anger, it flushed in her face, and almost forced her
+into tears.
+
+“My Lord,� said Miss Woodley, (in a tone so soft and peaceful, that it
+should have calmed the resentment of both,) “my Lord, suppose you were
+to accompany Miss Milner? there are tickets for three, and you can then
+have no objection.�
+
+Miss Milner’s brow was immediately smoothed; and she fetched a sigh, in
+anxious expectation that he would consent.
+
+“I go, Miss Woodley?� he replied, with astonishment, “Do you imagine I
+would play the buffoon at a masquerade?�
+
+Miss Milner’s face changed into its former state.
+
+“I have seen grave characters there, my Lord,� said Miss Woodley.
+
+“Dear Miss Woodley,� cried Miss Milner, “why persuade Lord Elmwood to
+put on a mask, just at the time he has laid it aside?�
+
+His patience was now tempted to its height, and he answered, “If you
+suspect me of inconsistency, Madam, you shall find me changed.�
+
+Pleased that she had been able at last to irritate him, she smiled with
+a degree of triumph, and in that humour was going to reply; but before
+she could speak four words, and before she thought of it, he abruptly
+left the room.
+
+She was highly offended at this insult, and declared, “From that moment
+she banished him from her heart for ever.� And to prove that she set
+his love and his anger at equal defiance, she immediately ordered her
+carriage, and said, she “Was going to some of her acquaintance, whom
+she knew to have tickets, and with whom she would fix upon the habit
+she was to appear in at the masquerade; for nothing, unless she was
+locked up, should alter the resolution she had formed, of being there.�
+To remonstrate at that moment, Miss Woodley knew would be in vain—her
+coach came to the door, and she drove away.
+
+She did not return to dinner, nor till it was late in the evening; Lord
+Elmwood was at home, but he never once mentioned her name.
+
+She came home, after he had retired, in great spirits; and then, for
+the first time, in her whole life, appeared careless what he might
+think of her behaviour:—but her whole thoughts were occupied upon the
+business which had employed the chief of her day; and her dress
+engrossed all her conversation, as soon as Miss Woodley and she were
+alone. She told her, she had been shewn the greatest variety of
+beautiful and becoming dresses she had ever beheld; “and yet,� said
+she, “I have at last fixed upon a very plain one; but one I look so
+well in, that you will hardly know me, when I have it on.�
+
+“You are seriously then resolved to go,� said Miss Woodley, “if you
+hear no more on the subject from your guardian?�
+
+“Whether I do hear or not, Miss Woodley, I am equally resolved to go.�
+
+“But you know, my dear, he has desired you not—and you used always to
+obey his commands.�
+
+“As my guardian, I certainly did obey him; and I could obey him as a
+husband; but as a lover, I will not.�
+
+“Yet that is the way never to have him for a husband.�
+
+“As he pleases—for if he will not submit to be my lover, I will not
+submit to be his wife—nor has he the affection that I require in a
+husband.�
+
+Thus the old sentiments, repeated again and again, prevented a
+separation till towards morning.
+
+Miss Milner, for that night, dreamed less of her guardian than of the
+masquerade. On the evening of the next day it was to be—she was up
+early, breakfasted in her dressing room, and remained there most of the
+day, busied in a thousand preparations for the night; one of them was,
+to take every particle of powder out of her hair, and have it curled
+all over in falling ringlets. Her next care was, that her dress should
+exactly fit, and display her fine person to the best advantage—it did
+so. Miss Woodley entered as it was trying on, and was all astonishment
+at the elegance of the habit, and its beautiful effect upon her
+graceful person; but, most of all, she was astonished at her venturing
+on such a character—for though it represented the goddess of Chastity,
+yet from the buskins, and the petticoat festooned far above the ankle,
+it had, on a first glance, the appearance of a female much less
+virtuous. Miss Woodley admired this dress, yet objected to it; but as
+she admired first, her objections after had no weight.
+
+“Where is Lord Elmwood?� said Miss Milner—“he must not see me.�
+
+“No, for heaven’s sake,� cried Miss Woodley, “I would not have him see
+you in such a disguise for the universe.�
+
+“And yet,� returned the other, with a sigh, “why am I then thus pleased
+with my dress? for I had rather he should admire me than all the world
+besides, and yet he is not to see me in it.�
+
+“But he would not admire you so dressed,� said Miss Woodley.
+
+“How shall I contrive to avoid him,� said Miss Milner, “if in the
+evening he should offer to hand me into my carriage? But I believe he
+will not be in good humour enough for that.�
+
+“You had better dress at the house of the ladies with whom you go,�
+said Miss Woodley; and this was agreed upon.
+
+At dinner they learnt that Lord Elmwood was to go that evening to
+Windsor, in order to be in readiness for the king’s hunt early in the
+morning. This intelligence having dispersed Miss Milner’s fears, she
+concluded upon dressing at home.
+
+Lord Elmwood appeared at dinner, in an even, but not in a good temper;
+the subject of the masquerade was never brought up, nor indeed was it
+once in his thoughts; for though he was offended at his ward’s
+behaviour on the occasion, and considered that she committed a fault in
+telling him, “She would go,� yet he never suspected she meant to do so,
+not even at the time she said it, much less that she would persist,
+coolly and deliberately, in so direct a contradiction to his will. She,
+for her part, flattered herself, that his going to Windsor, was
+intended in order to give her an opportunity of passing the evening as
+she pleased, without his being obliged to know of it, and consequently
+to complain. Miss Woodley, who was willing to hope as she wished, began
+to be of the same opinion; and, without reluctance, dressed herself as
+a wood-nymph to accompany her friend.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+At half after eleven, Miss Milner’s chair, and another with Miss
+Woodley, took them from Lord Elmwood’s, to call upon the party
+(wood-nymphs and huntresses) who were to accompany them, and make up
+the suit of Diana.
+
+They had not left the house two minutes, when a thundering rap came at
+the door—it was Lord Elmwood in a post chaise. Upon some occasion the
+next day’s hunt was deferred: he had been made acquainted with it, and
+came from Windsor at that late hour. After he had informed Mrs. Horton
+and Mr. Sandford, who were sitting together, of the cause of his sudden
+return, and had supper ordered for him, he enquired, “What company had
+just left the house?�
+
+“We have been alone the whole evening, my Lord,� replied Mrs. Horton.
+
+“Nay,� returned he, “I saw two chairs, with several servants, come out
+of the door as I drove up, but what livery I could not discern.�
+
+“We have had no creature here,� repeated Mrs. Horton.
+
+“Nor has Miss Milner had visitors?� asked he.
+
+This brought Mrs. Horton to her recollection, and she cried, “Oh! now I
+know;�——and then checked herself, as if she knew too much.
+
+“What do you know, Madam?� said he, sharply.
+
+“Nothing,� said Mrs. Horton, “I know nothing—� and she lifted up her
+hands and shook her head.
+
+“So all people say, who know a great deal,� cried Sandford, “and I
+suspect that is at present your case.�
+
+“Then I know more than I wish, I am sure, Mr. Sandford,� returned she,
+shrugging up her shoulders.
+
+Lord Elmwood was all impatience.
+
+“Explain, Madam, explain.�
+
+“Dear my Lord,� said she, “if your Lordship will recollect, you may
+just have the same knowledge that I have.�
+
+“Recollect what?� said he sternly.
+
+“The quarrel you and your ward had about the masquerade.�
+
+“What of that? she is not gone there?� he cried.
+
+“I am not sure she is,� returned Mrs. Horton; “but if your Lordship saw
+two sedan chairs going out of this house, I cannot but suspect it must
+be Miss Milner and my niece going to the masquerade.�
+
+He made no answer, but rang the bell violently. A servant entered.
+“Send Miss Milner’s maid hither,� said he, “immediately.� The man
+withdrew.
+
+“Nay, my Lord,� cried Mrs. Horton, “any of the other servants could
+tell you just as well, whether Miss Milner is at home, or gone out.�
+
+“Perhaps not,� replied he.
+
+The maid entered.
+
+“Where is your mistress?� said Lord Elmwood.
+
+The woman had received no orders to conceal where the ladies were gone,
+and yet a secret influence which governs the thoughts of all
+waiting-women and chambermaids, whispered to her that she ought not to
+tell the truth.
+
+“Where is your mistress?� repeated he, in a louder voice than before.
+
+“Gone out, my Lord,� she replied.
+
+“Where?�
+
+“My Lady did not tell me.�
+
+“And don’t you know?�
+
+“No, my Lord:� she answered, and without blushing.
+
+“Is this the night of the masquerade?� said he.
+
+“I don’t know, my Lord, upon my word; but, I believe, my Lord, it is
+not.�
+
+Sandford, as soon as Lord Elmwood had asked the last question, ran
+hastily to the table, at the other side of the room, took something
+from it, and returned to his place again—and when the maid said, “It
+was not the night of the masquerade,� he exclaimed, “But it is, my
+Lord, it is—yes, it is,� and shewing a newspaper in his hand, pointed
+to the paragraph which contained the information.
+
+“Leave the room,� said Lord Elmwood to the woman, “I have done with
+you.� She withdrew.
+
+“Yes, yes, here it is,� repeated Sandford, with the paper in his
+hand.——He then read the paragraph: “‘_The masquerade at the honorable
+Mrs. G——’s this evening_’—This evening, my Lord, you find—‘_it is
+expected will be the most brilliant, of any thing of the kind for these
+many years past._’�
+
+“They should not put such things in the papers,� said Mrs. Horton, “to
+tempt young women to their ruin.� The word ruin grated upon Lord
+Elmwood’s ear, and he said to the servant who came to wait on him,
+while he supped, “Take the supper away.� He had not attempted either to
+eat, or even to sit down; and he now walked backwards and forwards in
+the room, lost in thought and care.
+
+A little time after, one of Miss Milner’s footmen came in upon some
+occasion, and Mr. Sandford said to him, “Pray did you attend your lady
+to the masquerade?�
+
+“Yes, Sir,� replied the man.
+
+Lord Elmwood stopped himself short in his walk, and said to the
+servant, “You did?�
+
+“Yes, my Lord,� replied he.
+
+He walked again.
+
+“I should like to know what she was dressed in,� said Mrs. Horton: and
+turning to the servant, “Do you know what your lady had on?�
+
+“Yes, Madam,� replied the man, “she was in men’s clothes.�
+
+“How!� cried Lord Elmwood.
+
+“You tell a story, to be sure,� said Mrs. Horton to the servant.
+
+“No,� cried Sandford, “I am sure he does not; for he is an honest good
+young man, and would not tell a lie upon any account—would you,
+George?�
+
+Lord Elmwood ordered Miss Milner’s woman to be again sent up. She came.
+
+“In what dress did your lady go to the masquerade?� asked he, and with
+a look so extremely morose, it seemed to command the answer in a single
+word, and that word to be truth.
+
+A mind, with a spark of sensibility more than this woman possessed,
+could not have equivocated with such an interrogator, but her reply
+was, “She went in her own dress, my Lord.�
+
+“Was it a man’s or a woman’s?� asked he, with a look of the same
+command.
+
+“Ha, ha, my Lord,� (half laughing and half crying) “a woman’s dress, to
+be sure, my Lord.�
+
+On which Sandford cried——
+
+“Call the footman up, and let him confront her.�
+
+He was called; but Lord Elmwood, now disgusted at the scene, withdrew
+to the further end of the room, and left Sandford to question them.
+
+With all the authority and consequence of a country magistrate,
+Sandford—his back to the fire, and the witnesses before him, began with
+the footman.
+
+“In what dress do you say, that you saw your lady, when you attended,
+and went along with her, to the masquerade?�
+
+“In men’s clothes,� replied the man, boldly and firmly as before.
+
+“Bless my soul, George, how can you say such a thing?� cried the woman.
+
+“What dress do _you_ say she went in?� cried Sandford to her.
+
+“In women’s clothes, indeed, Sir.�
+
+“This is very odd!� said Mrs. Horton.
+
+“Had she on, or had she not on, a coat?� asked Sandford.
+
+“Yes, Sir, a petticoat,� replied the woman.
+
+“Do _you_ say she had on a petticoat?� said Sandford to the man.
+
+“I can’t answer exactly for that,� replied he, “but I know she had
+boots on.�
+
+“They were not boots,� replied the maid with vehemence—“indeed, Sir,
+(turning to Sandford) they were only half boots.�
+
+“My girl,� said Sandford kindly to her, “your own evidence convicts
+your mistress—What has a woman to do with _any_ boots?�
+
+Impatient at this mummery, Lord Elmwood rose, ordered the servants out
+of the room, and then, looking at his watch, found it was near one. “At
+what hour am I to expect her home?� said he.
+
+“Perhaps not till three in the morning,� answered Mrs. Horton.
+
+“Three! more likely six,� cried Sandford.
+
+“I can’t wait with patience till that time,� answered Lord Elmwood,
+with a most anxious sigh.
+
+“You had better go to bed, my Lord,� said Mrs. Horton; “and, by
+sleeping, the time will pass away unperceived.�
+
+“If I _could_ sleep, Madam.�
+
+“Will you play a game of cards, my Lord?� said Sandford, “for I will
+not leave you till she comes home; and though I am not used to sit up
+all night——�
+
+“All night!� repeated Lord Elmwood; “she dares not stay all night.�
+
+“And yet, after going,� said Sandford, “in defiance to your commands, I
+should suppose she dared.�
+
+“She is in good company, at least, my Lord,� said Mrs. Horton.
+
+“She does not know herself what company she is in,� replied he.
+
+“How should she,� cried Sandford, “where every one hides his face?�
+
+Till five o’clock in the morning, in conversation such as this, the
+hours passed away. Mrs. Horton, indeed, retired to her chamber at two,
+and left the gentlemen to a more serious discourse; but a discourse
+still less advantageous to poor Miss Milner.
+
+She, during this time, was at the scene of pleasure she had painted to
+herself, and all the pleasure it gave her was, that she was sure she
+should never desire to go to a masquerade again. Its crowd and bustle
+fatigued her—its freedom offended her delicacy—and though she perceived
+that she was the first object of admiration in the place, yet there was
+one person still wanting to admire; and the remorse at having
+transgressed his injunctions for so trivial an entertainment, weighed
+upon her spirits, and added to its weariness. She would have come away
+sooner than she did, but she could not, with any degree of good
+manners, leave the company with whom she went; and not till half after
+four, were they prevailed on to return.
+
+Daylight just peeped through the shutters of the room in which Lord
+Elmwood and Sandford were sitting, when the sound of her carriage, and
+the sudden stop it made at the door, caused Lord Elmwood to start from
+his chair. He trembled extremely, and looked pale. Sandford was ashamed
+to seem to notice it, yet he could not help asking him, “To take a
+glass of wine.� He took it—and for once, evinced he was reduced so low,
+as to be _glad_ of such a resource.
+
+What passion thus agitated Lord Elmwood at this crisis, it is hard to
+define—perhaps it was indignation at Miss Milner’s imprudence, and
+exultation at being on the point of revenge—perhaps it was emotion
+arising from joy, to find that she was safe—perhaps it was perturbation
+at the regret he felt that he must upbraid her—perhaps it was not one
+alone of these sensations, but all of them combined.
+
+She, wearied out with the tedious night’s dissipation, and far less
+joyous than melancholy, had fallen asleep as she rode home, and came
+half asleep out of her carriage. “Light me to my bed-chamber
+instantly,� said she to her maid, who waited in the hall to receive
+her. But one of Lord Elmwood’s valets went up to her, and answered,
+“Madam, my Lord desires to see you before you retire.�
+
+“Your Lord!� she cried, “Is he not out of town?�
+
+“No, Madam, my Lord has been at home ever since you went out; and has
+been sitting up with Mr. Sandford, waiting for you.�
+
+She was wide awake immediately. The heaviness was removed from her
+eyes, but fear, grief, and shame, seized upon her heart. She leaned
+against her maid, as if unable to support herself under those feelings,
+and said to Miss Woodley,
+
+“Make my excuse—I cannot see him to-night—I am unfit—indeed I cannot.�
+
+Miss Woodley was alarmed at the idea of going to him by herself, and
+thus, perhaps, irritating him still more: she, therefore, said, “He has
+sent for _you_; for heaven’s sake, do not disobey him a second time.�
+
+“No, dear Madam, don’t,� cried her woman, “for he is like a lion—he has
+been scolding me.�
+
+“Good God!� (exclaimed Miss Milner, and in a tone that seemed
+prophetic) “Then he is not to be my husband, after all.�
+
+“Yes,� cried Miss Woodley, “if you will only be humble, and appear
+sorry. You know your power over him, and all may yet be well.�
+
+She turned her speaking eyes upon her friend, the tears starting from
+them, her lips trembling—“Do I not appear sorry?� she cried.
+
+The bell at that moment rang furiously, and they hastened their steps
+to the door of the apartment where Lord Elmwood was.
+
+“No, this shuddering is only fright,� replied Miss Woodley—“Say to him
+you are sorry, and beg his pardon.�
+
+“I cannot,� said she, “if Mr. Sandford is with him.�
+
+The servant opened the door, and she and Miss Woodley went in. Lord
+Elmwood, by this time, was composed, and received her with a slight
+inclination of his head—she bowed to him in return, and said, with some
+marks of humility,
+
+“I suppose, my Lord, I have done wrong.�
+
+“You have indeed, Miss Milner,� answered he; “but do not suppose, that
+I mean to upbraid you: I am, on the contrary, going to release you from
+any such apprehension _for the future_.�
+
+Those last three words he delivered with a countenance so serious and
+so determined, with an accent so firm and so decided, they pierced
+through her heart. Yet she did not weep, or even sigh; but her friend,
+knowing what she felt, exclaimed, “Oh?� as if for her.
+
+She herself strove with her anguish, and replied, (but with a faltering
+voice) “I expected as much, my Lord.�
+
+“Then, Madam, you perhaps expect _all_ that I intend?�
+
+“In regard to myself,� she replied, “I suppose I do.�
+
+“Then,� said he, “you may expect that in a few days we shall part.�
+
+“I am prepared for it, my Lord,� she answered, and, while she said so,
+sunk upon a chair.
+
+“My Lord, what you have to say farther,� said Miss Woodley, in tears,
+“defer till the morning—Miss Milner, you see, is not able to bear it
+now.�
+
+“I have nothing to _say_ further,� replied he coolly—“I have now only
+to act.�
+
+“Lord Elmwood,� cried Miss Milner, divided between grief and anger,
+“you think to terrify me by your menaces—but I can part with you—heaven
+knows I can—your late behaviour has reconciled me to a separation.�
+
+On this he was going out of the room—but Miss Woodley, catching hold of
+him, cried, “Oh! my Lord, do not leave her in this sorrow—pity her
+weakness, and forgive it.� She was proceeding; and he seemed as if
+inclined to listen, when Sandford called out in a tone of voice so
+harsh,
+
+“Miss Woodley, what do you mean?�—She gave a start, and desisted.
+
+Lord Elmwood then turned to Sandford, and said, “Nay, Mr. Sandford, you
+need entertain no doubts of me—I have judged, and have deter——�
+
+He was going to say _determined_; but Miss Milner, who dreaded the
+word, interrupted the period, and exclaimed, “Oh! could my poor father
+know the days of sorrow I have experienced since his death, how would
+he repent his fatal choice of a protector!�
+
+This sentence, in which his friend’s memory was recalled, with an
+additional allusion to her long and secret love for him, affected Lord
+Elmwood much—he was moved, but ashamed of being so, and as soon as
+possible conquered the propensity to forgive. Yet, for a short
+interval, he did not know whether to go out of the room, or to remain
+in it; whether to speak, or to be silent. At length he turned towards
+her, and said,
+
+“Appeal to your father in some other form—in that (pointing at her
+dress) he will not know you. Reflect upon him, too, in your moments of
+dissipation, and let his idea controul your indiscretions—not merely in
+an hour of contradiction call peevishly upon his name, only to wound
+the dearest friend you have.�
+
+There was a degree of truth, and a degree of passionate feeling, in the
+conclusion of this speech, that alarmed Sandford—he caught up one of
+the candles, and, laying hold of his friend’s elbow, drew him out of
+the room, crying, “Come, my Lord, come to your bed-chamber—it is very
+late—it is morning—it is time to rise.� And by a continual repetition
+of these words, in a very loud voice, drowned whatever Lord Elmwood, or
+any other person might have wished either to have said or to have
+heard.
+
+In this manner, Lord Elmwood was forced out of the apartment, and the
+evening’s entertainment concluded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Two whole days passed in the bitterest suspense on the part of Miss
+Milner, while neither one word or look from Lord Elmwood, denoted the
+most trivial change of the sentiments he had declared, on the night of
+the masquerade. Still those sentiments, or intentions, were not
+explicitly delivered; they were more like intimations, than solemn
+declarations—for though he had said, “He would never reproach her _for
+the future_,� and that “She might expect they should part,� he had not
+positively said they should; and upon this doubtful meaning of his
+words, she hung with the strongest agitation of hope and of fear.
+
+Miss Woodley seeing the distress of her mind, (much as she endeavoured
+to conceal it) entreated, nay implored of her, to permit her to be a
+mediator; to suffer her to ask for a private interview with Lord
+Elmwood, and if she found him inflexible, to behave with a proper
+spirit in return; but if he appeared not absolutely averse to a
+reconciliation, to offer it in so cautious a manner, that it might take
+place without farther uneasiness on either side. But Miss Milner
+peremptorily forbade this, and acknowledging to her friend every
+weakness she felt on the occasion, yet concluded with solemnly
+declaring, “That after what had passed between her and Lord Elmwood,
+_he_ must be the first to make a concession, before she herself would
+condescend to be reconciled.�
+
+“I believe I know Lord Elmwood’s temper,� replied Miss Woodley, “and I
+do not think he will be easily induced to beg pardon for a fault which
+he thinks _you_ have committed.�
+
+“Then he does not love me.�
+
+“Pshaw! Miss Milner, this is the old argument. He may love you too well
+to spoil you—consider that he is your guardian as well as your lover,
+he means also to become your husband; and he is a man of such nice
+honour, that he will not indulge you with any power before marriage, to
+which he does not intend to submit hereafter.�
+
+“But tenderness, affection, the politeness due from a lover to his
+mistress demands his submission; and as I now despair of enticing, I
+will oblige him to it—at least I’ll make the trial, and know my fate at
+once.�
+
+“What do you mean to do?�
+
+“Invite Lord Frederick to the house, and ask my guardian’s consent for
+our immediate union; you will then see, what effect that will have upon
+his pride.�
+
+“But you will then make it too late for him to be humble. If you
+resolve on this, my dear Miss Milner, you are undone at once—you may
+thus hurry yourself into a marriage with a man you do not love, and the
+misery of your whole future life may be the result. Or, would you force
+Mr. Dorriforth (I mean Lord Elmwood) to another duel with my Lord
+Frederick?�
+
+“No, call him Dorriforth,� answered she, with the tears stealing from
+her eyes; “I thank you for calling him so; for by that name alone, is
+he dear to me.�
+
+“Nay, Miss Milner, with what rapture did you not receive his love, as
+Lord Elmwood!�
+
+“But under this title he has been barbarous; under the first, he was
+all friendship and tenderness.�
+
+Notwithstanding Miss Milner indulged herself in all these soft
+bewailings to her friend—before Lord Elmwood she maintained a degree of
+pride and steadiness, which surprised even him, who perhaps thought
+less of her love for him, than any other person. She now began to fear
+she had gone too far in discovering her affection, and resolved to make
+trial of a contrary method. She determined to retrieve that haughty
+character which had inspired so many of her admirers with passion, and
+take the chance of its effect upon this only one, to whom she ever
+acknowledged a mutual attachment. But although she acted this character
+well—so well, that every one but Miss Woodley thought her in
+earnest—yet, with nice and attentive anxiety, she watched even the
+slightest circumstances that might revive her hopes, or confirm her
+despair. Lord Elmwood’s behaviour was calculated only to produce the
+latter—he was cold, polite, and perfectly indifferent. Yet, whatever
+his manners now were, they did not remove from her recollection what
+they had been—she recalled, with delight, the ardour with which he had
+first declared his passion to her, and the thousand proofs he had since
+given of its reality. From the constancy of his disposition, she
+depended that sentiments like these were not totally eradicated; and
+from the extreme desire which Mr. Sandford now, more than ever,
+discovered of depreciating her in his patron’s esteem—from the now,
+more than common zeal, which urged him to take Lord Elmwood from her
+company, whenever he had it in his power, she was led to believe, that
+while his friend entertained such strong fears of his relapsing into
+love, she had reason to indulge the strongest hopes that he would.
+
+But the reserve, and even indifference, that she had so well assumed
+for a few days, and which might perhaps have effected her design, she
+had not the patience to persevere in, without calling levity to their
+aid. She visited repeatedly without saying where, or with whom—kept
+later hours than usual—appeared in the highest spirits—sung, laughed,
+and never heaved a sigh—but when she was alone.
+
+Still Lord Elmwood protracted a resolution, that he was determined he
+would never break when taken.
+
+Miss Woodley was excessively uneasy, and with cause; she saw her friend
+was providing herself with a weight of cares, that she would soon find
+infinitely too much for her strength to bear—she would have reasoned
+with her, but all her arguments had long since proved unavailing. She
+wished to speak to Lord Elmwood upon the subject, and (unknown to her)
+plead her excuse; but he apprehended Miss Woodley’s intention, and
+evidently shunned her. Mr. Sandford was now the only person to whom she
+could speak of Miss Milner, and the delight he took to expatiate on her
+faults, was more sorrow to her friend, than not to speak of her at all.
+She, therefore, sat a silent spectator, waiting with dread for the time
+when she, who now scorned her advice, would fly to her in vain for
+comfort.
+
+Sandford had, however, said one thing to Miss Woodley, which gave her a
+ray of hope. During their conversation on the subject, (not by way of
+consolation to her, but as a reproach to Lord Elmwood) he one day
+angrily exclaimed, “And yet, notwithstanding all this provocation, he
+has not come to the determination that he will think no more of her—he
+lingers and he hesitates—I never saw him so weak upon any occasion
+before.�
+
+This was joyful hearing to Miss Woodley; still, she could not but
+reflect, the longer he was in coming to this determination, the more
+irrevocable it would be, when once taken; and every moment that passed,
+she trembled lest it should be the very moment, in which Lord Elmwood
+should resolve to banish Miss Milner from his heart.
+
+Amongst her unpardonable indiscretions, during this trial upon the
+temper of her guardian, was the frequent mention of many gentlemen, who
+had been her professed admirers, and the mention of them with
+partiality. Teased, if not tortured, by this, Lord Elmwood still
+behaved with a manly evenness of temper, and neither appeared provoked
+on the subject, nor insolently careless. In a single instance, however,
+this calmness was near deserting him.
+
+Entering the drawing-room, one evening, he started, on seeing Lord
+Frederick Lawnly there, in earnest conversation with Miss Milner.
+
+Mrs. Horton and Miss Woodley were both indeed present, and Lord
+Frederick was talking in an audible voice, upon some indifferent
+subjects; but with that impressive manner, in which a man never fails
+to speak to the woman he loves, be the subject what it may. The moment
+Lord Elmwood started, which was the moment he entered, Lord Frederick
+arose.
+
+“I beg your pardon, my Lord,� said Lord Elmwood, “I protest I did not
+know you.�
+
+“I ought to entreat your Lordship’s pardon,� returned Lord Frederick,
+“for this intrusion, which an accident alone has occasioned. Miss
+Milner has been almost overturned by the carelessness of a lady’s
+coachman, in whose carriage she was, and therefore suffered me to bring
+her home in mine.�
+
+“I hope you are not hurt,� said Lord Elmwood to Miss Milner, but his
+voice was so much affected by what he felt that he could scarce
+articulate the words. Not with the apprehension that she was hurt, was
+he thus agitated, for the gaiety of her manners convinced him _that_
+could not be the case, nor did he indeed suppose any accident, of the
+kind mentioned, had occurred; but the circumstance of unexpectedly
+seeing Lord Frederick had taken him off his guard, and being totally
+unprepared, he could not conceal indications of the surprise, and of
+the shock it had given him.
+
+Lord Frederick, who had heard nothing of his intended union with his
+ward, (for it was even kept a secret, at present, from every servant in
+the house) imputed this discomposure to the personal resentment he
+might bear him, in consequence of their duel; for though Lord Elmwood
+had assured the uncle of Lord Frederick, (who once waited upon him on
+the subject of Miss Milner) that all resentment was, on his part,
+entirely at an end; and that he was willing to consent to his ward’s
+marriage with his nephew, if she would concur; yet Lord Frederick
+doubted the sincerity of this, and would still have had the delicacy
+not to have entered Lord Elmwood’s house, had he not been encouraged by
+Miss Milner, and emboldened by his love. Personal resentment was
+therefore the construction he put upon Lord Elmwood’s emotion on
+entering the room; but Miss Milner and Miss Woodley knew his agitation
+to arise from a far different cause.
+
+After his entrance, Lord Frederick did not attempt once to resume his
+seat, but having bowed most respectfully to all present, he took his
+leave; while Miss Milner followed him as far as the door, and repeated
+her thanks for his protection.
+
+Lord Elmwood was hurt beyond measure; but he had a second concern,
+which was, that he had not the power to conceal how much he was
+affected. He trembled—when he attempted to speak, he stammered—he
+perceived his face burning with confusion, and thus one confusion gave
+birth to another, till his state was pitiable.
+
+Miss Milner, with all her assumed gaiety and real insolence, had not,
+however, the insolence to seem as if she observed him; she had only the
+confidence to observe him by stealth. And Mrs. Horton and Miss Woodley,
+having opportunely begun a discourse upon some trivial occurrences,
+gave him time to recover himself by degrees—yet, still it was merely by
+degrees; for the impression which this incident had made, was deep, and
+not easily to be erased. The entrance of Mr. Sandford, who knew nothing
+of what had happened, was however, another relief; for he began a
+conversation with him, which they very soon retired into the library to
+terminate. Miss Milner, taking Miss Woodley with her, went directly to
+her own apartment, and there exclaimed in rapture,
+
+“He is mine—he loves me—and he is mine for ever.�
+
+Miss Woodley congratulated her upon believing so, but confessed she
+herself “Had her fears.�
+
+“What fears?� cried Miss Milner: “don’t you perceive that he loves me?�
+
+“I do,� said Miss Woodley, “but that I always believed; and, I think,
+if he loves you now, he has yet the good sense to know that he has
+reason to hate you.�
+
+“What has good sense to do with love?� returned Miss Milner—“If a lover
+of mine suffers his understanding to get the better of his affection—�
+
+The same arguments were going to be repeated; but Miss Woodley
+interrupted her, by requiring an explanation of her conduct as to Lord
+Frederick, whom, at least, she was treating with cruelty, if she only
+made use of his affection to stimulate that of Lord Elmwood.
+
+“By no means, my dear Miss Woodley,� returned she—“I have, indeed, done
+with my Lord Frederick from this day; and he has certainly given me the
+proof I wanted of Lord Elmwood’s love; but then I did not engage him to
+this by the smallest ray of hope. No; do not suspect me of that, while
+my heart was another’s: and I assure you, seriously, that it was from
+the circumstance we described he came with me home—yet, I must own,
+that if I had not had this design upon Lord Elmwood’s jealousy in idea,
+I would have walked on foot through the streets, rather than have
+suffered his rival’s civilities. But he pressed his services so
+violently, and my Lady Evans (in whose coach I was when the accident
+happened) pressed me so violently to accept them, that he cannot expect
+any farther meaning from this acquiescence than my own convenience.�
+
+Miss Woodley was going to reply, when she resumed,
+
+“Nay, if you intend to say I have done wrong, still I am not sorry for
+it, when it has given me such convincing proofs of Lord Elmwood’s love.
+Did you see him? I am afraid you did not see how he trembled? and that
+manly voice faltered, as mine does sometimes—his proud heart was
+humbled too, as mine is now and then. Oh! Miss Woodley, I have been
+counterfeiting indifference to _him_—I now find that all _his_
+indifference to _me_ has been counterfeit, and that we not only love,
+but love equally.�
+
+“Suppose this all as you hope—I yet think it highly necessary that your
+guardian should be informed, seriously informed, it was mere accident
+(for, at present, that plea seems but as a subterfuge) which brought
+Lord Frederick hither.�
+
+“No, that will be destroying the work so successfully begun. I will not
+suffer any explanation to take place, but let my Lord Elmwood act just
+as his love shall dictate; and now I have no longer a doubt of its
+excess, instead of stooping to him, I wait in the certain expectation
+of his submission to me.�
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+In vain, for three long days, did Miss Milner wait impatiently for this
+submission; not a sign, not a symptom appeared—nay, Lord Elmwood had,
+since the evening of Lord Frederick’s visit, (which, at the time it
+happened, seemed to affect him so exceedingly) become just the same man
+he was before the circumstance occurred; except, indeed, that he was
+less thoughtful, and now and then cheerful; but without any appearance
+that his cheerfulness was affected. Miss Milner was vext—she was
+alarmed—but was ashamed to confess those humiliating sensations, even
+to Miss Woodley—she supported, therefore, when in company, the vivacity
+she had so long assumed; but gave way, when alone, to a still greater
+degree of melancholy than usual. She no longer applauded her scheme of
+bringing Lord Frederick to the house, and trembled, lest, on some
+pretence, he should dare to call again. But as these were feelings
+which her pride would not suffer her to disclose even to her friend,
+who would have condoled with her, their effects were doubly poignant.
+
+Sitting in her dressing-room one forenoon with Miss Woodley, and
+burthened with a load of grief that she blushed to acknowledge, while
+her companion was charged with apprehensions that she too was loath to
+disclose, one of Lord Elmwood’s valets tapped gently at the door, and
+delivered a letter to Miss Milner. By the person who brought it, as
+well as by the address, she knew it came from Lord Elmwood, and laid it
+down upon her toilet, as if she was fearful to unfold it.
+
+“What is that?� said Miss Woodley.
+
+“A letter from Lord Elmwood,� replied Miss Milner.
+
+“Good Heaven!� exclaimed Miss Woodley.
+
+“Nay,� returned she, “it is, I have no doubt, a letter to beg my
+pardon.� But her reluctance to open it plainly evinced she did not
+think so.
+
+“Do not read it yet,� said Miss Woodley.
+
+“I do not intend it,� replied she, trembling extremely.
+
+“Will you dine first?� said Miss Woodley.
+
+“No—for not knowing its contents, I shall not know how to conduct
+myself towards him.�
+
+Here a silence followed. Miss Milner took up the letter—looked
+earnestly at the handwriting on the outside—at the seal—inspected into
+its folds—and seemed to wish, by some equivocal method, to guess at the
+contents, without having the courage to come at the certain knowledge
+of them.
+
+Curiosity, at length, got the better of her fears—she opened the
+letter, and, scarce able to hold it while she read, she read the
+following words:—
+
+“Madam,
+
+“While I considered you only as my ward, my friendship for you was
+unbounded—when I looked upon you as a woman formed to grace a
+fashionable circle, my admiration equalled my friendship—and when fate
+permitted me to behold you in the tender light of my betrothed wife, my
+soaring love left those humbler passions at a distance.
+
+“That you have still my friendship, my admiration, and even my love, I
+will not attempt to deceive either myself or you by disavowing; but
+still, with a firm assurance, I declare, that prudence outweighs them
+all; and I have not, from henceforward, a wish to be regarded by you,
+in any other respect than as one ‘who wishes you well.’ That you ever
+beheld me in the endearing quality of a destined and an affectionate
+husband, (such as I would have proved) was a deception upon my hopes:
+they acknowledge the mistake, and are humbled—but I entreat you to
+spare their farther trial, and for a single week do not insult me with
+the open preference of another. In the short space of that period I
+shall have taken my leave of you—_for ever_.
+
+“I shall visit Italy, and some other parts of the Continent; from
+whence I propose passing to the West Indies, in order to inspect my
+possessions there: nor shall I return to England till after a few
+years’ absence; in which time I hope to become once more reconciled to
+the change of state I am enjoined—a change I now most fervently wish
+could be entirely dispensed with.
+
+“The occasion of my remaining here a week longer, is to settle some
+necessary affairs, among which the principal is, that of delivering to
+a friend, a man of worth and of tenderness, all those writings which
+have invested me with the power of my guardianship—he will, the day
+after my departure, (without one upbraiding word) resign them to you in
+my name; and even your most respected father, could he behold the
+resignation, would concur in its propriety.
+
+“And now, my dear Miss Milner, let not affected resentment, contempt,
+or levity, oppose that serenity, which, for the week to come, I wish to
+enjoy. By complying with this request, give me to believe, that, since
+you have been under my care, you think I have, at least, faithfully
+discharged some part of my duty. And wherever I have been inadequate to
+your wishes, attribute my demerits to some infirmity of mind, rather
+than to a negligence of your happiness. Yet, be the cause what it will,
+since these faults have existed, I do not attempt to disavow or
+extenuate them, and I beg your pardon.
+
+“However time, and a succession of objects, may eradicate more tender
+sentiments, I am sure _never_ to lose the liveliest anxiety for your
+welfare—and with all that solicitude, which cannot be described, I
+entreat for your own sake, for mine—when we shall be far asunder—and
+for the sake of your dead father’s memory, that, _upon every important
+occasion, you will call your serious judgment to direct you_.
+
+“I am, Madam,
+
+“Your sincerest friend,
+
+“Elmwood.�
+
+After she had read every syllable of this letter, it dropped from her
+hands; but she uttered not a word. There was, however, a paleness in
+her face, a deadness in her eye, and a kind of palsy over her frame,
+which Miss Woodley, who had seen her in every stage of her uneasiness,
+never had seen before.
+
+“I do not want to read the letter,� said Miss Woodley; “your looks tell
+me its contents.�
+
+“They will then discover to Lord Elmwood,� replied she, “what I feel;
+but Heaven forbid—that would sink me even lower than I am.�
+
+Scarce able to move, she rose, and looked in her glass, as if to
+arrange her features, and impose upon him: alas! it was of no avail—a
+serenity of mind could alone effect what she desired.
+
+“You must endeavour,� said Miss Woodley, “to feel the disposition you
+wish to make appear.�
+
+“I will,� replied she, “I will feel a proper pride—and a proper scorn
+of this treatment.�
+
+And so desirous was she to attain the appearance of these sentiments,
+that she made the strongest efforts to calm her thoughts, in order to
+acquire it.
+
+“I have but a few days to remain with him,� she said to herself, “and
+we part for ever—during those few days it is not only my duty to obey
+his commands, or rather comply with his request, but it is also my wish
+to leave upon his mind an impression, which may not add to the ill
+opinion he has formed of me, but, perhaps, serve to diminish it. If, in
+every other instance, my conduct has been blameable, he shall, at least
+in this, acknowledge its merit. The fate I have drawn upon myself, he
+shall find I can be resigned to; and he shall be convinced, that the
+woman, of whose weakness he has had so many fatal proofs, is yet in
+possession of some fortitude—fortitude, to bid him farewell, without
+discovering one affected or one real pang, though her death should be
+the immediate consequence.�
+
+Thus she resolved, and thus she acted. The severest judge could not
+have arraigned her conduct, from the day she received Lord Elmwood’s
+letter, to the day of his departure. She had, indeed, involuntary
+weaknesses, but none with which she did not struggle, and, in general,
+her struggles were victorious.
+
+The first time she saw him after the receipt of his letter, was on the
+evening of the same day—she had a little concert of amateurs of music,
+and was herself singing and playing when he entered the room: the
+connoisseurs immediately perceived she made a false cadence—but Lord
+Elmwood was no connoisseur in the art, and he did not observe it.
+
+They occasionally spoke to each other through the evening, but the
+subjects were general—and though their manners every time they spoke,
+were perfectly polite, they were not marked with the smallest degree of
+familiarity. To describe his behaviour exactly, it was the same as his
+letter, polite, friendly, composed, and resolved. Some of the company
+staid supper, which prevented the embarrassment that must unavoidably
+have arisen, had the family been by themselves.
+
+The next morning each breakfasted in his separate apartments—more
+company dined with them—in the evening, and at supper, Lord Elmwood was
+from home.
+
+Thus, all passed on as peaceably as he had requested, and Miss Milner
+had not betrayed one particle of frailty; when, the third day at
+dinner, some gentlemen of his acquaintance being at table, one of them
+said,
+
+“And so, my Lord, you absolutely set off on Tuesday morning?�
+
+This was Friday.
+
+Sandford and he both replied at the same time, “Yes.� And Sandford, but
+not Lord Elmwood, looked at Miss Milner when he spoke. Her knife and
+fork gave a sudden spring in her hand, but no other emotion witnessed
+what she felt.
+
+“Aye, Elmwood,� cried another gentleman at table, “you’ll bring home, I
+am afraid, a foreign wife, and that I shan’t forgive.�
+
+“It is his errand abroad, I make no doubt,� said another visitor.
+
+Before he could return an answer, Sandford cried, “And what objection
+to a foreigner for a wife? do not crowned heads all marry foreigners?
+and who happier in the married state than some kings?�
+
+Lord Elmwood directed his eyes to the side of the table, opposite to
+that where Miss Milner sat.
+
+“Nay,� (answered one of the guests, who was a country gentleman) “what
+do you say, ladies—do you think my Lord ought to go out of his own
+nation for a wife?� and he looked at Miss Milner for the reply.
+
+Miss Woodley, uneasy at her friend’s being thus forced to give an
+opinion upon so delicate a subject, endeavoured to satisfy the
+gentleman, by answering to the question herself: “Whoever my Lord
+Elmwood marries, Sir,� said Miss Woodley, “he, no doubt, will be
+happy.�
+
+“But what say you, Madam?� asked the visitor, still keeping his eyes on
+Miss Milner.
+
+“That whoever Lord Elmwood marries, he _deserves_ to be happy:�
+returned she, with the utmost command of her voice and looks; for Miss
+Woodley, by replying first, had given her time to collect herself.
+
+The colour flew to Lord Elmwood’s face, as she delivered this short
+sentence; and Miss Woodley persuaded herself, she saw a tear start in
+his eye.
+
+Miss Milner did not look that way.
+
+In an instant he found means to change the subject, but that of his
+journey still employed the conversation; and what horses, servants, and
+carriages he took with him, was minutely asked, and so accurately
+answered, either by himself or by Mr. Sandford, that Miss Milner,
+although she had known her doom before, till now had received no
+circumstantial account of it—and as circumstances increase or diminish
+all we feel, the hearing these things told, increased the bitterness of
+their truth.
+
+Soon after dinner the ladies retired; and from that time, though Miss
+Milner’s behaviour continued the same, yet her looks and her voice were
+totally altered—for the world, she could not have looked cheerfully;
+for the world, she could not have spoken with a sprightly accent; she
+frequently began in one, but not three words could she utter, before
+her tones sunk into dejection. Not only her colour, but her features
+became changed; her eyes lost their brilliancy, her lips seemed to hang
+without the power of motion, her head drooped, and her dress was
+neglected. Conscious of this appearance, and conscious of the cause
+from whence it arose, it was her desire to hide herself from the only
+object she could have wished to have charmed. Accordingly, she sat
+alone, or with Miss Woodley in her own apartment as much as was
+consistent with that civility which her guardian had requested, and
+which forbade her totally absenting herself.
+
+Miss Woodley felt so acutely the torments of her friend, that had not
+her reason told her, that the inflexible mind of Lord Elmwood, was
+fixed beyond her power to shake, she had cast herself at his feet, and
+implored the return of his affection and tenderness, as the only means
+to save his once-beloved ward from an untimely death. But her
+understanding—her knowledge of his firm and immoveable temper; and of
+all his provocations—her knowledge of his word, long since given to
+Sandford, “That if once resolved, he would not recall his
+resolution�—the certainty of the various plans arranged for his
+travels, all convinced her, that by any interference, she would only
+expose Miss Milner’s love and delicacy, to a contemptuous rejection.
+
+If the conversation did not every day turn upon the subject of Lord
+Elmwood’s departure—a conversation he evidently avoided himself—yet,
+every day, some new preparation for his journey, struck either the ear
+or the eye of Miss Milner—and had she beheld a frightful spectre, she
+could not have shuddered with more horror, than when she unexpectedly
+passed his large trunks in the hall, nailed and corded, ready to be
+sent off to meet him at Venice. At the sight, she flew from the company
+that chanced to be with her, and stole to the first lonely corner of
+the house to conceal her tears—she reclined her head upon her hands,
+and bedewed them with the sudden anguish, that had overcome her. She
+heard a footstep advancing towards the spot where she hoped to have
+been concealed; she lifted up her eyes, and saw Lord Elmwood. Pride,
+was the first emotion his presence inspired—pride, which arose from the
+humility into which she was plunged.
+
+She looked at him earnestly, as if to imply, “What now, my Lord?�
+
+He only answered with a bow, which expressed; “I beg your pardon.� And
+immediately withdrew.
+
+Thus each understood the other’s language, without either having
+uttered a word.
+
+The just construction she put upon his looks and behaviour upon this
+occasion, kept up her spirits for some little time; and she blessed
+heaven, repeatedly, for the singular favour of shewing to her, clearly,
+by this accident, his negligence of her sorrows, his total
+indifference.
+
+The next day was the eve of that on which he was to depart—of the day
+on which she was to bid adieu to Dorriforth, to her guardian, to Lord
+Elmwood; to all her hopes at once.
+
+The moment she awoke on Monday morning, the recollection, that this
+was, perhaps, the last day she was ever again to see him, softened all
+the resentment his yesterday’s conduct had raised: forgetting his
+austerity, and all she had once termed cruelties, she now only
+remembered his friendship, his tenderness, and his love. She was
+impatient to see him, and promised herself, for this last day, to
+neglect no one opportunity of being with him. For that purpose she did
+not breakfast in her own room, as she had done for several mornings
+before, but went into the breakfast-room, where all the family in
+general met. She was rejoiced on hearing his voice as she opened the
+door, yet the sound made her tremble so much, that she could scarcely
+totter to the table.
+
+Miss Woodley looked at her as she entered, and was never so shocked at
+seeing her; for never had she yet seen her look so ill. As she
+approached, she made an inclination of her head to Mrs. Horton, then to
+her guardian, as was her custom, when she first saw them in a
+morning—he looked in her face as he bowed in return, then fixed his
+eyes upon the fire-place, rubbed his forehead, and began talking with
+Mr. Sandford.
+
+Sandford, during breakfast, by accident cast a glance upon Miss Milner;
+his attention was caught by her deadly countenance, and he looked
+earnestly. He then turned to Lord Elmwood to see if he was observing
+her appearance—he was not—and so much were her thoughts engaged on him
+alone, that she did not once perceive Sandford gazing at her.
+
+Mrs. Horton, after a little while observed, “It was a beautiful
+morning.�
+
+Lord Elmwood said, “He thought he heard it rain in the night.�
+
+Sandford cried, “For his part he slept too well to know.� And then
+(unasked) held a plate with biscuits to Miss Milner—it was the first
+civility he had ever in his life offered her; she smiled at the
+whimsicality of the circumstance, but she took one in return for his
+attention. He looked grave beyond his usual gravity, and yet not with
+his usual ill temper. She did not eat what she had so politely taken,
+but laid it down soon after.
+
+Lord Elmwood was the first who rose from breakfast, and he did not
+return to dinner.
+
+At dinner, Mrs. Horton said, “She hoped he would, however, favour them
+with his company at supper.�
+
+To which Sandford replied, “No doubt, for you will hardly any of you
+see him in the morning; as we shall be off by six, or soon after.�
+
+Sandford was not going abroad with Lord Elmwood, but was to go with him
+as far as Dover.
+
+These words of his—“_Not see Lord Elmwood in the morning_�—[never again
+to see him after this evening,] were like the knell of death to Miss
+Milner. She felt the symptoms of fainting, and eagerly snatched a glass
+of water, which the servant was holding to Sandford, who had called for
+it, and drank it off;—as she returned the glass to the servant, she
+began to apologize to Mr. Sandford for her seeming rudeness, but before
+she could utter what she intended, he said, good-naturedly, “Never
+mind—you are very welcome—I am glad you took it.� She looked at him to
+observe, whether he had really spoken kindly, or ironically; but before
+his countenance could satisfy her, her thoughts were called away from
+that trivial matter, and again fixed upon Lord Elmwood.
+
+The moments seemed tedious till he came home to supper, and yet, when
+she reflected how short the remainder of the evening would be after
+that time, she wished to defer the hour of his return for months. At
+ten o’clock he arrived; and at half after ten the family, without any
+visitor, met at supper.
+
+Miss Milner had considered, that the period for her to counterfeit
+appearances, was diminished now to a most contracted one; and she
+rigorously enjoined herself not to shrink from the little which
+remained. The certain end, that would be so soon put to this painful
+deception, encouraged her to struggle through it with redoubled zeal;
+and this was but necessary, as her weakness increased. She therefore
+listened, she talked, and even smiled with the rest of the company, nor
+did _their_ vivacity seem to arise, from a much less compulsive source
+than her own.
+
+It was past twelve, when Lord Elmwood looked at his watch, and rising
+from his chair, went up to Mrs. Horton, and taking her hand, said,
+“Till I see you again, Madam, I sincerely wish you every happiness.�
+
+Miss Milner fixed her eyes upon the table before her.
+
+“My Lord,� replied Mrs. Horton, “I sincerely wish you health and
+happiness likewise.�
+
+He then went to Miss Woodley, and taking her hand, repeated much the
+same, as he had said to Mrs. Horton.
+
+Miss Milner now trembled beyond all power of concealment.
+
+“My Lord,� replied Miss Woodley, a good deal affected, “I sincerely
+hope my prayers for your happiness may be heard.�
+
+She and Mrs. Horton were both standing as well as Lord Elmwood; but
+Miss Milner kept her seat, till his eye was turned upon her, and he
+moved slowly towards her; she then rose:—every one who was present,
+attentive to what he would now say, and how she would receive what he
+said, here cast their eyes upon them, and listened with impatience.
+They were all disappointed—he did not utter a syllable. Yet he took her
+hand, and held it closely between his. He then bowed most respectfully
+and left her.
+
+No “I wish you well;—I wish you health and happiness.� No “Prayers for
+blessings on her.� Not even the word “Farewell,� escaped his
+lips—perhaps, to have attempted any of these, might have choaked his
+utterance.
+
+She had behaved with fortitude the whole evening, and she continued to
+do so, till the moment he turned away from her. Her eyes then
+overflowed with tears, and in the agony of her mind, not knowing what
+she did, she laid her cold hand upon the person next to her—it happened
+to be Sandford; but not observing it was he, she grasped his hand with
+violence—yet he did not snatch it away, nor look at her with his wonted
+severity. And thus she stood, silent and motionless, while Lord
+Elmwood, now at the door, bowed once more to all the company, and
+retired.
+
+Sandford had still Miss Milner’s hand fixed upon his; and when the door
+was shut after Lord Elmwood, he turned his head to look in her face,
+and turned it with some marks of apprehension for the grief he might
+find there. She strove to overcome that grief, and after a heavy sigh,
+sat down, as if resigned to the fate to which she was decreed.
+
+Instead of following Lord Elmwood, as usual, Sandford poured out a
+glass of wine, and drank it. A general silence ensued for near three
+minutes. At last, turning himself round on his seat, towards Miss
+Milner, who sat like a statue of despair at his side, “Will you
+breakfast with us to-morrow?� said he.
+
+She made no answer.
+
+“We shan’t breakfast before half after six,� continued he, “I dare say;
+and if you can rise so early—why do.�
+
+“Miss Milner,� said Miss Woodley, (for she caught eagerly at the hope
+of her passing this night in less unhappiness than she had foreboded)
+“pray rise at that hour to breakfast; Mr. Sandford would not invite
+you, if he thought it would displease Lord Elmwood.�
+
+“Not I,� replied Sandford, churlishly.
+
+“Then desire her maid to call her:� said Mrs. Horton to Miss Woodley.
+
+“Nay, she will be awake, I have no doubt;� returned her niece.
+
+“No;� replied Miss Milner, “since Lord Elmwood has thought proper to
+take his leave of me, without even speaking a word; by my own design,
+never will I see him again.� And her tears burst forth, as if her heart
+burst at the same time.
+
+“Why did not _you_ speak to _him_?� cried Sandford—“Pray did _you_ bid
+_him_ farewell? and I don’t see why one is not as much to be blamed, in
+that respect, as the other.�
+
+“I was too weak to say I wished him happy,� cried Miss Milner; “but,
+Heaven is my witness, I do wish him so from my soul.�
+
+“And do you imagine he does not wish you so?� cried Sandford. “You
+should judge him by your own heart; and what you feel for him, imagine
+he feels for you, my dear.�
+
+Though “_my dear_� is a trivial phrase, yet from certain people, and
+upon certain occasions, it is a phrase of infinite comfort and
+assurance. Mr. Sandford seldom said “my dear� to any one; to Miss
+Milner never; and upon this occasion, and from him, it was an
+expression most precious.
+
+She turned to him with a look of gratitude; but as she only looked, and
+did not speak, he rose up, and soon after said, with a friendly tone he
+had seldom used in her presence, “I sincerely wish you a good night.�
+
+As soon as he was gone, Miss Milner exclaimed, “However my fate may
+have been precipitated by the unkindness of Mr. Sandford, yet, for that
+particle of concern which he has shown for me this night, I will always
+be grateful to him.�
+
+“Ay,� cried Mrs. Horton, “good Mr. Sandford may show his kindness now,
+without any danger from its consequences. Now Lord Elmwood is going
+away for ever, he is not afraid of your seeing him once again.� And she
+thought she praised him by this suggestion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+When Miss Milner retired to her bed-chamber, Miss Woodley went with
+her, nor would leave her the whole night—but in vain did she persuade
+her to rest—she absolutely refused; and declared she would never, from
+that hour, indulge repose. “The part I undertook to perform,� cried
+she, “is over—I will now, for my whole life, appear in my own
+character, and give a loose to the anguish I endure.�
+
+As daylight showed itself—“And yet I might see him once again,� said
+she—“I might see him within these two hours, if I pleased, for Mr.
+Sandford invited me.�
+
+“If you think, my dear Miss Milner,� said Miss Woodley, “that a second
+parting from Lord Elmwood would but give you a second agony, in the
+name of Heaven do not see him any more—but, if you hope your mind would
+be easier, were you to bid each other adieu in a more direct manner
+than you did last night, let us go down and breakfast with him. I’ll go
+before, and prepare him for your reception—you shall not surprise
+him—and I will let him know, it is by Mr. Sandford’s invitation you are
+coming.�
+
+She listened with a smile to this proposal, yet objected to the
+indelicacy of her wishing to see him, after he had taken his leave—but
+as Miss Woodley perceived that she was inclined to infringe this
+delicacy, of which she had so proper a sense, she easily persuaded her,
+it was impossible for the most suspicious person (and Lord Elmwood was
+far from such a character) to suppose, that the paying him a visit at
+that period of time, could be with the most distant idea of regaining
+his heart, or of altering one resolution he had taken.
+
+But though Miss Milner acquiesced in this opinion, yet she had not the
+courage to form the determination that she would go.
+
+Daylight now no longer peeped, but stared upon them. Miss Milner went
+to the looking-glass, breathed upon her hands and rubbed them on her
+eyes, smoothed her hair and adjusted her dress; yet said, after all, “I
+dare not see him again.�
+
+“You may do as you please,� said Miss Woodley, “but I will. I that have
+lived for so many years under the same roof with him, and on the most
+friendly terms, and he going away, perhaps for these ten years, perhaps
+for ever, I should think it a disrespect not to see him to the last
+moment of his remaining in the house.�
+
+“Then do you go,� said Miss Milner, eagerly; “and if he should ask for
+me, I will gladly come, you know; but if he does not ask for me, I will
+not—and pray don’t deceive me.�
+
+Miss Woodley promised her not to deceive her; and soon after, as they
+heard the servants pass about the house, and the clock had struck six,
+Miss Woodley went to the breakfast room.
+
+She found Lord Elmwood there in his travelling dress, standing
+pensively by the fire-place—and, as he did not dream of seeing her, he
+started when she entered, and, with an appearance of alarm, said, “Dear
+Miss Woodley, what’s the matter?� She replied, “Nothing, my Lord; but I
+could not be satisfied without seeing your Lordship once again, while I
+had it in my power.�
+
+“I thank you,� he returned with a sigh—the heaviest and most
+intelligent sigh she ever heard him condescend to give. She imagined,
+alas, that he looked as if he wished to ask how Miss Milner did, but
+would not allow himself the indulgence. She was half inclined to
+mention her to him, and was debating in her mind whether she should or
+not, when Mr. Sandford came into the room, saying, as he entered,
+
+“For Heaven’s sake, my Lord, where did you sleep last night?�
+
+“Why do you ask!� said he.
+
+“Because,� replied Sandford, “I went into your bed-chamber just now,
+and I found your bed made. You have not slept there to-night.�
+
+“I have slept no where,� returned he; “I could not sleep—and having
+some papers to look over, and to set off early, I thought I might as
+well not go to bed at all.�
+
+Miss Woodley was pleased at the frank manner in which he made this
+confession, and could not resist the strong impulse to say, “You have
+done just then, my Lord, like Miss Milner, for she has not been in bed
+the whole night.�
+
+Miss Woodley spoke this in a negligent manner, and yet, Lord Elmwood
+echoed back the words with solicitude, “Has not Miss Milner been in bed
+the whole night?�
+
+“If she is up, why does not she come and take some coffee?� said
+Sandford, as he began to pour it out.
+
+“If she thought it would be agreeable,� returned Miss Woodley, “I dare
+say she would.� And she looked at Lord Elmwood while she spoke, though
+she did not absolutely address him; but he made no reply.
+
+“Agreeable!� returned Sandford, angrily—“Has she then a quarrel with
+any body here? or does she suppose any body here bears enmity to _her_?
+Is she not in peace and charity?�
+
+“Yes,� replied Miss Woodley, “that I am sure she is.�
+
+“Then bring her hither,� cried Sandford, “directly. Would she have the
+wickedness to imagine we are not all friends with her?�
+
+Miss Woodley left the room, and found Miss Milner almost in despair,
+lest she should hear Lord Elmwood’s carriage drive off before her
+friend’s return.
+
+“Did he send for me?� were the words she uttered as soon as she saw
+her.
+
+“Mr. Sandford did, in his presence,� returned Miss Woodley, “and you
+may go with the utmost decorum, or I would not tell you so.�
+
+She required no protestations of this, but readily followed her beloved
+adviser, whose kindness never appeared in so amiable a light as at that
+moment.
+
+On entering the room, through all the dead white of her present
+complection, she blushed to a crimson. Lord Elmwood rose from his seat,
+and brought a chair for her to sit down.
+
+Sandford looked at her inquisitively, sipped his tea, and said, “He
+never made tea to his own liking.�
+
+Miss Milner took a cup, but had scarce strength to hold it.
+
+It seemed but a very short time they were at breakfast, when the
+carriage, that was to take Lord Elmwood away, drove to the door. Miss
+Milner started at the sound—so did he—but she had nearly dropped her
+cup and saucer; on which Sandford took them out of her hand, saying,
+
+“Perhaps you had rather have coffee?�
+
+Her lips moved, but he could not hear what she said.
+
+A servant came in, and told Lord Elmwood, “The carriage was at the
+door.�
+
+He replied, “Very well.� But though he had breakfasted, he did not
+attempt to move.
+
+At last, rising briskly, as if it was necessary to go in haste when he
+did go; he took up his hat, which he had brought with him into the
+room, and was turning to Miss Woodley to take his leave, when Sandford
+cried, “My Lord, you are in a great hurry.� And then, as if he wished
+to give poor Miss Milner every moment he could, added, (looking about)
+“I don’t know where I have laid my gloves.�
+
+Lord Elmwood, after repeating to Miss Woodley his last night’s
+farewell, now went up to Miss Milner, and taking one of her hands,
+again held it between his, but still without speaking—while she, unable
+to suppress her tears as heretofore, suffered them to fall in torrents.
+
+“What is all this?� cried Sandford, going up to them in anger.
+
+They neither of them replied, or changed their situation.
+
+“Separate this moment,� cried Sandford, “or resolve to be separated
+only by—death.�
+
+The commanding and awful manner in which he spoke this sentence, made
+them both turn to him in amazement, and as it were, petrified with the
+sensation his words had caused.
+
+He left them for a moment, and going to a small bookcase in one corner
+of the room, took out of it a book, and returning with it in his hand,
+said,
+
+“Lord Elmwood, do you love this woman?�
+
+“More than my life.� He replied, with the most heartfelt accents.
+
+He then turned to Miss Milner—“Can you say the same by him?�
+
+She spread her hands over her eyes, and exclaimed, “Oh, Heavens!�
+
+“I believe you _can_ say so,� returned Sandford; “and in the name of
+God, and your own happiness, since this is the state of you both, let
+me put it out of your power to part.�
+
+Lord Elmwood gazed at him with wonder! and yet, as if enraptured by the
+sudden change this conduct gave to his prospects.
+
+She, sighed with a kind of trembling ecstasy; while Sandford, with all
+the dignity of his official character, delivered these words——
+
+“My Lord, while I thought my counsel might save you from the worst of
+misfortunes, conjugal strife, I importuned you hourly, and set forth
+your danger in the light it appeared to me. But though old, and a
+priest, I can submit to think I have been in an error; and I now firmly
+believe, it is for the welfare of you both, to become man and wife. My
+Lord, take this woman’s marriage vows—you can ask no fairer promises of
+her reform—she can give you none half so sacred, half so binding; and I
+see by her looks that she will mean to keep them. And my dear,�
+continued he, addressing himself to her, “act but under the dominion of
+those vows, to a husband of sense and virtue, like him, and you will be
+all that I, himself, or even Heaven can desire. Now, then, Lord
+Elmwood, this moment give her up for ever, or this moment constrain her
+by such ties from offending you, as she shall not _dare_ to violate.�
+
+Lord Elmwood struck his forehead in doubt and agitation; but, still
+holding her hand, he cried, “I cannot part from her.� Then feeling this
+reply as equivocal, he fell upon his knees, and cried, “Will you pardon
+my hesitation? and will you, in marriage, show me that tender love you
+have not shown me yet? Will you, in possessing all my affections, bear
+with all my infirmities?�
+
+She raised him from her feet, and by the expression of her countenance,
+by the tears that bathed his hands, gave him confidence.
+
+He turned to Sandford—then placing her by his own side, as the form of
+matrimony requires, gave this for a sign to Sandford that he should
+begin the ceremony. On which, he opened his book, and—married them.
+
+With voice and manners so serious, so solemn and so fervent, he
+performed these rites, that every idea of jest, or even of lightness,
+was absent from the mind of all who were present.
+
+Miss Milner, covered with shame, sunk on the bosom of Miss Woodley.
+
+When the ring was wanting, Lord Elmwood supplied it with one from his
+own hand, but throughout all the rest of the ceremony, appeared lost in
+zealous devotion to Heaven. Yet, no sooner was it finished, than his
+thoughts descended to this world. He embraced his bride with all the
+transport of the fondest, happiest bridegroom, and in raptures called
+her by the endearing name of “wife.�
+
+“But still, my Lord,� cried Sandford, “you are only married by your own
+church and conscience, not by your wife’s, or by the law of the land;
+and let me advise you not to defer that marriage long, lest in the time
+you disagree, and she should refuse to become your legal spouse.�
+
+“I think there is danger,� returned Lord Elmwood, “and therefore our
+second marriage must take place to-morrow.�
+
+To this the ladies objected, and Sandford was to fix their second
+wedding-day, as he had done their first. He, after consideration, gave
+them four days.
+
+Miss Woodley then recollected (for every one else had forgot it) that
+the carriage was still at the door to convey Lord Elmwood far away. It
+was of course dismissed—and one of those great incidents of delight
+which Miss Milner that morning tasted, was to look out of the window,
+and see this very carriage drive from the door unoccupied.
+
+Never was there a more rapid change from despair to happiness—to
+happiness perfect and supreme—than was that, which Miss Milner and Lord
+Elmwood experienced in one single hour.
+
+The few days that intervened between this and their lawful marriage,
+were passed in the delightful care of preparing for that happy day—yet,
+with all its delights inferior to the first, when every unexpected joy
+was doubled by the once expected sorrow.
+
+Nevertheless, on that first wedding-day, that joyful day, which
+restored her lost lover to her hopes again; even on that _very_ day,
+after the sacred ceremony was over, Miss Milner—(with all the fears,
+the tremors, the superstition of her sex)—felt an excruciating shock;
+when, looking on the ring Lord Elmwood had put upon her finger, in
+haste, when he married her, she perceived it was a—mourning ring.
+
+
+
+
+A
+SIMPLE STORY,
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES,
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+
+
+
+VOL. III.
+
+_THE FOURTH EDITION._
+
+LONDON:
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,
+Paternoster Row.
+1799.
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Not any event, throughout life, can arrest the reflection of a
+thoughtful mind more powerfully, or leave so lasting an impression, as
+that of returning to a place after a few years absence, and observing
+an entire alteration, in respect to all the persons who once formed the
+neighbourhood. To find that many, who but a few years before were left
+in their bloom of youth and health, are dead—to find that children left
+at school, are married and have children of their own—that some, who
+were left in riches, are reduced to poverty—that others, who were in
+poverty are become rich—to find, those once renowned for virtue, now
+detested for vice—roving husbands, grown constant—constant husbands,
+become rovers—the firmest friends, changed to the most implacable
+enemies—beauty faded. In a word, every change to demonstrate, that,
+
+“All is transitory on this side the grave.�
+
+Guided by a wish, that the reflecting reader may experience the
+sensation, which an attention to circumstances like these, must excite;
+he is desired to imagine seventeen years elapsed, since he has seen or
+heard of any of those persons who in the foregoing volumes have been
+introduced to his acquaintance—and then, supposing himself at the
+period of those seventeen years, follow the sequel of their history.
+
+To begin with the first female object of this story. The beautiful, the
+beloved Miss Milner—she is no longer beautiful—no longer beloved—no
+longer—tremble while you read it!—no longer—virtuous.
+
+Dorriforth, the pious, the good, the tender Dorriforth, is become a
+hard-hearted tyrant. The compassionate, the feeling, the just Lord
+Elmwood, an example of implacable rigour and injustice.
+
+Miss Woodley is grown old, but less with years than grief.
+
+The boy, Rushbrook, is become a man, and the apparent heir of Lord
+Elmwood’s fortune; while his own daughter, his only child by his once
+adored Miss Milner, he refuses ever to see again, in vengeance to her
+mother’s crimes.
+
+The least wonderful change, is, the death of Mrs. Horton. Except
+Sandford, who remains much the same as heretofore.
+
+We left Lady Elmwood in the last volume at the summit of human
+happiness; a loving and beloved bride. We begin this volume, and find
+her upon her death-bed.
+
+At thirty-five, her “Course was run�—a course full of perils, of hopes,
+of fears, of joys, and at the end, of sorrows; all exquisite of their
+kind, for exquisite were the feelings of her susceptible heart.
+
+At the commencement of this story, her father is described in the last
+moments of his life, with all his cares fixed upon her, his only
+child—how vain these cares! how vain every precaution that was taken
+for her welfare! She knows, she reflects upon this; and yet, impelled
+by that instinctive power which actuates a parent, Lady Elmwood on
+_her_ dying day has no worldly thoughts, but that of the future
+happiness of an only child. To every other prospect in her view, “Thy
+will be done� is her continual exclamation; but where the misery of her
+daughter presents itself, the expiring penitent would there combat the
+will of Heaven.
+
+To detail the progression by which vice gains a predominancy in the
+heart, may be a useful lesson; but it is one so little to the
+satisfaction of most readers, that the degrees of misconduct by which
+Lady Elmwood fell, are not meant to be related here; but instead of
+picturing every occasion of her fall, to come briefly to the events
+that followed.
+
+There are, nevertheless, some articles under the former class, which
+ought not to be entirely omitted.
+
+Lord Elmwood, after four years enjoyment of the most perfect happiness
+that marriage could give, after becoming the father of a beautiful
+daughter, whom he loved with a tenderness almost equal to his love of
+her mother, was under the indispensable necessity of leaving them both
+for a time, in order to rescue from the depredation of his own steward,
+his very large estates in the West Indies. His voyage was tedious; his
+residence there, from various accidents, prolonged from time to time,
+till near three years had at length passed away. Lady Elmwood, at first
+only unhappy, became at last provoked; and giving way to that irritable
+disposition which she had so seldom governed, resolved, in spite of his
+injunctions, to divert the melancholy hours caused by his absence, by
+mixing in the gay circles of London.
+
+Lord Elmwood at this time, and for many months before, had been
+detained abroad by a severe and dangerous illness, which a too cautious
+fear of her uneasiness, had prompted him to conceal; and she received
+his frequent apologies for not returning, with a suspicion and
+resentment they were calculated, but not intended, to inspire.
+
+To violent anger, succeeded a degree of indifference still more
+fatal—Lady Elmwood’s heart was not formed for such a state—there, where
+all the tumultuous passions harboured by turns, one among them soon
+found the means to occupy all vacancies: a passion, commencing
+innocently, but terminating in guilt. The dear object of her fondest,
+her truest affections, was away; and those affections, painted the time
+so irksome that was past; so wearisome, that, which was still to come;
+that she flew from the present tedious solitude, to the dangerous
+society of one, whose whole mind depraved by fashionable vices, could
+not repay her for a moment’s loss of him, whose absence he supplied.
+Or, if the delirium gave her a moment’s recompence, what were her
+sufferings, her remorse, when she was awakened from the fleeting joy,
+by the arrival of her husband? How happy, how transporting would have
+been that arrival a few months before! As it would then have been
+felicity unbounded, it was now—language affords no word that can
+describe Lady Elmwood’s sensations, on being told her Lord was arrived,
+and that necessity alone had so long delayed his return.
+
+Guilty, but not hardened in her guilt, her pangs, her shame were the
+more excessive. She fled from the place at his approach; fled from his
+house, never again to return to a habitation where he was the master.
+She did not, however, elope with her paramour, but escaped to shelter
+herself in the most dreary retreat; where she partook of no one comfort
+from society, or from life, but the still unremitting friendship of
+Miss Woodley. Even her infant daughter she left behind, nor would allow
+herself the consolation of her innocent, though reproachful smiles—she
+left her in her father’s house, that she might be under his protection;
+parted with her, as she thought, for ever, with all the agonies with
+which mothers part from their infant children: and yet, even a mother
+can scarce conceive how much more sharp those agonies were, on
+beholding—the child sent after her, as the perpetual outcast of its
+father.
+
+Lord Elmwood’s love to his wife had been extravagant—the effect of his
+hate was the same. Beholding himself separated from her by a barrier
+never to be removed, he vowed in the deep torments of his revenge,
+never to be reminded of her by one individual object; much less, by one
+so near to her as her child. To bestow upon that child his affections,
+would be, he imagined, still, in some sort, to divide them with the
+mother. Firm in his resolution, the beautiful Matilda, was, at the age
+of six years, sent out of her father’s house, and received by her
+mother with all the tenderness, but with all the anguish, of those
+parents, who behold their offspring visited by the punishment due only
+to their own offences.
+
+While this rigid act was executing by Lord Elmwood’s agents at his
+command, himself was engaged in an affair of still weightier
+importance—that of life or death:—he determined upon his own death, or
+the death of the man who had wounded his honour and destroyed his
+happiness. A duel with his old antagonist was the result of this
+determination; nor was the Duke of Avon (who before the decease of his
+father and eldest brother, was Lord Frederick Lawnly) averse from
+giving him all the satisfaction he required. For it was no other than
+he, whose passion for Lady Elmwood had still subsisted, and whose
+address in gallantry left no means unattempted for the success of his
+designs;—no other than he, (who, next to Lord Elmwood, had been of all
+her lovers, the most favoured,) to whom Lady Elmwood sacrificed her own
+and her husband’s future peace, and thus gave to his vanity a prouder
+triumph, than if she had never bestowed her hand in marriage on
+another. This triumph however was but short—a month only, after the
+return of Lord Elmwood, the Duke was called upon to answer for his
+conduct, and was left where they met, so defaced with scars, as never
+again to endanger the honour of a husband. As Lord Elmwood was
+inexorable to all accommodation, their engagement continued for a long
+space of time; nor could any thing but the assurance that his opponent
+was slain, have at last torn him from the field, though he himself was
+dangerously wounded.
+
+Yet even during the period of his danger, while for days he lay in the
+continual expectation of his own death, not all the entreaties of his
+dearest, most intimate, and most respected friends, could prevail upon
+him to pronounce forgiveness of his wife, or to suffer them to bring
+his daughter to him, for his last blessing.
+
+Lady Elmwood, who was made acquainted with the minutest circumstance as
+it passed, appeared to wait the news of her husband’s decease with
+patience; but upon her brow, and in every lineament of her face was
+marked, that his death was an event she would not for a day survive:
+and she would have left her child an orphan, to have followed Lord
+Elmwood to the tomb. She was prevented the trial; he recovered; and
+from the ample vengeance he had obtained upon the irresistible person
+of the Duke, in a short time seemed to regain his usual tranquillity.
+
+He recovered, but Lady Elmwood fell sick and languished—possessed of
+youth to struggle with her woes, she lingered on, till ten years
+decline brought her to that period, with which the reader is now going
+to be presented.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+In a lonely country on the borders of Scotland, a single house by the
+side of a dreary heath, was the residence of the once gay, volatile
+Miss Milner. In a large gloomy apartment of this solitary habitation
+(the windows of which scarce rendered the light accessible) was laid
+upon her death-bed, the once lovely Lady Elmwood—pale, half suffocated
+with the loss of breath; yet her senses perfectly clear and collected,
+which served but to sharpen the anguish of dying.
+
+In one corner of the room, by the side of an old fashioned stool,
+kneels Miss Woodley, praying most devoutly for her still beloved
+friend, but in vain endeavouring to pray composedly—floods of tears
+pour down her furrowed cheeks, and frequent sobs of sorrow, break
+through each pious ejaculation.
+
+Close by her mother’s side, one hand supporting her head, the other
+wiping from her face the cold dew of death, behold Lady Elmwood’s
+daughter—Lord Elmwood’s daughter too—yet he far away, negligent of what
+either suffers. Lady Elmwood turns to her often and attempts an
+embrace, but her feeble arms forbid, and they fall motionless. The
+daughter perceiving these ineffectual efforts, has her whole face
+convulsed with grief: kisses her mother; holds her to her bosom; and
+hangs upon her neck, as if she wished to cling there, not to be parted
+even by the grave.
+
+On the other side of the bed sits Sandford—his hair grown white—his
+face wrinkled with age—his heart the same as ever.—The reprover, the
+enemy of the vain, the idle, and the wicked; but the friend and
+comforter of the forlorn and miserable.
+
+Upon those features where sarcasm, reproach, and anger dwelt, to
+threaten and alarm the sinner; mildness, tenderness, and pity beamed,
+to support and console the penitent. Compassion changed his language,
+and softened all those harsh tones that used to denounce perdition.
+
+“In the name of God,� said he to Lady Elmwood, “of that God, who
+suffered for you, and, suffering, knew and pitied all our weaknesses—By
+him, who has given his word to _take compassion on the sinner’s tears_,
+I bid you hope for mercy. By that innocence in which you once lived, be
+comforted—By the sorrows you have known since your degradation, hope,
+that in some measure, you have atoned—By the sincerity that shone upon
+your youthful face when I joined your hands, and those thousand virtues
+you have since given proofs of, trust, that you were not born to die
+_the death of the wicked_.�
+
+As he spoke these words of consolation, her trembling hand clasped
+his—her dying eyes darted a ray of brightness—but her failing voice
+endeavoured in vain, to articulate. At length, fixing her looks upon
+her daughter as their last dear object, she was just understood to
+utter the word “Father.�
+
+“I understand you,� replied Sandford, “and by all that influence I ever
+had over him, by my prayers, my tears,� (and they flowed as he spoke)
+“I will implore him to own his child.�
+
+She could now only smile in thanks.
+
+“And if I should fail,� continued he, “yet while I live, she shall not
+want a friend or protector—all an old man, like me can answer
+for�——here his tears interrupted him.
+
+Lady Elmwood was sufficiently sensible of his words and their import,
+to make a sign as if she wished to embrace him: but finding her life
+leaving her fast, she reserved this last token of love for her
+daughter—with a struggle she lifted herself from her pillow, clung to
+her child—and died in her arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Lord Elmwood was by nature, and more from education, of a serious,
+thinking, and philosophic turn of mind. His religious studies had
+completely taught him to consider this world but as a passage to
+another; to enjoy with gratitude what Heaven in its bounty should
+bestow, and to bear with submission, whatever in its vengeance it might
+inflict. In a greater degree than most people he practised this
+doctrine; and as soon as the shock he received from Lady Elmwood’s
+conduct was abated, an entire calmness and resignation ensued; but
+still of that sensible and feeling kind, that could never suffer him to
+forget the happiness he had lost; and it was this sensibility, which
+urged him to fly from its more keen recollection as much as
+possible—this, he alleged as the reason why he would never permit Lady
+Elmwood, or even her child, to be named in his hearing. But this
+injunction (which all his friends, and even the servants in the house
+who attended his person, had received) was, by many people, suspected
+rather to proceed from his resentment, than his tenderness; nor did he
+deny, that resentment co-operated with his prudence: for prudence he
+called it, not to remind himself of happiness he could never taste
+again, and of ingratitude that might impel him to hatred: and prudence
+he called it, not to form another attachment near to his heart, more
+especially so near as a parent’s which might again expose him to all
+the torments of ingratitude, from an object whom he affectionately
+loved.
+
+Upon these principles he formed the unshaken resolution, never to
+acknowledge Lady Matilda as his child—or acknowledging her as
+such—never to see, to hear of, or take one concern whatever in her fate
+and fortune. The death of her mother appeared a favourable time, had he
+been so inclined, to have recalled this declaration which he had
+solemnly and repeatedly made—she was now destitute of the protection of
+her other parent, and it became his duty, at least, to provide her a
+guardian, if he did not chuse to take that tender title upon
+himself—but to mention either the mother or child to Lord Elmwood, was
+an equal offence, and prohibited in the strongest terms to all his
+friends and household; and as he was an excellent good master, a
+sincere friend, and a most generous patron, not one of his acquaintance
+or dependants, were hardy enough to draw upon themselves his certain
+displeasure, which was always violent in the extreme, by even the
+official intelligence of Lady Elmwood’s death.
+
+Sandford himself, intimidated through age, or by the austere, and
+morose manners which Lord Elmwood had of late years adopted; Sandford
+wished, if possible, that some other would undertake the dangerous task
+of recalling to his memory there ever was such a person as his wife. He
+advised Miss Woodley to write a proper letter to him on the subject;
+but she reminded him that such a step would be more perilous to her,
+than to any other person, as she was the most destitute being on earth,
+without the benevolence of Lord Elmwood. The death of her aunt, Mrs.
+Horton, had left her solely relying on the bounty of Lady Elmwood, and
+now her death, had left her totally dependant upon the Earl—for Lady
+Elmwood though she had separate effects, had long before her death
+declared it was not her intention to leave a sentence behind her in the
+form of a will. She had no will, she said, but what she would wholly
+submit to Lord Elmwood’s; and, if it were even his will, that her child
+should live in poverty, as well as banishment, it should be so. But,
+perhaps, in this implicit submission to him, there was a distant hope,
+that the necessitous situation of his daughter, might plead more
+forcibly than his parental love; and that knowing her bereft of every
+support but through himself, that idea might form some little tie
+between them, and be at least a token of the relationship.
+
+But as Lady Elmwood anxiously wished this principle upon which she
+acted, should be concealed from his suspicion, she included her friend,
+Miss Woodley, in the same fate; and thus, the only persons dear to her,
+she left, but at Lord Elmwood’s pleasure, to be preserved from
+perishing in want. Her child was too young to advise her on this
+subject, her friend too disinterested; and at this moment they were
+both without the smallest means of subsistence, except through the
+justice or compassion of Lord Elmwood. Sandford had indeed promised his
+protection to the daughter; but his liberality had no other source than
+from his patron, with whom he still lived as usual, except during part
+of the winter, when the Earl resided in town; he then mostly stole a
+visit to Lady Elmwood.—On this last visit he staid to see her buried.
+
+After some mature deliberations, Sandford was now preparing to go to
+Lord Elmwood at his house in town, and there, to deliver himself the
+news that must sooner or later be told; and he meant also to venture,
+at the same time, to keep the promise he had made to his dying Lady—but
+the news reached his Lordship before Sandford arrived; it was announced
+in the public papers, and by that means first came to his knowledge.
+
+He was breakfasting by himself, when the newspaper that first gave the
+intelligence of Lady Elmwood’s death, was laid before him—the paragraph
+contained these words:
+
+“On Wednesday last died, at Dring Park, a village in Northumberland,
+the right honourable Countess Elmwood.—This lady, who has not been
+heard of for many years in the fashionable world, was a rich heiress,
+and of extreme beauty; but although she received overtures from many
+men of the first rank, she preferred her guardian, the present Lord
+Elmwood (then Mr. Dorriforth) to them all—and it is said, their
+marriage was followed by an uncommon share of felicity, till his
+Lordship going abroad, and remaining there some time, the consequences
+(to a most captivating young woman left without a protector) were such
+as to cause a separation on his return. Her Ladyship has left one child
+by the Earl, a daughter, about fifteen.�
+
+Lord Elmwood had so much feeling upon reading this, as to lay down the
+paper, and not take it up again for several minutes—nor did he taste
+his chocolate during this interval, but leaned his elbow on the table
+and rested his head upon his hand. He then rose up—walked two or three
+times across the room—sat down again—took up the paper—and read as
+usual.—Nor let the vociferous mourner, or the perpetual weeper, here
+complain of his want of sensibility—but let them remember that Lord
+Elmwood was a man—a man of understanding—of courage—of fortitude—above
+all, a man of the nicest feelings—and who shall say, but that at the
+time he leaned his head upon his hand, and rose to walk away the sense
+of what he felt, he might not feel as much as Lady Elmwood did in her
+last moments.
+
+Be this as it may, his susceptibility on the occasion was not suspected
+by any one—yet he passed that day the same as usual; the next day too,
+and the day after. On the morning of the fourth, he sent for his
+steward to his study, and after talking of other business, said to him;
+
+“Is it true that Lady Elmwood is dead?�
+
+“It is, my Lord.�
+
+His Lordship looked unusually grave, and at this reply, fetched an
+involuntary sigh.
+
+“Mr. Sandford, my lord,� continued the steward, “sent me word of the
+news, but left it to my own discretion, whether I would make your
+Lordship acquainted with it or not: I let him know I declined.�
+
+“Where is Sandford?� asked Lord Elmwood.
+
+“He was with my Lady,� replied the steward.
+
+“When she died?� asked he.
+
+“Yes, my Lord.�
+
+“I am glad of it—he will see that every thing she desired is
+done—Sandford is a good man, and would be a friend to every body.�
+
+“He is a very good man indeed, my Lord.�
+
+There was now a silence.——Mr. Giffard then bowing, said, “Has your
+Lordship any further commands?�
+
+“Write to Sandford,� said Lord Elmwood, hesitating as he spoke, “and
+tell him to have every thing performed as she desired. And whoever she
+may have selected for the guardian of her child, has my consent to act
+as such.—Nor in one instance, where I myself am not concerned, shall I
+oppose her will.� The tears rushed into his eyes as he said this, and
+caused them to start in the steward’s—observing which, he sternly
+resumed,
+
+“Do not suppose from this conversation, that any of those resolutions I
+have long since taken, are, or will be changed—they are the same; and
+shall continue inflexible.�
+
+“I understand you, my Lord,� replied Mr. Giffard, “your express orders,
+to me, as well as to every other person, remain just the same as
+formerly, never to mention this subject to you again.�
+
+“They do, Sir.�
+
+“My Lord, I always obeyed you, and hope I always shall.�
+
+“I hope so too,� he replied in a threatening accent—“Write to
+Sandford,� continued he, “to let him know my pleasure, and that is all
+you have to do.�
+
+The steward bowed and withdrew.
+
+But before his letter arrived to Sandford, Sandford arrived in town;
+and Mr. Giffard related, word for word, what had passed between him and
+his Lord. Upon every occasion, and upon every topic, except that of
+Lady Elmwood and her child, Sandford was just as free with Lord Elmwood
+as he had ever been; and as usual (after his interview with the
+steward) went into his apartment without any previous notice. Lord
+Elmwood shook him by the hand, as upon all other meetings; and yet,
+whether his fear suggested it or not, Sandford thought he appeared more
+cool and reserved with him than formerly.
+
+During the whole day, the slightest mention of Lady Elmwood, or of her
+child, was cautiously avoided—and not till the evening, (after Sandford
+had risen to retire, and had wished Lord Elmwood good night) did he
+dare to mention the subject. He then, after taking leave, and going to
+the door—turned back and said, “My Lord,�—
+
+It was easy to guess on what he was preparing to speak—his voice
+failed, the tears began to trickle down his cheeks, he took out his
+handkerchief, and could proceed no farther.
+
+“I thought,� said Lord Elmwood, angrily, “I thought I had given my
+orders upon the subject—did not my steward write them to you?�
+
+“He did, my Lord,� said Sandford, humbly, “but I was set out before
+they arrived.�
+
+“Has he not _told_ you my mind then?� cried he, more angrily still.
+
+“He has;� replied Sandford,—“But�——
+
+“But what, Sir?� cried Lord Elmwood.
+
+“Your Lordship,� continued Sandford, “was mistaken in supposing that
+Lady Elmwood left a will, she left none.�
+
+“No will? no will at all?� returned he, surprised.
+
+“No, my Lord,� answered Sandford, “she wished every thing to be as you
+willed.�
+
+“She left me all the trouble, then, you mean?�
+
+“No great trouble, Sir; for there are but two persons whom she has left
+behind her, to hope for your protection.�
+
+“And who are those two?� cried he hastily.
+
+“One, my Lord, I need not name—the other is Miss Woodley.�
+
+There was a delicacy and humility in the manner in which Sandford
+delivered this reply, that Lord Elmwood could _not_ resent, and he only
+returned,
+
+“Miss Woodley—is she yet living?�
+
+“She is—I left her at the house I came from.�
+
+“Well then,� answered he, “you must see that my steward provides for
+those two persons. That care I leave to you—and should there be any
+complaints, on you they fall.�
+
+Sandford bowed and was going.
+
+“And now,� resumed Lord Elmwood, in a more stern voice, “let me never
+hear again on this subject. You have power to act in regard to the
+persons you have mentioned; and upon you their situation, the care, the
+whole management of them depends—but be sure you never let them be
+named before me, from this moment.�
+
+“Then,� said Sandford, “as this must be the last time they are
+mentioned, I must now take the opportunity to disburden my mind of a
+charge�—
+
+“What charge?� cried Lord Elmwood, morosely interrupting him.
+
+“Though Lady Elmwood, my Lord, left no will behind her, she left a
+request.�
+
+“A request!� said he, starting, “If it is for me to see her daughter, I
+tell you now before you ask, that I will not grant it—for by heaven
+(and he spoke and looked most solemnly) though I have no resentment
+against the innocent child, and wish her happy, yet I will never see
+her. Never, for her mother’s sake, suffer my heart again to be softened
+by an object I might dote upon. Therefore, Sir, if that is the request,
+it is already answered; my will is fixed.�
+
+“The request, my Lord,� replied Sandford, (and he took out a
+pocket-book from whence he drew several papers) “is contained in this
+letter; nor do I rightly know what its contents are.� And he held it
+out to him.
+
+“Is it Lady Elmwood’s writing?� asked Lord Elmwood, extremely
+discomposed.
+
+“It is, my Lord.—She wrote it a few days before she died, and enjoined
+me to deliver it to you, with my own hands.�
+
+“I refuse to read it:� cried he, putting it from him—and trembling
+while he did so.
+
+“She desired me,� said Sandford, (still presenting the letter) “to
+conjure you to read it, _for her father’s sake_.�
+
+Lord Elmwood took it instantly. But as soon as it was in his hand, he
+seemed distressed to know what he should do with it—in what place to go
+and read it—or how to fortify himself against its contents. He appeared
+ashamed too, that he had been so far prevailed upon, and said, by way
+of excuse,
+
+“For Mr. Milner’s sake I would do much—nay, any thing, but that to
+which I have just now sworn never to consent. For his sake I have borne
+a great deal—for his sake alone, his daughter died my wife. You know,
+no other motive than respect for him, prevented my divorcing her. Pray
+(and he hesitated) was she buried with him?�
+
+“No, my Lord—she expressed no such desire; and as that was the case, I
+did not think it necessary to carry the corpse so far.�
+
+At the word corpse, Lord Elmwood shrunk, and looked shocked beyond
+measure—but recovering himself, said, “I am sorry for it; for he loved
+_her_ sincerely, if she did not love him—and I wish they had been
+buried together.�
+
+“It is not then too late,� said Sandford, and was going on—but the
+other interrupted him.
+
+“No, no—we will have no disturbing the dead.�
+
+“Read her letter then,� said Sandford, “and bid her rest in peace.�
+
+“If it is in my power,� returned he, “to grant what she asks, I
+will—but if her demand is what I apprehend, I cannot, I will not, bid
+her rest by complying. You know my resolution, my disposition, and take
+care how you provoke me. You may do an injury to the very person you
+are seeking to befriend—the very maintenance I mean to allow her
+daughter I can withdraw.�
+
+Poor Sandford, all alarmed at this menace, replied with energy, “My
+Lord, unless you begin the subject, I never shall presume to mention it
+again.�
+
+“I take you at your word, and in consequence of that, but of that
+alone, we are friends. Good night, Sir.�
+
+Sandford bowed with humility, and they went to their separate
+bedchambers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+After Lord Elmwood had retired into his chamber, it was some time
+before he read the letter Sandford had given him. He first walked
+backwards and forwards in the room—he then began to take off some part
+of his dress, but he did it slowly. At length, he dismissed his valet,
+and sitting down, took the letter from his pocket. He looked at the
+seal, but not at the direction; for he seemed to dread seeing Lady
+Elmwood’s handwriting. He then laid it on the table, and began again to
+undress. He did not proceed, but taking up the letter quickly, (with a
+kind of effort in making the resolution) broke it open. These were its
+contents:
+
+“My Lord,
+
+“Who writes this letter I well know—I well know also to whom it is
+addressed—I feel with the most powerful force both our situations; nor
+should I dare to offer you even this humble petition, but that at the
+time you receive it, there will be no such person as I am, in
+existence.
+
+“For myself, then, all concern will be over—but there is a care that
+pursues me to the grave, and threatens my want of repose even there.
+
+“I leave a child—I will not call her mine: that has undone her—I will
+not call her yours; that will be of no avail—I present her before you
+as the granddaughter of Mr. Milner. Oh! do not refuse an asylum even in
+your own house, to the destitute offspring of your friend; the last,
+and only remaining branch of his family.
+
+“Receive her into your household, be her condition there ever so
+abject. I cannot write distinctly what I would—my senses are not
+impaired, but the powers of expression are. The complaint of the
+unfortunate child in the scriptures (a lesson I have studied) has made
+this wish cling so fast to my heart, that without the distant hope of
+its being fulfilled, death would have more terrors than my weak mind
+could support.
+
+“‘_I will go to my father; how many servants live in my father’s house,
+and are fed with plenty, while I starve in a foreign land?_’
+
+“I do not ask a parent’s festive rejoicing at her approach—I do not
+even ask her father to behold her; but let her live under his
+protection. For her grandfather’s sake do not refuse this—to the child
+of his child, whom he entrusted to your care, do not refuse it.
+
+“Be her host; I remit the tie of being her parent. Never see her—but
+let her sometimes live under the same roof with you.
+
+“It is Miss Milner, your ward, to whom you never refused a request, who
+supplicates you—not now for your nephew, Rushbrook, but for one so much
+more dear, that a denial——she dares not suffer her thoughts to glance
+that way.—She will hope—and in that hope, bids you farewell, with all
+the love she ever bore you.
+
+“Farewell Dorriforth—farewell Lord Elmwood—and before you throw this
+letter from you with contempt or anger, cast your imagination into the
+grave where I am lying. Reflect upon all the days of my past life—the
+anxious moments I have known, and what has been their end. Behold _me_,
+also—in my altered face there is no anxiety—no joy or sorrow—all is
+over.——My whole frame is motionless—my heart beats no more. Look at my
+horrid habitation, too,—and ask yourself—whether I am an object of
+resentment?�
+
+While Lord Elmwood read this letter, it trembled in his hand: he once
+or twice wiped the tears from his eyes as he read, and once laid the
+letter down for a few minutes. At its conclusion, the tears flowed fast
+down his face; but he seemed both ashamed and angry they did, and was
+going to throw the paper upon the fire—he however suddenly checked his
+hand, and putting it hastily into his pocket, went to bed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The next morning, when Lord Elmwood and Sandford met at breakfast, the
+latter was pale with fear for the success of Lady Elmwood’s letter—the
+Earl was pale too, but there was besides upon his face, something which
+evidently marked he was displeased. Sandford observed it, and was all
+humbleness, both in his words and looks, in order to soften him.
+
+As soon as the breakfast was removed, Lord Elmwood drew the letter from
+his pocket, and holding it towards Sandford, said,
+
+“That, may be of more value to you, than it is to me, therefore I give
+it you.�
+
+Sandford called up a look of surprise, as if he did not know the letter
+again.
+
+“’Tis Lady Elmwood’s letter,� said Lord Elmwood, “and I return it to
+you for two reasons.�
+
+Sandford took it, and putting it up, asked fearfully, “What those two
+reasons were?�
+
+“First,� said he, “because I think it is a relick you may like to
+preserve—my second reason is, that you may shew it to her daughter, and
+let her know why, and on what conditions, I grant her mother’s
+request.�
+
+“You _do_ then grant it?� cried Sandford joyfully; “I thank you—you are
+kind—you are considerate.�
+
+“Be not hasty in your gratitude; you may have cause to recall it.�
+
+“I know what you have said;� replied Sandford, “you have said you grant
+Lady Elmwood’s request—you cannot recall these words, nor I my
+gratitude.�
+
+“Do you know what her request is?� returned he.
+
+“Not exactly, my Lord—I told you before, I did not; but it is no doubt
+something in favour of her child.�
+
+“I think not,� he replied: “such as it is, however, I grant it: but in
+the strictest sense of the word—no farther—and one neglect of my
+commands, releases me from this promise totally.�
+
+“We will take care, Sir, not to disobey them.�
+
+“Then listen to what they are, for to you I give the charge of
+delivering them again. Lady Elmwood has petitioned me in the name of
+her father, (a name I reverence) to give his grandchild the sanction of
+my protection. In the literal sense, to suffer that she may reside at
+one of my seats; dispensing at the same time with my ever seeing her.�
+
+“And you will comply?�
+
+“I will, till she encroaches on this concession, and dares to hope for
+a greater. I will, while she avoids my sight, or the giving me any
+remembrance of her. But if, whether by design or by accident, I ever
+see or hear from her, that moment, my compliance to her mother’s
+supplication ceases, and I abandon her once more.�
+
+Sandford sighed. Lord Elmwood continued:
+
+“I am glad her request stopped where it did. I would rather comply with
+her desires than not; and I rejoice they are such as I can grant with
+ease and honour to myself. I am seldom now at Elmwood castle; let her
+daughter go there; the few weeks or months I am down in the summer, she
+may easily in that extensive house avoid me—while she does, she lives
+in security—when she does not—you know my resolution.�
+
+Sandford bowed—the Earl resumed:
+
+“Nor can it be a hardship to obey this command—she cannot lament the
+separation from a parent whom she never knew—� Sandford was going
+eagerly to prove the error of that assertion, but he prevented him,
+saying, “In a word—without farther argument—if she obeys me in this, I
+will provide for her as my daughter during my life, and leave her a
+fortune at my death—but if she dares—�
+
+Sandford interrupted the menace prepared for utterance, saying, “and
+you still mean, I suppose, to make Mr. Rushbrook your heir?�
+
+“Have you not heard me say so? And do you imagine I have changed my
+determination? I am not given to alter my resolutions, Mr. Sandford;
+and I thought you knew I was not; besides, will not my title be
+extinct, whoever I make my heir? Could any thing but a son have
+preserved my title?�
+
+“Then it is yet possible——�
+
+“By marrying again, you mean? No—no—I have had enough of marriage—and
+Henry Rushbrook I shall leave my heir. Therefore, Sir——�
+
+“My Lord, I do not presume—�
+
+“Do not, Sandford, and we may still be good friends. But I am not to be
+controlled as formerly; my temper is changed of late; changed to what
+it was originally; till your religious precepts reformed it. You may
+remember, how troublesome it was, to conquer my stubborn disposition in
+my youth; _then_, indeed, you _did_; but in my more advanced age, you
+will find the task too difficult.�
+
+Sandford again repeated, “He should not presume—�
+
+To which Lord Elmwood again made answer, “Do not, Sandford;� and added,
+“for I have a sincere regard for you, and should be loath, at these
+years, to quarrel with you seriously.�
+
+Sandford turned away his head to conceal his feelings.
+
+“Nay, if we do quarrel,� resumed Lord Elmwood, “You know it must be
+your own fault; and as this is a theme the most likely of any, nay, the
+only one on which we can have a difference (such as we cannot forgive)
+take care never from this day to resume it; indeed that of itself,
+would be an offence I could not pardon. I have been clear and explicit
+in all I have said; there can be no fear of mistaking my meaning;
+therefore, all future explanation is unnecessary—nor will I permit a
+word, or a hint on the subject from any one, without shewing my
+resentment even to the hour of my death.� He was going out of the room.
+
+“But before we bid adieu to the subject for ever, my Lord—there was
+another person whom I named to you—�
+
+“Do you mean Miss Woodley? Oh, by all means let her live at Elmwood
+House too. On consideration, I have no objection to see Miss Woodley at
+any time—I shall be glad to see her—do not let _her_ be frightened at
+me—to her I shall be the same, that I have always been.�
+
+“She is a good woman, my Lord,� cried Sandford, pleased.
+
+“You need not tell me that, Mr. Sandford; I know her worth.� And he
+left the room.
+
+Sandford, to relieve Miss Woodley and her lovely charge from the
+suspence in which he had left them, prepared to set off for their
+habitation, in order himself to conduct them from thence to Elmwood
+Castle, and appoint some retired part of it for Lady Matilda, against
+the annual visit her father should pay there. But before he left
+London, Giffard, the steward, took an opportunity to wait upon him, and
+let him know, that his Lord had acquainted him with the consent he had
+given for his daughter to be admitted at Elmwood Castle, and upon what
+restrictions: that he had farther uttered the severest threats, should
+these restrictions ever be infringed. Sandford thanked Giffard for his
+friendly information. It served him as a second warning of the
+circumspection that was necessary; and having taken leave of his friend
+and patron, under the pretence that “He could not live in the smoke of
+London,� he set out for the North.
+
+It is unnecessary to say with what delight Sandford was received by
+Miss Woodley, and the hapless daughter of Lady Elmwood, even before he
+told his errand. They both loved him sincerely; more especially Lady
+Matilda, whose forlorn state, and innocent sufferings, had ever excited
+his compassion and caused him to treat her with affection, tenderness,
+and respect. She knew, too, how much he had been her mother’s friend;
+for that, she also loved him; and for being honoured with the
+friendship of her father, she looked up to him with reverence. For
+Matilda (with an excellent understanding, a sedateness above her years,
+and early accustomed to the most private converse between Lady Elmwood
+and Miss Woodley) was perfectly acquainted with the whole fatal history
+of her mother; and was, by her, taught the respect and admiration of
+her father’s virtues which they justly merited.
+
+Notwithstanding the joy of Mr. Sandford’s presence, once more to cheer
+their solitary dwelling; no sooner were the first kind greetings over,
+than the dread of what he might have to inform them of, possessed poor
+Matilda and Miss Woodley so powerfully, that all their gladness was
+changed into affright. Their apprehensions were far more forcible than
+their curiosity; they dared not ask a question, and even began to wish
+he would continue silent upon the subject on which they feared to
+listen. For near two hours he was so.——At length, after a short
+interval from speaking, (during which they waited with anxiety for what
+he might next say) he turned to Lady Matilda, and said,
+
+“You don’t ask for your father, my dear.�
+
+“I did not know it was proper:� she replied, timidly.
+
+“It is always proper,� answered Sandford, “for _you_ to think of him,
+though he should never think on you.�
+
+She burst into tears, and said that she “_Did_ think of him, but she
+felt an apprehension of mentioning his name�—and she wept bitterly
+while she spoke.
+
+“Do not think I reproved you,� said Sandford; “I only told you what was
+right.�
+
+“Nay,� said Miss Woodley, “she does not weep for that—she fears her
+father has not complied with her mother’s request. Perhaps—not even
+read her letter?�
+
+“Yes, he _has_ read it,� returned Sandford.
+
+“Oh Heavens!� exclaimed Matilda, clasping her hands together, and the
+tears falling still faster.
+
+“Do not be so much alarmed, my dear,� said Miss Woodley; “you know we
+are prepared for the worst; and you know you promised your mother,
+whatever your fate should be, to submit with patience.�
+
+“Yes,� replied Matilda, “and I am prepared for every thing, but my
+father’s refusal to my dear mother.�
+
+“Your father has not refused your mother’s request,� replied Sandford.
+
+She was leaping from her seat in ecstasy.
+
+“But,� continued he, “do you know what her request was?�
+
+“Not entirely,� replied Matilda, “and since it is granted, I am
+careless. But she told me her letter concerned none but me.�
+
+To explain perfectly to Matilda, Lady Elmwood’s letter, and that she
+might perfectly understand upon what terms she was admitted into
+Elmwood Castle, Sandford now read the letter to her; and repeated, as
+nearly as he could remember, the whole of the conversation that passed
+between Lord Elmwood and himself; not even sparing, through an
+erroneous delicacy, any of those threats her father had denounced,
+should she dare to transgress the limits he prescribed—nor did he try
+to soften, in one instance, a word he uttered. She listened sometimes
+with tears, sometimes with hope, but always with awe, and with terror,
+to every sentence in which her father was concerned. Once she called
+him cruel—then exclaimed “He was kind;� but at the end of Sandford’s
+intelligence, concluded “that she was happy and grateful for the boon
+bestowed.� Even her mother had not a more exalted idea of Lord
+Elmwood’s worth than his daughter had formed; and this little bounty
+just obtained, would not have been greater in her mother’s estimation,
+than it was now in hers. Miss Woodley, too, smiled at the prospect
+before her—she esteemed Lord Elmwood beyond any mortal living—she was
+proud to hear what he had said in her praise, and overjoyed at the
+prospect of being once again in his company; painting at the same time
+a thousand bright hopes, from watching every emotion of his soul, and
+catching every proper occasion to excite or increase his paternal
+sentiments. Yet she had the prudence to conceal those vague hopes from
+his child, lest a disappointment might prove fatal; and assuming a
+behaviour neither too much elated or depressed, she advised that they
+should hope for the best, but yet, as usual, expect and prepare for the
+worst.——After taking measures for quitting their melancholy abode,
+within the fortnight, they all departed for Elmwood Castle—Matilda,
+Miss Woodley, and even Sandford, first visiting Lady Elmwood’s grave,
+and bedewing it with their tears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+It was on a dark evening in the month of March, that Lady Matilda,
+accompanied by Sandford and Miss Woodley, arrived at Elmwood Castle,
+the magnificent seat of her father. Sandford chose the evening, rather
+to steal into the house privately, than by any appearance of parade, to
+suffer Lord Elmwood to be reminded of their arrival by the public
+prints, or by any other accident. Nor would he give the neighbours or
+servants reason to suppose, the daughter of their Lord was admitted
+into his house, in any other situation than that, in which she really
+was permitted to be there.
+
+As the porter opened the gates of the avenue to the carriage that
+brought them, Matilda felt an awful, and yet gladsome sensation, which
+no terms can describe. As she entered the door of the house this
+sensation increased—and as she passed along the spacious hall, the
+splendid staircase, and many stately apartments, wonder, with a crowd
+of the tenderest, yet most afflicting sentiments, rushed to her heart.
+She gazed with astonishment!—she reflected with still more.
+
+“And is _my father_ the master of this house?� she cried—“and was my
+mother once the mistress of this castle?� Here tears relieved her from
+a part of that burthen, which was before insupportable.
+
+“Yes,� replied Sandford, “and you are the mistress of it now, till your
+father arrives.�
+
+“Good God!� exclaimed she, “and will he ever arrive? and shall I live
+to sleep under the same roof with my father?�
+
+“My dear,� replied Miss Woodley, “have not you been told so?�
+
+“Yes,� said she, “but though I heard it with extreme pleasure, yet the
+idea never so forcibly affected me as at this moment. I now feel, as
+the reality approaches, that to be admitted here, is kindness enough—I
+do not ask for more—I am now convinced, from what this trial makes me
+feel, that to see my father, would occasion emotions I could not
+survive.�
+
+The next morning gave to Matilda, more objects of admiration and
+wonder, as she walked over the extensive gardens, groves, and other
+pleasure grounds belonging to the house. She, who had never been beyond
+the dreary, ruinous places which her deceased mother had made her
+residence, was naturally struck with amazement and delight at the
+grandeur of a seat, which travellers came for miles to see, nor thought
+their time mispent.
+
+There was one object, however, among all she saw, which attracted her
+attention above the rest, and she would stand for hours to look at it.
+This was a whole length portrait of Lord Elmwood, esteemed a very
+capital picture, and a perfect likeness—to this picture she would sigh
+and weep; though when it was first pointed out to her, she shrunk back
+with fear, and it was some time before she dared venture to cast her
+eyes completely upon it. In the features of her father she was proud to
+discern the exact mould in which her own appeared to have been
+modelled; yet Matilda’s person, shape, and complexion were so extremely
+like what her mother’s once were, that at the first glance she appeared
+to have a still greater resemblance of her, than of her father—but her
+mind and manners were all Lord Elmwood’s; softened by the delicacy of
+her sex, the extreme tenderness of her heart, and the melancholy of her
+situation.
+
+She was now in her seventeenth year—of the same age, within a year and
+a few months, of her mother, when she became the ward of Dorriforth.
+She was just three years old when her father went abroad, and
+remembered something of bidding him farewell; but more of taking
+cherries from his hand, as he pulled them from the tree to give to her.
+
+Educated in the school of adversity, and inured to retirement from her
+infancy, she had acquired a taste for all those amusements which a
+recluse life affords. She was fond of walking and riding—was
+accomplished in the arts of music and drawing, by the most careful
+instructions of her mother—and as a scholar, she excelled most of her
+sex, from the pains which Sandford had taken with that part of her
+education, and the superior abilities he possessed for the task.
+
+In devoting certain hours of the day to study with him, others to
+music, riding, and such amusements, Matilda’s time never appeared
+tedious at Elmwood Castle, although she received and paid no one
+visit—for it was soon divulged in the neighbourhood, upon what
+stipulation she resided at her father’s, and studiously intimated, that
+the most prudent and friendly behaviour of her true friends, would be,
+to take no notice whatever that she lived among them: and as Lord
+Elmwood’s will was a law all around, such was the consequence of that
+will, known, or merely supposed.
+
+Neither did Miss Woodley regret the want of visitors, but found herself
+far more satisfied in her present situation, than her most sanguine
+hopes could have formed. She had a companion whom she loved with an
+equal fondness, with which she had loved her deceased mother; and
+frequently, in this charming mansion, where she had so often beheld
+Lady Elmwood, her imagination represented Matilda as her friend risen
+from the grave, in her former youth, health, and exquisite beauty.
+
+In peace, in content, though not in happiness, the days and weeks
+passed away till about the middle of August, when preparations began to
+be made for the arrival of Lord Elmwood. The week in which he was to
+come was at length fixed, and some part of his retinue was arrived
+before him. When this was told Matilda, she started, and looked just as
+her mother at her age had often done, when in spite of her love, she
+was conscious that she had offended him, and was terrified at his
+approach. Sandford observing this, put out his hand, and taking hers,
+shook it kindly; and bade her (but it was not in a cheering tone) “not
+be afraid.� This gave her no confidence; and she began, before her
+father’s arrival, to seclude herself in the apartments allotted for her
+during the time of his stay; and in the timorous expectation of his
+coming, her appetite declined, and she lost all her colour. Even Miss
+Woodley, whose spirits had been for some time elated with the hopes she
+had formed, on drawing near to the test, found those hopes vanished;
+and though she endeavoured to conceal it, she was full of
+apprehensions. Sandford, had certainly fewer fears than either; yet
+upon the eve of the day on which his patron was to arrive, he was
+evidently cast down.
+
+Lady Matilda once asked him—“Are you certain, Mr. Sandford, you made no
+mistake in respect to what Lord Elmwood said, when he granted my
+mother’s request? Are you sure he _did_ grant it? Was there nothing
+equivocal on which he may ground his displeasure should he be told that
+I am here? Oh do not let me hazard being once again turned out of his
+house! Oh! save me from provoking him perhaps to curse me.� And here
+she clasped her hands together with the most fervent petition, in the
+dread of what might happen.
+
+“If you doubt my words or my senses,� said Sandford, “call Giffard, and
+let him inform you; the same words were repeated to him as to me.�
+
+Though from her reason, Matilda could not doubt of any mistake from Mr.
+Sandford, yet her fears suggested a thousand scruples; and this
+reference to the steward she received with the utmost satisfaction,
+(though she did not think it necessary to apply to him) as it perfectly
+convinced her of the folly of the suspicions she had entertained.
+
+“And yet, Mr. Sandford,� said she, “if it is so, why are you less
+cheerful than you were? I cannot help thinking but it must be your
+expectation of Lord Elmwood, which has occasioned this change.�
+
+“I don’t know,� replied Sandford, carelessly, “but I believe I am grown
+afraid of your father. His temper is a great deal altered from what it
+once was—he raises his voice, and uses harsh expressions upon the least
+provocation—his eyes flash lightning, and his face is distorted with
+anger upon the slightest motives—he turns away his old servants at a
+moment’s warning, and no concession can make their peace. In a word, I
+am more at my ease when I am away from him—and I really believe,� added
+he with a smile, but with a tear at the same time, “I really believe, I
+am more afraid of _him_ in my age, than he was of _me_ when he was a
+boy.�
+
+Miss Woodley was present; she and Matilda looked at one another; and
+each of them saw the other turn pale at this description.
+
+The day at length came, on which Lord Elmwood was expected to dinner.
+It would have been a high gratification to his daughter to have gone to
+the topmost window of the house, and have only beheld his carriage
+enter the avenue; but it was a gratification which her fears, her
+tremor, her extreme sensibility would not permit her to enjoy.
+
+Miss Woodley and she, sat down that day to dinner in their retired
+apartments, which were detached from the other part of the house by a
+gallery; and of the door leading to the gallery, they had a key to
+impede any one from passing that way, without first ringing a bell; to
+answer which, was the sole employment of a servant, who was placed
+there during the Earl’s residence, lest by any accident he might chance
+to come near that unfrequented part of the house, on which occasion the
+man was to give immediate notice to his Lady.
+
+Matilda and Miss Woodley sat down to dinner, but did not dine. Sandford
+dined as usual, with Lord Elmwood. When tea was brought, Miss Woodley
+asked the servant, who attended, if he had seen his Lord. The man
+answered, “Yes, Madam; and he looks vastly well.� Matilda wept with joy
+to hear it.
+
+About nine in the evening, Sandford rang at the bell, and was
+admitted—never had he been so welcome—Matilda hung upon him, as if his
+recent interview with her father, had endeared him to her more than
+ever; and staring anxiously in his face, seemed to enquire of him
+something about Lord Elmwood, and something that should not alarm her.
+
+“Well—how do you find yourself?� said he to her.
+
+“How are you, Mr. Sandford?� she returned, with a sigh.
+
+“Oh! very well,� replied he.
+
+“Is my Lord in a good temper?� asked Miss Woodley.
+
+“Yes; very well,� replied Sandford, with indifference.
+
+“Did he seem glad to see you?� asked Matilda.
+
+“He shook me by the hand,� replied Sandford.
+
+“That was a sign he was glad to see you, was it not?� said Matilda.
+
+“Yes; but he could not do less.�
+
+“Nor more:� replied she.
+
+“He looks very well, our servant tells us,� said Miss Woodley.
+
+“Extremely well indeed,� answered Sandford: “and to tell the truth, I
+never saw him in better spirits.�
+
+“That is well—� said Matilda, and sighed a weight of fears from her
+heart.
+
+“Where is he now, Mr. Sandford?�
+
+“Gone to take a walk about his grounds, and I stole here in the mean
+time.�
+
+“What was your conversation during dinner?� asked Miss Woodley.
+
+“Horses, hay, farming, and politics.�
+
+“Won’t you sup with him?�
+
+“I shall see him again before I go to bed.�
+
+“And again to-morrow!� cried Matilda, “what happiness!�
+
+“He has visitors to-morrow,� said Sandford, “coming for a week or two.�
+
+“Thank Heaven,� said Miss Woodley, “he will then be diverted from
+thinking on us.�
+
+“Do you know,� returned Sandford, “it is my firm opinion, that his
+thinking of ye at present, is the cause of his good spirits.�
+
+“Oh, Heavens!� cried Matilda, lifting up her hands with rapture.
+
+“Nay, do not mistake me,� said Sandford; “I would not have you build a
+foundation for joy upon this surmise; for if he is in spirits that you
+are in this house—so near him—positively under his protection—yet he
+will not allow himself to think it is the cause of his content—and the
+sentiments he has adopted, and which are now become natural to him,
+will remain the same as ever; nay, perhaps with greater force, should
+he suspect his weakness (as he calls it) acting in opposition to them.�
+
+“If he does but think of me with tenderness,� cried Matilda, “I am
+recompensed.�
+
+“And what recompense would his kind thoughts be to you,� said Sandford,
+“were he to turn you out to beggary?�
+
+“A great deal—a great deal,� she replied.
+
+“But how are you to know he has these kind thoughts, if he gives you no
+proof of them?�
+
+“No, Mr. Sandford; but _supposing_ we could know them without proof.�
+
+“But as that is impossible,� answered he, “I shall suppose, till proof
+appears, that I have been mistaken in my conjectures.�
+
+Matilda looked deeply concerned that the argument should conclude in
+her disappointment; for to have believed herself thought of with
+tenderness by her father, would have alone constituted her happiness.
+
+When the servant came up with something by way of supper, he told Mr.
+Sandford that his Lord was returned from his walk and had enquired for
+him; Sandford immediately bade his companions good night, and left
+them.
+
+“How strange is this!� cried Matilda, when Miss Woodley and she were
+alone, “My father within a few rooms of me, and yet I am debarred from
+seeing him! Only by walking a few paces I could be at his feet, and
+perhaps receive his blessing!�
+
+“You make me shudder,� cried Miss Woodley; “but some spirits less timid
+than mine, might perhaps advise you to the experiment.�
+
+“Not for worlds!� returned Matilda, “no counsel could tempt me to such
+temerity—and yet to entertain the thought that it is possible I could
+do this, is a source of infinite comfort.�
+
+This conversation lasted till bed time, and later; for they sat up
+beyond their usual hour to indulge it.
+
+Miss Woodley slept little, but Matilda less—she awaked repeatedly
+during the night, and every time sighed to herself, “I sleep in the
+same house with my father! Blessed spirit of my mother, look down and
+rejoice.�
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+The next day the whole Castle appeared to Lady Matilda (though she was
+in some degree retired from it) all tumult and bustle, as was usually
+the case while Lord Elmwood was there. She saw from her windows, the
+servants running across the yards and park; horses and carriages
+driving with fury; all the suite of a nobleman; and it sometimes
+elated, at other times depressed her.
+
+These impressions however, and others of fear and anxiety, which her
+father’s arrival had excited, by degrees wore off; and after some
+little time, she was in the same tranquil state that she enjoyed before
+he came.
+
+He had visitors, who passed a week or two with him; he paid visits
+himself for several days; and thus the time stole away, till it was
+about four weeks from the time that he had arrived; in which long
+period, Sandford, with all his penetration, could never clearly
+discover whether he had once called to mind that his daughter was
+living in the same house. He had not once named her (that was not
+extraordinary) consequently no one dared name her to him; but he had
+not even mentioned Miss Woodley, of whom he had so lately spoken in the
+kindest terms, and had said, “He should take pleasure in seeing her
+again.� From these contradictions in Lord Elmwood’s behaviour in
+respect to her, it was Miss Woodley’s plan neither to throw herself in
+his way, nor avoid him. She therefore frequently walked about the house
+while he was in it, not indeed entirely without restraint, but at least
+with the show of liberty. This freedom, indulged for some time without
+peril, became at last less cautious; and as no ill consequences had
+arisen from its practice, her scruples gradually ceased.
+
+One morning, however, as she was crossing the large hall, thoughtless
+of danger, a footstep at a distance alarmed her almost without knowing
+why. She stopped for a moment, thinking to return; the steps approached
+quicker, and before she could retreat, she beheld Lord Elmwood at the
+other end of the hall, and perceived that he saw her. It was too late
+to hesitate what was to be done; she could not go back, and had not
+courage to go on; she therefore stood still. Disconcerted, and much
+affected at his sight, (their former intimacy coming to her mind with
+the many years, and many sad occurrences passed, since she last saw
+him) all her intentions, all her meditated plans how to conduct herself
+on such an occasion, gave way to a sudden shock—and to make the meeting
+yet more distressing, her very fright, she knew, would serve to recall
+more powerfully to his mind, the subject she most wished him to forget.
+The steward was with him, and as they came up close by her side,
+Giffard observing him look at her earnestly, said softly, but so as she
+heard him, “My Lord, it is Miss Woodley.� Lord Elmwood took off his hat
+instantly—and, with an apparent friendly warmth, laying hold of her
+hand, he said, “Indeed, Miss Woodley, I did not know you—I am very glad
+to see you:� and while he spoke, shook her hand with a cordiality which
+her tender heart could not bear—and never did she feel so hard a
+struggle as to restrain her tears. But the thought of Matilda’s
+fate—the idea of awakening in his mind a sentiment that might irritate
+him against his child, wrought more forcibly than every other effort;
+and though she could not reply distinctly, she replied without weeping.
+Whether he saw her embarrassment, and wished to release her from it, or
+was in haste to conceal his own, he left her almost instantly: but not
+till he had entreated she would dine that very day with him and Mr.
+Sandford, who were to dine without other company. She curtsied assent,
+and flew to tell Matilda what had occurred. After listening with
+anxiety and with joy to all she told, Matilda laid hold of that hand
+which she said Lord Elmwood had held, and pressed it to her lips with
+love and reverence.
+
+When Miss Woodley made her appearance at dinner, Sandford, (who had not
+seen her since the invitation, and did not know of it) looked amazed;
+on which Lord Elmwood said, “Do you know, Sandford, I met Miss Woodley
+this morning, and had it not been for Giffard, I should have passed her
+without knowing her—but Miss Woodley, if I am not so much altered but
+that you knew me, I take it unkind you did not speak first.� She was
+unable to speak even now—he saw it, and changed the conversation; when
+Sandford eagerly joined in discourse, which relieved him from the pain
+of the former.
+
+As they advanced in their dinner, the embarrassment of Miss Woodley and
+of Mr. Sandford diminished; Lord Elmwood in his turn became, not
+embarrassed, but absent and melancholy. He now and then sighed
+heavily—and called for wine much oftener than he was accustomed.
+
+When Miss Woodley took her leave, he invited her to dine with him and
+Sandford whenever it was convenient to her; he said, besides, many
+things of the same kind, and all with the utmost civility, yet not with
+that warmth with which he had spoken in the morning—into _that_ he had
+been surprised—his coolness was the effect of reflection.
+
+When she came to Lady Matilda, and Sandford had joined them, they
+talked and deliberated on what had passed.
+
+“You acknowledge Mr. Sandford,� said Miss Woodley, “that you think my
+presence affected Lord Elmwood, so as to make him much more thoughtful
+than usual; if you imagine these thoughts were upon Lady Elmwood, I
+will never intrude again; but if you suppose that I made him think upon
+his daughter, I cannot go too often.�
+
+“I don’t see how he can divide those two objects in his mind,� replied
+Sandford, “therefore you must e’en visit him on, and take your chance,
+what reflections you may cause—but, be they what they will, time will
+steal away from you that power of affecting him.�
+
+She concurred in the opinion, and occasionally she walked into Lord
+Elmwood’s apartments, dined, or took her coffee with him, as the
+accident suited; and observed, according to Sandford’s prediction, that
+time wore off the impression her visits first made. Lord Elmwood now
+became just the same before her as before others. She easily discerned,
+too, through all that politeness which he assumed—that he was no longer
+the considerate, the forbearing character he formerly was; but haughty,
+impatient, imperious, and more than ever, _implacable_.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+When Lord Elmwood had been at his country seat about six weeks, Mr.
+Rushbrook, his nephew, and his adopted child—that friendless boy whom
+poor Lady Elmwood first introduced into his uncle’s house, and by her
+kindness preserved there—arrived from his travels, and was received by
+his uncle with all the marks of affection due to the man he thought
+worthy to be his heir. Rushbrook had been a beautiful boy, and was now
+an extremely handsome young man; he had made unusual progress in his
+studies, had completed the tour of Italy and Germany, and returned home
+with the air and address of a perfect man of fashion—there was,
+besides, an elegance and persuasion in his manner almost irresistible.
+Yet with all those accomplishments, when he was introduced to Sandford,
+and put forth his hand to take his, Sandford, with evident reluctance,
+gave it to him; and when Lord Elmwood asked him, in the young man’s
+presence, “If he did not think his nephew greatly improved?� He looked
+at him from head to foot, and muttered “He could not say he observed
+it.� The colour heightened in Mr. Rushbrook’s face upon the occasion,
+but he was too well bred not to be in perfect good humour.
+
+Sandford saw this young man treated, in the house of Lord Elmwood, with
+the same respect and attention as if he had been his son; and it was
+but probable the old priest would make a comparison between the
+situation of him, and of Lady Matilda Elmwood. Before her, it was
+Sandford’s meaning to have concealed his thoughts upon the subject, and
+never to have mentioned it but with composure; that was, however,
+impossible—unused to hide his feelings, at the name of Rushbrook, his
+countenance would always change, and a sarcastic sneer, sometimes a
+frown of resentment, would force its way in spite of his resolution.
+Miss Woodley, too, with all her boundless charity and good will, was,
+upon this occasion, induced to limit their excess; and they did not
+extend so far as to reach poor Rushbrook. She even, and in _reality_,
+did not think him handsome or engaging in his manners—she thought his
+gaiety frivolousness, his complaisance affectation, and his good humour
+impertinence. It was impossible to conceal those unfavourable
+sentiments entirely from Matilda; for when the subject arose, as it
+frequently did, Miss Woodley’s undisguised heart, and Sandford’s
+undisguised countenance, told them instantly. Matilda had the
+understanding to imagine, that she was, perhaps, the object who had
+thus deformed Mr. Rushbrook, and frequently (though he was a stranger
+to her, and one who had caused her many a jealous heart-ache)
+frequently she would speak in his vindication.
+
+“You are very good,� said Sandford, one day to her; “you like him,
+because you know your father loves him.�
+
+This was a hard sentence for the daughter of Lord Elmwood to hear, to
+whom her father’s love would have been more precious than any other
+blessing.—She, however, checked the assault of envy, and kindly
+replied,
+
+“My mother loved him too, Mr. Sandford.�
+
+“Yes,� answered Sandford, “he has been a _grateful_ man to your poor
+mother.—She did not suppose when she took him into the house; when she
+intreated your father to take him; and through her caresses and
+officious praises of him, first gave him that power which he now
+possesses over his uncle; she little foresaw, at that time, his
+ingratitude, and its effects.�
+
+“Very true,� said Miss Woodley, with a heavy sigh.
+
+“What ingratitude?� asked Matilda, “do you suppose Mr. Rushbrook is the
+cause that my father will not see me? Oh do not pay Lord Elmwood’s
+motive so ill a compliment.�
+
+“I do not say that he is the absolute cause,� returned Sandford; “but
+if a parent’s heart is void, I would have it remain so, till its lawful
+owner is replaced—usurpers I detest.�
+
+“No one can take Lord Elmwood’s heart by force,� replied his daughter,
+“it must, I believe, be a free gift to the possessor; and as such,
+whoever has it, has a right to it.�
+
+In this manner she would plead the young man’s excuse—perhaps but to
+hear what could be said in his disfavour, for secretly his name was
+bitter to her—and once she exclaimed in vexation, on Sandford’s saying
+Lord Elmwood and Mr. Rushbrook were gone out shooting together,
+
+“All that pleasure is now eclipsed which I used to take in listening to
+the report of my father’s gun, for I cannot now distinguish his, from
+his parasite’s.�
+
+Sandford, (much as he disliked Rushbrook) for this expression which
+comprised her father in the reflection, turned to Matilda in extreme
+anger—but as he saw the colour mount into her face, for what, in the
+strong feelings of her heart had escaped her lips, he did not say a
+word—and by her tears that followed, he rejoiced to see how much she
+reproved _herself_.
+
+Miss Woodley, vexed to the heart, and provoked every time she saw Lord
+Elmwood and Rushbrook together, and saw the familiar terms on which
+this young man lived with his benefactor, now made her visits to him
+very seldom. If Lord Elmwood observed this, he did not appear to
+observe it; and though he received her politely when she did pay him a
+visit, it was always very coldly; nor did she suppose if she never
+went, he would ever ask for her. For his daughter’s sake, however, she
+thought it right sometimes to shew herself before him; for she knew it
+must be impossible that, with all his apparent indifference, he could
+ever see _her_ without thinking for a moment on his child; and what one
+fortunate thought might some time bring about, was an object much too
+serious for her to overlook. She therefore, after remaining confined to
+her apartments near three weeks, (excepting those anxious walks she and
+Matilda stole, while Lord Elmwood dined, or before he rose in a
+morning) went one forenoon into his apartments, where, as usual, she
+found him, with Mr. Sandford, and Mr. Rushbrook. After she had sat
+about half an hour, conversing with them all, though but very little
+with the latter, Lord Elmwood was called out of the room upon some
+business; presently after, Sandford; and now, by no means pleased with
+the companion with whom she was left, she rose, and was going likewise,
+when Rushbrook fixed his speaking eyes upon her, and cried,
+
+“Miss Woodley, will you pardon me what I am going to say?�
+
+“Certainly, Sir. You can, I am sure, say nothing but what I must
+forgive.� But she made this reply with a distance and a reserve, very
+unlike the usual manners of Miss Woodley.
+
+He looked at her earnestly and cried, “Ah! Miss Woodley, you don’t
+behave so kindly to me as you used to do!�
+
+“I do not understand you, Sir,� she replied very gravely; “Times are
+changed, Mr. Rushbrook, since you were last here—you were then but a
+child.�
+
+“Yet I love all those persons now, that I loved then,� replied he; “and
+so I shall for ever.�
+
+“But you mistake, Mr. Rushbrook; I was not even then so very much the
+object of your affections—there were other ladies you loved better.
+Perhaps you don’t remember Lady Elmwood?�
+
+“Don’t I,� cried he, “Oh!� (clasping his hands and lifting up his eyes
+to heaven) “shall I ever forget her?�
+
+That moment Lord Elmwood opened the door; the conversation of course
+that moment ended; but confusion, at the sudden surprise, was on the
+face of both parties—he saw it, and looked at each of them by turns,
+with a sternness that made poor Miss Woodley ready to faint; while
+Rushbrook, with the most natural and happy laugh that ever was
+affected, cried, “No, don’t tell my Lord, pray Miss Woodley.� She was
+more confused than before, and Lord Elmwood turning to him, asked what
+the subject was. By this time he had invented one, and, continuing his
+laugh, said, “Miss Woodley, my Lord, will to this day protest that she
+saw my apparition when I was a boy; and she says it is a sign I shall
+die young, and is really much affected at it.�
+
+Lord Elmwood turned away before this ridiculous speech was concluded;
+yet so well had it been acted, that he did not for an instant doubt its
+truth.
+
+Miss Woodley felt herself greatly relieved; and yet so little is it in
+the power of those we dislike to do any thing to please us, that from
+this very circumstance, she formed a more unfavourable opinion of Mr.
+Rushbrook than she had done before. She saw in this little incident the
+art of dissimulation, cunning, and duplicity in its most glaring shape;
+and detested the method by which they had each escaped Lord Elmwood’s
+suspicion, and perhaps anger, the more, because it was so dexterously
+managed.
+
+Lady Matilda and Sandford were both in their turns informed of this
+trait in Mr. Rushbrook’s character; and although Miss Woodley had the
+best of dispositions, and upon every occasion spoke the strictest
+truth, yet in relating this occurrence, she did not speak _all_ the
+truth; for every circumstance that would have told to the young man’s
+advantage, _literally_ had slipped her memory.
+
+The twenty-ninth of October arrived; on which a dinner, a ball, and
+supper, was given by Lord Elmwood to all the neighbouring gentry—the
+peasants also dined in the park off a roasted bullock, several casks of
+ale were distributed, and the bells of the village rung. Matilda, who
+heard and saw some part of this festivity from her windows, inquired
+the cause; but even the servant who waited upon her had too much
+sensibility to tell her, and answered, “He did not know.� Miss Woodley
+however, soon learned the reason, and groaning with the painful secret,
+informed her, “Mr. Rushbrook on that day was come of age.�
+
+“_My_ birth-day was last week,� replied Matilda; but not a word beside.
+
+In their retired apartments, this day passed away not only soberly, but
+almost silently; for to speak upon any subject that did not engage
+their thoughts had been difficult, and to speak upon the only one that
+did, had been afflicting.
+
+Just as they were sitting down to dinner their bell gently rung, and in
+walked Sandford.
+
+“Why are you not among the revellers, Mr. Sandford?� cried Miss
+Woodley, with an ironical sneer—(the first her features ever
+wore)—“Pray, were not you invited to dine with the company?�
+
+“Yes,� replied Sandford; “but my head ached; and so I had rather come
+and take a bit with you.�
+
+Matilda, as if she had seen his heart as he spoke, clung round his neck
+and sobbed on his bosom: he put her peevishly away, crying “Nonsense,
+nonsense—eat your dinner.� But he did not eat himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+About a week after this, Lord Elmwood went out two days for a visit;
+consequently Rushbrook was for that time master of the house. The first
+morning he went a shooting, and returning about noon, enquired of
+Sandford, who was sitting in the room, if he had taken up a volume of
+plays left upon the table. “I read no such things,� replied Sandford,
+and quitted the room abruptly. Rushbrook then rang for his servant, and
+desired him to look for the book, asking him angrily, “Who had been in
+the apartment? for he was sure he had left it there when he went out.�
+The servant withdrew to enquire, and presently returned with the volume
+in his hand, and “Miss Woodley’s compliments, she begs your pardon,
+Sir, she did not know the book was yours, and hopes you will excuse the
+liberty she took.�
+
+“Miss Woodley!� cried Rushbrook with surprise, “she comes so seldom
+into these apartments, I did not suppose it was her who had it—take it
+back to her instantly, with my respects, and I beg she will keep it.�
+
+The man went; but returned with the book again, and laying it on the
+table without speaking, was going away; when Rushbrook, hurt at
+receiving no second message, said, “I am afraid, Sir, you did very
+wrong when you first took this book from Miss Woodley.�
+
+“It was not from her I took it, Sir,� replied the man, “it was from
+Lady Matilda.�
+
+Since he had entered the house, Rushbrook had never before heard the
+name of Lady Matilda, he was shocked—confounded more than ever—and to
+conceal what he felt, instantly ordered the man out of the room.
+
+In the mean time, Miss Woodley and Matilda were talking over this
+trifling occurrence; and frivolous as it was, drew from it strong
+conclusions of Rushbrook’s insolence and power. In spite of her pride,
+the daughter of Lord Elmwood even wept at the insult she had received
+on this insignificant occasion; for the volume being merely taken from
+her at Mr. Rushbrook’s command, she felt an insult; and the manner in
+which it was done by the servant, might contribute to the offence.
+
+While Miss Woodley and she were upon this conversation, a note came
+from Rushbrook to Miss Woodley, wherein he entreated he might be
+permitted to see her. She sent a verbal answer, “She was engaged.� He
+sent again, begging she would name her own time. But sure of a second
+denial, he followed the servant who took the last message, and as Miss
+Woodley came out of her apartment into the gallery to speak to him,
+Rushbrook presented himself, and told the man to retire.
+
+“Mr. Rushbrook,� said Miss Woodley, “this intrusion is insupportable;
+and destitute as you may think me of the friendship of Lord Elmwood�——
+
+In the ardour with which Rushbrook was waiting to express himself, he
+interrupted her, and caught hold of her hand.
+
+She immediately snatched it from him, and withdrew into her chamber.
+
+He followed, saying, in a low voice, “Dear Miss Woodley, hear me.�
+
+At that juncture Lady Matilda, who was in an inner apartment, came out
+of it into Miss Woodley’s. Perceiving a gentleman, she stopped short at
+the door.
+
+Rushbrook cast his eyes upon her, and stood motionless—his lips only
+moved. “Do not depart, Madam,� said he, “without hearing my apology for
+being here.�
+
+Though Matilda had never seen him since her infancy, there was no
+occasion to tell her who it was that addressed her—his elegant and
+youthful person, joined to the incident which had just occurred,
+convinced her it was Rushbrook: she looked at him with an air of
+surprise, but with still more, of dignity.
+
+“Miss Woodley is severe upon me, Madam,� continued he, “she judges me
+unkindly; and I am afraid she will prepossess you with the same
+unfavourable sentiments.�
+
+Still Matilda did not speak, but looked at him with the same air of
+dignity.
+
+“If, Lady Matilda,� resumed he, “I have offended you, and must quit you
+without pardon, I am more unhappy than I should be with the loss of
+your father’s protection—more forlorn, than when an orphan boy, your
+mother first took pity on me.�
+
+At this last sentence, Matilda turned her eyes on Miss Woodley, and
+seemed in doubt what reply she was to give.
+
+Rushbrook immediately fell upon his knees—“Oh! Lady Matilda,� cried he,
+“if you knew the sensations of my heart, you would not treat me with
+this disdain.�
+
+“We can only judge of those sensations, Mr. Rushbrook,� said Miss
+Woodley, “by the effect they have upon your conduct; and while you
+insult Lord and Lady Elmwood’s daughter by an intrusion like this, and
+then ridicule her abject state by mockeries like these——�
+
+He rose from his knees instantly, and interrupted her, crying, “What
+can I do? What am I to say, to make you change your opinion of me?
+While Lord Elmwood has been at home, I have kept an awful distance; and
+though every moment I breathed was a wish to cast myself at his
+daughter’s feet, yet as I feared, Miss Woodley, that you were incensed
+against me, by what means was I to procure an interview but by
+stratagem or force? This accident has given a third method, and I had
+not strength, I had not courage, to let it pass. Lord Elmwood will soon
+return, and we may both of us be hurried to town immediately—then how
+for a tedious winter could I endure the reflexion that I was despised,
+nay, perhaps considered as an object of ingratitude, by the only child
+of my deceased benefactress?�
+
+Matilda replied with all her father’s haughtiness, “Depend upon it,
+Sir, if you should ever enter my thoughts, it will only be as an object
+of envy.�
+
+“Suffer me then, Madam,� said he, “as an earnest that you do not think
+worse of me than I merit, suffer me to be sometimes admitted into your
+presence—.�
+
+She would scarce permit him to finish the period, before she replied,
+“This is the last time, Sir, we shall ever meet, depend upon it—unless,
+indeed, Lord Elmwood should delegate to you the controul of me—_his_
+commands I never dispute.� And here she burst into tears.
+
+Rushbrook walked towards the window, and did not speak for some
+time—then turning himself to make a reply, both Matilda and Miss
+Woodley were somewhat surprised to see, that he had been shedding tears
+himself.—Having conquered them, he said, “I will not offend you, Madam,
+by remaining one moment longer; and I give you my honour, that, upon no
+pretence whatever, will I presume to intrude here again. Professions, I
+find, have no weight, and only by this obedience to your orders, can I
+give a proof of that respect which you inspire;—and let the agitation I
+now feel, convince you, Lady Matilda, that, with all my seeming good
+fortune, I am not happier than yourself.� And so much was he agitated
+while he delivered this, that it was with difficulty he came to the
+conclusion. When he did, he bowed with reverence, as if leaving the
+presence of a deity, and retired.
+
+Matilda immediately entered the chamber she had left, and without
+casting a single look at Miss Woodley by which she might guess of the
+opinion she had formed of Mr. Rushbrook’s conduct. The next time they
+met they did not even mention his name; for they were ashamed to own a
+partiality in his favour, and were too just to bring any accusation
+against him.
+
+But Miss Woodley, the day following, communicated the intelligence of
+this visit to Mr. Sandford, who not being present, and a witness of
+those marks of humility and respect which were conspicuous in the
+deportment of Mr. Rushbrook, was highly offended at his presumption,
+and threatened if he ever dared to force his company there again, he
+would acquaint Lord Elmwood with his arrogance, whatever might be the
+event. Miss Woodley, however, assured him, she believed he would have
+no cause for such a complaint, as the young man had made the most
+solemn promise never to commit the like offence; and she thought it her
+duty to enjoin Sandford, till he did repeat it, not to mention the
+circumstance, even to Rushbrook himself.
+
+Matilda could not but feel a regard for her father’s heir, in return
+for that which he had so fervently declared for her; yet the more
+favourable her opinion of his mind and manners, the more he became an
+object of her jealousy for the affections of Lord Elmwood, and he was
+now consequently, an object of greater sorrow to her, than when she
+believed him less worthy. These sentiments were reversed on his part
+towards her—no jealousy intervened to bar his admiration and esteem—the
+beauty of her person, and grandeur of her mien, not only confirmed, but
+improved, the exalted idea he had formed of her previous to their
+meeting, and which his affection to both her parents had inspired. The
+next time he saw his benefactor, he began to feel a new esteem and
+regard for him, for his daughter’s sake; as he had at first an esteem
+for her, on the foundation of his love for Lord and Lady Elmwood. He
+gazed with wonder at his uncle’s insensibility to his own happiness,
+and would gladly have led him to the jewel he cast away, though even
+his own expulsion should be the fatal consequence. Such was the
+youthful, warm, generous, grateful, but unreflecting mind of Rushbrook.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+After this incident, Miss Woodley left her apartments less frequently
+than before—she was afraid, though till now mistrust had been a
+stranger to her heart, she was afraid that duplicity might be concealed
+under the apparent friendship of Rushbrook; it did not indeed appear so
+from any part of his behaviour, but she was apprehensive for the fate
+of Matilda; she disliked him too, and therefore she suspected him. Near
+three weeks she had not now paid a visit to Lord Elmwood, and though to
+herself every visit was a pain, yet as Matilda took a delight in
+hearing of her father, what he said, what he did, what his attention
+seemed most employed on, and a thousand other circumstantial
+informations, in which Sandford would scorn to be half so particular,
+it was a deprivation to her, that Miss Woodley did not go oftener. Now
+too, the middle of November was come, and it was expected her father
+would soon quit the country.
+
+Partly therefore to indulge her hapless companion, and partly because
+it was a duty, Miss Woodley once again paid Lord Elmwood a morning
+visit, and staid dinner. Rushbrook was officiously polite, (for that
+was the epithet she gave his attention in relating it to Lady Matilda)
+yet she owned he had not that forward impertinence she had formerly
+discovered in him, but appeared much more grave and sedate.
+
+“But tell me of my father,� said Matilda.
+
+“I was going, my dear—but don’t be concerned—don’t let it vex you.�
+
+“What? what?� cried Matilda, frightened by the preface.
+
+“Why, on my observing that I thought Mr. Rushbrook looked paler than
+usual, and appeared not to be in perfect health, (which was really the
+case) your father expressed the greatest anxiety imaginable; he said he
+could not bear to see him look so ill, begged him, with all the
+tenderness of a parent, to take the advice of a physician, and added a
+thousand other affectionate things.�
+
+“I detest Mr. Rushbrook,� said Matilda, with her eyes flashing
+indignation.
+
+“Nay, for shame,� returned Miss Woodley; “do you suppose I told you
+this, to make you hate him?�
+
+“No, there was no occasion for that,� replied Matilda; “my sentiments
+(though I have never before avowed them) were long ago formed; he was
+always an object which added to my unhappiness; but since his daring
+intrusion into my apartments, he has been an object of my hatred.�
+
+“But now, perhaps, I may tell you something to please you,� cried Miss
+Woodley.
+
+“And what is that?� said Matilda, with indifference; for the first
+intelligence had hurt her spirits too much to suffer her to listen with
+pleasure to anything.
+
+“Mr. Rushbrook,� continued Miss Woodley, “replied to your father, that
+his indisposition was but a slight nervous fever, and he would defer a
+physician’s advice till he went to London�—on which Lord Elmwood said,
+“And when do you expect to be there?�—he replied, “Within a week or
+two, I suppose, my Lord.� But your father answered, “I do not mean to
+go myself till after Christmas.� “No indeed, my Lord!� said Mr.
+Sandford, with surprise: “you have not passed your Christmas here these
+many years.� “No,� returned your father; “but I think I feel myself
+more attached to this house at present, than ever I did in my life.�
+
+“You imagine, then, my father thought of me, when he said this?� cried
+Matilda eagerly.
+
+“But I may be mistaken,� replied Miss Woodley. “I leave you to judge.
+Though I am sure Mr. Sandford imagined he thought of you, for I saw a
+smile over his whole face immediately.�
+
+“Did you, Miss Woodley?�
+
+“Yes; it appeared on every feature except his lips; those he kept fast
+closed, for fear Lord Elmwood should perceive it.�
+
+Miss Woodley, with all her minute intelligence, did not however
+acquaint Matilda, that Rushbrook followed her to the window when the
+Earl was out of the room, and Sandford half asleep at the other end of
+it, and inquired respectfully but anxiously for _her_; adding, “It is
+my concern for Lady Matilda which makes me thus indisposed: I suffer
+more than she does; but I am not permitted to tell her so, nor can I
+hope, Miss Woodley, you will.� She replied, “You are right, Sir.� Nor
+did she reveal this conversation, while not a sentence that passed
+except that, was omitted.
+
+When Christmas arrived, Lord Elmwood had many convivial days at Elmwood
+House, but Matilda was never mentioned by one of his guests, and most
+probably was never thought of. During all those holidays, she was
+unusually melancholy, but sunk into the deepest dejection when she was
+told the day was fixed, on which her father was to return to town. On
+the morning of that day she wept incessantly; and all her consolation
+was, “She would go to the chamber window that was fronting the door
+through which he was to pass to his carriage, and for the first time,
+and most probably for the last time in her life, behold him.�
+
+This design was soon forgot in another:—“She would rush boldly into the
+apartment where he was, and at his feet take leave of him for ever—she
+would lay hold of his hands, clasp his knees, provoke him to spurn her,
+which would be joy in comparison to this cruel indifference.� In the
+bitterness of her grief, she once called upon her mother, and
+reproached her memory—but the moment she recollected this offence,
+(which was almost instantaneously) she became all mildness and
+resignation. “What have I said?� cried she; “Dear, dear saint, forgive
+me; and for your sake I will bear all with patience—I will not groan, I
+will not even sigh again—this task I set myself to atone for what I
+have dared to utter.�
+
+While Lady Matilda laboured under this variety of sensations, Miss
+Woodley was occupied in bewailing and endeavouring to calm her
+sorrows—and Lord Elmwood, with Rushbrook, was ready to set off. The
+Earl, however, loitered, and did not once seem in haste to be gone.
+When at last he got up to depart, Sandford thought he pressed his hand,
+and shook it with more warmth than ever he had done in his life.
+Encouraged by this supposition, Sandford said, “My Lord, won’t you
+condescend to take your leave of Miss Woodley?�
+
+“Certainly, Sandford,� replied he, and seemed glad of an excuse to sit
+down again.
+
+Impressed with the idea of the state in which she had left his only
+child, Miss Woodley, when she came before Lord Elmwood to bid him
+farewell, was pale, trembling, and in tears. Sandford, notwithstanding
+his patron’s apparently kind humour, was shocked at the construction he
+must put upon her appearance, and cried, “What, Miss Woodley, are you
+not recovered of your illness yet?� Lord Elmwood, however, took no
+notice of her looks, but after wishing her her health, walked slowly
+out of the house; turning back frequently and speaking to Sandford, or
+to some other person who was behind him, as if part of his thoughts
+were left behind, and he went with reluctance.
+
+When he had quitted the room where Miss Woodley was, Rushbrook, timid
+before her, as she had been before her benefactor, went up to her, all
+humility, and said, “Miss Woodley, we ought to be friends: our concern,
+our devotion is paid to the same objects, and one common interest
+should teach us to be friendly.�
+
+She made no reply.—“Will you permit me to write to you when I am away?�
+said he; “You may wish to hear of Lord Elmwood’s health, and of what
+changes may take place in his resolutions.—Will you permit me?� At that
+moment a servant came and said, “Sir, my Lord is in the carriage, and
+waiting for you.� He hastened away, and Miss Woodley was relieved from
+the pain of giving him a denial.
+
+No sooner was the chaise, with all its attendants, out of sight, than
+Lady Matilda was conducted by Miss Woodley from her lonely retreat,
+into that part of the house from whence her father had just
+departed—and she visited every spot where he had so long resided, with
+a pleasing curiosity that for a while diverted her grief. In the
+breakfast and dining rooms, she leaned over those seats with a kind of
+filial piety, on which she was told he had been accustomed to sit. And,
+in the library, she took up with filial delight, the pen with which he
+had been writing; and looked with the most curious attention into those
+books that were laid upon his reading desk. But a hat, lying on one of
+the tables, gave her a sensation beyond any other she experienced on
+this occasion—in that trifling article of his dress, she thought she
+saw himself, and held it in her hand with pious reverence.
+
+In the mean time, Lord Elmwood and Rushbrook were proceeding on the
+road, with hearts not less heavy than those which they had left at
+Elmwood House; though neither of them could so well define the cause of
+this oppression, as Matilda could account for the weight which
+oppressed her’s.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Young as Lady Matilda was during the life of her mother, neither her
+youth, nor the recluse state in which she lived, had precluded her from
+the notice and solicitations of a nobleman who had professed himself
+her lover. Viscount Margrave had an estate not far distant from the
+retreat Lady Elmwood had chosen; and being devoted to the sports of the
+country, he seldom quitted it for any of those joys which the town
+offered. He was a young man, of a handsome person, and was, what his
+neighbours called, “A man of spirit.� He was an excellent fox-hunter,
+and as excellent a companion over his bottle at the end of the chace—he
+was prodigal of his fortune, where his pleasures were concerned, and as
+those pleasures were chiefly social, his sporting companions and his
+mistresses (for these were also of the plural number) partook largely
+of his wealth.
+
+Two months previous to Lady Elmwood’s death, Miss Woodley and Lady
+Matilda were taking their usual walk in some fields and lanes near to
+their house, when chance threw Lord Margrave in their way during a
+thunder storm in which they were suddenly caught; and he had the
+satisfaction to convey his new acquaintances to their home in his
+coach, safe from the fury of the elements. Grateful for the service he
+had rendered them, Miss Woodley and her charge, permitted him to
+enquire occasionally after their health, and would sometimes see him.
+The story of Lady Elmwood was known to Lord Margrave, and as he beheld
+her daughter with a passion such as he had been unused to overcome, he
+indulged it with the probable hope, that on the death of the mother
+Lord Elmwood would receive his child, and perhaps accept him as his
+son-in-law. Wedlock was not the plan which Lord Margrave had ever
+proposed to himself for happiness; but the excess of his love on this
+new occasion, subdued all the resolutions he had formed against the
+married state; and not daring to hope for the consummation of his
+wishes by any other means, he suffered himself to look forward to that,
+as his only resource. No sooner was the long expected death of Lady
+Elmwood arrived, than he waited with impatience to hear that Lady
+Matilda was sent for and acknowledged by her father; for he meant to be
+the first to lay before Lord Elmwood his pretensions as a suitor. But
+those pretensions were founded on the vague hopes of a lover only; and
+Miss Woodley, to whom he first declared them, said every thing possible
+to convince him of their fallacy. As to the object of his passion, she
+was not only insensible, but wholly inattentive to all that was said to
+her on the subject. Lady Elmwood died without ever being disturbed with
+it; for her daughter did not even remember his proposals so as to
+repeat them again, and Miss Woodley thought it prudent to conceal from
+her friend, every new incident which might give her cause for new
+anxieties.
+
+When Sandford and the ladies left the north and came to Elmwood House,
+so much were their thoughts employed with other ideas, that Lord
+Margrave did not occupy a place; and during the whole time they had
+been at their new abode, they had never once heard of him. He had,
+nevertheless, his whole mind fixed upon Lady Matilda, and had placed
+spies in the neighbourhood to inform him of every circumstance relating
+to her situation. Having imbibed an aversion to matrimony, he heard
+with but little regret, that there was no prospect of her ever becoming
+her father’s heir, while such an information gave him the hope of
+obtaining her, upon the terms of a mistress.
+
+Lord Elmwood’s departure to town forwarded this hope, and flattering
+himself that the humiliating state in which Matilda must feel herself
+in the house of her father might gladly induce her to take shelter
+under any other protection, he boldly advanced as soon as the Earl was
+gone, to make such overture as his wishes and his vanity told him,
+could not be rejected.
+
+Inquiring for Miss Woodley, he easily gained admittance; but at the
+sight of so much modesty and dignity in the person of Matilda, the
+appearance of so much good will, and yet such circumspection in her
+companion; and charmed at the good sense and proper spirit which were
+always apparent in the manners of Sandford, he fell once more into the
+despondency of never becoming to Lady Matilda any thing of more
+importance to his reputation, than a husband.
+
+Even that humble hope was sometimes denied him, while Sandford set
+forth the impropriety of troubling Lord Elmwood on such a subject at
+present; and while the Viscount’s penetration, small as it was,
+discovered in his fair one, more to discourage, than to favour his
+wishes. Plunged, however, too deep in his passion to emerge from it in
+haste, he meant still to visit, and wait for a change to happier
+circumstances, when he was peremptorily desired by Mr. Sandford to
+desist from ever coming again.
+
+“And why, Mr. Sandford?� cried he.
+
+“For two reasons, my Lord;—in the first place, your visits might be
+displeasing to Lord Elmwood; in the next place, I know they are so to
+his daughter.�
+
+Unaccustomed to be addressed so plainly, particularly in a case where
+his heart was interested, he nevertheless submitted with patience; but
+in his own mind determined how long this patience should continue—no
+longer than it served as the means to prove his obedience, and by that
+artifice, to secure his better reception at some future period.
+
+On his return home, cheered with the huzzas of his jovial companions,
+he began to consult those friends, what scheme was best to be adopted
+for the accomplishment of his desires. Some, boldly advised application
+to the father in defiance to the old priest; but that was the very last
+method his Lordship himself approved, as marriage must inevitably have
+followed Lord Elmwood’s consent: besides, though a Peer, Lord Margrave
+was unused to rank with Peers; and even the formality of an interview
+with one of his equals, carried along with it a terror, or at least a
+fatigue, to a rustic Baron. Others of his companions advised seduction;
+but happily the Viscount possessed no arts of this kind, to affect a
+heart joined with such an understanding as Matilda’s. There were not
+wanting among his most favourite counsellors some, who painted the
+superior triumph and gratification of force; those assured him there
+was nothing to apprehend under this head, as from the behaviour of Lord
+Elmwood to his child, it was more than probable, he would be utterly
+indifferent as to any violence that might be offered her. This last
+advice seemed inspired by the aid of wine; and no sooner had the wine
+freely circulated, than this was always the expedient, which appeared
+by far the best.
+
+While Lord Margrave alternately cherished his hopes and his fears in
+the country, Rushbrook in town gave way to his fears only. Every day of
+his life made him more acquainted with the firm, unshaken temper of
+Lord Elmwood, and every day whispered more forcibly to him, that pity,
+gratitude, and friendship, strong and affectionate as these passions
+are, were weak and cold to that, which had gained the possession of his
+heart—he doubted, but he did not long doubt, that, which he felt was
+love. “And yet,� said he to himself, “it is love of such a kind, as
+arising from causes independent of the object itself can scarce deserve
+that sacred name. Did I not love Lady Matilda before I beheld her?—for
+her mother’s sake I loved her—and even for her father’s. Should I have
+felt the same affection for her, had she been the child of other
+parents? No. Or should I have felt that sympathetic tenderness which
+now preys upon my health, had not her misfortunes excited it? No.� Yet
+the love which is the result of gratitude and pity only, he thought had
+little claim to rank with his; and after the most deliberate and deep
+reflection, he concluded with this decisive opinion—He had loved Lady
+Matilda, in _whatever state_, in _whatever circumstances_; and that the
+tenderness he felt towards her, and the anxiety for her happiness
+before he knew her, extreme as they were, were yet cool and
+dispassionate sensations, compared to those which her person and
+demeanour had incited—and though he acknowledged, that by the preceding
+sentiments, his heart was softened, prepared, and moulded, as it were,
+to receive this last impression, yet the violence of his passion told
+him that genuine love, if not the basis on which it was founded, had
+been the certain consequence. With a strict scrutiny into his heart he
+sought this knowledge, but arrived at it with a regret that amounted to
+despair.
+
+To shield him from despondency, he formed in his mind a thousand
+visions, displaying the joys of his union with Lady Matilda; but her
+father’s implacability confounded them all. Lord Elmwood was a man who
+made few resolutions—but those were the effect of deliberation; and as
+he was not the least capricious or inconstant in his temper, they were
+resolutions which no probable event could shake. Love, that produces
+wonders, that seduces and subdues the most determined and rigid
+spirits, had in two instances overcome the inflexibility of Lord
+Elmwood; he married Lady Elmwood contrary to his determination, because
+he loved; and for the sake of this beloved object, he had, contrary to
+his resolution, taken under his immediate care young Rushbrook; but the
+magic which once enchanted away this spirit of immutability was no
+more—Lady Elmwood was no more, and the charm was broken.
+
+As Miss Woodley was deprived of the opportunity of desiring Rushbrook
+not to write, when he asked her the permission, he passed one whole
+morning, in the gratification of forming and writing a letter to her,
+which he thought might possibly be shewn to Matilda. As he dared not
+touch upon any of those circumstances in which he was the most
+interested, this, joined to the respect he wished to pay the lady to
+whom he wrote, limited his letter to about twenty lines; yet the
+studious manner with which these lines were dictated, the hope that
+they might, and the fear that they might not, be seen and regarded by
+Lady Matilda, rendered the task an anxiety so pleasing, that he could
+have wished it might have lasted for a year; and in this tendency to
+magnify trifles, was discoverable, the never-failing symptom of ardent
+love.
+
+A reply to this formal address, was a reward he wished for with
+impatience, but he wished in vain; and in the midst of his chagrin at
+the disappointment, a sorrow, little thought of, occurred, and gave him
+a perturbation of mind he had never before experienced. Lord Elmwood
+proposed a wife to him; and in a way so assured of his acquiescence,
+that if Rushbrook’s life had depended upon his daring to dispute his
+benefactor’s will, he would not have had the courage to have done so.
+There was, however, in his reply, and his embarrassment, something
+which his uncle distinguished from a free concurrence; and looking
+stedfastly at him, he said, in that stern manner which he now almost
+invariably adopted,
+
+“You have no engagements, I suppose! Have made no previous promises!�
+
+“None on earth, my Lord,� replied Rushbrook candidly.
+
+“Nor have you disposed of your heart?�
+
+“No, my Lord,� replied he; but not candidly—nor with any appearance of
+candour: for though he spoke hastily, it was rather like a man
+frightened than assured. He hurried to tell the falsehood he thought
+himself obliged to tell, that the pain and shame might be over; but
+there he was deceived—the lie once told was as troublesome as in the
+conception, and added another confusion to the first.
+
+Lord Elmwood now fixed his eyes upon him with a sullen contempt, and
+rising from his chair, said, “Rushbrook, if you have been so
+inconsiderate as to give away your heart, tell me so at once, and tell
+me the object.�
+
+Rushbrook shuddered at the thought.
+
+“I here,� continued the Earl, “tolerate the first untruth you ever told
+me, as the false assertion of a lover; and give you an opportunity of
+recalling it—but after this moment, it is a lie between man and man—a
+lie to your friend and father, and I will not forgive it.�
+
+Rushbrook stood silent, confused, alarmed, and bewildered in his
+thoughts. Lord Elmwood proceeded:
+
+“Name the person, if there is any, on whom you have bestowed your
+heart; and though I do not give you the hope that I shall not censure
+your folly, I will at least not reproach you for having at first denied
+it.�
+
+To repeat these words in writing, the reader must condemn the young man
+that he could hesitate to own he loved, if he was even afraid to name
+the object of his passion; but his interrogator had made the two
+answers inseparable, so that all evasions of the second, Rushbrook knew
+would be fruitless, after having avowed the first—and how could he
+confess the latter? The absolute orders he received from the steward on
+his first return from his travels, were, “Never to mention his
+daughter, any more than his late wife, before Lord Elmwood.� The fault
+of having rudely intruded into Lady Matilda’s presence, rushed also
+upon his mind; for he did not even dare to say, by what means he had
+beheld her. But more than all, the threatening manner in which this
+rational and apparently conciliating speech was uttered, the menaces,
+the severity which sat upon the Earl’s countenance while he delivered
+those moderate words, might have intimidated a man wholly independent,
+and less used to fear than his nephew had been.
+
+“You make no answer, Sir,� said Lord Elmwood, after waiting a few
+moments for his reply.
+
+“I have only to say, my Lord,� returned Rushbrook, “that although my
+heart may be totally disengaged, I may yet be disinclined to marriage.�
+
+“May! May! Your heart _may_ be disengaged,� repeated he. “Do you dare
+to reply to me equivocally, when I have asked a positive answer?�
+
+“Perhaps I am not positive myself, my Lord; but I will enquire into the
+state of my mind, and make you acquainted with it very soon.�
+
+As the angry demeanour of his uncle affected Rushbrook with fear, so
+that fear, powerfully (but with proper manliness) expressed, again
+softened the displeasure of Lord Elmwood; and seeing and pitying his
+nephew’s sensibility, he now changed his austere voice, and said
+mildly, but firmly,
+
+“I give you a week to consult with yourself; at the expiration of that
+time I shall talk with you again, and I command you to be then prepared
+to speak, not only without deceit, but without hesitation.� He left the
+room at these words, and left Rushbrook released from a fate, which his
+apprehensions had beheld impending that moment.
+
+He had now a week to call his thoughts together, to weigh every
+circumstance, and to determine whether implicitly to submit to Lord
+Elmwood’s recommendation of a wife, or to revolt from it, and see
+another, with more subserviency to his will, appointed his heir.
+
+Undetermined how to act upon this trial which was to decide his future
+destiny, Rushbrook suffered so poignant an uncertainty, that he became
+at length ill, and before the end of the week that was allotted him for
+his reply, he was confined to his bed in a high fever. Lord Elmwood was
+extremely affected at his indisposition; he gave him every care he
+could bestow, and even much of his personal attendance. This last
+favour had a claim upon the young man’s gratitude, superior to every
+other obligation which since his infancy his benefactor had conferred;
+and he was at times so moved by those marks of kindness he received,
+that he would form the intention of tearing from his heart every trace
+that Lady Matilda had left there, and as soon as his health would
+permit him, obey, to the utmost of his views, every wish his uncle had
+conceived. Yet again, her pitiable situation presented itself to his
+compassion, and her beauteous person to his love. Divided between the
+claims of obligation to the father, and tender attachment to the
+daughter, his illness was increased by the tortures of his mind, and he
+once sincerely wished for that death, of which he was in danger, to
+free him from the dilemma in which his affections had involved him.
+
+At the time his disorder was at the height, and he lay complaining of
+the violence of his fever, Lord Elmwood, taking his hand, asked him,
+“If there was any thing he could do for him?�
+
+“Yes, yes, my Lord, a great deal:� he replied eagerly.
+
+“What is it, Harry?�
+
+“Oh! my Lord,� replied he, “that is what I must not tell you.�
+
+“Defer it then till you are well:� said Lord Elmwood; afraid of being
+surprised, or affected by the state of his health, into any promises
+which he might hereafter find the impropriety of granting.
+
+“And when I recover, my Lord, you give me leave to reveal to you my
+wishes, let them be what they will?�
+
+His uncle hesitated——but seeing an anxiety for the answer, by his
+raising himself upon his elbow in the bed and staring wildly, Lord
+Elmwood at last said, “Certainly—Yes, yes,� as a child is answered for
+its quiet.
+
+That Lord Elmwood could have no idea what the real petition was, which
+Rushbrook meant to present him is certain; but it is certain he
+expected he had some request to make, with which it might be wrong for
+him to comply, and therefore he avoided hearing what it was; for great
+as his compassion for him was in his present state, it was not of
+sufficient force to urge him to give a promise he did not mean to
+perform. Rushbrook, on his part was pleased with the assurance he might
+speak when he was restored to health; but no sooner was his fever
+abated, and his senses perfectly recovered from the slight derangement
+his malady had occasioned, than the lively remembrance of what he had
+hinted, alarmed him, and he was even afraid to look his kind, but awful
+relation in the face. Lord Elmwood’s cheerfulness, however, on his
+returning health, and his undiminished attention, soon convinced him
+that he had nothing to fear. But, alas! he found too, that he had
+nothing to hope. As his health re-established, his wishes
+re-established also, and with his wishes, his despair.
+
+Convinced now, that his nephew had something on his mind which he
+feared to reveal, the Earl no longer doubted but that some youthful
+attachment had armed him against any marriage he should propose; but he
+had so much pity for his present weak state, to delay that further
+inquiry which he had threatened before his illness, to a time when he
+should be entirely restored.
+
+It was the end of May before Rushbrook was able to partake in the usual
+routine of the day—the country was now prescribed him as the means of
+complete restoration; and as Lord Elmwood designed to leave London some
+time in June, he advised him to go to Elmwood House a week or two
+before him; this advice was received with delight, and a letter was
+sent to Mr. Sandford to prepare for Mr. Rushbrook’s arrival.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+During the illness of Rushbrook, news had been sent of his danger, from
+the servants in town to those at Elmwood House, and Lady Matilda
+expressed compassion when she was told of it—she began to conceive, the
+instant she thought he would soon die, that his visit to her had merit
+rather than impertinence in its design, and that he might possibly be a
+more deserving man, than she had supposed him to be. Even Sandford and
+Miss Woodley, began to recollect qualifications he possessed, which
+they never had reflected on before, and Miss Woodley in particular,
+reproached herself that she had been so severe and inattentive to him.
+Notwithstanding the prospects his death pointed out to her, it was with
+infinite joy she heard he was recovered; nor was Sandford less
+satisfied; for he had treated the young man too unkindly not to dread,
+lest any ill should befall him; but although he was glad to hear of his
+restored health, when he was informed he was coming down to Elmwood
+House for a few weeks in the style of its master, Sandford, with all
+his religious and humane principles, could not help thinking, “That if
+the lad had been properly prepared to die, he had been as well out of
+the world as in it.�
+
+He was still less his friend when he saw him arrive with his usual
+florid complexion: had he come pale and sickly, Sandford had been kind
+to him; but in apparently good health and spirits, he could not form
+his lips to tell him he was “Glad to see him.�
+
+On his arrival, Matilda, who for five months had been at large,
+secluded herself as she would have done upon the arrival of Lord
+Elmwood; but with far different sensations. Notwithstanding her
+restriction on the latter occasion, the residence of her father in that
+house had been a source of pleasure, rather than of sorrow to her; but
+from the abode of Rushbrook she derived punishment alone.
+
+When, from inquiries, Rushbrook found that on his approach, Matilda had
+retired to her own confined apartments, the thought was torture to him;
+it was the hope of seeing and conversing with her, of being admitted at
+all times to her society as the mistress of the house, that had raised
+his spirits, and effected his perfect cure beyond any other cause; and
+he was hurt to the greatest degree at this respect, or rather contempt,
+shown to him by her retreat.
+
+It was, nevertheless, a subject too delicate for him to touch upon in
+any one sense—an invitation for her company on his part, might carry
+the appearance of superior authority, and an affected condescension,
+which he justly considered as the worst of all insults. And yet, how
+could he support the idea that his visit had placed the daughter of his
+benefactor, as a dependent stranger in that house, where in reality
+_he_ was the dependent, and she the lawful heir? For two or three days
+he suffered the torment of these reflections, hoping that he should
+come to an explanation of all he felt, by a fortunate meeting with Miss
+Woodley; but when that meeting occurred, though he observed she talked
+to him with less reserve than she had formerly done, and even gave some
+proofs of the native goodness of her disposition, yet she scrupulously
+avoided naming Lady Matilda; and when he diffidently inquired of her
+health, a cold restraint overspread Miss Woodley’s face, and she left
+him instantly. To Sandford it was still more difficult for him to
+apply; for though frequently together, they were never sociable; and as
+Sandford seldom disguised his feelings, to Rushbrook he was always
+extremely severe, and sometimes unmannerly.
+
+In this perplexed situation, the country air was rather of detriment
+than service to the invalid; and had he not, like a true lover, clung
+fast to hope, while he could perceive nothing but despair, he would
+have returned to town, rather than by his stay have placed in a
+subordinate state, the object of his adoration. Persisting in his
+hopes, he one morning met Miss Woodley in the garden, and engaging her
+a longer time than usual in conversation, at last obtained her promise
+“She would that day dine with him and Mr. Sandford.� But no sooner had
+she parted from him, than she repented of her consent; and upon
+communicating it, Matilda, for the first time in her life, darted upon
+her kind companion, a look of the most cutting reproach and haughty
+resentment. Miss Woodley’s own sentiments had upbraided her before; but
+she was not prepared to receive so pointed a mark of disapprobation
+from her young friend, till now duteous and humble to her as to a
+mother, and not less affectionate. Her heart was too susceptible to
+bear this disrespectful and contumelious frown, from the object of her
+long-devoted care and concern; the tears instantly covered her face,
+and she laid her hands upon her heart, as if she thought it would
+break. Matilda was moved, but she possessed too much of the manly
+resentment of her father, to discover what she felt for the first few
+minutes. Miss Woodley, who had given so many tears to her sorrows, but
+never till now, one to her anger, had a deeper sense of this
+indifference, than of the anger itself, and to conceal what she
+suffered, left the room. Matilda, who had been till this time working
+at her needle, seemingly composed, now let her work drop from her hand,
+and sat for a while in a deep reverie. At length she rose up, and
+followed Miss Woodley to the other apartment. She entered grave,
+majestic and apparently serene, while her poor heart fluttered with a
+thousand distressing sensations. She approached Miss Woodley (who was
+still in tears) with silence; and awed by her manners, the faithful
+friend of her deceased mother exclaimed, “Dear Lady Matilda, think no
+more on what I have done—do not resent it any longer, and on my knees
+I’ll beg your pardon.� Miss Woodley rose as she uttered these last
+words; but Matilda laid fast hold of her to prevent the posture she
+offered to take, and instantly assumed it herself. “Oh, let this be my
+atonement!� she cried with the most earnest supplication.
+
+They interchanged forgiveness; and as this reconciliation was sincere,
+they each, without reserve, gave their opinion upon the subject that
+had caused the misunderstanding; and it was agreed an apology should be
+sent to Mr. Rushbrook, “That Miss Woodley had been suddenly
+indisposed:� nor could this be said to differ from the truth, for since
+what had passed she was unfit to pay a visit.
+
+Rushbrook, who had been all the morning elated with the advance he
+supposed he had made in that lady’s favour, was highly disappointed,
+vexed, and angry, when this apology was delivered; nor did he, nor
+perhaps could he, conceal what he felt, although his severe observer,
+Mr. Sandford, was present.
+
+“I am a very unfortunate man!� said he, as soon as the servant was gone
+who brought the message.
+
+Sandford cast his eyes upon him with a look of surprise and contempt.
+
+“A very unfortunate man indeed, Mr. Sandford,� repeated he, “although
+you treat my complaint contemptuously.�
+
+Sandford made no reply, and seemed above making one.
+
+They sat down to dinner;—Rushbrook eat scarce any thing, but drank
+frequently; Sandford took no notice of either, but had a book (which
+was his custom when he dined with persons whose conversation was not
+interesting to him) laid by the side of his plate, which he
+occasionally looked into, as the dishes were removing, or other
+opportunities served.
+
+Rushbrook, just now more hopeless than ever of forming an acquaintance
+with Lady Matilda, began to give way to symptoms of despondency; and
+they made their first attack, by urging him, to treat on the same level
+of familiarity that he himself was treated, Mr. Sandford, to whom he
+had, till now, ever behaved with the most profound tokens of respect.
+
+“Come,� said he to him as soon as the dinner was removed, “lay aside
+your book and be good company.�
+
+Sandford lifted up his eyes upon him—stared in his face—and cast them
+on the book again.
+
+“Pshaw,� continued Rushbrook, “I want a companion; and as Miss Woodley
+has disappointed me, I must have your company.�
+
+Sandford now laid his book down upon the table; but still holding his
+fingers in the pages he was reading, said, “And why are you
+disappointed of Miss Woodley’s company? When people expect what they
+have no right to hope, ’tis impertinent assurance to complain they are
+disappointed.�
+
+“I had a right to hope she would come,� answered Rushbrook, “for she
+promised she would.�
+
+“But what right had you to ask her?�
+
+“The right every one has, to make his time pass as agreeably as he
+can.�
+
+“But not at the expence of another.�
+
+“I believe, Mr. Sandford, it would be a heavy expence to you, to see me
+happy; I believe it would cost you even your own happiness.�
+
+“That is a price I have not now to give:� replied Sandford, and began
+reading again.
+
+“What, you have already paid it away? No wonder that at your time of
+life it should be gone. But what do you think of my having already
+squandered mine?�
+
+“I don’t think about you;� returned Sandford, without taking his eyes
+from the book.
+
+“Can you look me in the face and say that, Mr. Sandford? No, you
+cannot—for you know you _do_ think of me, and you know you hate
+me.�—Here he drank two glasses of wine one after another; “And I can
+tell you why you hate me,� continued he: “It is from a cause for which
+I often hate myself.�
+
+Sandford read on.
+
+“It is on Lady Matilda’s account you hate me, and use me thus.�
+
+Sandford put down the book hastily, and put both his hands by his side.
+
+“Yes,� resumed Rushbrook, “you think I am wronging her.�
+
+“I think you insult her,� exclaimed Sandford, “by this rude mention of
+her name; and I command you at your peril to desist.�
+
+“At my peril! Mr. Sandford? Do you assume the authority of my Lord
+Elmwood?�
+
+“I do on this occasion; and if you dare to give your tongue a
+freedom�——
+
+Rushbrook interrupted him—“Why then I boldly say, (and as her friend
+you ought rather to applaud than resent it) I boldly say, that my heart
+suffers so much for her situation, that I am regardless of my own. I
+love her father—I loved her mother more—but I love _her_ beyond
+either.�
+
+“Hold your licentious tongue,� cried Sandford, “or quit the room.�
+
+“Licentious! Oh! the pure thoughts that dwell in her innocent mind, are
+not less sensual than mine towards her. Do you upbraid me with my
+respect, my pity for her? They are the sensations which impel me to
+speak thus undisguised, even to you, my open—no, even worse—my secret
+enemy!�
+
+“Insult _me_ as you please, Mr. Rushbrook,—but beware how you mention
+Lord Elmwood’s daughter.�
+
+“Can it be to her dishonour that I pity her? that I would quit the
+house this moment never to return, so that she supplied the place I
+with-hold from her.�
+
+“Go, then;� cried Sandford.
+
+“It would be of no use to her, or I would. But come, Mr. Sandford, I
+will dare do as much as you. Only second me, and I will entreat Lord
+Elmwood to be reconciled—to see and own her.�
+
+“Your vanity would be equal to your temerity—_you_ entreat? She must
+greatly esteem those paternal favours which _your_ entreaties gained
+her! Do you forget, young man, how short a time it is, since you were
+_entreated for_?�
+
+“I prove that I do not, while this anxiety for Lady Matilda, arises,
+from what I feel on that account.�
+
+“Remove your anxiety, then, from her to yourself; for were I to let
+Lord Elmwood know what has now passed�—
+
+“It is for your own sake, not for mine, if you do not.�
+
+“You shall not dare me to it, Mr. Rushbrook.� And he rose from his
+seat: “You shall not dare me to do you an injury. But to avoid the
+temptation, I will never again come into your company, unless my
+friend, Lord Elmwood, be present, to protect me and his child from your
+insults.�
+
+Rushbrook rose in yet more warmth than Sandford
+
+“Have you the injustice to say that I have insulted Lady Matilda?�
+
+“To speak of her at all, is in you an insult. But you have done
+more—you have dared to visit her—to force into her presence and shock
+her with your offers of services which she scorns; and with your
+compassion, which she is above.�
+
+“Did she complain to you?�
+
+“She or her friend did.�
+
+“I rather suppose, Mr. Sandford, that you have bribed some of the
+servants to reveal this.�
+
+“The suspicion becomes Lord Elmwood’s heir.�
+
+“It becomes the man, who lives in a house with you.�
+
+“I thank you, Mr. Rushbrook, for what has passed this day—it has taken
+a weight off my mind. I thought my disinclination to you, might perhaps
+arise from prejudice—this conversation has relieved me from those
+fears, and—I thank you.� Saying this he calmly walked out of the room,
+and left Rushbrook to reflect on what he had been doing.
+
+Heated with the wine he had drank (and which Sandford, engaged on his
+book, had not observed) no sooner was he alone, than he became by
+degrees cool and repentant. “What had he done?� was the first question
+to himself—“He had offended Sandford.�—The man, whom reason as well as
+prudence had ever taught him to respect, and even to revere. He had
+grossly offended the firm friend of Lady Matilda, by the unreserved and
+wanton use of her name. All the retorts he had uttered came now to his
+memory; with a total forgetfulness of all that Sandford had said to
+provoke them.
+
+He once thought to follow him and beg his pardon; but the contempt with
+which he had been treated, more than all the anger, with-held him.
+
+As he sat forming plans how to retrieve the opinion, ill as it was,
+which Sandford formerly entertained of him, he received a letter from
+Lord Elmwood, kindly enquiring after his health, and saying that he
+should be down early in the following week. Never were the friendly
+expressions of his uncle half so welcome to him; for they served to
+sooth his imagination, racked with Sandford’s wrath, and his own
+displeasure.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+When Sandford acted deliberately, he always acted up to his duty; it
+was his duty to forgive Rushbrook, and he did so—but he had declared he
+would never “Be again in his company unless Lord Elmwood was present;�
+and with all his forgiveness, he found an unforgiving gratification, in
+the duty, of being obliged to keep his word.
+
+The next day Rushbrook dined alone, while Sandford gave his company to
+the ladies. Rushbrook was too proud to seek to conciliate Sandford by
+abject concessions, but he endeavoured to meet him as by accident, and
+meant to try what, in such a case, a submissive apology might effect.
+For two days all the schemes he formed on that head proved fruitless;
+he could never procure even a sight of him. But on the evening of the
+third day, taking a lonely walk, he turned the corner of a grove, and
+saw in the very path he was going, Sandford accompanied by Miss
+Woodley; and, what agitated him infinitely more, Lady Matilda was with
+them. He knew not whether to proceed, or to quit the path and palpably
+shun them—to one, who seemed to put an unkind construction upon all he
+said and did, he knew that to do either, would be to do wrong. In spite
+of the propensity he felt to pass so near to Matilda, could he have
+known what conduct would have been deemed the most respectful, whatever
+painful denial it had cost him, _that_, he would have adopted. But
+undetermined whether to go forward, or to cross to another path, he
+still walked on till he came too nigh to recede: he then, with a
+diffidence not affected, but most powerfully felt, pulled off his hat;
+and without bowing, stood respectfully silent while the company passed.
+Sandford walked on some paces before, and took no further notice as he
+went by him, than just touching the fore part of his hat with his
+finger. Miss Woodley curtsied as she followed. But Lady Matilda made a
+full stop, and said, in the gentlest accents, “I hope, Mr. Rushbrook,
+you are perfectly recovered.�
+
+It was the sweetest music he had ever listened to; and he replied with
+the most reverential bow, “I am better a great deal, Ma’am.� Then
+instantly pursued his way as if he did not dare to utter another
+syllable.
+
+Sandford seldom found fault with Lady Matilda; not because he loved
+her, but because she seldom did wrong—upon this occasion, however, he
+was half inclined to reprimand her; but yet he did not know what to
+say—the subsequent humility of Rushbrook, had taken from the
+indiscretion of her speaking to him, and the event could by no means
+justify his censure. On hearing her begin to speak, Sandford had
+stopped; and as Rushbrook after replying, walked away, Sandford called
+to her crossly, “Come, come along.� But at the same time he put out his
+elbow for her to take hold of his arm.
+
+She hastened her steps, and did so—then turning to Miss Woodley, she
+said, “I expected you would have spoken to Mr. Rushbrook; it might have
+prevented me.�
+
+Miss Woodley replied, “I was at a loss what to do;—when we met
+formerly, he always spoke first.�
+
+“And he ought now,� cried Sandford angrily—and then added, with a
+sarcastic smile, “It is certainly proper that the _superior_, should be
+the first who speaks.�
+
+“He did not look as if he thought himself our superior,� replied
+Matilda.
+
+“No,� returned Sandford, “some people can put on what looks they
+please.�
+
+“Then while he looks so pale,� replied Matilda, “and so dejected, I can
+never forbear speaking to him when we meet, whatever he may think of
+it.�
+
+“And were he and I to meet a hundred, nay a thousand times,� returned
+Sandford, “I don’t think I should ever speak to him again.�
+
+“Bless me! what for, Mr. Sandford?� cried Matilda—for Sandford, who was
+not a man that repeated little incidents, had never mentioned the
+circumstance of their quarrel.
+
+“I have taken such a resolution,� answered he, “yet I bear him no
+enmity.�
+
+As this short reply indicated that he meant to say no more, no more was
+asked; and the subject was dropped.
+
+In the mean time, Rushbrook, happier than he had been for months,
+intoxicated with joy at that voluntary mark of civility he had received
+from Lady Matilda, felt his heart so joyous, and so free from every
+particle of malice, that he resolved, in the humblest manner, to make
+atonement for the violation of decorum he had lately committed against
+Mr. Sandford.
+
+Too happy, at this time, to suffer a mortification from any indignities
+he might receive, he sent his servant to him into his study, as soon as
+he was returned home, to beg to know “If he might be permitted to wait
+upon him, with a message he had to deliver from Lord Elmwood.�
+
+The servant returned—“Mr. Sandford desired he would send the message by
+him, or the house-steward.� This was highly affronting; but Rushbrook
+was not in a humour to be offended, and he sent again, begging he would
+admit him; but the answer was, “He was busy.�
+
+Thus wholly defeated in his hopes of reconciliation, his new transports
+felt an allay, and the few days that remained before Lord Elmwood came,
+he passed in solitary musing, and ineffectual walks and looks towards
+that path in which he had met Matilda—she came that way no more—indeed
+scarce quitted her apartment, in the practice of that confinement she
+was to experience on the arrival of her father.
+
+All her former agitations now returned. On the day he arrived she
+wept—all the night she did not sleep—and the name of Rushbrook again
+became hateful to her. The Earl came in extremely good health and
+spirits, but appeared concerned to find Rushbrook less well than when
+he went from town. Sandford was now under the necessity of being in
+Rushbrook’s company, yet he would never speak to him but when he was
+obliged; or look at him, but when he could not help it. Lord Elmwood
+observed this conduct, yet he neither wondered, or was offended at
+it—he had perceived what little esteem Sandford showed his nephew from
+his first return; but he forgave, in Sandford’s humour, a thousand
+faults he would not forgive in any other; nor did he deem this one of
+his greatest faults, knowing the demand upon his partiality from
+another object.
+
+Miss Woodley waited on Lord Elmwood as formerly; dined with him, and
+related, as heretofore, to the attentive Matilda, all that passed.
+
+About this time Lord Margrave, deprived by the season of all the sports
+of the field, felt his love for Matilda (which had been violent, even
+though divided with the love of hunting) now too strong to be subdued;
+and he resolved, though reluctantly, to apply to her father for his
+consent to their union; but writing to Sandford this resolution, he was
+once more repulsed, and charged as a man of honour, to forbear to
+disturb the tranquillity of the family by any application of the kind.
+To this, Sandford received no answer; for the peer, highly incensed at
+his mistress’s repugnance to him, determined more firmly than ever to
+consult his own happiness alone; and as that depended merely upon his
+obtaining her, he cared not by what method it was effected.
+
+About a fortnight after Lord Elmwood came into the country, as he was
+riding one morning, his horse fell with him, and crushed his leg in so
+unfortunate a manner, as to be at first pronounced of dangerous
+consequence. He was brought home in a post chaise, and Matilda heard of
+the accident with more grief than would, perhaps, on such an occasion,
+appertain to the most fondled child.
+
+In consequence of the pain he suffered, his fever was one night very
+high; and Sandford, who seldom quitted his apartment, went frequently
+to his bedside, every time with the secret hope he should hear him ask
+to see his daughter—he was every time disappointed—yet he saw him
+shake, with a cordial friendship, the hand of Rushbrook, as if he
+delighted in seeing those he loved.
+
+The danger in which Lord Elmwood was supposed to be, was but of short
+duration, and his sudden recovery succeeded. Matilda, who had wept,
+moaned, and watched during the crisis of his illness, when she heard he
+was amending, exclaimed, (with a kind of surprise at the novelty of the
+sensation) “And this is joy that I feel! Oh! I never till now knew,
+what those persons felt who experienced joy.�
+
+Nor did she repine, like Mr. Sandford and Miss Woodley, at her father’s
+inattention to her during his malady, for she did not hope like
+them—she did not hope he would behold her, even in dying.
+
+But notwithstanding his seeming indifference, while his indisposition
+continued, no sooner was he recovered so as to receive the
+congratulations of his friends, than there was no one person he
+evidently showed so much satisfaction at seeing, as Miss Woodley. She
+waited upon him timorously, and with more than ordinary distaste at his
+late conduct, when he put out his hand with the utmost warmth to
+receive her; drew her to him; saluted her, (an honour he had never in
+his life conferred before) with signs of the sincerest friendship and
+affection. Sandford was present; and ever associating the idea of
+Matilda with Miss Woodley, felt his heart bound with a triumph it had
+not enjoyed for many a day.
+
+Matilda listened with delight to the recital Miss Woodley gave on her
+return, and many times while it lasted exclaimed, “She was happy.� But
+poor Matilda’s sudden transports of joy, which she termed happiness,
+were not made for long continuance; and if she ever found cause for
+gladness, she far oftener had motives for grief.
+
+As Mr. Sandford was sitting with her and Miss Woodley, one evening
+about a week after, a person rang at the bell and inquired for him: on
+being told of it by the servant, he went to the door of the apartment,
+and cried, “Oh! is it you? Come in.� An elderly man entered, who had
+been for many years the head gardener at Elmwood House; a man of
+honesty and sobriety, and with an indigent family of aged parents,
+children, and other relations, who subsisted wholly on the income
+arising from his place. The ladies, as well as Sandford, knew him well,
+and they all, almost at once, asked, “What was the matter?� for his
+looks told them something distressful had befallen him.
+
+“Oh, Sir!� said he to Sandford, “I come to intreat your interest.�
+
+“In what, Edwards?� said Sandford with a mild voice; for when his
+assistance was supplicated in distress, his rough tones always took a
+plaintive key.
+
+“My Lord has discharged me from his service!� (returned Edwards
+trembling, and the tears starting in his eyes) “I am undone, Mr.
+Sandford, unless you plead for me.�
+
+“I will,� said Sandford, “I will.�
+
+“And yet I am almost afraid of your success,� replied the man, “for my
+Lord has ordered me out of his house this moment; and though I knelt
+down to him to be heard, he had no pity.�
+
+Matilda sighed from the bottom of her heart, and yet she envied this
+poor man, who had been kneeling to her father.
+
+“What was your offence?� cried Sandford.
+
+The man hesitated; then looking at Matilda, said, “I’ll tell you, Sir,
+some other time.�
+
+“Did you name me, before Lord Elmwood?� cried she eagerly, and
+terrified.
+
+“No, Madam,� replied he, “but I unthinkingly spoke of my poor Lady who
+is dead and gone.�
+
+Matilda burst into tears.
+
+“How came you to do so mad a thing?� cried Sandford; and the
+encouragement which his looks had once given him, now fled from his
+face.
+
+“It was unthinkingly,� repeated Edwards; “I was showing my Lord some
+plans for the new walks, and told him, among other things, that her
+Ladyship had many years ago approved of them. ‘Who?’ cried he. Still I
+did not call to mind, but said, ‘Lady Elmwood, Sir, while you were
+abroad.’—As soon as these words were delivered, I saw my doom in his
+looks, and he commanded me to quit his house and service that instant.�
+
+“I am afraid,� said Sandford, shaking his head, “I can do nothing for
+you.�
+
+“Yes, Sir, you know you have more power over my Lord than any body—and
+perhaps you may be able to save me and all mine from misery.�
+
+“I would, if I could,� replied Sandford quickly.
+
+“You can but try, Sir.�
+
+Matilda was all this while bathed in tears; nor was Miss Woodley much
+less affected—Lady Elmwood was before their eyes—Matilda beheld her in
+her dying moments; Miss Woodley saw her as the gay ward of Dorriforth.
+
+“Ask Mr. Rushbrook,� said Sandford, “prevail on him to speak for you;
+he has more power than I have.�
+
+“He has not enough, then,� replied Edwards, “for he was in the room
+with my Lord when what I have told you happened.�
+
+“And did he say nothing?� asked Sandford.
+
+“Yes, Sir; he offered to speak in my behalf, but my Lord interrupted
+him, and ordered him out of the room—he instantly went.�
+
+Sandford, now observing the effect which this narration had on the two
+ladies, led the man to his own apartments, and there assured him he
+dared not undertake his cause; but that if time or chance should
+happily make an alteration in his Lord’s disposition, he would be the
+first who would endeavour to replace him.—Edwards was obliged to
+submit; and before the next day at noon, his pleasant house by the side
+of the park, his garden, and his orchard, which he had occupied above
+twenty years, were cleared of their old inhabitant, and all his
+wretched family.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+This melancholy incident, perhaps affected Matilda and all the friends
+of the deceased Lady Elmwood, beyond any other that had occurred since
+her death. A few days after this circumstance, Miss Woodley, in order
+to divert the disconsolate mind of Lady Matilda, (and in the hope of
+bringing her some little anecdotes, to console her for that which had
+given her so much pain) waited upon Lord Elmwood in his library, and
+borrowed some books out of it. He was now perfectly well from his fall,
+and received her with his usual politeness, but, of course, not with
+that peculiar warmth which he had discovered when he received her just
+after his illness. Rushbrook was in the library at the same time; he
+shewed her several beautiful prints which Lord Elmwood had just
+received from London, and appeared anxious to entertain and give tokens
+of his esteem and respect for her. But what gave her pleasure beyond
+any other attention, was, that after she had taken (by the aid of
+Rushbrook) about a dozen volumes from different shelves, and had laid
+them together, saying she would send her servant to fetch them; Lord
+Elmwood went eagerly to the place where they were, and taking up each
+book, examined minutely what it was. One author he complained was too
+light, another too depressing, and put them on the shelves again:
+another was erroneous, and he changed it for a better: thus, he warned
+her against some, and selected other authors, as the most cautious
+preceptor culls for his pupil, or a fond father for his darling Child.
+She thanked him for his attention to her, but her heart thanked him for
+his attention to his daughter. For as she had herself never received
+such a proof of his care since all their long acquaintance, she
+reasonably supposed, Matilda’s reading, and not hers, was the object of
+his solicitude.
+
+Having in these books store of comfort for poor Matilda, she eagerly
+returned with them; and in reciting every particular circumstance, made
+her consider the volumes, almost like presents from her father.
+
+The month of September was now arrived; and Lord Elmwood, accompanied
+by Rushbrook, went to a small shooting seat, near twenty miles distant
+from Elmwood Castle, for a week’s particular sport. Matilda was once
+more at large; and one beautiful morning, about eleven o’clock, seeing
+Miss Woodley walking on the lawn before the house, she hastily took her
+hat to join her; and not waiting to put it on, went nimbly down the
+great staircase, with it hanging on her arm. When she had descended a
+few stairs, she heard a footstep walking slowly up; and, (from what
+emotion she could not tell,) she stopped short, half resolved to turn
+back. She hesitated a single instant whether she should or not—then
+went a few steps further till she came to the second landing place;
+when, by the sudden winding of the staircase,—Lord Elmwood was
+immediately before her!
+
+She had felt something like affright before she saw him; but her reason
+told her she had nothing to fear, as he was away. But now, the
+appearance of a stranger whom she had never before seen; the authority
+in his looks, as well as in the sound of his steps; a resemblance to
+the portrait she had been shown of him; a start of astonishment which
+he gave on beholding her; but above all—her _fears_ confirmed her that
+it was him. She gave a scream of terror—put out her trembling hands to
+catch the balustrades for support—missed them—and fell motionless into
+her father’s arms.
+
+He caught her, as by the same impulse, he would have caught any other
+person falling for want of aid. Yet when he found her in his arms, he
+still held her there—gazed on her attentively—and once pressed her to
+his bosom.
+
+At length trying to escape the snare into which he had been led, he was
+going to leave her on the spot where she fell, when her eyes opened and
+she uttered, “Save me.� Her voice unmanned him. His long-restrained
+tears now burst forth—and seeing her relapsing into the swoon, he cried
+out eagerly to recall her. Her name did not, however, come to his
+recollection—nor any name but this—“Miss Milner—Dear Miss Milner.�
+
+That sound did not awaken her; and now again he wished to leave her in
+this senseless state, that not remembering what had passed, she might
+escape the punishment.
+
+But at this instant, Giffard, with another servant, passed by the foot
+of the stairs: on which, Lord Elmwood called to them—and into Giffard’s
+hands delivered his apparently dead child; without one command
+respecting her, or one word of any kind; while his face was agitated
+with shame, with pity, with anger, with paternal tenderness.
+
+As Giffard stood trembling, while he relieved his Lord from this
+hapless burthen, her father had to unloose her hand from the side of
+his coat, which she had caught fast hold of as she fell, and grasped so
+closely, it was with difficulty released.—On attempting to take the
+hand away he trembled—faltered—then bade Giffard do it.
+
+“Who, I, my Lord! I separate you!� cried he. But recollecting himself,
+“My Lord, I will obey your commands whatever they are.� And seizing her
+hand, pulled it with violence—it fell—and her father went away.
+
+Matilda was carried to her own apartments, laid upon the bed, and Miss
+Woodley hasted to attend her, after listening to the recital of what
+had passed.
+
+When Lady Elmwood’s old and affectionate friend entered the room, and
+saw her youthful charge lying pale and speechless, yet no father by to
+comfort or sooth her, she lifted up her hands to Heaven exclaiming,
+with a burst of tears, “And is this the end of thee, my poor child? Is
+this the end of all our hopes?—of thy own fearful hopes—and of thy
+mother’s supplications! Oh! Lord Elmwood! Lord Elmwood!�
+
+At that name Matilda started, and cried, “Where is he? Is it a dream,
+or have I seen him?�
+
+“It is all a dream, my dear,� said Miss Woodley.
+
+“And yet I thought he held me in his arms,� she replied—“I thought I
+felt his hands press mine.—Let me sleep and dream again.�
+
+Now thinking it best to undeceive her, “It is no dream, my dear,�
+returned Miss Woodley.
+
+“Is it not?� cried she, starting up and leaning on her elbow—“Then I
+suppose I must go away—go for ever away.�
+
+Sandford now entered. Having been told the news, he came to condole—but
+at the sight of him Matilda was terrified, and cried, “Do not reproach
+me, do not upbraid me—I know I have done wrong—I know I had but one
+command from my father, and that I have disobeyed.�
+
+Sandford could not reproach her, for he could not speak; he therefore
+only walked to the window and concealed his tears.
+
+That whole day and night was passed in sympathetic grief, in alarm at
+every sound, lest it should be a messenger to pronounce Matilda’s
+destiny.
+
+Lord Elmwood did not stay upon this visit above three hours at Elmwood
+House; he then set off again for the seat he had left; where Rushbrook
+still remained, and from whence his Lordship had merely come by
+accident, to look over some writings which he wanted dispatched to
+town.
+
+During his short continuance here, Sandford cautiously avoided his
+presence; for he thought, in a case like this, what nature would not of
+herself effect, no art, no arguments of his, could accomplish: to
+Nature and Providence he left the whole. What these two powerful
+principles brought about, the reader will judge, when he peruses the
+following letter, received early the next morning by Miss Woodley.
+
+
+
+
+A
+SIMPLE STORY,
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES,
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+
+
+
+VOL. IV.
+
+_THE FOURTH EDITION._
+
+LONDON:
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,
+PATERNOSTER ROW.
+1799.
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+_A letter from Giffard, Lord Elmwood’s House Steward, to Miss Woodley._
+
+
+“Madam,
+
+“My Lord, above a twelvemonth ago, acquainted me he had permitted his
+daughter to reside in his house; but at the same time he informed me,
+the grant was under a certain restriction, which, if ever broken, I was
+to see his then determination (of which he also acquainted me) put in
+execution. In consequence of Lady Matilda’s indisposition, Madam, I
+have ventured to delay this notice till morning.—I need not say with
+what concern I now give it, or mention to you, I believe, what is
+forfeited. My Lord staid but a few hours yesterday, after the unhappy
+circumstance on which I write, took place; nor did I see him after,
+till he was in his carriage; he then sent for me to the carriage door,
+and told me he should be back in two days time, and added, ‘Remember
+your duty.’ That duty, I hope, Madam, you will not require me to
+explain in more direct terms.—As soon as my Lord returns, I have no
+doubt but he will ask me if it is fulfilled, and I shall be under the
+greatest apprehension, should his commands not be obeyed.
+
+“If there is any thing wanting for the convenience of your and Lady
+Matilda’s departure, you have but to order it, and it is at your
+service—I mean likewise any cash you may have occasion for. I should
+presume to add my opinion where you might best take up your abode; but
+with such advice as you will have from Mr. Sandford, mine would be but
+assuming.
+
+“I would also have waited upon you, Madam, and have delivered myself
+the substance of this letter; but I am an old man, and the changes I
+have been witness to in my Lord’s house since I first lived in it, has
+encreased my age many years; and I have not the strength to see you
+upon this occasion. I loved my deceased Lady—I love my Lord—and I love
+their child—nay, so I am sure does my Lord himself; but there is no
+accounting for his resolutions, or for the alteration his disposition
+has lately undergone.
+
+“I beg pardon, Madam, for this long intrusion, and am, and ever will
+be, (while you and my Lord’s daughter are so) your afflicted humble
+servant,
+
+“Robert Giffard.
+“Elmwood House,
+“Sept. 12.�
+
+When this letter was brought to Miss Woodley, she knew what it
+contained before she opened it, and therefore took it with an air of
+resignation—yet though she guessed the momentous part of its contents,
+she dreaded in what words it might be related; and having now no
+essential good to expect, hope, that will never totally expire, clung
+at this crisis to little circumstances, and she hoped most fervently,
+the terms of the letter might not be harsh, but that Lord Elmwood had
+delivered his commands in gentle language. The event proved he had; and
+lost to every important comfort, she felt grateful to him for this
+small one.
+
+Matilda, too, was cheered by this letter, for she expected something
+worse; and the last line, in which Giffard said he knew “His Lordship
+loved her,� she thought repaid her for the purport of the other part.
+
+Sandford was not so easily resigned or comforted—he walked about the
+room when the letter was shewn to him—called it cruel—stifled his
+tears, and wished to show his resentment only—but the former burst
+through all his endeavours, and he sunk into grief.
+
+Nor was the fortitude of Matilda, which came to her assistance on the
+first onset of this trial, sufficient to arm her, when the moment came
+she was to quit the house—her father’s house—never to see that, or him
+again.
+
+When word was brought that the carriage was at the door, which was to
+convey her from all she held so dear, and she saw before her the
+prospect of a long youthful and healthful life, in which misery and
+despair were all she could discern; that despair seized her at once,
+and gaining courage from it, she cried,
+
+“What have I to fear if I disobey my father’s commands once more?—he
+cannot use me worse. I’ll stay here till he returns—again throw myself
+in his way, and then I will not faint, but plead for mercy. Perhaps
+were I to kneel to him—kneel, like other children to their parents, and
+beg his blessing, he would not refuse it me.�
+
+“You must not try:� said Sandford, mildly.
+
+“Who,� cried she, “shall prevent me flying to my father? Have I another
+friend on earth? Have I one relation in the world but him? This is the
+second time I have been turned out of his house. In my infant state my
+cruel father turned me out; but then, he sent me to a mother—now I have
+none; and I will stay with him.�
+
+Again the steward sent to let them know the coach was waiting.
+
+Sandford, now, with a determined countenance, went coolly up to Lady
+Matilda, and taking her hand, seemed resolved to lead her to the
+carriage.
+
+Accustomed to be awed by every serious look of his, she yet resisted
+this; and cried, “Would _you_ be the minister of my father’s cruelty?�
+
+“Then,� said Sandford solemnly to her, “farewell—from this moment you
+and I part. I will take my leave, and do you remain where you are—at
+least till you are forced away. But I’ll not stay to be driven
+hence—for it is impossible your father will suffer any friend of yours
+to continue here, after this disobedience. Adieu.�
+
+“I’ll go this moment,� said she, and rose hastily.
+
+Miss Woodley took her at her word, and hurried her immediately out of
+the room.
+
+Sandford followed slow behind, as if he had followed at her funeral.
+
+When she came to that spot on the stairs where she had met her father,
+she started back, and scarce knew how to pass it. When she had—“There
+he held me in his arms,� said she, “and I thought I felt him press me
+to his heart, but I now find I was mistaken.�
+
+As Sandford came forward, to hand her into the coach, “Now you behave
+well;� said he, “by this behaviour, you do not entirely close all
+prospect of reconciliation with your father.�
+
+“Do you think it is not yet impossible?� cried she, clasping his hand.
+“Giffard says he loves me,� continued she, “and do you think he might
+yet be brought to forgive me?�
+
+“Forgive you!� cried Sandford.
+
+“Suppose I was to write to him, and entreat his forgiveness?�
+
+“Do not write yet,� said Sandford, with no cheering accent.
+
+The carriage drove off—and as it went, Matilda leaned her head from the
+window, to survey Elmwood House from the roof to the bottom. She cast
+her eyes upon the gardens too—upon the fish ponds—even the coach
+houses, and all the offices adjoining—which, as objects that she should
+never see again—she contemplated, as objects of importance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Rushbrook, who, at twenty miles distance, could have no conjecture what
+had passed at Elmwood House, during the short visit Lord Elmwood made
+there, went that way with his dogs and gun in order to meet him on his
+return, and accompany him in the chaise back—he did so—and getting into
+the carriage, told him eagerly the sport he had had during the day;
+laughed at an accident that had befallen one of his dogs; and for some
+time did not perceive but that his uncle was perfectly attentive. At
+length, observing he answered more negligently than usual to what he
+said, Rushbrook turned his eyes quickly upon him, and cried,
+
+“My Lord, are you not well?�
+
+“Yes; perfectly well, I thank you, Rushbrook,� and he leaned back
+against the carriage.
+
+“I thought, Sir,� returned Rushbrook, “you spoke languidly—I beg your
+pardon.�
+
+“I have the head-ache a little,� answered he:—then taking off his hat,
+brushed the powder from it, and as he put it on again, fetched a most
+heavy sigh; which no sooner had escaped him, than, to drown its sound,
+he said briskly,
+
+“And so you tell me you have had good sport to-day?�
+
+“No, my Lord, I said but indifferent.�
+
+“True, so you did. Bid the man drive faster—it will be dark before we
+get home.�
+
+“You will shoot to-morrow, my Lord?�
+
+“Certainly.�
+
+“How does Mr. Sandford do, Sir?�
+
+“I did not see him.�
+
+“Not see Mr. Sandford, My Lord? but he was out I suppose—for they did
+not expect you at Elmwood House.�
+
+“No, they did not.�
+
+In such conversation Rushbrook and his uncle continued to the end of
+their journey. Dinner was then immediately served, and Lord Elmwood
+appeared much in his usual spirits; at least, not suspecting any cause
+for their abatement, Rushbrook did not observe any alteration.
+
+Lord Elmwood went, however, earlier to bed than ordinary, or rather to
+his bed-chamber; for though he retired some time before his nephew,
+when Rushbrook passed his chamber door it was open, and he not in bed,
+but sitting in a musing posture, as if he had forgot to shut it.
+
+When Rushbrook’s valet came to attend his master, he said to him,
+
+“I suppose, Sir, you do not know what has happened at the Castle?�
+
+“For heaven’s sake what?� cried Rushbrook.
+
+“My Lord has met Lady Matilda:� replied the man.
+
+“How? Where? What’s the consequence?�
+
+“We don’t know yet, Sir; but all the servants suppose her Ladyship will
+not be suffered to remain there any longer.�
+
+“They all suppose wrong,� returned Rushbrook hastily—“My Lord loves her
+I am certain, and this event may be the happy means of his treating her
+as his child from this day.�
+
+The servant smiled and shook his head.
+
+“Why, what more do you know?�
+
+“Nothing more than I have told you, Sir; except that his Lordship took
+no kind of notice of her Ladyship that appeared like love.�
+
+Rushbrook was all uneasiness and anxiety to know the particulars of
+what had passed; and now Lord Elmwood’s inquietude, which he had but
+slightly noticed before, came full to his observation. He was going to
+ask more questions; but he recollected Lady Matilda’s misfortunes were
+too sacred, to be talked of thus familiarly by the servants of the
+family;—besides, it was evident this man thought, and but naturally, it
+might not be for his master’s interest the father and the daughter
+should be united; and therefore would certainly give to all he said the
+opposite colouring.
+
+In spite of his prudence, however, and his delicacy towards Matilda,
+Rushbrook could not let his valet leave him till he had inquired, and
+learned all the circumstantial account of what had happened; except,
+indeed, the order received by Giffard, which being given after Lord
+Elmwood was in his carriage and in concise terms, the domestics who
+attended him (and from whom this man had gained his intelligence) were
+unacquainted with it.
+
+When the servant had left Rushbrook alone, the perturbation of his mind
+was so great, that he was, at length, undetermined whether to go to
+bed, or to rush into his uncle’s apartment, and at his feet beg for
+that compassion upon his daughter, which he feared he had denied her.
+But then, to what peril would he not expose himself by such a step?
+Nay, he might perhaps even injure her whom he wished to serve; for if
+his uncle was at present unresolved, whether to forgive or to resent
+this disobedience to his commands, another’s interference might enrage,
+and precipitate him on the latter.
+
+This consideration was so weighty, it resigned Rushbrook to the
+suspense he was compelled to endure till the morning; when he flattered
+himself, that by watching every look and motion of Lord Elmwood, his
+penetration would be able to discover the state of his heart, and how
+he meant to act.
+
+But the morning came, and he found all his prying curiosity was of no
+avail; Lord Elmwood did not drop one word, give one look, or use one
+action that was not customary.
+
+On first seeing him, Rushbrook blushed at the secret with which he was
+entrusted; then, as he gazed on the Earl, contemplated the joy he ought
+to have known in clasping in his arms a child like Matilda, whose
+tenderness, reverence, and duty, had deprived her of all sensation at
+his sight; which was in Rushbrook’s mind an honour, that rendered him
+superior to what he was before.
+
+They were in the fields all the day as usual; Lord Elmwood now
+cheerful, and complaining no more of the head-ache. Yet once being
+separated from his nephew, Rushbrook crossed over a stile into another
+field, and found him sitting by the side of a bank, his gun lying by
+him, and himself lost in thought. He rose on seeing him, and proceeded
+to the sport as before.
+
+At dinner, he said he should not go to Elmwood House the next day, as
+he had appointed, but stay where he was, three or four days longer.
+From these two small occurrences, Rushbrook would fain have extracted
+something by which to judge the state of his mind; but upon the test,
+that was impossible—he had caught him so musing many a time before; and
+as to his prolonging his stay, that might arise from the sport—or,
+indeed, had any thing more material swayed him, who could penetrate
+whether it was the effect of the lenity, or the severity, he had dealt
+towards his child? whether his continuance there was to shun her, or to
+shun the house from whence he had banished her?
+
+The three or four days for their temporary abode being passed, they
+both returned together to Elmwood House. Rushbrook thought he saw his
+uncle’s countenance change as they entered the avenue, yet he did not
+appear less in spirits; and when Sandford joined them at dinner, the
+Earl went with his usual alacrity to him, and (as was his custom after
+any separation) put out his hand cheerfully to take his. Sandford said,
+“How do you do, my Lord?� cheerfully in return; but put both his hands
+into his bosom, and walked to the other side of the room. Lord Elmwood
+did not seem to observe this affront—nor was it done as an affront—it
+was merely what poor Sandford felt; and he felt he could _not_ shake
+hands with him.
+
+Rushbrook soon learned the news that Matilda was gone, and Elmwood
+House was to him a desert—he saw there no real friend of her’s, except
+poor Sandford, and to him, Rushbrook knew himself now, more displeasing
+than ever; and all his overtures of atonement, he, at this time, found
+more and more ineffectual. Matilda was exiled; and her supposed
+triumphant rival was, to Sandford, more odious than he had ever been.
+
+In alleviation of their banishment, Miss Woodley, with her charge, had
+not returned to their old retreat; but were gone to a farm house, not
+farther than thirty miles from Lord Elmwood’s: here Sandford, with
+little inconvenience, visited them; nor did his patron ever take notice
+of his occasional absence; for as he had before given his daughter, in
+some measure, to his charge; so honour, delicacy, and the common ties
+of duty, made him approve, rather than condemn his attention to her.
+
+Though Sandford’s frequent visits soothed Matilda, they could not
+comfort her; for he had no consolation to bestow that was suited to her
+mind—her father had given no one token of regret for what he had done.
+He had even inquired sternly of Giffard on his returning home,
+
+“If Miss Woodley had left the house?�
+
+The steward guessing the whole of his meaning, answered, “Yes, my Lord;
+and _all_ your commands in that respect have been obeyed.�
+
+He replied, “I am satisfied.� And, to the grief of the old man,
+appeared really so.
+
+To the farm-house, the place of Matilda’s residence, there came,
+besides Sandford, another visitor far less welcome—Viscount Margrave.
+He had heard with surprise, and still greater joy, that Lord Elmwood
+had once more shut his doors against his daughter. In this her
+discarded state, he no longer burthened his lively imagination with the
+dull thoughts of marriage, but once more formed the idea of making her
+his mistress.
+
+Ignorant of a certain decorum which attended all Lord Elmwood’s
+actions, he suspected that his child might be in want; and an
+acquaintance with the worst part of her sex informed him, that relief
+from poverty was the sure bargain for his success. With these hopes, he
+again paid Miss Woodley and her a visit; but the coldness of the
+former, and the haughtiness of the latter, still kept him at a
+distance, and again made him fear to give one allusion to his purpose:
+but he returned home resolved to write what he durst not speak—he did
+so—he offered his services, his purse, his house—they were rejected
+with contempt, and a stronger prohibition than ever given to his
+visits.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Lord Elmwood had now allowed Rushbrook a long vacation, in respect to
+his answer upon the subject of marriage; and the young man vainly
+imagined, his intentions upon that subject were entirely given up. One
+morning, however, as he was attending him in the library,
+
+“Henry,�——said his uncle, with a pause at the beginning of his speech,
+which indicated that he was going to say something of importance,
+“Henry——you have not forgot the discourse I had with you a little time
+previous to your illness?�
+
+Henry hesitated—for he wished to have forgotten it—but it was too
+strongly impressed upon his memory. Lord Elmwood resumed,
+
+“What! equivocating again, Sir? Do you remember it, or do you not?�
+
+“Yes, my Lord, I do.�
+
+“And are you prepared to give me an answer?�
+
+Rushbrook paused again.
+
+“In our former conversation,� continued the Earl, “I gave you but a
+week to determine—there has, I think, elapsed since that time, half a
+year.�
+
+“About as much, Sir.�
+
+“Then surely you have now made up your mind?�
+
+“I had done that at first, my Lord—if it had met with your
+concurrence.�
+
+“You wished to lead a bachelor’s life, I think you said?�
+
+Rushbrook bowed.
+
+“Contrary to my will?�
+
+“No, my Lord, I wished to have your approbation.�
+
+“And you wished for my approbation of the very opposite thing to that I
+proposed? But I am not surprised—such is the gratitude of the world—and
+such is yours.�
+
+“My Lord, if you doubt my gratitude——�
+
+“Give me a proof of it, Harry, and I will doubt no longer.�
+
+“Upon every other subject but this, my Lord, Heaven is my witness your
+happiness——�
+
+Lord Elmwood interrupted him. “I understand you—upon every other
+subject, but the only one, my content requires, you are ready to obey
+me. I thank you.�
+
+“My Lord, do not torture me with this suspicion; it is so contrary to
+my deserts, that I cannot bear it.�
+
+“Suspicion of your ingratitude!—you judge too favourably of my
+opinion—it amounts to certainty.�
+
+“Then to convince you, Sir, I am not ungrateful, tell me who the Lady
+is you have chosen for me, and here I give you my word, I will
+sacrifice all my future prospects of happiness—all, for which I would
+wish to live—and become her husband as soon as you shall appoint.�
+
+This was spoken with a tone so expressive of despair, that Lord Elmwood
+replied,
+
+“And while you obey me, you take care to let me know, it will cost you
+your future peace. This is, I suppose, to enhance the merit of the
+obligation—but I shall not accept your acquiescence on these terms.�
+
+“Then in dispensing with it, I hope for your pardon.�
+
+“Do you suppose, Rushbrook, I can pardon an offence, the sole
+foundation of which, arises from a spirit of disobedience?—for you have
+declared to me your affections are disengaged. In our last conversation
+did you not say so?�
+
+“At first I did, my Lord—but you permitted me to consult my heart more
+closely; and I have since found that I was mistaken.�
+
+“You then own you at first told me a falsehood, and yet have all this
+time, kept me in suspense without confessing it.�
+
+“I waited, my Lord, till you should enquire——�
+
+“You have then, Sir, waited too long;� and the fire flashed from his
+eyes.
+
+Rushbrook now found himself in that perilous state, that admitted of no
+medium of resentment, but by such dastardly conduct on his part, as
+would wound both his truth and courage; and thus, animated by his
+danger, he was resolved to plunge boldly at once into the depth of his
+patron’s anger.
+
+“My Lord,� said he, (but he did not undertake this task without
+sustaining the trembling and convulsion of his whole frame) “My
+Lord—waving for a moment the subject of my marriage—permit me to remind
+you, that when I was upon my sick bed, you promised, that on my
+recovery, you would listen to a petition I should offer to you.�
+
+“Let me recollect,� replied he. “Yes—I do remember something of it. But
+I said nothing to warrant any improper petition.�
+
+“Its impropriety was not named, my Lord.�
+
+“No matter—that, you must judge of, and answer for the consequences.�
+
+“I would answer with my life, willingly—but I own that I shrink from
+your anger.�
+
+“Then do not provoke it.�
+
+“I have already gone too far to recede—and you would of course demand
+an explanation, if I attempted to stop here.�
+
+“I should.�
+
+“Then, my Lord, I am bound to speak—but do not interrupt me—hear me
+out, before you banish me from your presence for ever.�
+
+“I will, Sir,� replied he, prepared to hear something that would
+displease him, and yet determined to hear with patience to the
+conclusion.
+
+“Then, my Lord,�—(cried Rushbrook, in the greatest agitation of mind
+and body) “Your daughter�——
+
+The resolution Lord Elmwood had taken (and on which he had given his
+word to his nephew not to interrupt him) immediately gave way. The
+colour rose in his face—his eye darted lightning—and his hand was
+lifted up with the emotion, that word had created.
+
+“You promised to hear me, my Lord!� cried Rushbrook, “and I claim your
+promise.�
+
+He now suddenly overcame his violence of passion, and stood silent and
+resigned to hear him; but with a determined look, expressive of the
+vengeance that should ensue.
+
+“Lady Matilda,� resumed Rushbrook, “is an object that wrests from me
+the enjoyment of every blessing your kindness bestows. I cannot but
+feel myself as her adversary—as one, who has supplanted her in your
+affections—who supplies her place, while she is exiled, a wanderer, and
+an orphan.�
+
+The Earl took his eyes from Rushbrook, during this last sentence, and
+cast them on the floor.
+
+“If I feel gratitude towards you, my Lord,� continued he, “gratitude is
+innate in my heart, and I must also feel it towards her, who first
+introduced me to your protection.�
+
+Again the colour flew to Lord Elmwood’s face; and again he could hardly
+restrain himself from uttering his indignation.
+
+“It was the mother of Lady Matilda,� continued Rushbrook, “who was this
+friend to me; nor will I ever think of marriage, or any other joyful
+prospect, while you abandon the only child of my beloved patroness, and
+load me with rights, which belong to her.�
+
+Here Rushbrook stopped—Lord Elmwood was silent too, for near half a
+minute; but still his countenance continued fixed, with his unvaried
+resolves.
+
+After this long pause, the Earl said with composure, but with firmness,
+“Have you finished, Mr. Rushbrook?�
+
+“All that I dare to utter, my Lord; and I fear, I have already said too
+much.�
+
+Rushbrook now trembled more than ever, and looked pale as death; for
+the ardour of speaking being over, he waited his sentence, with less
+constancy of mind than he expected he should.
+
+“You disapprove my conduct, it seems;� said Lord Elmwood, “and in that,
+you are but like the rest of the world—and yet, among all my
+acquaintance, you are the only one who has dared to insult me with your
+opinion. And this you have not done inadvertently; but willingly, and
+deliberately. But as it has been my fate to be used ill, and severed
+from all those persons to whom my soul has been most attached; with
+less regret I can part from you, than if this were my first trial.�
+
+There was a truth and a pathetic sound in the utterance of these words,
+that struck Rushbrook to the heart—and he beheld himself as a
+barbarian, who had treated his benevolent and only friend, with
+insufferable liberty; void of respect for those corroding sorrows which
+had imbittered so many years of his life, and in open violation of his
+most peremptory commands. He felt that he deserved all he was going to
+suffer, and he fell upon his knees; not so much to deprecate the doom
+he saw impending, as thus humbly to acknowledge, it was his due.
+
+Lord Elmwood, irritated by this posture, as a sign of the presumptuous
+hope that he might be forgiven, suffered now his anger to burst all
+bounds; and raising his voice, he exclaimed in a rage,
+
+“Leave my house, Sir. Leave my house instantly, and seek some other
+home.�
+
+Just as these words were begun, Sandford opened the library door, was
+witness to them, and to the imploring situation of Rushbrook. He stood
+silent with amazement!
+
+Rushbrook arose, and feeling in his mind a presage, that he might never
+from that hour, behold his benefactor more; as he bowed in token of
+obedience to his commands, a shower of tears covered his face; but Lord
+Elmwood, unmoved, fixed his eyes upon him, which pursued him with
+enraged looks to the end of the room. Here he had to pass Sandford;
+who, for the first time in his life, took hold of him by the hand, and
+said to Lord Elmwood, “My Lord, what’s the matter?�
+
+“That ungrateful villain,� cried he, “has dared to insult me.—Leave my
+house this moment, Sir.�
+
+Rushbrook made an effort to go, but Sandford still held his hand; and
+meekly said to Lord Elmwood,
+
+“He is but a boy, my Lord, and do not give him the punishment of a
+man.�
+
+Rushbrook now snatched his hand from Sandford’s, and threw it with
+himself upon his neck; where he indeed sobbed like a boy.
+
+“You are both in league,� exclaimed Lord Elmwood.
+
+“Do you suspect me of partiality to Mr. Rushbrook?� said Sandford,
+advancing nearer to the Earl.
+
+Rushbrook had now gained the point of remaining in the room; but the
+hope that privilege inspired (while he still harboured all the just
+apprehensions for his fate) gave birth, perhaps, to a more exquisite
+sensation of pain, than despair would have done. He stood
+silent—confounded—hoping that he was forgiven—fearing that he was not.
+
+As Sandford approached still nearer to Lord Elmwood, he continued, “No,
+my Lord, I know you do not suspect me, of partiality to Mr.
+Rushbrook—has any part of my behaviour ever discovered it?�
+
+“You now then only interfere to provoke me.�
+
+“If that were the case,� returned Sandford, “there have been occasions,
+when I might have done it more effectually—when my own heart-strings
+were breaking, because I would not provoke, or add to what you
+suffered.�
+
+“I am obliged to you, Mr. Sandford:� he returned, mildly.
+
+“And if, my Lord, I have proved any merit in a late forbearance, reward
+me for it now; and take this young man from the depth of despair in
+which I see he is sunk, and say you pardon him.�
+
+Lord Elmwood made no answer—and Rushbrook, drawing strong inferences of
+hope from his silence, lifted up his eyes from the ground, and ventured
+to look in his face: he found it composed to what it had been, but
+still strongly marked with agitation. He cast his eyes away again, in
+confusion.
+
+On which his uncle said to him—“I shall postpone executing your
+obedience to my late orders, till you think fit once more to provoke
+them—and then, not even Sandford, shall dare to plead your excuse.�
+
+Rushbrook bowed.
+
+“Go, leave the room, Sir.�
+
+He instantly obeyed.
+
+Then Sandford, turning to Lord Elmwood, shook him by the hand, and
+cried, “My Lord, I thank you—I thank you very kindly, my Lord—I shall
+now begin to think I have some weight with you.�
+
+“You might indeed think so, did you know how much I have pardoned.�
+
+“What was his offence, my Lord?�
+
+“Such as I would not have forgiven you, or any earthly being besides
+himself—but while you were speaking in his behalf, I recollected there
+was a gratitude so extraordinary in the hazards he ran, that almost
+made him pardonable.�
+
+“I guess the subject then,� cried Sandford; and yet I could not have
+supposed�——
+
+“It is a subject we cannot speak on, Sandford, therefore let us drop
+it.�
+
+At these words the discourse concluded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+To the relief of Rushbrook, Lord Elmwood that day dined from home, and
+he had not the confusion to see him again till the evening. Previous to
+this, Sandford and he met at dinner; but as the attendants were
+present, nothing passed on either side respecting the incident in the
+morning. Rushbrook, from the peril which had so lately threatened him,
+was now in his perfectly cool, and dispassionate senses; and
+notwithstanding the real tenderness which he bore to the daughter of
+his benefactor, he was not insensible to the comfort of finding
+himself, once more in the possession of all those enjoyments he had
+forfeited, and for a moment lost.
+
+As he reflected on this, to Sandford he felt the first tie of
+acknowledgement—but for his compassion, he knew he should have been at
+that very time of their meeting at dinner, away from Elmwood House for
+ever; and bearing on his mind a still more painful recollection, the
+burthen of his kind patron’s continual displeasure. Filled with these
+thoughts, all the time of dinner, he could scarce look at his
+companion, without tears of gratitude; and whenever he attempted to
+speak to him, gratitude choaked his utterance.
+
+Sandford, on his part, behaved just the same as ever; and to show he
+did not wish to remind Rushbrook of what he had done, he was just as
+uncivil as ever.
+
+Among other things, he said, “He did not know Lord Elmwood dined from
+home, for if he had, he should have dined in his own apartment.�
+
+Rushbrook was still more obliged to him for all this; and the weight of
+obligations with which he was oppressed, made him long for an
+opportunity to relieve himself by expressions. As soon, therefore, as
+the servants were all withdrawn, he began:
+
+“Mr. Sandford, whatever has been your opinion of _me_, I take pride to
+myself, that in my sentiments towards _you_, I have always
+distinguished you for that humane, disinterested character, you have
+this day proved.�
+
+“Humane, and disinterested,� replied Sandford, “are flattering epithets
+indeed, for an old man going out of the world, and who can have no
+temptation to be otherwise.�
+
+“Then suffer me to call your actions generous and compassionate, for
+they have saved me——�
+
+“I know, young man,� cried Sandford, interrupting him, “you are glad at
+what I have done, and that you find a gratification in telling me you
+are; but it is a gratification I will not indulge you with—therefore,
+say another sentence on the subject, and� (rising from his seat) “I’ll
+leave the room, and never come into your company again, whatever your
+uncle may say to it.�
+
+Rushbrook saw by the solemnity of his countenance, he was serious, and
+positively assured him he would never thank him more: on which Sandford
+took his seat again, but he still frowned, and it was many minutes
+before he conquered his ill humour. As his countenance became less
+sour, Rushbrook fell from some general topics he had eagerly started in
+order to appease him, and said,
+
+“How hard is it to restrain conversation from the subject of our
+thoughts; and yet amidst our dearest friends, and among persons who
+have the same dispositions and sentiments as our own, their minds, too,
+fixed upon the self-same objects, is this constraint practised—and
+thus, society, which was meant for one of our greatest blessings,
+becomes insipid, nay, often more wearisome than solitude.�
+
+“I think, young man,� replied Sandford, “you have made pretty free with
+your speech to-day, and ought not to complain of the want of toleration
+on that score.�
+
+“I do complain;� replied Rushbrook, “for if toleration was more
+frequent, the favour of obtaining it would be less.�
+
+“And your pride, I suppose, is above receiving a favour.�
+
+“Never from those I esteem; and to convince you of it, I wish this
+moment to request a favour of you.�
+
+“I dare say I shall refuse it. However what is it?�
+
+“Permit me to speak to you upon the subject of Lady Matilda?�
+
+Sandford made no answer, consequently did not forbid him—and he
+proceeded.
+
+“For her sake—as I suppose Lord Elmwood may have told you—I this
+morning rashly threw myself into the predicament from whence you
+released me—for her sake, I have suffered much—for her sake I have
+hazarded a great deal, and am still ready to hazard more.�
+
+“But for your own sake, do not,� returned Sandford, drily.
+
+“You may laugh at these sentiments as romantic, Mr. Sandford, but if
+they are, to me they are nevertheless natural.�
+
+“But of what service are they to be either to her, or to yourself?�
+
+“To me they are painful, and to her would be but impertinent, were she
+to know them.�
+
+“I shan’t inform her of them, so do not trouble yourself to caution me
+against it.�
+
+“I was not going—you know I was not—but I was going to say, that from
+no one so well as from you, could she be told my sentiments, without
+the danger of receiving offence.�
+
+“And what impression do you wish to give her, from her becoming
+acquainted with them?�
+
+“The impression, that she has one sincere friend: that upon every
+occurrence in life, there is a heart so devoted to all she feels, that
+she never can suffer without the sympathy of another: or can ever
+command him, and all his fortunes to unite for her welfare, without his
+ready, his immediate compliance.�
+
+“And do you imagine, that any of your professions, or any of her
+necessities, would ever prevail upon her to put you to the trial?�
+
+“Perhaps not.�
+
+“What, then, are the motives which induce you to wish her to be told of
+this?�
+
+Rushbrook paused.
+
+“Do you think,� continued Sandford, “the intelligence will give her any
+satisfaction?�
+
+“Perhaps not.�
+
+“Will it be of any to yourself?�
+
+“The highest in the world.�
+
+“And so all you have been urging upon this occasion, is, at last, only
+to please yourself.�
+
+“You wrong my meaning—it is her merit which inspires me with the desire
+of being known to her—it is her sufferings, her innocence, her
+beauty——�
+
+Sandford stared—Rushbrook proceeded: “It is her——�
+
+“Nay, stop where you are,� cried Sandford; “you are arrived at the
+zenith of perfection in a woman, and to add one qualification more,
+would be an anti-climax.�
+
+“Oh!� cried Rushbrook with warmth, “I loved her, before I ever beheld
+her.�
+
+“Loved her!� cried Sandford, with astonishment, “You are talking of
+what you did not intend.�
+
+“I am, indeed:� returned he in confusion, “I fell by accident on the
+word love.�
+
+“And by the same accident stumbled on the word beauty; and thus by
+accident, am I come to the truth of all your professions.�
+
+Rushbrook knew that he loved; and though his affection had sprung from
+the most laudable motives, yet was he ashamed of it, as of a vice—he
+rose, he walked about the room, and he did not look Sandford in the
+face for a quarter of an hour: Sandford, satisfied that he had judged
+rightly, and yet unwilling to be too hard upon a passion, which he
+readily believed must have had many noble virtues for its foundation,
+now got up and went away, without saying a word in censure, though not
+a word in approbation.
+
+It was in the month of October, and just dark, at the time Rushbrook
+was left alone, yet in the agitation of his mind, arising from the
+subject on which he had been talking, he found it impossible to remain
+in the house, and therefore walked into the fields; but there was
+another instigation, more powerful than the necessity of walking—it was
+the allurement of passing along that path where he had last seen Lady
+Matilda, and where, for the only time, she had condescended to speak to
+him divested of haughtiness; and with a gentleness that dwelt upon his
+memory beyond all her other endowments.
+
+Here, he retraced his own steps repeatedly, his whole imagination
+engrossed with her idea, till the sound of her father’s carriage
+returning from his visit, roused him from the delusion of his trance,
+to the dread of the confusion and embarrassment he should endure, on
+next meeting him. He hoped Sandford might be present, and yet he was
+now, almost as much ashamed of seeing him, as his uncle, whom he had so
+lately offended.
+
+Loath to leave the spot where he was, as to enter the house, he
+remained there, till he considered it would be ill manners, in his
+present humiliated situation, not to show himself at the usual supper
+hour, which was immediately.
+
+As he laid his hand upon the door of the apartment to open it, he was
+sorry to hear by Lord Elmwood’s voice, he was in the room before him;
+for there was something much more conspicuously distressing, in
+entering where he already was, than had his uncle come in after him. He
+found himself, however, re-assured, by overhearing the Earl laugh and
+speak in a tone expressive of the utmost good humour to Sandford, who
+was with him.
+
+Yet again, he felt all the awkwardness of his own situation; but making
+one courageous effort, opened the door and entered. Lord Elmwood had
+been away half the day, had dined abroad, and it was necessary to take
+some notice of his return; Rushbrook, therefore, bowed humbly, and what
+was more to his advantage, he looked humbly. His uncle made a slight
+return to the salutation, but continued the recital he had begun to
+Sandford; then sat down to the supper table—supped—and passed the whole
+evening without saying a syllable, or even casting a look, in
+remembrance of what had passed in the morning. Or if there was any
+token, that shewed he remembered the circumstance at all, it was the
+putting his glass to his nephew’s, when Rushbrook called for wine, and
+drinking at the time he did.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The repulse Lord Margrave received, did not diminish the ardour of his
+pursuit; for as he was no longer afraid of resentment from the Earl,
+whatever treatment his daughter might receive, he was determined the
+anger of Lady Matilda, or of her female friend, should not impede his
+pretensions.
+
+Having taken this resolution, he laid the plan of an open violation of
+all right; and determined to bear away that prize by force, which no
+art was likely to procure. He concerted with two of his favourite
+companions, but their advice was, “One struggle more of fair means.�
+This was totally against his inclination; for, he had much rather have
+encountered the piercing cries of a female in the last agonies of
+distress, than the fatigue of her sentimental harangues, or elegant
+reproofs, such as he had the sense to understand, but not the capacity
+to answer.
+
+Stimulated, however, by his friends to one more trial, in spite of the
+formal dismission he had twice received, he intruded another visit on
+Lady Matilda at the Farm. Provoked beyond bearing at such unfeeling
+assurance, Matilda refused to come into the room where he was, and Miss
+Woodley alone received him, and expressed her surprise at the little
+attention he had paid to her explicit desire.
+
+“Madam,� replied the nobleman, “to be plain with you, I am in love.�
+
+“I do not the least doubt it, my Lord,� replied Miss Woodley: “nor
+ought you to doubt the truth of what I advance, when I assure you, that
+you have not the smallest reason to hope your love will be returned;
+for Lady Matilda is resolved _never_ to listen to your passion.�
+
+“That man,� he replied, “is to blame, who can relinquish his hopes,
+upon the mere resolution of a lady.�
+
+“And that lady would be wrong,� replied Miss Woodley, “who should
+entrust her happiness in the care of a man, who can think thus meanly
+of her and of her sex.�
+
+“I think highly of them all,� he replied; “and to convince you in how
+high an estimation I hold _her_ in particular, my whole fortune is at
+her command.�
+
+“Your entire absence from this house, my Lord, she would consider as a
+much greater mark of your respect.�
+
+A long conversation, as uninteresting as this, ensued: the unexpected
+arrival of Mr. Sandford, put an end to it. He started at the sight of
+Lord Margrave; but the Viscount was much more affected at the sight of
+him.
+
+“My Lord,� said Sandford boldly to him, “have you received any
+encouragement from Lady Matilda to authorize this visit?�
+
+“None, upon my honour, Mr. Sandford; but I hope you know how to pardon
+a lover!�
+
+“A rational one I do—but you, my Lord, are not of that class while you
+persecute the pretended object of your affection.�
+
+“Do you call it persecution that I once offered her a share of my title
+and fortune—and even now, declare my fortune is at her disposal?�
+
+Sandford was uncertain whether he understood his meaning—but Lord
+Margrave, provoked at his ill reception, felt a triumph in removing his
+doubts, and proceeded thus:
+
+“For the discarded daughter of Lord Elmwood, cannot expect the same
+proposals, which I made, while she was acknowledged, and under the
+protection of her father.�
+
+“What proposals then, my Lord?� asked Sandford hastily.
+
+“Such,� replied he, “as the Duke of Avon made to her mother.�
+
+Miss Woodley quitted the room that instant. But Sandford, who never
+felt resentment but against those in whom he saw some virtue, calmly
+replied,
+
+“My Lord, the Duke of Avon was a gentleman, a man of elegance and
+breeding; and what have you to offer in recompense for your defects in
+qualities like these?�
+
+“My wealth,� replied he, “opposed to her indigence.� Sandford smiled,
+and answered,
+
+“Do you suppose _that_ wealth can be esteemed, which has not been able
+to make you respectable? What is it makes wealth valuable? Is it the
+pleasures of the table? the pleasure of living in a fine house? or of
+wearing fine cloaths? These are pleasures, a Lord enjoys, but in common
+with his valet. It is the pleasure of being conspicuous, which makes
+riches desirable; but if we are conspicuous only for our vice and
+folly, had we not better remain in poverty?�
+
+“You are beneath my notice.�
+
+“I trust I shall continue so—and that your Lordship will never again
+condescend to come where I am.�
+
+“A man of rank condescends to mix with any society, when a pretty woman
+is the object.�
+
+“My Lord, I have a book here in my pocket, which I am eager to read; it
+is an author who speaks sense and reason—will you pardon the impatience
+I feel for such company; and permit me to call your carriage?�
+
+Saying this, he went hastily and beckoned to the coachman; the carriage
+drove up, the door was opened, and Lord Margrave, ashamed to be exposed
+before his attendants, and convinced of the inutility of remaining any
+longer where he was, departed.
+
+Sandford was soon joined by the ladies; and the conversation falling,
+of course, upon the nobleman who had just taken his leave, Sandford
+unwarily exclaimed, “I wish Rushbrook had been here.�
+
+“Who?� cried Lady Matilda.
+
+“I do believe,� said Miss Woodley, “that young man has some good
+qualities.�
+
+“A great many,� returned Sandford, mutteringly.
+
+“Happy young man!� cried Matilda: “he is beloved by all those, whose
+affection it would be my choice to possess, beyond any other blessing
+this world could bestow.�
+
+“And yet I question, if Rushbrook is happy,� said Sandford.
+
+“He cannot be otherwise,� returned Matilda, “if he is a man of
+understanding.�
+
+“He does not want understanding neither,� replied Sandford; “although
+he has certainly many indiscretions.�
+
+“But which Lord Elmwood, I suppose,� said Matilda, “looks upon with
+tenderness.�
+
+“Not upon all his faults,� answered Sandford; “for I have seen him in
+very dangerous circumstances with your father.�
+
+“Have you indeed?� cried Matilda: “then I pity him.�
+
+“And I believe,� said Miss Woodley, “that from his heart, he
+compassionates you. Now, Mr. Sandford,� continued she, “though this is
+the first time I ever heard you speak in his favour, (and I once
+thought as indifferently of Mr. Rushbrook as you can do) yet now I will
+venture to ask you, whether you do not think he wishes Lady Matilda
+much happier than she is?�
+
+“I have heard him say so,� answered Sandford.
+
+“It is a subject,� returned Lady Matilda, “which I did not imagine you,
+Mr. Sandford, would have permitted him to have mentioned lightly, in
+your presence.�
+
+“Lightly! Do you suppose, my dear, we turned your situation into
+ridicule?�
+
+“No, Sir,—but there is a sort of humiliation in the grief to which I am
+doomed, that ought surely to be treated with the highest degree of
+delicacy by my friends.�
+
+“I don’t know on what point you fix real delicacy; but if it consists
+in sorrow, the young man gives a proof he possesses it, for he shed
+tears when I last heard him mention your name.�
+
+“I have more cause to weep at the mention of his.�
+
+“Perhaps so.—But let me tell you, Lady Matilda, that your father might
+have preferred a more unworthy object.�
+
+“Still had he been to me,� she cried, “an object of envy. And as I
+frankly confess my envy of Mr. Rushbrook, I hope you will pardon my
+malice, which is, you know, but a consequent crime.�
+
+The subject now turned again upon Lord Margrave; and all of them being
+firmly persuaded, this last reception would put an end to every further
+intrusion from him, they treated his pretensions, and himself, with the
+contempt they inspired—but not with the caution that was requisite.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+The next morning early, Mr. Sandford returned to Elmwood House, but
+with his spirits depressed, and his heart overcharged with sorrow. He
+had seen Lady Matilda, the object of his visit, but he had beheld her
+considerably altered in her looks and in her health; she was become
+very thin, and instead of the vivid bloom that used to adorn her
+cheeks, her whole complexion was of a deadly pale—her countenance no
+longer expressed hope or fear, but a fixed melancholy—she shed no
+tears, but was all sadness. He had beheld this, and he had heard her
+insulted by the licentious proposals of a nobleman, from whom there was
+no satisfaction to be demanded, because she had no friend to vindicate
+her honour.
+
+Rushbrook, who suspected where Sandford was gone, and imagined he would
+return that day, took his morning’s ride, so as to meet him on the
+road, at the distance of a few miles from the Castle; for, since his
+perilous situation with Lord Elmwood, he was so fully convinced of the
+general philanthropy of Sandford’s character, that in spite of his
+churlish manners, he now addressed him, free from that reserve to which
+his rough behaviour had formerly given birth. And Sandford, on his
+part, believing he had formed an illiberal opinion of Lord Elmwood’s
+heir, though he took no pains to let him know that his opinion was
+changed, yet resolved to make him restitution upon every occasion that
+offered.
+
+Their mutual greetings when they met, were unceremonious, but cordial;
+and Rushbrook turned his horse and rode back with Sandford; yet,
+intimidated by his respect and tenderness for Lady Matilda, rather than
+by fear of the rebuffs of his companion, he had not the courage to name
+her, till the ride was just finished, and they came within a few yards
+of the house—incited then by the apprehension, he might not soon again
+enjoy so fit an opportunity, he said,
+
+“Pardon me, Mr. Sandford, if I guess where you have been, and if my
+curiosity forces me to inquire for Miss Woodley’s and Lady Matilda’s
+health?�
+
+He named Miss Woodley first, to prolong the time before he mentioned
+Matilda; for though to name her gave him extreme pleasure, yet it was a
+pleasure accompanied by confusion and pain.
+
+“They are both very well,� replied Sandford, “at least they did not
+complain they were sick.�
+
+“They are not in spirits, I suppose?� said Rushbrook.
+
+“No, indeed:� replied Sandford, shaking his head.
+
+“No new misfortune has happened, I hope?� cried Rushbrook; for it was
+plain to see Sandford’s spirits were unusually cast down.
+
+“Nothing new,� returned he, “except the insolence of a young nobleman.�
+
+“What nobleman?� cried Rushbrook.
+
+“A lover of Lady Matilda’s,� replied Sandford.
+
+Rushbrook was petrified. “Who? What lover, Mr. Sandford?—explain?�
+
+They were now arrived at the house; and Sandford, without making any
+reply to this question, said to the servant who took his horse, “She
+has come a long way this morning; take care of her.�
+
+This interruption was torture to Rushbrook, who kept close to his side,
+in order to obtain a further explanation; but Sandford, without
+attending to him, walked negligently into the hall, and before they
+advanced many steps, they were met by Lord Elmwood.
+
+All further information was put an end to for the present.
+
+“How do you do, Sandford?� said Lord Elmwood with extreme kindness; as
+if he thanked him for the journey which, it was likely, he suspected he
+had been taking.
+
+“I am indifferently well, my Lord:� replied he, with a face of deep
+concern, and a tear in his eye, partly in gratitude for his patron’s
+civility, and partly in reproach for his cruelty.
+
+It was not now till the evening, that Rushbrook had an opportunity of
+renewing the conversation, which had been so barbarously interrupted.
+
+In the evening, no longer able to support the suspense into which he
+was thrown; without fear or shame, he followed Sandford into his
+chamber at the time of his retiring, and entreated of him, with all the
+anxiety he suffered, to explain his allusion when he talked of a lover,
+and of insolence to Lady Matilda.
+
+Sandford, seeing his emotion, was angry with himself that he had
+inadvertently mentioned the subject; and putting on an air of surly
+importance, desired,—if he had any business with him, that he would
+call in the morning.
+
+Exasperated at so unexpected a reception, and at the pain of his
+disappointment, Rushbrook replied, “He treated him cruelly, nor would
+he stir out of his room, till he had received a satisfactory answer to
+his question.�
+
+“Then bring your bed,� replied Sandford, “for you must pass your whole
+night here.�
+
+He found it vain to think of obtaining any intelligence by threats, he
+therefore said in a timid and persuasive manner,
+
+“Did you, Mr. Sandford, hear Lady Matilda mention my name?�
+
+“Yes,� replied Sandford, a little better reconciled to him.
+
+“Did you tell her what I lately declared to you?� he asked with still
+more diffidence.
+
+“No,� replied Sandford.
+
+“It is very well, Sir,� returned he, vexed to the heart—yet again
+wishing to sooth him—
+
+“You certainly, Mr. Sandford, know what is for the best—yet I entreat
+you will give me some further account of the nobleman you named?�
+
+“I know what is for the best,� replied Sandford, “and I won’t.�
+
+Rushbrook bowed, and immediately left the room. He went apparently
+submissive, but the moment he showed this submission, he took the
+resolution of paying a visit himself to the farm at which Lady Matilda
+resided; and of learning, either from Miss Woodley, the people of the
+house, the neighbours, or perhaps from Lady Matilda’s own lips, the
+secret which the obstinacy of Sandford had with-held.
+
+He saw all the dangers of this undertaking, but none appeared so great
+as the danger of losing her he loved, by the influence of a rival—and
+though Sandford had named “insolence,� he was in doubt whether what had
+appeared so to him, was so in reality, or would be so considered by
+her.
+
+To prevent the cause of his absence being suspected by Lord Elmwood, he
+immediately called his groom, ordered his horse, and giving those
+servants concerned, a strict charge of secrecy, with some frivolous
+pretence to apologize for his not being present at breakfast (resolving
+to be back by dinner) he set off that night, and arrived at an inn
+about a mile from the farm at break of day.
+
+The joy he felt when he found himself so near to the beloved object of
+his journey, made him thank Sandford in his heart, for the unkindness
+which had sent him thither. But new difficulties arose, how to
+accomplish the end for which he came; he learned from the people of the
+inn, that a Lord, with a fine equipage, had visited at the farm, but
+who he was, or for what purpose he went, no one could inform him.
+
+Dreading to return with his doubts unsatisfied, and yet afraid of
+proceeding to extremities that might be construed into presumption, he
+walked disconsolately (almost distractedly) about the fields, looking
+repeatedly at his watch, and wishing the time would stand still, till
+he was ready to go back with his errand compleated.
+
+Every field he passed, brought him nearer to the house on which his
+imagination was fixed; but how, without forfeiting every appearance of
+that respect which he so powerfully felt, could he attempt to enter
+it?—he saw the indecorum, resolved not to be guilty of it, and yet
+walked on till he was within but a small orchard of the door. Could he
+then retreat?—he wished he could; but he found that he had proceeded
+too far to be any longer master of himself. The time was urgent; he
+must either behold her, and venture her displeasure, or by diffidence
+during one moment, give up all his hopes perhaps for ever.
+
+With that same disregard to consequences, which actuated him when he
+dared to supplicate Lord Elmwood in his daughter’s behalf, he at length
+went eagerly to the door and rapped.
+
+A servant came—he asked to “Speak with Miss Woodley, if she was quite
+alone.�
+
+He was shown into an apartment, and Miss Woodley entered to him.
+
+She started when she beheld who it was; but as he did not see a frown
+upon her face, he caught hold of her hand, and said persuasively,
+
+“Do not be offended with me. If I mean to offend you, may I forfeit my
+life in atonement.�
+
+Poor Miss Woodley, glad in her solitude to see any one from Elmwood
+House, forgot his visit was an offence, till he put her in mind of it;
+she then said, with some reserve,
+
+“Tell me the purport of your coming, Sir, and perhaps I may have no
+reason to complain?�
+
+“It was to see Lady Matilda,� he replied, “or to hear of her health. It
+was to offer her my services—it was, Miss Woodley, to convince her, if
+possible, of my esteem.�
+
+“Had you no other method, Sir?� said Miss Woodley, with the same
+reserve.
+
+“None;� replied he, “or with joy I should have embraced it; and if you
+can inform me of any other, tell me I beseech you instantly, and I will
+immediately be gone, and pursue your directions.�
+
+Miss Woodley hesitated.
+
+“You know of no other means, Miss Woodley,� he cried.
+
+“And yet I cannot commend this,� said she.
+
+“Nor do I. Do not imagine because you see me here, that I approve my
+conduct; but reduced to this necessity, pity the motives that have
+urged it.�
+
+Miss Woodley did pity them; but as she would not own that she did, she
+could think of nothing else to say.
+
+At this instant a bell rung from the chamber above.
+
+“That is Lady Matilda’s bell,� said Miss Woodley; “she is coming to
+take a short walk. Do you wish to see her?�
+
+Though it was the first wish of his heart, he paused, and said, “Will
+you plead my excuse?�
+
+As the flight of stairs was but short, which Matilda had to come down,
+she was in the room with Miss Woodley and Mr. Rushbrook, just as that
+sentence ended.
+
+She had stepped beyond the door of the apartment, when perceiving a
+visitor, she hastily withdrew.
+
+Rushbrook, animated, though trembling at her presence, cried, “Lady
+Matilda, do not avoid me, till you know that I deserve such a
+punishment.�
+
+She immediately saw who it was, and returned back with a proper pride,
+and yet a proper politeness in her manner.
+
+“I beg your pardon, Sir,� said she, “I did not know you; I was afraid I
+intruded upon Miss Woodley and a stranger.�
+
+“You do not then consider me as a stranger, Lady Matilda? and that you
+do not, requires my warmest acknowledgements.�
+
+She sat down, as if overcome by ill spirits and ill health.
+
+Miss Woodley now asked Rushbrook to sit—for till now she had not.
+
+“No, Madam,� replied he, with confusion, “not unless Lady Matilda gives
+me permission.�
+
+She smiled, and pointed to a chair—and all the kindness which Rushbrook
+during his whole life had received from Lord Elmwood, never inspired
+half the gratitude, which this one instance of civility from his
+daughter excited.
+
+He sat down, with the confession of the obligation upon every feature
+of his face.
+
+“I am not well, Mr. Rushbrook,� said Matilda, languidly; “and you must
+excuse any want of etiquette at this house.�
+
+“While you excuse me, Madam, what can I have to complain of?�
+
+She appeared absent while he was speaking, and turning to Miss Woodley,
+said, “Do you think I had better walk to-day?�
+
+“No, my dear,� answered Miss Woodley; “the ground is damp, and the air
+cold.�
+
+“You are not well, indeed, Lady Matilda,� said Rushbrook, gazing upon
+her with the most tender respect.
+
+She shook her head; and the tears, without any effort either to impel
+or to restrain them, ran down her face.
+
+Rushbrook rose from his seat, and with an accent and manner the most
+expressive, said, “We are cousins, Lady Matilda—in our infancy we were
+brought up together—we were beloved by the same mother—fostered by the
+same father�——
+
+“Oh!� cried she, interrupting him, with a tone which indicated the
+bitterest anguish.
+
+“Nay, do not let me add to your uneasiness,� he resumed, “while I am
+attempting to alleviate it. Instruct me what I can do to show my esteem
+and respect, rather than permit me thus unguided, to rush upon what you
+may construe into insult and arrogance.�
+
+Miss Woodley went to Matilda, took her hand, then wiped the tears from
+her eyes, while Matilda reclined against her, entirely regardless of
+Rushbrook’s presence.
+
+“If I have been in the least instrumental to this sorrow,�—said
+Rushbrook, with a face as much agitated as his mind.
+
+“No,� said Miss Woodley, in a low voice, “you have not—she is often
+thus.�
+
+“Yes,� said Matilda, raising her head, “I am frequently so weak that I
+cannot resist the smallest incitement to grief. But do not make your
+visit long, Mr. Rushbrook,� she continued, “for I was just then
+thinking, that should Lord Elmwood hear of this attention you have paid
+me, it might be fatal to you.� Here she wept again, as bitterly as
+before.
+
+“There is no probability of his hearing of it, Madam,� Rushbrook
+replied; “or if there was, I am persuaded that he would not resent it;
+for yesterday, when I am confident he knew that Mr. Sandford had been
+to see you, he received him on his return, with unusual marks of
+kindness.�
+
+“Did he?� said she—and again she lifted up her head; her eyes for a
+moment beaming with hope and joy.
+
+“There is something which we cannot yet define,� said Rushbrook, “that
+Lord Elmwood struggles with; but when time shall have eradicated�——
+
+Before he could proceed further, Matilda was once more sunk into
+despondency, and scarce attended to what he was saying.
+
+Miss Woodley observing this, said, “Mr. Rushbrook, let it be a token we
+shall be glad to see you hereafter, that I now use the freedom to beg
+you will put an end to your visit.�
+
+“You send me away, Madam,� returned he, “with the warmest thanks for
+the reception you have give me; and this last assurance of your
+kindness, is beyond any other favour you could have bestowed. Lady
+Matilda,� added he, “suffer me to take your hand at parting, and let it
+be a testimony that you acknowledge me for a relation.�
+
+She put out her hand—which he knelt to receive, but did not raise it to
+his lips—he held the boon too sacred—and looking earnestly upon it, as
+it lay pale and wan in his, he breathed one sigh over it, and withdrew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Sorrowful and affecting as this interview had been, Rushbrook, as he
+rode home, reflected upon it with the most inordinate delight; and had
+he not seen decline of health, in the looks and behaviour of Lady
+Matilda, his felicity had been unbounded. Entranced in the happiness of
+her society, the thought of his rival never came once to his mind while
+he was with her; a want of recollection, however, he by no means
+regretted, as her whole appearance contradicted every suspicion he
+could possibly entertain, that she favoured the addresses of any man
+living—and had he remembered, he would not have dared to name the
+subject.
+
+The time ran so swiftly while he was away, that it was beyond the
+dinner hour at Elmwood House, when he returned. Heated, his dress and
+his hair disordered, he entered the dining room just as the dessert was
+put upon the table. He was confounded at his own appearance, and at the
+falsehoods he should be obliged to fabricate in his excuse: there was
+yet, that which engaged his attention, beyond any circumstance relating
+to himself—the features of Lord Elmwood—of which his daughter’s, whom
+he had just beheld, had the most striking resemblance; though her’s
+were softened by sorrow, while his were made austere by the self-same
+cause.
+
+“Where have you been?� said his uncle, with a frown.
+
+“A hers chase, my Lord—I beg your pardon—but a pack of dogs I
+unexpectedly met.� For in the hacknied art of lying without injury to
+any one, Rushbrook, to his shame, was proficient.
+
+His excuses were received, and the subject ceased.
+
+During his absence that day, Lord Elmwood had called Sandford apart,
+and said to him,—that as the malevolence which he once observed between
+him and Rushbrook, had, he perceived, subsided, he advised him, if he
+was a well-wisher to the young man, to sound his heart, and counsel him
+not to act against the will of his nearest relation and friend. “I
+myself am too hasty,� continued Lord Elmwood, “and, unhappily, too much
+determined upon what I have once (though, perhaps, rashly) said, to
+speak upon a topic where it is probable I shall meet with opposition.
+You, Sandford, can reason with moderation. For after all that I have
+done for my nephew, it would be a pity to forsake him at last; and yet,
+that is but too likely, if he provokes me.�
+
+“Sir,� replied Sandford, “I will speak to him.�
+
+“Yet,� added Lord Elmwood, sternly, “do not urge what you say for my
+sake, but for his—I can part from him with ease—but he may then repent,
+and, you know, repentance always comes too late with me.�
+
+“My Lord, I will exert all the efforts in my power for his welfare. But
+what is the subject on which he has refused to comply with your
+desires?�
+
+“Matrimony—have not I told you?�
+
+“Not a word.�
+
+“I wish him to marry, that I may then conclude the deeds in respect to
+my estate,—and the only child of Sir William Winterton (a rich heiress)
+was the wife I meant to propose; but from his indifference to all I
+have said on the occasion, I have not yet mentioned her name to him;
+you may.�
+
+“I will, my Lord, and use all my persuasion to engage his obedience;
+and you shall have, at least, a faithful account of what he says.�
+
+Sandford the next morning sought an opportunity of being alone with
+Rushbrook—he then plainly repeated to him what Lord Elmwood had said,
+and saw him listen to it all, and heard him answer with the most
+tranquil resolution, “That he would do any thing to preserve the
+friendship and patronage of his uncle—but marry.�
+
+“What can be your reason?� asked Sandford—though he guessed.
+
+“A reason, I cannot give to Lord Elmwood.�
+
+“Then do not give it to me, for I have promised to tell him every thing
+you say to me.�
+
+“And every thing I _have_ said?� asked Rushbrook hastily.
+
+“As to what you have said, I don’t know whether it has made impression
+enough on my memory, to enable me to repeat it.�
+
+“I am glad it has not.�
+
+“And my answer to your uncle, is to be simply, that you will not obey
+him?�
+
+“I should hope, Mr. Sandford, that you would express it in better
+terms.�
+
+“Tell me the terms, and I will be exact.�
+
+Rushbrook struck his forehead, and walked about the room.
+
+“Am I to give him any reason for your disobeying him?�
+
+“I tell you again, that I dare not name the cause.�
+
+“Then why do you submit to a power you are ashamed to own?�
+
+“I am not ashamed—I glory in it.—Are you ashamed of your esteem for
+Lady Matilda?�
+
+“Oh! if she is the cause of your disobedience, be assured I shall not
+mention it, for I am forbid to name her.�
+
+“And surely, as that is the case, I need not fear to speak plainly to
+you. I love Lady Matilda—or, perhaps, unacquainted with love, what I
+feel may be only pity—and if so, pity is the most pleasing passion that
+ever possessed a human heart, and I would not change it for all her
+father’s estates.�
+
+“Pity, then, gives rise to very different sensations—for I pity you,
+and that sensation I would gladly exchange for approbation.�
+
+“If you really feel compassion for me, and I believe you do, contrive
+some means by your answers to Lord Elmwood to pacify him, without
+involving me in ruin. Hint at my affections being engaged, but not to
+whom; and add, that I have given my word, if he will allow me a short
+time, a year or two only, I will, during that period, try to disengage
+them, and use all my power to render myself worthy of the union for
+which he designs me.�
+
+“And this is not only your solemn promise—but your fixed
+determination?�
+
+“Nay, why will you search my heart to the bottom, when the surface
+ought to content you?�
+
+“If you cannot resolve on what you have proposed, why do you ask this
+time of your uncle? For should he allow it you, at the expiration, your
+disobedience to his commands will be less pardonable than it is now.�
+
+“Within a year, Mr. Sandford, who can tell what strange events may not
+occur, to change all our prospects? Even my passion may decline.�
+
+“In that expectation, then—the failure of which yourself must answer
+for—I will repeat as much of this discourse as shall be proper.�
+
+Here Rushbrook communicated his having been to see Lady Matilda, for
+which Sandford reproved him, but in less rigorous terms than he
+generally used in his reproofs; and Rushbrook, by his entreaties, now
+gained the intelligence who the nobleman was who addressed Matilda, and
+on what views; but was restrained to patience, by Sandford’s arguments
+and threats.
+
+Upon the subject of this marriage, Sandford met his patron, without
+having determined exactly what to say, but rested on the temper in
+which he should find him.
+
+At the commencement of the conversation he said, “Rushbrook begged for
+time.�
+
+“I have given him time, have I not?� cried Lord Elmwood: “What can be
+the meaning of his thus trifling with me?�
+
+Sandford replied, “My Lord, young men are frequently romantic in their
+notions of love, and think it impossible to have a sincere affection,
+where their own inclinations do not first point out the choice.�
+
+“If he is in love,� answered Lord Elmwood, “let him take the object,
+and leave my house and me for ever. Nor under this destiny can he have
+any claim to pity; for genuine love will make him happy in banishment,
+in poverty, or in sickness: it makes the poor man happy as the rich,
+the fool blest as the wise.� The sincerity with which Lord Elmwood had
+loved, was expressed more than in words, as he said this.
+
+“Your Lordship is talking,� replied Sandford, “of the passion in its
+most refined and predominant sense; while I may possibly be speaking of
+a mere phantom, that has led this young man astray.�
+
+“Whatever it be,� returned Lord Elmwood, “let him and his friends weigh
+the case well, and act for the best—so shall I.�
+
+“His friends, my Lord?—What friends, or what friend has he upon earth
+but you?�
+
+“Then why will he not submit to my advice; or himself give me a proper
+reason why he cannot?�
+
+“Because there may be friendship without familiarity—and so it is
+between him and you.�
+
+“That cannot be; for I have condescended to talk to him in the most
+familiar terms.�
+
+“To condescend, my Lord, is _not_ to be familiar.�
+
+“Then come, Sir, let us be on an equal footing through you. And now
+speak out _his_ thoughts freely, and hear mine in return.�
+
+“Why, then, he begs a respite for a year or two.�
+
+“On what pretence?�
+
+“To me, it was preference of a single life—but I suspect it is—what he
+imagines to be love—and for some object whom he thinks your Lordship
+would disapprove.�
+
+“He has not, then, actually confessed this to you?�
+
+“If he has, it was drawn from him by such means, that I am not
+warranted to say it in direct words.�
+
+“I have entered into no contract, no agreement on his account with the
+friends of the lady I have pointed out,� said Lord Elmwood; “nothing
+beyond implications have passed betwixt her family and myself at
+present; and if the person on whom he has fixed his affections, should
+not be in a situation absolutely contrary to my wishes, I may, perhaps,
+confirm his choice.�
+
+That moment Sandford’s courage prompted him to name Lady Matilda, but
+his discretion opposed—however, in the various changes of his
+countenance from the conflict, it was plain to discern that he wished
+to say more than he dared.
+
+On which Lord Elmwood cried,
+
+“Speak on, Sandford—what are you afraid of?�
+
+“Of you, my Lord.�
+
+He started.
+
+Sandford went on——“I know no tie—no bond—no innocence, that is a
+protection when you feel resentment.�
+
+“You are right,� he replied, significantly.
+
+“Then how, my Lord, can you encourage me to _speak on_, when that which
+I perhaps would say, might offend you to hear?�
+
+“To what, and whither are you changing our subject?� cried Lord
+Elmwood. “But, Sir, if you know my resentful and relentless temper, you
+surely know how to shun it.�
+
+“Not, and speak plainly.�
+
+“Then dissemble.�
+
+“No, I’ll not do that—but I’ll be silent.�
+
+“A new parade of submission. You are more tormenting to me than any one
+I have about me. Constantly on the verge of disobeying my commands,
+that you may recede, and gain my good will by your forbearance. But
+know, Mr. Sandford, that I will not suffer this much longer. If you
+chuse in every conversation we have together (though the most remote
+from such a subject) to think of my daughter, you must either banish
+your thoughts, or conceal them—nor by one sign, one item, remind me of
+her.�
+
+“Your daughter did you call her? Can you call yourself her father?�
+
+“I do, Sir—but I was likewise the husband of her mother. And, as that
+husband, I solemnly swear.�——He was proceeding with violence.
+
+“Oh! my Lord,� cried Sandford, interrupting him, with his hands clasped
+in the most fervent supplication—“Oh! do not let me draw upon her one
+oath more of your eternal displeasure—I’ll kneel to beg that you will
+drop the subject.�
+
+The inclination he made with his knees bent towards the ground, stopped
+Lord Elmwood instantly. But though it broke in upon his words, it did
+not alter one angry look—his eyes darted, and his lips trembled with,
+indignation.
+
+Sandford, in order to appease him, bowed and offered to withdraw,
+hoping to be recalled. He wished in vain—Lord Elmwood’s eyes followed
+him to the door, expressive of rejoicing at his absence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+The companions and counsellors of Lord Margrave, who had so prudently
+advised gentle methods in the pursuit of his passion, while there was
+left any hope of their success; now, convinced there was none, as
+strenuously commended open violence;—and sheltered under the
+consideration, that their depredations were to be practised upon a
+defenceless woman, who had not one protector, except an old priest, the
+subject of their ridicule;—assured likewise from the influence of Lord
+Margrave’s wealth, that all inferior consequences could be overborne,
+they saw no room for fears on any side, and what they wished to
+execute, with care and skill premeditated.
+
+When their scheme was mature for performance, three of his chosen
+companions, and three servants, trained in all the villainous exploits
+of their masters, set off for the habitation of poor Matilda, and
+arrived there about the twilight of the evening.
+
+Near four hours after that time (just as the family were going to bed)
+they came up to the doors of the house, and rapping violently, gave the
+alarm of fire, conjuring all the inhabitants to make their way out
+immediately, as they would save their lives.
+
+The family consisted of few persons, all of whom ran instantly to the
+doors and opened them; on which two men rushed in, and with the plea of
+saving Lady Matilda from the pretended flames, caught her in their
+arms, and carried her off; while all the deceived people of the house,
+running eagerly to save themselves, paid no regard to her, till looking
+for the cause for which they had been terrified, they perceived the
+stratagem, and the fatal consequences.
+
+Amidst the complaints, the sorrow, and the affright of the people of
+the farm, Miss Woodley’s sensations wanted a name—terror and anguish
+give but a faint description of what she suffered—something like the
+approach of death stole over her senses, and she sat like one petrified
+with horror. She had no doubt who was the perpetrator of this
+wickedness; but how was she to follow? how effect a rescue?
+
+The circumstances of this event, as soon as the people had time to call
+up their recollection, were sent to a neighbouring magistrate; but
+little could be hoped from that. Who was to swear to the robber? Who,
+undertake to find him out! Miss Woodley thought of Rushbrook, of
+Sandford, of Lord Elmwood—but what could she hope from the want of
+power in the two former?—what from the latter, for the want of will?
+Now stupified, and now distracted, she walked about the house
+incessantly, begging for instructions how to act, or how to forget her
+misery.
+
+A tenant of Lord Elmwood’s, who occupied a little farm near to that
+where Lady Matilda lived, and who was well acquainted with the whole
+history of her’s and her mother’s misfortunes, was returning from a
+neighbouring fair, just as this inhuman plan was put in execution. He
+heard the cries of a woman in distress, and followed the sound, till he
+arrived at a chaise in waiting, and saw Matilda placed in it, by the
+side of two men, who presented pistols to him, as he offered to
+approach and expostulate.
+
+The farmer, uncertain who this female was, yet went to the house she
+had been taken from (as the nearest) with the tale of what he had seen;
+and there, being informed it was Lady Matilda whom he had beheld, this
+intelligence, joined to the powerful effect her screams had on him,
+made him resolve to take horse immediately, and with some friends,
+follow the carriage till they should trace the place to which she was
+conveyed.
+
+The anxiety, the firmness discovered in determining on this
+understanding, somewhat alleviated the agony Miss Woodley endured, and
+she began to hope, timely assistance might yet be given to her beloved
+charge.
+
+The man set out, meaning at all events to attempt her release; but
+before he had proceeded far, the few friends that accompanied him,
+began to reflect on the improbability of their success, against a
+nobleman, surrounded by servants, with other attendants likewise, and,
+perhaps, even countenanced by the father of the lady, whom they
+presumed to take from him; or if not, while Lord Elmwood beheld the
+offence with indifference, that indifference gave it a sanction, they
+might in vain oppose. These cool reflections tending to their safety,
+had their weight with the companions of the farmer; they all rode back,
+rejoicing at their second thoughts, and left him to pursue his journey
+and prove his valour by himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+It was not with Sandford, as it had lately been with Rushbrook under
+the displeasure of Lord Elmwood—to the latter he behaved, as soon as
+their dissension was past, as if it had never happened—but to Sandford
+it was otherwise—the resentment which he had repressed at the time of
+the offence, lurked in his heart, and dwelt upon his mind for several
+days; during which, he carefully avoided exchanging a word with him,
+and gave every other demonstration of his anger.
+
+Sandford, though experienced in the cruelty and ingratitude of the
+world, yet could not without difficulty brook this severity, this
+contumely, from a man, for whose welfare, ever since his infancy, he
+had laboured; and whose happiness was more dear to him, in spite of all
+his faults, than that of any other person. Even Lady Matilda was not so
+dear to Sandford as her father—and he loved her more that she was Lord
+Elmwood’s child, than for any other cause.
+
+Sometimes the old Priest, incensed beyond bearing, was on the point of
+saying to his patron, “How, in my age, dare you thus treat the man,
+whom in his youth you respected and revered?�
+
+Sometimes instead of anger, he felt the tear, he was ashamed to own,
+steal to his eye, and even fall down his cheek. Sometimes he left the
+room half determined to leave the house—but these were all half
+determinations; for he knew him with whom he had to deal too well, not
+to know that he might be provoked into yet greater anger; and that
+should he once rashly quit his house, the doors most probably would be
+shut against him for ever.
+
+In this humiliating state (for even many of the domestics could not but
+observe their Lord’s displeasure) Sandford passed three days, and was
+beginning the fourth, when sitting with Lord Elmwood and Rushbrook just
+after breakfast, a servant entered, saying, as he opened the door, to
+somebody who followed, “You must wait till you have my Lord’s
+permission.�
+
+This attracted their eyes to the door, and a man meanly dressed, walked
+in, following close to the servant.
+
+The latter turned, and seemed again to desire the person to retire, but
+in vain; he rushed forward regardless of his opposer, and in great
+agitation, cried,
+
+“My Lord, if you please, I have business with you, provided you will
+chuse to be alone.�
+
+Lord Elmwood, struck with the intruder’s earnestness, bade the servant
+leave the room; and then said to the stranger,
+
+“You may speak before these gentlemen.�
+
+The man instantly turned pale, and trembled—then, to prolong the time
+before he spoke, went to the door to see if it was shut—returned—yet
+still trembling, seemed unwilling to say his errand.
+
+“What have you done,� cried Lord Elmwood, “that you are in this terror?
+What have you done, man?�
+
+“Nothing, my Lord,� replied he, “but I am afraid I am going to offend
+you.�
+
+“Well, no matter;� (he answered carelessly) “only go on, and let me
+know your business.�
+
+The man’s distress increased—and he cried in a voice of grief and
+affright—“Your child, my Lord!�——
+
+Rushbrook and Sandford started; and looking at Lord Elmwood, saw him
+turn white as death. In a tremulous voice he instantly cried,
+
+“What of her?� and rose from his seat.
+
+Encouraged by the question, and the agitation of him who asked it, the
+poor man gave way to his feelings, and answered with every sign of
+sorrow,
+
+“I saw her, my Lord, taken away by force—two ruffians seized and
+carried her away, while she screamed in vain to me for help, and tore
+her hair in distraction.�
+
+“Man, what do you mean?� cried the Earl.
+
+“Lord Margrave,� replied the stranger, “we have no doubt, has formed
+this plot—he has for some time past beset the house where she lived;
+and when his visits were refused, he threatened this. Besides, one of
+his servants attended the carriage; I saw, and knew him.�
+
+Lord Elmwood listened to the last part of this account with seeming
+composure—then turning hastily to Rushbrook, he said,
+
+“Where are my pistols, Harry?�
+
+Sandford rose from his seat, and forgetting all the anger between them,
+caught hold of the Earl’s hand, and cried, “Will you then prove
+yourself a father?�
+
+Lord Elmwood only answered, “Yes,� and left the room.
+
+Rushbrook followed, and begged with all the earnestness he felt, to be
+permitted to accompany his uncle.
+
+While Sandford shook hands with the farmer a thousand times; and he, in
+his turn, rejoiced, as if he had already seen Lady Matilda restored to
+liberty.
+
+Rushbrook in vain entreated Lord Elmwood; he laid his commands upon him
+not to go a step from the Castle; while the agitation of his own mind,
+was too great, to observe the rigour of this sentence on his nephew.
+
+During the hasty preparations for the Earl’s departure, Sandford
+received from Miss Woodley the sad intelligence of what had happened;
+but he returned an answer to recompence her for all she had suffered on
+the occasion.
+
+Within a few hours Lord Elmwood set off, accompanied by his guide, the
+farmer, and other attendants furnished with every requisite to
+ascertain the success of their enterprise—while poor Matilda little
+thought of a deliverer nigh, much less, that her deliverer should prove
+her father.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Lord Margrave, black as this incident of his life must make him appear
+to the reader, still nursed in his conscience a reserve of specious
+virtue, to keep him in peace with himself. It was his design to plead,
+to argue, to implore, nay even to threaten, long before he put his
+threats in force; and with this and the following reflection, he
+reconciled—as most bad men can—what he had done, not only to the laws
+of humanity, but to the laws of honour.
+
+“I have stolen a woman certainly;� said he to himself, “but I will make
+her happier than she was in that humble state from which I have taken
+her. I will even,� said he, “now that she is in my power, win her
+affections—and when, in fondness, hereafter she hangs upon me, how will
+she thank me for this little trial, through which I shall have
+conducted her to happiness!�
+
+Thus did he hush his remorse, while he waited impatiently at home, in
+expectation of his prize.
+
+Half expiring with her sufferings, of body as well as of mind, about
+twelve o’clock the next night, after she was borne away, Matilda
+arrived; and felt her spirits revive by the superior sufferings that
+awaited her—for her increasing terrors roused her from the death-like
+weakness, brought on by fatigue.
+
+Lord Margrave’s house, to which he had gone previous to this occasion,
+was situated in the lonely part of a well-known forest, not more than
+twenty miles distant from London: this was an estate he rarely visited;
+and as he had but few servants here, it was a place which he supposed
+would be less the object of suspicion in the present case, than any
+other of his seats. To this, then, Lady Matilda was conveyed—a superb
+apartment allotted her—and one of his confidential females placed to
+attend upon her, with all respect, and assurances of safety.
+
+Matilda looked in this woman’s face, and seeing she bore the features
+of her sex, while her own knowledge reached none of those worthless
+characters of which this person was a specimen, she imagined that none
+of those could look as she did, and therefore found consolation in her
+seeming tenderness. She was even prevailed upon (by her promises to sit
+by her side and watch) to throw herself on the bed, and suffer sleep
+for a few minutes—for sleep to her was suffering; her fears giving
+birth to dreams terrifying as her waking thoughts.
+
+More wearied than refreshed with her sleep, she rose at break of day,
+and refusing to admit of the change of an article in her dress, she
+persisted to sit in the torn disordered habit in which she had been
+dragged away; nor would she taste a morsel, of all the delicacies that
+were prepared for her.
+
+Her attendant, for some time observed the most reverential awe; but
+finding this had not the effect of gaining compliance with her advice,
+she varied her manners, and began by less submissive means to attempt
+an influence. She said her orders were to be obedient, while she
+herself was obeyed—at least in circumstances so material as the lady’s
+health, of which she had the charge as a physician, and expected equal
+compliance from her patient—food and fresh apparel she prescribed as
+the only means to prevent death; and even threatened her invalid with
+something worse, a visit from Lord Margrave, if she continued
+obstinate.
+
+Now loathing her for the deception she had practised, more, than had
+she received her thus at first, Matilda hid her eyes from the sight of
+her; and when she was obliged to look, she shuddered.
+
+This female at length thought it her duty to wait upon her worthy
+employer, and inform him the young lady in her trust would certainly
+die, unless there were means employed to oblige her to take some
+nourishment.
+
+Lord Margrave, glad of an opportunity that might apologize for his
+intrusion upon Lady Matilda, went with eagerness to her apartment, and
+throwing himself at her feet, conjured her if she would save his life,
+as well as her own, to submit to be consoled.
+
+The extreme disgust and horror his presence inspired, caused Matilda
+for a moment to forget all her want of power, her want of health, her
+weakness; and rising from the place where she sat, she cried, with her
+voice elevated,
+
+“Leave me, my Lord, or I’ll die in spite of all your care; I’ll
+instantly expire with grief, if you do not leave me.�
+
+Accustomed to the tears and reproaches of the sex—though not of those
+like her—he treated with contempt these menaces of anger, and seizing
+her hand, carried it to his lips.
+
+Enraged, and overwhelmed with sorrow at the affront, she cried,
+(forgetting every other friend she had,) “Oh! my dear Miss Woodley, why
+are you not here to protect me?�
+
+“Nay,� returned Lord Margrave, stifling a fit of laughter, “I should
+think the old Priest would be as good a champion as the lady.�
+
+The remembrance of Sandford, with all his kindness, now rushed so
+forcibly on Matilda’s mind, that she shed a shower of tears, on
+thinking how much he felt, and would continue to feel, for her
+situation. Once she thought on Rushbrook, and thought even _he_ would
+be sorry for her. Of her father she did not think—she dared not—one
+single moment that thought intruded, but she hurried it away—it was too
+bitter.
+
+It was now again quite night; and near to that hour when she came first
+to the house. Lord Margrave, though at some distance from her, remained
+still in her apartment, while her female companion had stolen away. His
+insensibility to her lamentations—the agitated looks he sometimes cast
+upon her—her weak and defenceless state, all conspired to fill her mind
+with horror.
+
+He saw her apprehensions in her distracted face, disheveled hair, and
+the whole of her forlorn appearance—yet, notwithstanding his former
+resolutions, he could not resist the desire of fulfilling all her
+dreadful expectations.
+
+He once again approached her, and again was going to seize her hand;
+when the report of a pistol, and a confused noise of persons assembling
+towards the apartment prevented him.
+
+He started—but looked more surprised than alarmed—her alarm was
+augmented; for she supposed this tumult was some experiment to
+intimidate her into submission. She wrung her hands, and lifted up her
+eyes to Heaven, in the last agony of despair, when one of Lord
+Margrave’s servants entered hastily and announced,
+
+“Lord Elmwood!�
+
+That moment her father entered—and with all the unrestrained fondness
+of a parent, folded her in his arms.
+
+Her extreme, her excess of joy on such a meeting, and from such anguish
+rescued, was, in part, repressed by his awful presence. The
+apprehensions to which she had been accustomed, kept her timid and
+doubtful—she feared to speak, or clasp him in return for his embrace,
+but falling on her knees, clung round his legs, and bathed his feet
+with her tears.——These were the happiest moments that she had ever
+known—perhaps, the happiest _he_ had ever known.
+
+Lord Margrave, on whom Lord Elmwood had not even cast a look, now left
+the room; but as he quitted it, called out,
+
+“My Lord Elmwood, if you have any demands on me,�—
+
+The Earl interrupted him, “Would you make me an executioner? The law
+shall be your only antagonist.�
+
+Matilda, quite exhausted, yet upheld by the sudden transport she had
+felt, was led by her father out of this wretched dwelling—more
+despicable than the beggar’s hovel.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Rushbrook was detained at Elmwood House during all this time, more from
+the persuasions, nay prayers, of Sandford, than the commands of Lord
+Elmwood. He had, but for Sandford, followed his uncle, and exposed
+himself to his anger, sooner than have endured the most piercing
+inquietude, which he was doomed to suffer, till the news arrived of
+Lady Matilda’s safety. He indeed had little else to fear from the known
+firm, courageous character of her father, and the expedition with which
+he undertook his journey; but lovers’ fears are like those of women,
+obstinate, and no argument could persuade either him or Miss Woodley
+(who had now ventured to come to Elmwood House) but that Matilda’s
+peace of mind might be for ever destroyed, before she was set at
+liberty.
+
+The summons from Lord Elmwood for their coming to town, was received by
+each of this party with delight; but the impatience to obey it, was in
+Rushbrook so violent, it was painful to himself, and extremely
+troublesome to Sandford; who wished, from his regard to Lady Matilda,
+rather to delay, than hurry their journey.
+
+“You are to blame,� said he to him and Miss Woodley, “to wish by your
+arrival, to divide with Lord Elmwood that tender bond, which ties the
+good who confer obligations, to the object of their benevolence. At
+present there is no one with him to share in the care and protection of
+his daughter, and he is under the necessity of discharging that duty
+himself; this habit may become so powerful, that he _cannot_ throw it
+off, even if his former resolutions should urge him to it. While we
+remain here, therefore, Lady Matilda is safe with her father; but it
+would not surprise me, if on our arrival (especially if we are
+precipitate) he should place her again with Miss Woodley at a
+distance.�
+
+To this forcible conjecture, they submitted for a few days, and then
+most gladly set out for town.
+
+On their arrival, they were met, even at the street-door, by Lady
+Matilda; and with an expression of joy, they did not suppose her
+features could have worn. She embraced Miss Woodley! hung upon
+Sandford! and to Mr. Rushbrook, who from his conscious love only bowed
+at an humble distance, she held out her hand with every look and
+gesture of the tenderest esteem.
+
+When Lord Elmwood joined them, he welcomed them all sincerely; but
+Sandford the most, with whom he had not spoken for many days before he
+left the country, for his allusion to the wretched situation of his
+daughter.—And Sandford (with his fellow-travellers) now saw him treat
+that daughter with an easy, a natural fondness, as if she had lived
+with him from her infancy. He appeared, however, at times, under the
+apprehension, that the propensity of man to jealousy, might give
+Rushbrook a pang at this dangerous rival in his love and fortune—for
+though Lord Elmwood remembered well the hazard he had once ventured to
+befriend Matilda, yet the present unlimited reconciliation was
+something so unlooked for, it might be a trial too much for his
+generosity, to remain wholly disinterested on the event. Slight as was
+this suspicion, it did Rushbrook injustice. He loved Lady Matilda too
+sincerely, he loved her father’s happiness, and her mother’s memory too
+faithfully, not to be rejoiced at all he witnessed; nor could the
+secret hope that whispered him, “Their blessings might one day be
+mutual,� increase the pleasure he found, in beholding Matilda happy.
+
+Unexpected affairs, in which Lord Elmwood had been for some time
+engaged, had diverted his attention for awhile from the marriage of his
+nephew; nor did he at this time find his disposition sufficiently
+severe, to exact from the young man a compliance with his wishes, at so
+cruel an alternative as that of being for ever discarded. He felt his
+mind, by the late incident, too much softened for such harshness; he
+yet wished for the alliance he had proposed; for he was more consistent
+in his character than to suffer the tenderness his daughter’s peril had
+awakened, to derange those plans which he had long projected. Never
+even now, for a moment did he indulge—for perhaps it would have been an
+indulgence—the idea of replacing her exactly in the rights of her
+birth, to the disappointment of all his nephew’s expectations.
+
+Yet, milder at this crisis in his temper than he had been for years
+before, and knowing he could be no longer irritated upon the subject of
+his daughter, he once more resolved to trust himself in a conference
+with Rushbrook on the subject of marriage; meaning at the same time to
+mention Matilda as an opponent from whom he had nothing to fear. But
+for some time before Rushbrook was called to this private audience, he
+had, by his unwearied attention, endeavoured to impress upon Matilda’s
+mind, the softest sentiments in his favour. He succeeded—but not as he
+wished. She loved him as her friend, her cousin, her foster-brother,
+but not as a lover. The idea of love never once came to her thoughts;
+and she would sport with Rushbrook like the most harmless child, while
+he, all impassioned, could with difficulty resist telling her, what she
+made him suffer.
+
+At the meeting between him and Lord Elmwood, to which he was called for
+his final answer on that subject which had once nearly proved so fatal
+to him; after a thousand fears, much confusion and embarrassment, he at
+length frankly confessed his “Heart was engaged, and had been so, long
+before his uncle offered to direct his choice.�
+
+Lord Elmwood desired to know, “On whom he had placed his affections.�
+
+“I dare not tell you, my Lord,� returned he, infinitely confused; “but
+Mr. Sandford can witness their sincerity and how long they have been
+fixed.�
+
+“Fixed!� cried the Earl.
+
+“Immoveably fixed, my Lord; and yet the object is as unconscious of my
+love to this moment, as you yourself have been; and I swear ever shall
+be so, without your permission.�
+
+“Name the object,� said Lord Elmwood, anxiously.
+
+“My Lord, I dare not.—The last time I named her to you, you threatened
+to abandon me for my arrogance.�
+
+Lord Elmwood started.——“My daughter! Would you marry her?�
+
+“But with your approbation, my Lord; and that——�
+
+Before he could proceed a word further, his uncle left the room
+hastily—and left Rushbrook all terror for his approaching fate.
+
+Lord Elmwood went immediately into the apartment where Sandford, Miss
+Woodley, and Matilda, were sitting, and cried with an angry voice, and
+with his countenance disordered,
+
+“Rushbrook has offended me beyond forgiveness.—Go, Sandford, to the
+library, where he is, and tell him this instant to quit my house, and
+never dare to return.�
+
+Miss Woodley lifted up her hands and sighed.
+
+Sandford rose slowly from his seat to execute the office.
+
+While Lady Matilda, who was arranging her music books upon the
+instrument, stopped from her employment suddenly, with her face bathed
+in tears.
+
+A general silence ensued, till Lord Elmwood, resuming his angry tone,
+cried, “Did you hear me, Mr. Sandford?�
+
+Sandford now, without a word in reply, made for the door—but there
+Matilda impeded him, and throwing her arms about his neck, cried,
+
+“Dear Mr. Sandford, do not.�
+
+“How!� exclaimed her father.
+
+She saw the impending frown, and rushing towards him, took his hand
+fearfully, and knelt at his feet. “Mr. Rushbrook is my relation,� she
+cried in a pathetic voice, “my companion, my friend—before you loved me
+he was anxious for my happiness, and often visited me to lament with,
+and console me. I cannot see him turned out of your house without
+feeling for _him_, what he once felt for _me_.�
+
+Lord Elmwood turned aside to conceal his sensations—then raising her
+from the floor, he said, “Do you know what he has asked of me?�
+
+“No,� answered she in the utmost ignorance, and with the utmost
+innocence painted on her face; “but whatever it is, my Lord, though you
+do not grant it, yet pardon him for asking.�
+
+“Perhaps _you_ would grant him what he has requested?� said her father.
+
+“Most willingly—was it in my gift.�
+
+“It is,� replied he. “Go to him in the library, and hear what he has to
+say; for on your will his fate shall depend.�
+
+Like lightning she flew out of the room; while even the grave Sandford
+smiled at the idea of their meeting.
+
+Rushbrook, with his fears all verified by the manner in which his uncle
+had left him, sat with his head reclined against a bookcase, and every
+limb extended with the despair that had seized him.
+
+Matilda nimbly opened the door and cried, “Mr. Rushbrook, I am come to
+comfort you.�
+
+“That you have always done,� said he, rising in rapture to receive her,
+even in the midst of all his sadness.
+
+“What is it you want?� said she. “What have you asked of my father that
+he has denied you?�
+
+“I have asked for that,� replied he, “which is dearer to me than my
+life.�
+
+“Be satisfied then,� returned she, “for you shall have it.�
+
+“Dear Matilda! it is not in your power to bestow.�
+
+“But he has told me it _shall_ be in my power; and has desired me to
+give, or to refuse it you, at my own pleasure.�
+
+“O Heavens!� cried Rushbrook in transport, “Has he?�
+
+“He has indeed—before Mr. Sandford and Miss Woodley. Now tell me what
+you petitioned for?�
+
+“I asked him,� cried Rushbrook, trembling, “for a wife.�
+
+Her hand, which had just then taken hold of his, in the warmth of her
+wish to serve him, now dropped down as with the stroke of death—her
+face lost its colour—and she leaned against the desk by which they were
+standing, without uttering a word.
+
+“What means this change?� said he; “Do you not wish me happy?�
+
+“Yes,� she exclaimed: “Heaven is my witness. But it gives me concern to
+think we must part.�
+
+“Then let us be joined,� cried he, falling at her feet, “till death
+alone can part us.�
+
+All the sensibility—the reserve—the pride, with which she was so amply
+possessed, returned to her that moment. She started and cried, “Could
+Lord Elmwood know for what he sent me?�
+
+“He did,� replied Rushbrook—“I boldly told him of my presumptuous love,
+and he has given to you alone, the power over my happiness or misery.
+Oh! do not doom me to the latter.�
+
+Whether the heart of Matilda, such as it has been described, _could_
+sentence him to misery, the reader is left to surmise—and if he
+supposes that it could _not_, he has every reason to suppose that their
+wedded life, was—a life of happiness.
+
+He has beheld the pernicious effects of an _improper education_ in the
+destiny which attended the unthinking Miss Milner.—On the opposite
+side, what may not be hoped from that school of prudence—though of
+adversity—in which Matilda was bred?
+
+And Mr. Milner, Matilda’s grandfather, had better have given his
+_fortune_ to a distant branch of his family—as Matilda’s father once
+meant to do—so that he had given to his daughter
+
+A PROPER EDUCATION.
+
+
+Plays written by Mrs. Inchbald, and published
+by G. G. and J. Robinson, Paternoster Row.
+
+
+LOVERS’ VOWS;
+
+A Play in five Acts, from the German of
+Kotzebue.
+
+WIVES AS THEY WERE, AND MAIDS
+AS THEY ARE.
+
+EVERY ONE HAS HIS FAULT.
+
+I’LL TELL YOU WHAT,
+Comedies in five Acts.
+
+SUCH THINGS ARE,
+A Play in five Acts.
+
+THE MARRIED MAN,
+A Comedy, Price 1s. 6d. each.
+
+THE CHILD OF NATURE.
+
+APPEARANCE IS AGAINST THEM.
+
+THE WIDOW’S VOW.
+
+THE MIDNIGHT HOUR,
+A Comedy.
+
+THE WEDDING DAY,
+Price One Shilling each.
+
+NATURE AND ART,
+The Second Edition, in Two Volumes, Price
+7s. sewed.
+
+
+
+
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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Simple Story, by Mrs. Inchbald</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
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+country where you are located before using this eBook.
+</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: A Simple Story</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Mrs. Inchbald</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: G. L. Strachey</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 5, 2007 [eBook #22002]<br />
+[Most recently updated: October 1, 2021]</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Edwards, Marcia Brooks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SIMPLE STORY ***</div>
+
+<h1>A SIMPLE STORY</h1>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">MRS. INCHBALD</h2>
+
+<h4>WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY<br />
+
+G. L. STRACHEY</h4>
+
+<p class="center">
+LONDON<br />
+HENRY FROWDE<br />
+1908<br />
+<br />
+OXFORD: HORACE HART<br />
+PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
+</p>
+
+<div class="trans-note">
+Transcriber&rsquo;s Note: Table of Contents Added. <br />
+Left Archaic spellings, but made minor changes to punctuation.</div>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<table summary="" style="">
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#PREFACE">PREFACE.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> Volume I</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#I_CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> Volume II</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#II_CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#II_CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#II_CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#II_CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#II_CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#II_CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#II_CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#II_CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#II_CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#II_CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#II_CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#II_CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> Volume III</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#III_CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> Volume IV</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#IV_CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#IV_CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#IV_CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#IV_CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#IV_CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#IV_CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#IV_CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#IV_CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#IV_CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#IV_CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#IV_CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#IV_CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#Plays">Plays written by Mrs. Inchbald</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2>
+
+<p><i>A Simple Story</i> is one of those books which, for some
+reason or other, have failed to come down to us, as they
+deserved, along the current of time, but have drifted into
+a literary backwater where only the professional critic or the
+curious discoverer can find them out. &ldquo;The iniquity of
+oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy;&rdquo; and nowhere more
+blindly than in the republic of letters. If we were to
+inquire how it has happened that the true value of Mrs.
+Inchbald&rsquo;s achievement has passed out of general recognition,
+perhaps the answer to our question would be found
+to lie in the extreme difficulty with which the mass of
+readers detect and appreciate mere quality in literature.
+Their judgment is swayed by a hundred side-considerations
+which have nothing to do with art, but happen easily
+to impress the imagination, or to fit in with the fashion of
+the hour. The reputation of Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s contemporary,
+Fanny Burney, is a case in point. Every one has heard of
+Fanny Burney&rsquo;s novels, and <i>Evelina</i> is still widely read. Yet
+it is impossible to doubt that, so far as quality alone is concerned,
+<i>Evelina</i> deserves to be ranked considerably below
+<i>A Simple Story</i>. But its writer was the familiar friend of
+the greatest spirits of her age; she was the author of one
+of the best of diaries; and her work was immediately and
+immensely popular. Thus it has happened that the name
+of Fanny Burney has maintained its place upon the roll of
+English novelists, while that of Mrs. Inchbald is forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>But the obscurity of Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s career has not, of
+course, been the only reason for the neglect of her work.
+The merits of <i>A Simple Story</i> are of a kind peculiarly
+calculated to escape the notice of a generation of readers
+brought up on the fiction of the nineteenth century. That
+fiction, infinitely various as it is, possesses at least one
+characteristic common to the whole of it&mdash;a breadth of
+outlook upon life, which can be paralleled by no other
+body of literature in the world save that of the Elizabethans.
+But the comprehensiveness of view shared by Dickens and
+Tolstoy, by Balzac and George Eliot, finds no place in
+Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s work. Compared with <i>A Simple Story</i> even
+the narrow canvases of Jane Austen seem spacious pictures
+of diversified life. Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s novel is not concerned
+with the world at large, or with any section of society, hardly
+even with the family; its subject is a group of two or three
+individuals whose interaction forms the whole business of
+the book. There is no local colour in it, no complexity of
+detail nor violence of contrast; the atmosphere is vague
+and neutral, the action passes among ill-defined sitting-rooms,
+and the most poignant scene in the story takes place
+upon a staircase which has never been described. Thus
+the reader of modern novels is inevitably struck, in <i>A
+Simple Story</i>, by a sense of emptiness and thinness, which
+may well blind him to high intrinsic merits. The spirit of
+the eighteenth century is certainly present in the book, but it
+is the eighteenth century of France rather than of England.
+Mrs. Inchbald no doubt owed much to Richardson; her view
+of life is the indoor sentimental view of the great author of
+<i>Clarissa</i>; but her treatment of it has very little in common
+with his method of microscopic analysis and vast accumulation.
+If she belongs to any school, it is among the followers
+of the French classical tradition that she must be placed.
+<i>A Simple Story</i> is, in its small way, a descendant of the
+Tragedies of Racine; and Miss Milner may claim relationship
+with Madame de Cl&egrave;ves.</p>
+
+<p>Besides her narrowness of vision, Mrs. Inchbald possesses
+another quality, no less characteristic of her French predecessors,
+and no less rare among the novelists of England.
+She is essentially a stylist&mdash;a writer whose whole conception
+of her art is dominated by stylistic intention. Her style, it
+is true, is on the whole poor; it is often heavy and pompous,
+sometimes clumsy and indistinct; compared with the style
+of such a master as Thackeray it sinks at once into insignificance.
+But the interest of her style does not lie in its
+intrinsic merit so much as in the use to which she puts it.
+Thackeray&rsquo;s style is mere ornament, existing independently
+of what he has to say; Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s is part and parcel
+of her matter. The result is that when, in moments of
+inspiration, she rises to the height of her opportunity, when,
+mastering her material, she invests her expression with the
+whole intensity of her feeling and her thought, then she
+achieves effects of the rarest beauty&mdash;effects of a kind for
+which one may search through Thackeray in vain. The
+most triumphant of these passages is the scene on the staircase
+of Elmwood House&mdash;a passage which would be spoilt by
+quotation and which no one who has ever read it could
+forget. But the same quality is to be found throughout
+her work. &ldquo;Oh, Miss Woodley!&rdquo; exclaims Miss Milner,
+forced at last to confess to her friend what she feels towards
+Dorriforth, &ldquo;I love him with all the passion of a mistress,
+and with all the tenderness of a wife.&rdquo; No young lady,
+even in the eighteenth century, ever gave utterance to
+such a sentence as that. It is the sentence, not of a speaker,
+but of a writer; and yet, for that very reason, it is delightful,
+and comes to us charged with a curious sense of emotion,
+which is none the less real for its elaboration. In <i>Nature
+and Art</i>, Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s second novel, the climax of the
+story is told in a series of short paragraphs, which, for
+bitterness and concentration of style, are almost reminiscent
+of Stendhal:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>The jury consulted for a few minutes. The verdict was
+&ldquo;Guilty&rdquo;.</p>
+
+<p>She heard it with composure.</p>
+
+<p>But when William placed the fatal velvet on his head and
+rose to pronounce sentence, she started with a kind of convulsive
+motion, retreated a step or two back, and, lifting up
+her hands with a scream, exclaimed&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, not from <i>you</i>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The piercing shriek which accompanied these words prevented
+their being heard by part of the audience; and those
+who heard them thought little of their meaning, more than
+that they expressed her fear of dying.</p>
+
+<p>Serene and dignified, as if no such exclamation had been
+uttered, William delivered the fatal speech, ending with
+&ldquo;Dead, dead, dead&rdquo;.</p>
+
+<p>She fainted as he closed the period, and was carried back
+to prison in a swoon; while he adjourned the court to go to
+dinner.</p></div>
+
+<p>Here, no doubt, there is a touch of melodrama; but it is
+the melodrama of a rhetorician, and, in that fine &ldquo;She heard
+it with composure&rdquo;, genius has brushed aside the forced and
+the obvious, to express, with supreme directness, the anguish
+of a soul.</p>
+
+<p>For, in spite of Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s artificialities, in spite of
+her lack of that kind of realistic description which seems to
+modern readers the very blood and breath of a good story,
+she has the power of doing what, after all, only a very few
+indeed of her fellow craftsmen have ever been able to do&mdash;she
+can bring into her pages the living pressure of a human
+passion, she can invest, if not with realism, with something
+greater than realism&mdash;with the sense of reality itself&mdash;the
+pains, the triumphs, and the agitations of the human heart.
+&ldquo;The heart,&rdquo; to use the old-fashioned phrase&mdash;there is
+Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s empire, there is the sphere of her glory and
+her command. Outside of it, her powers are weak and
+fluctuating. She has no firm grasp of the masculine elements
+in character: she wishes to draw a rough man, Sandford,
+and she draws a rude one; she tries her hand at a hero,
+Rushbrook, and she turns out a prig. Her humour is not
+faulty, but it is exceedingly slight. What an immortal figure
+the dim Mrs. Horton would have become in the hands of
+Jane Austen! In <i>Nature and Art</i>, her attempts at social
+satire are superficial and overstrained. But weaknesses of
+this kind&mdash;and it would be easy to prolong the list&mdash;are what
+every reader of the following pages will notice without
+difficulty, and what no wise one will regard. &ldquo;Il ne faut
+point juger des hommes par ce qu&rsquo;ils ignorent, mais par ce
+qu&rsquo;ils savent;&rdquo; and Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s knowledge was as profound
+as it was limited. Her Miss Milner is an original and
+brilliant creation, compact of charm and life. She is a flirt,
+and a flirt not only adorable, but worthy of adoration. Did
+Mrs. Inchbald take the suggestion of a heroine with imperfections
+from the little masterpiece which, on more sides
+than one, closely touches her&rsquo;s&mdash;Manon Lescaut? Perhaps;
+and yet, if this was so, the borrowing was of the slightest, for
+it is only in the fact that she <i>is</i> imperfect that Miss Milner
+bears to Manon any resemblance at all. In every other
+respect, the English heroine is the precise contrary of the
+French one: she is a creature of fiery will, of high bearing,
+of noble disposition; and her shortcomings are born, not
+of weakness, but of excess of strength. Mrs. Inchbald has
+taken this character, she has thrown it under the influence
+of a violent and absorbing passion, and, upon that theme,
+she has written her delicate, sympathetic, and artificial book.</p>
+
+<p>As one reads it, one cannot but feel that it is, if not directly
+and circumstantially, at least in essence, autobiographical.
+One finds oneself speculating over the author, wondering
+what was her history, and how much of it was Miss Milner&rsquo;s.
+Unfortunately the greater part of what we should most like
+to know of Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s life has vanished beyond recovery.
+She wrote her Memoirs, and she burnt them; and who can
+tell whether even there we should have found a self-revelation?
+Confessions are sometimes curiously discreet, and, in
+the case of Mrs. Inchbald, we may be sure that it is only
+what was indiscreet that would really be worth the hearing.
+Yet her life is not devoid of interest. A brief sketch of it
+may be welcome to her readers.</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth Inchbald was born on the 15th of October, 1753,
+at Standingfield, near Bury St. Edmunds in Suffolk;<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> one of
+the numerous offspring of John and Mary Simpson. The
+Simpsons, who were Roman Catholics, held a moderate
+farm in Standingfield, and ranked among the gentry of
+the neighbourhood. In Elizabeth&rsquo;s eighth year, her father
+died; but the family continued at the farm, the elder
+daughters marrying and settling in London, while Elizabeth
+grew up into a beautiful and charming girl. One misfortune,
+however, interfered with her happiness&mdash;a defect of utterance
+which during her early years rendered her speech so
+indistinct as to be unintelligible to strangers. She devoted
+herself to reading and to dreams of the great world. At
+thirteen, she declared she would rather die than live longer
+without seeing the world; she longed to go to London; she
+longed to go upon the stage. When, in 1770, one of her
+brothers became an actor at Norwich, she wrote secretly to
+his manager, Mr. Griffith, begging for an engagement.
+Mr. Griffith was encouraging, and, though no definite steps
+were taken, she was sufficiently charmed with him to write
+out his name at length in her diary, with the inscription
+&ldquo;Each dear letter of thy name is harmony.&rdquo; Was Mr. Griffith
+the hero of the company as well as its manager? That, at
+any rate, was clearly Miss Simpson&rsquo;s opinion; but she soon
+had other distractions. In the following year she paid a visit
+to her married sisters in London, where she met another
+actor, Mr. Inchbald, who seems immediately to have fallen
+in love with her, and to have proposed. She remained
+cool. &ldquo;In spite of your eloquent pen,&rdquo; she wrote to him,
+with a touch of that sharp and almost bitter sense that was
+always hers, &ldquo;matrimony still appears to me with less charms
+than terrors: the bliss arising from it, I doubt not, is superior
+to any other&mdash;but best not to be ventured for (in my opinion),
+till some little time have proved the emptiness of all other;
+which it seldom fails to do.&rdquo; Nevertheless, the correspondence
+continued, and, early in 1772, some entries in her diary give
+a glimpse of her state of mind:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p><i>Jan. 22</i>. Saw Mr. Griffith&rsquo;s picture.</p>
+
+<p><i>Jan. 28</i>. Stole it.</p>
+
+<p><i>Jan. 29</i>. Rather disappointed at not receiving a letter
+from Mr. Inchbald.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>A few months later she did the great deed of her life: she
+stepped secretly into the Norwich coach, and went to London.
+The days that followed were full of hazard and adventure,
+but the details of them are uncertain. She was a girl of
+eighteen, absolutely alone, and astonishingly attractive&mdash;&ldquo;tall,&rdquo;
+we are told, &ldquo;slender, straight, of the purest complexion,
+and most beautiful features; her hair of a golden
+auburn, her eyes full at once of spirit and sweetness;&rdquo; and
+it was only to be expected that, in such circumstances,
+romance and daring would soon give place to discomfort
+and alarm. She attempted in vain to obtain a theatrical
+engagement; she found herself, more than once, obliged
+to shift her lodging; and at last, after ten days of trepidation,
+she was reduced to apply for help to her married sisters.
+This put an end to her difficulties, but, in spite of her efforts
+to avoid notice, her beauty had already attracted attention,
+and she had received a letter from a stranger, with whom
+she immediately entered into correspondence. She had all
+the boldness of innocence, and, in addition, a force of
+character which brought her safely through the risks she ran.
+While she was still in her solitary lodging, a theatrical
+manager, named Dodd, attempted to use his position as
+a cover for seduction. She had several interviews with him
+alone, and the story goes that, in the last, she snatched up
+a basin of hot water and dashed it in his face. But she was
+not to go unprotected for long; for within two months of her
+arrival in London she had married Mr. Inchbald.</p>
+
+<p>The next twelve years of Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s life were passed
+amid the rough and tumble of the eighteenth-century stage.
+Her husband was thirty-seven when she married him, a
+Roman Catholic like herself, and an actor who depended
+for his living upon ill-paid and uncertain provincial engagements.
+Mrs. Inchbald conquered her infirmity of speech and
+threw herself into her husband&rsquo;s profession. She accompanied
+him to Bristol, to Scotland, to Liverpool, to Birmingham,
+appearing in a great variety of r&ocirc;les, but never
+with any very conspicuous success. The record of these
+journeys throws an interesting light upon the conditions
+of the provincial companies of those days. Mrs. Inchbald
+and her companions would set out to walk from one Scotch
+town to another; they would think themselves lucky if they
+could climb on to a passing cart, to arrive at last, drenched
+with rain perhaps, at some wretched hostelry. But this kind
+of barbarism did not stand in the way of an almost childish
+gaiety. In Yorkshire, we find the Inchbalds, the Siddonses,
+and Kemble retiring to the moors, in the intervals of business,
+to play blindman&rsquo;s buff or puss in the corner. Such were
+the pastimes of Mrs. Siddons before the days of her fame.
+No doubt this kind of lightheartedness was the best antidote
+to the experience of being &ldquo;saluted with volleys of potatoes
+and broken bottles&rdquo;, as the Siddonses were by the citizens of
+Liverpool, for having ventured to appear on their stage
+without having ever played before the King. On this
+occasion, the audience, according to a letter from Kemble
+to Mrs. Inchbald, &ldquo;extinguished all the lights round the
+house; then jumped upon the stage; brushed every lamp
+out with their hats; took back their money; left the theatre,
+and determined themselves to repeat this till they have
+another company.&rdquo; These adventures were diversified by
+a journey to Paris, undertaken in the hope that Mr. Inchbald,
+who found himself without engagements, might pick up
+a livelihood as a painter of miniatures. The scheme came
+to nothing, and the Inchbalds eventually went to Hull,
+where they returned to their old profession. Here, in 1779,
+suddenly and somewhat mysteriously, Mr. Inchbald died.
+To his widow the week that followed was one of &ldquo;grief,
+horror, and almost despair&rdquo;; but soon, with her old pertinacity,
+she was back at her work, settling at last in London,
+and becoming a member of the Covent Garden company.
+Here, for the next five years, she earned for herself a meagre
+living, until, quite unexpectedly, deliverance came. In her
+moments of leisure she had been trying her hand upon
+dramatic composition; she had written some farces, and,
+in 1784, one of them, <i>A Mogul Tale</i>, was accepted, acted,
+and obtained a great success. This was the turning-point of
+her career. She followed up her farce with a series of plays,
+either original or adapted, which, almost without exception,
+were well received, so that she was soon able to retire from
+the stage with a comfortable competence. She had succeeded
+in life; she was happy, respected, free.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s plays are so bad that it is difficult to
+believe that they brought her a fortune. But no doubt it
+was their faults that made them popular&mdash;their sentimentalities,
+their melodramatic absurdities, their strangely false
+and high-pitched moral tone. They are written in a jargon
+which resembles, if it resembles anything, an execrable prose
+translation from very flat French verse. &ldquo;Ah, Manuel!&rdquo;
+exclaims one of her heroines, &ldquo;I am now amply punished
+by the Marquis for all my cruelty to Duke Cordunna&mdash;he
+to whom my father in my infancy betrothed me, and to
+whom I willingly pledged my faith, hoping to wed; till
+Romono, the Marquis of Romono, came from the field of
+glory, and with superior claims of person as of fame, seized
+on my heart by force, and perforce made me feel I had never
+loved till then.&rdquo; Which is the more surprising&mdash;that actors
+could be found to utter such speeches, or that audiences
+could be collected to applaud them? Perhaps, for us, the
+most memorable fact about Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s dramatic work
+is that one of her adaptations (from the German of Kotzebue)
+was no other than that <i>Lovers&rsquo; Vows</i> which, as every one
+knows, was rehearsed so brilliantly at Ecclesford, the seat
+of the Right Hon. Lord Ravenshaw, in Cornwall, and which,
+after all, was <i>not</i> performed at Sir Thomas Bertram&rsquo;s. But
+that is an interest <i>sub specie aeternitatis</i>; and, from the
+temporal point of view, Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s plays must be regarded
+merely as means&mdash;means towards her own enfranchisement,
+and that condition of things which made possible
+<i>A Simple Story</i>. That novel had been sketched as early as
+1777; but it was not completely written until 1790, and not
+published until the following year. A second edition was
+printed immediately, and several more followed; the present
+reprint is taken from the fourth, published in 1799&mdash;but
+with the addition of the characteristic preface, which, after
+the second edition, was dropped. The four small volumes
+of these early editions, with their large type, their ample
+spacing, their charming flavour of antiquity, delicacy, and
+rest&mdash;may be met with often enough in secluded corners of
+secondhand bookshops, or on some neglected shelf in the
+library of a country house. For their own generation, they
+represented a distinguished title to fame. Mrs. Inchbald&mdash;to
+use the expression of her biographer&mdash;&ldquo;was ascertained
+to be one of the greatest ornaments of her sex.&rdquo; She was
+painted by Lawrence, she was eulogized by Miss Edgeworth,
+she was complimented by Madame de Stael herself. She
+had, indeed, won for herself a position which can hardly be
+paralleled among the women of the eighteenth century&mdash;a
+position of independence and honour, based upon talent,
+and upon talent alone. In 1796 she published <i>Nature and
+Art</i>, and ten years later appeared her last work&mdash;a series of
+biographical and critical notices prefixed to a large collection
+of acting plays. During the greater part of the intervening
+period she lived in lodgings in Leicester Square&mdash;or &ldquo;Leicester
+Fields&rdquo; as the place was still often called&mdash;in a house opposite
+that of Sir Joshua Reynolds. The &#339;conomy which she had
+learnt in her early days she continued to practise; dressing
+with extraordinary plainness, and often going without a fire
+in winter; so that she was able, through her self-sacrifice,
+to keep from want a large band of poor relatives and friends.
+The society she mixed with was various, but, for the most
+part, obscure. There were occasional visits from the now
+triumphant Mrs. Siddons; there were incessant propositions&mdash;but
+alas! they were equivocal&mdash;from Sir Charles Bunbury;
+for the rest, she passed her life among actor-managers and
+humble playwrights and unremembered medical men. One
+of her friends was William Godwin, who described her to
+Mrs. Shelley as a &ldquo;piquante mixture between a lady and
+a milkmaid&rdquo;, and who, it is said, suggested part of the plot
+of <i>A Simple Story</i>. But she quarreled with him when he
+married Mary Wollstonecraft, after whose death she wrote to
+him thus&mdash;&ldquo;With the most sincere sympathy in all you have
+suffered&mdash;with the most perfect forgiveness of all you have
+said to me, there must nevertheless be an end to our acquaintance
+<i>for ever</i>. I respect your prejudices, but I also respect
+my own.&rdquo; Far more intimate were her relations with Dr. Gisborne&mdash;a
+mysterious figure, with whom, in some tragic
+manner that we can only just discern, was enacted her final
+romance. His name&mdash;often in company with that of another
+physician, Dr. Warren, for whom, too, she had a passionate
+affection&mdash;occurs frequently among her papers; and her
+diary for December 17, 1794, has this entry:&mdash;&ldquo;Dr. Gisborne
+drank tea here, and staid very late: he talked seriously of
+marrying&mdash;but not <i>me</i>.&rdquo; Many years later, one September,
+she amused herself by making out a list of all the Septembers
+since her marriage, with brief notes as to her state of mind
+during each. The list has fortunately survived, and some
+of the later entries are as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<ul>
+<li>1791. London; after my novel, Simple Story ... very
+happy.</li>
+
+<li>1792. London; in Leicester Square ... cheerful, content,
+and sometimes rather happy....</li>
+
+<li>1794. Extremely happy, but for poor Debby&rsquo;s death.</li>
+
+<li>1795. My brother George&rsquo;s death, and an intimate
+acquaintance with Dr. Gisborne&mdash;not happy....</li>
+
+<li>1797. After an alteration in my teeth, and the death of
+Dr. Warren&mdash;yet far from unhappy.</li>
+
+<li>1798. Happy, but for suspicion amounting almost to
+certainty of a rapid appearance of age in my
+face....</li>
+
+<li>1802. After feeling wholly indifferent about Dr. Gisborne&mdash;very
+happy but for ill health, ill looks, &amp;c.</li>
+
+<li>1803. After quitting Leicester Square probably for ever&mdash;after
+caring scarce at all or thinking of Dr. Gisborne ... very
+happy....</li>
+
+<li>1806.... After the death of Dr. Gisborne, too, often
+very unhappy, yet mostly cheerful, and on my
+return to London nearly happy.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<p>The record, with all its quaintness, produces a curious
+impression of stoicism&mdash;of a certain grim acceptance of the
+facts of life. It would have been a pleasure, certainly, but
+an alarming pleasure, to have known Mrs. Inchbald.</p>
+
+<p>In the early years of the century, she gradually withdrew
+from London, establishing herself in suburban boarding-houses,
+often among sisters of charity, and devoting her
+days to the practice of her religion. In her early and middle
+life she had been an indifferent Catholic: &ldquo;Sunday. Rose
+late, dressed, and read in the Bible about David, &amp;c.&rdquo;&mdash;this
+is one of the very few references in her diary to anything
+approaching a religious observance during many years. But,
+in her old age, her views changed; her devotions increased
+with her retirement; and her retirement was at last complete.
+She died, in an obscure Kensington boarding-house,
+on August 1, 1821. She was buried in Kensington churchyard.
+But, if her ghost lingers anywhere, it is not in Kensington:
+it is in the heart of the London that she had always
+loved. Yet, even there, how much now would she find to
+recognize? Mrs. Inchbald&rsquo;s world has passed away from us
+for ever; and, as we walk there to-day amid the press of the
+living, it is hard to believe that she too was familiar with
+Leicester Square.</p>
+
+<p>G. L. STRACHEY.</p>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The following account is based upon the <i>Memoirs of Mrs. Inchbald,
+including her familiar correspondence with the most distinguished
+persons of her time</i>, edited by James Boaden, Esq.&mdash;a discursive, vague,
+and not unamusing book.</p></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>A<br />
+SIMPLE STORY,</h2>
+
+<h3>IN FOUR VOLUMES,</h3>
+
+<h4>BY</h4>
+
+<h3>MRS. INCHBALD.</h3>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>VOL. I.</h2>
+
+<h4><i>THE FOURTH EDITION.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="center">
+LONDON:<br />
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,<br />
+<span class="smcap">Paternoster Row.</span><br />
+1799.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2>
+
+<p>It is said, <i>a book should be read with the same spirit with
+which it has been written</i>. In that case, fatal must be the
+reception of this&mdash;for the writer frankly avows, that during
+the time she has been writing it, she has suffered every
+quality and degree of weariness and lassitude, into which no
+other employment could have betrayed her.</p>
+
+<p>It has been the destiny of the writer of this Story to be
+occupied throughout her life, in what has the least suited
+either her inclination or capacity&mdash;with an invincible impediment
+in her speech, it was her lot for thirteen years to
+gain a subsistence by public speaking&mdash;and, with the utmost
+detestation to the fatigue of inventing, a constitution suffering
+under a sedentary life, and an education confined to the
+narrow boundaries prescribed her sex, it has been her fate
+to devote a tedious seven years to the unremitting labour of
+literary productions&mdash;whilst a taste for authors of the first
+rank has been an additional punishment, forbidding her
+one moment of those self-approving reflections, which are
+assuredly due to the industrious. But, alas! in the exercise
+of the arts, industry scarce bears the name of merit. What
+then is to be substituted in the place of genius? GOOD
+FORTUNE. And if these volumes should be attended by
+the good fortune that has accompanied her other writings,
+to that divinity, and that alone, she shall attribute their
+success.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, there is a <i>first cause</i> still, to whom I cannot here
+forbear to mention my obligations.</p>
+
+<p>The Muses, I trust, will pardon me, that to them I do not
+feel myself obliged&mdash;for, in justice to their heavenly inspirations,
+I believe they have never yet favoured me with one
+visitation; but sent in their disguise NECESSITY, who,
+being the mother of Invention, gave me all mine&mdash;while
+FORTUNE kindly smiled, and was accessory to the cheat.</p>
+
+<p>But this important secret I long wished, and endeavoured
+to conceal; yet one unlucky moment candidly, though
+unwittingly, divulged it&mdash;I frankly owned, &ldquo;That Fortune
+having chased away Necessity, there remained no other
+incitement to stimulate me to a labour I abhorred.&rdquo; It
+happened to be in the power of the person to whom I confided
+this secret, to send NECESSITY once more. Once more,
+then, bowing to its empire, I submit to the task it enjoins.</p>
+
+<p>This case has something similar to a theatrical anecdote
+told (I think) by Colly Cibber:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A performer of a very mean salary, played the Apothecary
+in Romeo and Juliet so exactly to the satisfaction of the
+audience, that this little part, independent of the other
+characters, drew immense houses whenever the play was
+performed. The manager in consequence, thought it but
+justice to advance the actor&rsquo;s salary; on which the poor
+man (who, like the character he represented, had been half
+starved before) began to live so comfortably, he became too
+plump for the part; and being of no importance in any
+thing else, the manager of course now wholly discharged
+him&mdash;and thus, actually reducing him to the want of a piece
+of bread, in a short time he became a proper figure for the
+part again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Welcome, then, thou all-powerful principle, NECESSITY!
+THOU, who art the instigator of so many bad authors and
+actors&mdash;THOU, who from my infancy seldom hast forsaken
+me, still abide with me. I will not complain of any hardship
+thy commands require, so thou dost not urge my pen to
+prostitution. In all thy rigour, oh! do not force my toil to
+libels&mdash;or what is equally pernicious&mdash;panegyric on the unworthy!</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>A SIMPLE STORY.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_I" id="I_CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<p>Dorriforth, bred at St. Omer&rsquo;s in all the scholastic
+rigour of that college, was, by education, and the solemn
+vows of his order, a Roman Catholic priest&mdash;but nicely discriminating
+between the philosophical and the superstitious
+part of that character, and adopting the former only, he
+possessed qualities not unworthy the first professors of
+Christianity. Every virtue which it was his vocation to
+preach, it was his care to practise; nor was he in the class
+of those of the religious, who, by secluding themselves from
+the world, fly the merit they might have in reforming mankind.
+He refused to shelter himself from the temptations
+of the layman by the walls of a cloister, but sought for, and
+found that shelter in the centre of London, where he dwelt,
+in his own prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance.</p>
+
+<p>He was about thirty, and had lived in the metropolis near
+five years, when a gentleman above his own age, but with
+whom he had from his youth contracted a most sincere
+friendship, died, and left him the sole guardian of his daughter,
+who was then eighteen.</p>
+
+<p>The deceased Mr. Milner, on his approaching dissolution,
+perfectly sensible of his state, thus reasoned with himself
+before he made the nomination:&mdash;&ldquo;I have formed no
+intimate friendship during my whole life, except one&mdash;I can
+be said to know the heart of no man, except the heart of
+Dorriforth. After knowing his, I never sought acquaintance
+with another&mdash;I did not wish to lessen the exalted estimation
+of human nature which he had inspired. In this moment of
+trembling apprehension for every thought which darts across
+my mind, and more for every action which I must soon be
+called to answer for; all worldly views here thrown aside,
+I act as if that tribunal, before which I every moment expect
+to appear, were now sitting in judgment upon my purpose.
+The care of an only child is the great charge that in this
+tremendous crisis I have to execute. These earthly affections
+that bind me to her by custom, sympathy, or what I fondly
+call parental love, would direct me to study her present
+happiness, and leave her to the care of those whom she thinks
+her dearest friends; but they are friends only in the sunshine
+of fortune; in the cold nipping frost of disappointment,
+sickness, or connubial strife, they will forsake the house of
+care, although the very house which they may have themselves
+built.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here the excruciating anguish of the father, overcame
+that of the dying man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the moment of desertion,&rdquo; continued he, &ldquo;which I
+now picture to myself, where will my child find comfort?
+That heavenly aid which religion gives, and which now,
+amidst these agonizing tortures, cheers with humbler hope
+my afflicted soul; that, she will be denied.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It is in this place proper to remark, that Mr. Milner was
+a member of the church of Rome, but on his marriage with
+a lady of Protestant tenets, they mutually agreed their sons
+should be educated in the religious opinion of their father,
+and their daughters in that of their mother. One child only
+was the result of their union, the child whose future welfare
+now occupied the anxious thoughts of her expiring father.
+From him the care of her education had been with-held, as
+he kept inviolate his promise to her departed mother on the
+article of religion, and therefore consigned his daughter to
+a boarding-school for Protestants, whence she returned with
+merely such ideas of religion as ladies of fashion at her age
+mostly imbibe. Her little heart employed in all the endless
+pursuits of personal accomplishments, had left her mind
+without one ornament, except such as nature gave; and
+even they were not wholly preserved from the ravages made
+by its rival, <i>Art</i>.</p>
+
+<p>While her father was in health he beheld, with extreme
+delight, his accomplished daughter, without one fault which
+taste or elegance could have imputed to her; nor ever
+enquired what might be her other failings. But, cast on
+a bed of sickness, and upon the point of leaving her to her
+fate, those failings at once rushed on his thought&mdash;and all the
+pride, the fond enjoyment he had taken in beholding her
+open the ball, or delight her hearers with her wit, escaped
+his remembrance; or, not escaping it, were lamented with
+a sigh of compassion, or a contemptuous frown, at such
+frivolous qualifications.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Something essential,&rdquo; said he to himself, &ldquo;must be considered&mdash;something
+to prepare her for an hour like this.
+Can I then leave her to the charge of those who themselves
+never remember such an hour will come? Dorriforth is the
+only person I know, who, uniting the moral virtues to those
+of religion, and pious faith to native honour, will protect,
+without controlling, instruct, without tyrannizing, comfort,
+without flattering; and, perhaps in time, make good by
+choice, rather than by constraint, the dear object of his dying
+friend&rsquo;s sole care.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Dorriforth, who came post from London to visit Mr.
+Milner in his illness, received a few moments before his
+death all his injunctions, and promised to fulfil them. But,
+in this last token of his friend&rsquo;s esteem, he still was restrained
+from all authority to direct his ward in one religious opinion,
+contrary to those her mother had professed, and in which she
+herself had been educated.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never perplex her mind with an idea that may disturb,
+but cannot reform&rdquo;&mdash;were his latest words; and Dorriforth&rsquo;s
+reply gave him entire satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner was not with her father at this affecting period&mdash;some
+delicately nervous friend, with whom she was on
+a visit at Bath, thought proper to conceal from her not only
+the danger of his death, but even his indisposition, lest it
+might alarm a mind she thought too susceptible. This
+refined tenderness gave poor Miss Milner the almost insupportable
+agony of hearing that her father was no more, even
+before she was told he was not in health. In the bitterest
+anguish she flew to pay her last duty to his remains, and
+performed it with the truest filial love, while Dorriforth,
+upon important business, was obliged to return to town.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_II" id="I_CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<p>Dorriforth returned to London heavily afflicted for the
+loss of his friend; and yet, perhaps, with his thoughts more
+engaged upon the trust which that friend had reposed in
+him. He knew the life Miss Milner had been accustomed
+to lead; he dreaded the repulses his admonitions might
+possibly meet; and feared he had undertaken a task he was
+too weak to execute&mdash;the protection of a young woman of
+fashion.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dorriforth was nearly related to one of our first
+Catholic Peers; his income was by no means confined, but
+approaching to affluence; yet such was his attention to those
+in poverty, and the moderation of his own desires, that he
+lived in all the careful plainness of &#339;conomy. His habitation
+was in the house of a Mrs. Horton, an elderly gentlewoman,
+who had a maiden niece residing with her, not many years
+younger than herself. But although Miss Woodley was
+thirty-five, and in person exceedingly plain, yet she possessed
+such an extreme cheerfulness of temper, and such an inexhaustible
+fund of good nature, that she escaped not only
+the ridicule, but even the appellation of an old maid.</p>
+
+<p>In this house Dorriforth had lived before the death of
+Mr. Horton; nor upon that event had he thought it necessary,
+notwithstanding his religious vow of celibacy, to fly the
+roof of two such innocent females as Mrs. Horton and her
+niece. On their part, they regarded him with all that
+respect and reverence which the most religious flock shews
+to its pastor; and his friendly society they not only esteemed
+a spiritual, but a temporal advantage, as the liberal stipend
+he allowed for his apartments and board, enabled them to
+continue in the large and commodious house which they had
+occupied during the life of Mr. Horton.</p>
+
+<p>Here, upon Mr. Dorriforth&rsquo;s return from his journey,
+preparations were made for the reception of his ward; her
+father having made it his request that she might, for a time
+at least, reside in the same house with her guardian, receive
+the same visits, and cultivate the acquaintance of his companions
+and friends.</p>
+
+<p>When the will of her father was made known to Miss
+Milner, she submitted, without the least reluctance, to all
+he had required. Her mind, at that time impressed with the
+most poignant sorrow for his loss, made no distinction of
+happiness that was to come; and the day was appointed,
+with her silent acquiescence, when she was to arrive in London,
+and there take up her abode, with all the retinue of a rich
+heiress.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Horton was delighted with the addition this acquisition
+to her family was likely to make to her annual income,
+and style of living. The good-natured Miss Woodley was
+overjoyed at the expectation of their new guest, yet she herself
+could not tell why&mdash;but the reason was, that her kind
+heart wanted a more ample field for its benevolence; and
+now her thoughts were all pleasingly employed how she
+should render, not only the lady herself, but even all her
+attendants, happy in their new situation.</p>
+
+<p>The reflections of Dorriforth were less agreeably engaged&mdash;Cares,
+doubts, fears, possessed his mind&mdash;and so forcibly
+possessed it, that upon every occasion which offered, he would
+inquisitively endeavour to gain intelligence of his ward&rsquo;s
+disposition before he saw her; for he was, as yet, a stranger
+not only to the real propensities of her mind, but even to
+her person; a constant round of visits having prevented his
+meeting her at her father&rsquo;s, the very few times he had been
+at his house, since her final return from school. The first
+person whose opinion he, with all proper reserve, asked concerning
+Miss Milner, was Lady Evans, the widow of a Baronet,
+who frequently visited at Mrs. Horton&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<p>But that the reader may be interested in what Dorriforth
+says and does, it is necessary to give some description of his
+person and manners. His figure was tall and elegant, but
+his face, except a pair of dark bright eyes, a set of white
+teeth, and a graceful fall in his clerical curls of brown hair,
+had not one feature to excite admiration&mdash;yet such a gleam
+of sensibility was diffused over each, that many people mistook
+his face for handsome, and all were more or less attracted
+by it&mdash;in a word, the charm, that is here meant to be described,
+is a <i>countenance</i>&mdash;on <i>his</i> you read the feelings of his
+heart&mdash;saw all its inmost workings&mdash;the quick pulses that beat
+with hope and fear, or the gentle ones that moved in a more
+equal course of patience and resignation. On this countenance
+his thoughts were pourtrayed; and as his mind was
+enriched with every virtue that could make it valuable, so
+was his face adorned with every expression of those virtues&mdash;and
+they not only gave a lustre to his aspect, but added
+a harmonious sound to all he uttered; it was persuasive, it
+was perfect eloquence; whilst in his looks you beheld his
+thoughts moving with his lips, and ever coinciding with what
+he said.</p>
+
+<p>With one of those interesting looks which revealed the
+anxiety of his heart, and yet with that graceful restraint of
+all gesticulation, for which he was remarkable, even in his
+most anxious concerns, he addressed Lady Evans, who had
+called on Mrs. Horton to hear and to request the news of
+the day: &ldquo;Your Ladyship was at Bath last spring&mdash;you
+know the young lady to whom I have the honour of being
+appointed guardian. Pray,&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>He was earnestly intent upon asking a question, but was
+prevented by the person interrogated.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Mr. Dorriforth, do not ask me any thing about
+Miss Milner&mdash;when I saw her she was very young: though
+indeed that is but three months ago, and she can&rsquo;t be much
+older now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is eighteen,&rdquo; answered Dorriforth, colouring with
+regret at the doubts which this lady had increased, but not
+inspired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And she is very beautiful, that I can assure you,&rdquo; said
+Lady Evans.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Which I call no qualification,&rdquo; said Dorriforth, rising
+from his chair in evident uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But where there is nothing else, let me tell you, beauty
+is something.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Much worse than nothing, in my opinion,&rdquo; returned
+Dorriforth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But now, Mr. Dorriforth, do not from what I have said,
+frighten yourself, and imagine your ward worse than she
+really is&mdash;all I know of her, is merely, that she&rsquo;s young, idle,
+indiscreet, and giddy, with half a dozen lovers in her suite;
+some coxcombs, others men of gallantry, some single, and
+others married.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Dorriforth started. &ldquo;For the first time of my life,&rdquo; cried
+he with a manly sorrow, &ldquo;I wish I had never known her
+father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton, who expected every thing to
+happen just as she wished, (for neither an excellent education,
+the best company, or long experience had been able to
+cultivate or brighten this good lady&rsquo;s understanding,) &ldquo;Nay,&rdquo;
+said she, &ldquo;I am sure, Mr. Dorriforth, you will soon convert
+her from all her evil ways.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear me,&rdquo; returned Lady Evans, &ldquo;I am sure I never
+meant to hint at any thing evil&mdash;and for what I have said,
+I will give you up my authors if you please; for they were
+not observations of my own; all I do is to mention them
+again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The good-natured Miss Woodley, who sat working at the
+window, an humble, but an attentive listener to this discourse,
+ventured here to say exactly six words: &ldquo;Then
+don&rsquo;t mention them any more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let us change the subject,&rdquo; said Dorriforth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;With all my heart,&rdquo; cried Lady Evans; &ldquo;and I am sure
+it will be to the young lady&rsquo;s advantage.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is Miss Milner tall or short?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Horton, still
+wishing for farther information.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, tall enough of all conscience,&rdquo; returned she; &ldquo;I tell
+you again that no fault can be found with her person.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But if her mind is defective&rdquo;&mdash;exclaimed Dorriforth,
+with a sigh&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That may be improved as well as the person,&rdquo; cried
+Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, my dear,&rdquo; returned Lady Evans, &ldquo;I never heard
+of a pad to make straight an ill-shapen disposition.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; answered Miss Woodley, &ldquo;good company,
+good books, experience, and the misfortunes of others, may
+have more power to form the mind to virtue, than&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley was not permitted to proceed, for Lady
+Evans rising hastily from her seat, cried, &ldquo;I must be gone&mdash;I
+have an hundred people waiting for me at home&mdash;besides,
+were I inclined to hear a sermon, I should desire Mr. Dorriforth
+to preach, and not you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Just then Mrs. Hillgrave was announced. &ldquo;And here is
+Mrs. Hillgrave,&rdquo; continued she&mdash;&ldquo;I believe, Mrs. Hillgrave,
+you know Miss Milner, don&rsquo;t you? The young lady who has
+lately lost her father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Hillgrave was the wife of a merchant who had met
+with severe losses: as soon as the name of Miss Milner was
+uttered, she lifted up her hands, and the tears started in
+her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There!&rdquo; cried Lady Evans, &ldquo;I desire you will give
+your opinion of her, and I am sorry I cannot stay to hear it.&rdquo;
+Saying this, she curtsied and took her leave.</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Hillgrave had been seated a few minutes,
+Mrs. Horton, who loved information equally with the most
+inquisitive of her sex, asked the new visitor&mdash;&ldquo;If she might
+be permitted to know, why, at the mention of Miss Milner,
+she had seemed so much affected?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This question exciting the fears of Dorriforth, he turned
+anxiously round, attentive to the reply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Milner,&rdquo; answered she, &ldquo;has been my benefactress
+and the best I ever had.&rdquo; As she spoke, she took out her
+handkerchief and wiped away the tears that ran down
+her face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How so?&rdquo; cried Dorriforth eagerly, with his own eyes
+moistened with joy, nearly as much as her&rsquo;s were with
+gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My husband, at the commencement of his distresses,&rdquo;
+replied Mrs. Hillgrave, &ldquo;owed a sum of money to her father,
+and from repeated provocations, Mr. Milner was determined
+to seize upon all our effects&mdash;his daughter, however, by her
+intercessions, procured us time, in order to discharge the
+debt; and when she found <i>that</i> time was insufficient, and
+her father no longer to be dissuaded from his intention, she
+secretly sold some of her most valuable ornaments to satisfy
+his demand, and screen us from its consequences.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Dorriforth, pleased at this recital, took Mrs. Hillgrave by
+the hand, and told her, &ldquo;she should never want a friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is Miss Milner tall, or short?&rdquo; again asked Mrs. Horton,
+fearing, from the sudden pause which had ensued, the subject
+should be dropped.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; answered Mrs. Hillgrave.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is she handsome, or ugly?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I really can&rsquo;t tell.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is very strange you should not take notice!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did take notice, but I cannot depend upon my own
+judgment&mdash;to me she appeared beautiful as an angel; but
+perhaps I was deceived by the beauties of her disposition.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_III" id="I_CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<p>This gentlewoman&rsquo;s visit inspired Mr. Dorriforth with
+some confidence in the principles and character of his ward.
+The day arrived on which she was to leave her late father&rsquo;s
+seat, and fix her abode at Mrs. Horton&rsquo;s; and her guardian,
+accompanied by Miss Woodley, went in his carriage to meet
+her, and waited at an inn on the road for her reception.</p>
+
+<p>After many a sigh paid to the memory of her father, Miss
+Milner, upon the tenth of November, arrived at the place,
+half-way on her journey to town, where Dorriforth and
+Miss Woodley were expecting her. Besides attendants, she
+had with her a gentleman and lady, distant relations of her
+mother&rsquo;s, who thought it but a proper testimony of their
+civility to attend her part of the way, but who so much
+envied her guardian the trust Mr. Milner had reposed in him,
+that as soon as they had delivered her safe into his care,
+they returned.</p>
+
+<p>When the carriage, which brought Miss Milner, stopped at
+the inn gate, and her name was announced to Dorriforth, he
+turned pale&mdash;something like a foreboding of disaster trembled
+at his heart, and consequently spread a gloom over all his
+face. Miss Woodley was even obliged to rouse him from the
+dejection into which he was cast, or he would have sunk
+beneath it: she was obliged also to be the first to welcome
+his lovely charge.&mdash;Lovely beyond description.</p>
+
+<p>But the natural vivacity, the gaiety which report had given
+to Miss Milner, were softened by her recent sorrow to a meek
+sadness&mdash;and that haughty display of charms, imputed to her
+manners, was changed to a pensive demeanor. The instant
+Dorriforth was introduced to her by Miss Woodley as her
+&ldquo;Guardian, and her deceased father&rsquo;s most beloved friend,&rdquo;
+she burst into tears, knelt down to him for a moment, and
+promised ever to obey him as her father. He had his handkerchief
+to his face at the time, or she would have beheld
+the agitation&mdash;the remotest sensations of his heart.</p>
+
+<p>This affecting introduction being over, after some minutes
+passed in general conversation, the carriages were again
+ordered; and, bidding farewell to the relations who had
+accompanied her, Miss Milner, her guardian, and Miss
+Woodley departed for town; the two ladies in Miss Milner&rsquo;s
+carriage, and Dorriforth in that in which he came.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley, as they rode along, made no attempts to
+ingratiate herself with Miss Milner; though, perhaps, such
+an honour might constitute one of her first wishes&mdash;she
+behaved to her but as she constantly behaved to every other
+human creature&mdash;that, was sufficient to gain the esteem of a
+person possessed of an understanding equal to Miss Milner&rsquo;s&mdash;she
+had penetration to discover Miss Woodley&rsquo;s unaffected
+worth, and was soon induced to reward it with the warmest
+friendship.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_IV" id="I_CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<p>After a night&rsquo;s rest in London, less violently impressed
+with the loss of her father, reconciled, if not already attached
+to her new acquaintance, her thoughts pleasingly occupied
+with the reflection that she was in that gay metropolis&mdash;a
+wild and rapturous picture of which her active fancy had
+often formed&mdash;Miss Milner waked from a peaceful and
+refreshing sleep, with much of that vivacity, and with all
+those airy charms, which for a while had yielded their transcendent
+power to the weaker influence of her filial sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>Beautiful as she had appeared to Miss Woodley and to
+Dorriforth on the preceding day, when she joined them this
+morning at breakfast, re-possessed of her lively elegance and
+dignified simplicity, they gazed at her, and at each other
+alternately, with astonishment!&mdash;and Mrs. Horton, as she
+sat at the head of her tea-table, felt herself but as a menial
+servant: such command has beauty if united with sense and
+virtue. In Miss Milner it was so united. Yet let not our
+over-scrupulous readers be misled, and extend their idea of
+her virtue so as to magnify it beyond that which frail mortals
+commonly possess; nor must they cavil, if, on a nearer view,
+they find it less&mdash;but let them consider, that if she had more
+faults than generally belong to others, she had likewise more
+temptations.</p>
+
+<p>From her infancy she had been indulged in all her wishes
+to the extreme of folly, and started habitually at the unpleasant
+voice of control. She was beautiful; she had been
+too frequently told the high value of that beauty, and thought
+every moment passed in wasteful idleness during which she
+was not gaining some new conquest. She had a quick sensibility,
+which too frequently discovered itself in the immediate
+resentment of injuries or neglect. She had, besides, acquired
+the dangerous character of a wit; but to which she had no
+real pretensions, although the most discerning critic, hearing
+her converse, might fall into this mistake. Her replies had
+all the effect of repartee, not because she possessed those
+qualities which can properly be called wit, but that what
+she said was delivered with an energy, an instantaneous and
+powerful conception of the sentiment, joined with a real or
+a well-counterfeited simplicity, a quick turn of the eye, and
+an arch smile. Her words were but the words of others, and,
+like those of others, put into common sentences; but the
+delivery made them pass for wit, as grace in an ill-proportioned
+figure will often make it pass for symmetry.</p>
+
+<p>And now&mdash;leaving description&mdash;the reader must form a
+judgment of her by her actions; by all the round of great
+or trivial circumstances that shall be related.</p>
+
+<p>At breakfast, which had just begun at the commencement
+of this chapter, the conversation was lively on the part of
+Miss Milner, wise on the part of Dorriforth, good on the
+part of Miss Woodley, and an endeavour at all three on the
+part of Mrs. Horton. The discourse at length drew from
+Mr. Dorriforth this observation:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have a greater resemblance of your father, Miss
+Milner, than I imagined you had from report: I did not
+expect to find you so like him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor did I, Mr. Dorriforth, expect to find you any thing
+like what you are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No?&mdash;pray what did you expect to find me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I expected to find you an elderly man, and a plain man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was spoken in an artless manner, but in a tone which
+obviously declared she thought her guardian young and
+handsome. He replied, but not without some little embarrassment,
+&ldquo;A plain man you shall find me in all my actions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then your actions are to contradict your appearance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>For in what she said, Miss Milner had the quality peculiar
+to wits, of hazarding the thought that first occurs, which
+thought, is generally truth. On this, he paid her a compliment
+in return.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You, Miss Milner, I should suppose, must be a very bad
+judge of what is plain, and what is not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because I am sure you will readily own you do not think
+yourself handsome; and allowing that, you instantly want
+judgment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I would rather want judgment than beauty,&rdquo; she
+replied, &ldquo;and so I give up the one for the other.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With a serious face, as if proposing a very serious question,
+Dorriforth continued, &ldquo;And you really believe you are not
+handsome?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should, if I consulted my own opinion, believe that
+I was not; but in some respects I am like Roman Catholics;
+I don&rsquo;t believe upon my own understanding, but from what
+other people tell me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And let this convince you,&rdquo; replied Dorriforth, &ldquo;that
+what we teach is truth; for you find you would be deceived
+did you not trust to persons who know better than yourself.
+But, my dear Miss Milner, we will talk upon some other topic,
+and never resume this again&mdash;we differ in opinion, I dare say,
+on one subject only, and this difference I hope will never
+extend itself to any other. Therefore, let not religion be
+named between us; for as I have resolved never to persecute
+you, in pity be grateful, and do not persecute me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner looked with surprise that any thing so lightly
+said, should be so seriously received. The kind Miss Woodley
+ejaculated a short prayer to herself, that heaven would forgive
+her young friend the involuntary sin of religious ignorance&mdash;while
+Mrs. Horton, unperceived, as she imagined, made the
+sign of the cross upon her forehead as a guard against the
+infectious taint of heretical opinions. This pious ceremony
+Miss Milner by chance observed, and now shewed such an
+evident propensity to burst into a fit of laughter, that the
+good lady of the house could no longer contain her resentment,
+but exclaimed, &ldquo;God forgive you,&rdquo; with a severity
+so different from the idea which the words conveyed, that
+the object of her anger was, on this, obliged freely to indulge
+that impulse which she had in vain been struggling to suppress;
+and no longer suffering under the agony of restraint,
+she gave way to her humour, and laughed with a liberty so
+uncontrolled, that soon left her in the room with none but the
+tender-hearted Miss Woodley a witness of her folly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear Miss Woodley,&rdquo; (then cried Miss Milner, after
+recovering herself) &ldquo;I am afraid you will not forgive me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, indeed I will not,&rdquo; returned Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>But how unimportant, how weak, how ineffectual are
+<i>words</i> in conversation&mdash;looks and manners alone express&mdash;for
+Miss Woodley, with her charitable face and mild accents,
+saying she would not forgive, implied only forgiveness&mdash;while
+Mrs. Horton, with her enraged voice and aspect, begging
+heaven to pardon the offender, palpably said, she thought
+her unworthy of all pardon.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_V" id="I_CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<p>Six weeks have now elapsed since Miss Milner has been in
+London partaking with delight all its pleasures, while Dorriforth
+has been sighing with apprehension, attending to her with
+precaution, and praying with zealous fervour for her
+safety. Her own and her guardian&rsquo;s acquaintance, and,
+added to them, the new friendships (to use the unmeaning
+language of the world) which she was continually forming,
+crowded so perpetually to the house, that seldom had
+Dorriforth even a moment left him from her visits or visitors,
+to warn her of her danger:&mdash;yet when a moment offered, he
+caught it eagerly&mdash;pressed the necessity of &ldquo;Time not always
+passed in society; of reflection; of reading; of thoughts
+for a future state; and of virtues acquired to make old age
+supportable.&rdquo; That forcible power of genuine feeling, which
+directs the tongue to eloquence, had its effect while she
+listened to him, and she sometimes put on the looks and
+gesture of assent&mdash;sometimes even spoke the language of
+conviction; but this the first call of dissipation would
+change to ill-timed raillery, or peevish remonstrance, at being
+limited in delights her birth and fortune entitled her to
+enjoy.</p>
+
+<p>Among the many visitors who attended at her levees, and
+followed her wherever she went, there was one who seemed,
+even when absent from her, to share her thoughts. This
+was Lord Frederick Lawnly, the younger son of a Duke, and
+the avowed favourite of all the most discerning women of
+taste.</p>
+
+<p>He was not more than twenty-three; animated, elegant,
+extremely handsome, and possessed of every accomplishment
+that would captivate a heart less susceptible of love than
+Miss Milner&rsquo;s was supposed to be. With these allurements,
+no wonder if she took pleasure in his company&mdash;no wonder
+if she took pride in having it known that he was among the
+number of her devoted admirers. Dorriforth beheld this
+growing intimacy with alternate pain and pleasure&mdash;he
+wished to see Miss Milner married, to see his charge in the
+protection of another, rather than of himself; yet under the
+care of a young nobleman, immersed in all the vices of the
+town, without one moral excellence, but such as might result
+eventually from the influence of the moment&mdash;under such
+care he trembled for her happiness&mdash;yet trembled more lest
+her heart should be purloined without even the authority of
+matrimonial views.</p>
+
+<p>With sentiments like these, Dorriforth could never disguise
+his uneasiness at the sight of Lord Frederick, nor could the
+latter help discerning the suspicion of the guardian, and
+consequently each was embarrassed in the presence of the
+other. Miss Milner observed, but observed with indifference,
+the sensations of both&mdash;there was but one passion which
+then held a place in her bosom, and that was vanity; vanity
+defined into all the species of pride, vain-glory, self-approbation&mdash;an
+inordinate desire of admiration, and an immoderate
+enjoyment of the art of pleasing, for her own individual
+happiness, and not for the happiness of others. Still had
+she a heart inclined, and oftentimes affected by tendencies
+less unworthy; but those approaches to what was estimable,
+were in their first impulse too frequently met and intercepted
+by some darling folly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley (who could easily discover a virtue, although
+of the most diminutive kind, and scarce through the magnifying
+glass of calumny could ever perceive a fault) was Miss
+Milner&rsquo;s inseparable companion at home, and her zealous
+advocate with Dorriforth, whenever, during her absence, she
+became the subject of discourse. He listened with hope to
+the praises of her friend, but saw with despair how little they
+were merited. Sometimes he struggled to subdue his anger,
+but oftener strove to suppress tears of pity for her hapless
+state.</p>
+
+<p>By this time all her acquaintance had given Lord Frederick
+to her as a lover; the servants whispered it, and some of the
+public prints had even fixed the day of marriage;&mdash;but as no
+explanation had taken place on his part, Dorriforth&rsquo;s uneasiness
+was increased, and he seriously told his ward, he
+thought it would be indispensably prudent in her to entreat
+Lord Frederick to discontinue his visits. She smiled with
+ridicule at the caution, but finding it repeated, and in
+a manner that indicated authority, she promised not only
+to make, but to enforce the request. The next time he came
+she did so, assuring him it was by her guardian&rsquo;s desire;
+&ldquo;Who, from motives of delicacy, had permitted her to
+solicit as a favour, what he could himself make a demand.&rdquo;
+Lord Frederick reddened with anger&mdash;he loved Miss Milner;
+but he doubted whether, from the frequent proofs he had
+experienced of his own inconstancy, he should continue to
+love&mdash;and this interference of her guardian threatened an
+explanation or a dismission, before he became thoroughly
+acquainted with his own heart.&mdash;Alarmed, confounded, and
+provoked, he replied,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By heaven, I believe Mr. Dorriforth loves you himself,
+and it is jealousy that makes him treat me in this
+manner.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For shame, my Lord!&rdquo; cried Miss Woodley, who was
+present, and who trembled with horror at the sacrilegious
+idea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, shame to him if he is not in love&rdquo;&mdash;answered his
+Lordship, &ldquo;for who but a savage could behold beauty like
+her&rsquo;s without owning its power?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Habit,&rdquo; replied Miss Milner, &ldquo;is every thing&mdash;Mr. Dorriforth
+sees and converses with beauty, but from habit he does
+not fall in love; as you, my Lord, from habit, so often do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then you believe that love is not in my nature?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No more of it, my Lord, than habit could very soon
+extinguish.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I would not have it extinguished&mdash;I would rather
+it should mount to a flame, for I think it a crime to be
+insensible of the divine blessings love can bestow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then you indulge the passion to avoid a sin?&mdash;this very
+motive deters Mr. Dorriforth from that indulgence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It ought to deter him, for the sake of his oaths&mdash;but
+monastick vows, like those of marriage, were made to be
+broken&mdash;and surely when your guardian looks at you, his
+wishes&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are never less pure,&rdquo; she replied eagerly, &ldquo;than those
+which dwell in the bosom of my <i>celestial</i> guardian.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At that instant Dorriforth entered the room. The colour
+had mounted into Miss Milner&rsquo;s face from the warmth with
+which she had delivered her opinion, and his accidental
+entrance at the very moment this praise had been conferred
+upon him in his absence, heightened the blush to a deep glow
+on every feature&mdash;confusion and earnestness caused even her
+lips to tremble and her whole frame to shake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo; cried Dorriforth, looking with
+concern on her discomposure.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A compliment paid by herself to you, Sir,&rdquo; replied Lord
+Frederick, &ldquo;has affected your ward in the manner you
+have seen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As if she blushed at the untruth,&rdquo; said Dorriforth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, that is unkind,&rdquo; cried Miss Woodley; &ldquo;for if you
+had been here&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&mdash;I would not have said what I did,&rdquo; replied Miss
+Milner, &ldquo;but left him to vindicate himself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it possible that I can want any vindication? Who
+would think it worth their while to slander so unimportant
+a person as I am?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The man who has the charge of Miss Milner,&rdquo; replied
+Lord Frederick, &ldquo;derives a consequence from her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No ill consequence, I hope, my Lord?&rdquo; said Dorriforth,
+with a firmness in his voice, and with an eye so fixed, that
+his antagonist hesitated for a moment in want of a reply&mdash;and
+Miss Milner softly whispering to him, as her guardian
+turned his head, to avoid an argument, he bowed acquiescence.
+And then, as if in compliment to her, he changed the subject;&mdash;with
+an air of ridicule he cried,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish, Mr. Dorriforth, you would give me absolution of
+all my sins, for I confess they are many, and manifold.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hold, my Lord,&rdquo; exclaimed Dorriforth, &ldquo;do not confess
+before the ladies, lest, in order to excite their compassion,
+you should be tempted to accuse yourself of sins you have
+never yet committed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At this Miss Milner laughed, seemingly so well pleased, that
+Lord Frederick, with a sarcastic sneer, repeated,</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&ldquo;From Abelard it came,<br />
+And Eloisa still must love the name.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="noindent">
+Whether from an inattention to the quotation, or from a consciousness it was
+wholly inapplicable, Dorriforth heard it without one emotion of shame or of
+anger&mdash;while Miss Milner seemed shocked at the implication; her pleasantry
+was immediately suppressed, and she threw open the sash and held her head out
+at the window, to conceal the embarrassment these lines had occasioned.
+</p>
+
+<p>The Earl of Elmwood was at that juncture announced&mdash;a
+Catholic nobleman, just come of age, and on the eve of
+marriage. His visit was to his cousin, Mr. Dorriforth, but
+as all ceremonious visits were alike received by Dorriforth,
+Miss Milner, and Mrs. Horton&rsquo;s family, in one common
+apartment, Lord Elmwood was ushered into this, and of
+course directed the conversation to a different subject.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_VI" id="I_CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<p>With an anxious desire that the affection, or acquaintance,
+between Lord Frederick and Miss Milner might be finally
+dissolved, her guardian received with infinite satisfaction,
+overtures of marriage from Sir Edward Ashton. Sir Edward
+was not young or handsome; old or ugly; but immensely
+rich, and possessed of qualities that made him worthy of the
+happiness to which he aspired. He was the man whom
+Dorriforth would have chosen before any other for the
+husband of his ward, and his wishes made him sometimes
+hope, against his cooler judgment, that Sir Edward would
+not be rejected&mdash;he was resolved, at all events, to try the
+force of his own power in the strongest recommendation
+of him.</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding that dissimilarity of opinion which, in
+almost every instance, subsisted between Miss Milner and
+her guardian, there was in general the most punctilious
+observance of good manners from each towards the other&mdash;on
+the part of Dorriforth more especially; for his politeness
+would sometimes appear even like the result of a system
+which he had marked out for himself, as the only means to
+keep his ward restrained within the same limitations. Whenever
+he addressed her there was an unusual reserve upon his
+countenance, and more than usual gentleness in the tone
+of his voice; this appeared the effect of sentiments which her
+birth and situation inspired, joined to a studied mode of
+respect, best calculated to enforce the same from her. The
+wished-for consequence was produced&mdash;for though there was
+an instinctive rectitude in the understanding of Miss Milner
+that would have taught her, without other instruction, what
+manners to observe towards her deputed father; yet, from
+some volatile thought, or some quick sense of feeling, which
+she had not been accustomed to subdue, she was perpetually
+on the verge of treating him with levity; but he would
+immediately recall her recollection by a reserve too awful,
+and a gentleness too sacred for her to violate. The distinction
+which both required, was thus, by his skilful management
+alone, preserved.</p>
+
+<p>One morning he took an opportunity, before her and Miss
+Woodley, to introduce and press the subject of Sir Edward
+Ashton&rsquo;s hopes. He first spoke warmly in his praise, then
+plainly said that he believed she possessed the power of
+making so deserving a man happy to the summit of his wishes.
+A laugh of ridicule was the only answer; but a sudden frown
+from Dorriforth having put an end to it, he resumed his
+usual politeness, and said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish you would shew a better taste, than thus pointedly
+to disapprove of Sir Edward.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How, Mr. Dorriforth, can you expect me to give proofs
+of a good taste, when Sir Edward, whom you consider with
+such high esteem, has given so bad an example of his, in
+approving me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Dorriforth wished not to flatter her by a compliment she
+seemed to have sought for, and for a moment hesitated what
+answer to make.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Reply, Sir, to that question,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why then, Madam,&rdquo; returned he, &ldquo;it is my opinion,
+that supposing what your humility has advanced be just, yet
+Sir Edward will not suffer by the suggestion; for in cases
+where the heart is so immediately concerned, as I believe Sir
+Edward&rsquo;s to be, taste, or rather reason, has no power to act.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are in the right, Mr. Dorriforth; this is a proper
+justification of Sir Edward&mdash;and when I fall in love, I beg
+that you will make the same excuse for me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said he earnestly, &ldquo;before your heart is in that
+state which I have described, exert your reason.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall,&rdquo; answered she, &ldquo;and not consent to marry a man
+whom I could never love.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Unless your heart is already given away, Miss Milner,
+what can make you speak with such a degree of certainty?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He thought on Lord Frederick when he said this, and he
+riveted his eyes upon her as if to penetrate her sentiments,
+and yet trembled for what he should find there. She
+blushed, and her looks would have confirmed her guilty, if
+the unembarrassed and free tone of her voice, more than her
+words, had not preserved her from that sentence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; she replied, &ldquo;my heart is not given away; and yet
+I can venture to declare, Sir Edward will never possess an
+atom of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry, for both your sakes, that these are your
+sentiments,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;But as your heart is still your own,&rdquo;
+(and he seemed rejoiced to find it was) &ldquo;permit me to warn
+you how you part with a thing so precious&mdash;the dangers, the
+sorrows you hazard in bestowing it, are greater than you
+may be aware of. The heart once gone, our thoughts, our
+actions, are no more our own, than that is.&rdquo; He seemed
+<i>forcing</i> himself to utter all this, and yet broke off as if he could
+have said much more, if the extreme delicacy of the subject
+had not prevented him.</p>
+
+<p>When he left the room, and she heard the door shut after
+him, she said, with an inquisitive thoughtfulness, &ldquo;What can
+make good people so skilled in all the weaknesses of the bad?
+Mr. Dorriforth, with all those prudent admonitions, appears
+rather like a man who has passed his life in the gay world,
+experienced all its dangerous allurements, all its repentant
+sorrows; than like one who has lived his whole time secluded
+in a monastery, or in his own study. Then he speaks with
+such exquisite sensibility on the subject of love, that he
+commends the very thing which he attempts to depreciate.
+I do not think my Lord Frederick would make the passion
+appear in more pleasing colours by painting its delights, than
+Mr. Dorriforth could in describing its sorrows&mdash;and if he talks
+to me frequently in this manner, I shall certainly take pity on
+Lord Frederick, for the sake of his adversary&rsquo;s eloquence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley, who heard the conclusion of this speech
+with the tenderest concern, cried, &ldquo;Alas! you then think
+seriously of Lord Frederick!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose I do, wherefore that <i>alas!</i> Miss Woodley?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because I fear you will never be happy with him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is plainly telling me he will not be happy with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know&mdash;I cannot speak of marriage from experience,&rdquo;
+answered Miss Woodley, &ldquo;but I think I can guess
+what it is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor can I speak of love from experience,&rdquo; replied Miss
+Milner, &ldquo;but I think I can guess what it is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But do not fall in love, my dear,&rdquo; (cried Miss Woodley,
+with her accustomed simplicity of heart, as if she had been
+asking a favour that depended upon the will of the person
+entreated,) &ldquo;pray do not fall in love without the approbation
+of your guardian.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her young friend smiled at the inefficacious prayer, but
+promised to do all she could to oblige her.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_VII" id="I_CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<p>Sir Edward, not wholly discouraged by the denial with
+which Dorriforth had, with delicacy, acquainted him, still
+hoped for a kind reception, and was so often at the house of
+Mrs. Horton, that Lord Frederick&rsquo;s jealousy was excited,
+and the tortures he suffered in consequence, convinced him,
+beyond a doubt, of the sincerity of his affection. Every
+time he beheld the object of his passion, (for he still continued
+his visits, though not so frequently as heretofore) he
+pleaded his cause with such ardour, that Miss Woodley, who
+was sometimes present, and ever compassionate, could not
+resist wishing him success. He now unequivocally offered
+marriage, and entreated that he might lay his proposals
+before Mr. Dorriforth, but this was positively forbidden.</p>
+
+<p>Her reluctance he imputed, however, more to the known
+partiality of her guardian for the addresses of Sir Edward,
+than to any motive which depended upon herself; and to
+Mr. Dorriforth he conceived a greater dislike than ever;
+believing that through his interposition, in spite of his ward&rsquo;s
+attachment, he might yet be deprived of her. But Miss
+Milner declared both to him and to her friend, that love had,
+at present, gained no influence over her mind. Yet did the
+watchful Miss Woodley oftentimes hear a sigh escape from
+her unknown to herself, till she was reminded of it, and then
+a sudden blush would instantly overspread her face. This
+seeming struggle with her passion, endeared her more than
+ever to Miss Woodley, and she would even risk the displeasure
+of Dorriforth by her compliance with every new
+pursuit that might amuse the time, which else her friend
+passed in heaviness of heart.</p>
+
+<p>Balls, plays, incessant company, at length roused her
+guardian from that mildness with which he had been accustomed
+to treat her. Night after night his sleep had been
+disturbed by fears for her when abroad; morning after
+morning it had been broken by the clamour of her return.
+He therefore gravely said to her one forenoon as he met her
+accidentally upon the staircase,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope, Miss Milner, you pass this evening at home?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Unprepared for the sudden question, she blushed and
+replied, &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;&mdash;Though she knew she was engaged to a
+brilliant assembly, for which her milliner had been consulted
+a whole week.</p>
+
+<p>She, however, flattered herself that what she had said
+might be excused as a mistake, the lapse of memory, or some
+other trifling fault, when he should know the truth. The
+truth was earlier divulged than she expected&mdash;for just as
+dinner was removed, her footman delivered a message to her
+from her milliner concerning a new dress for the evening&mdash;the
+<i>present evening</i> particularly marked. Her guardian
+looked astonished.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought, Miss Milner, you gave me your word that
+you would pass this evening at home?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mistook&mdash;for I had before given my word that I should
+pass it abroad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; cried he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, indeed; and I believe it is right that I should keep
+my first promise; is it not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The promise you gave me then, you do not think of any
+consequence?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, certainly, if you do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And mean, perhaps, to make it of more consequence than
+it deserves, by being offended.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Whether or not, I <i>am</i> offended&mdash;you shall find I am.&rdquo;
+And he looked so.</p>
+
+<p>She caught his piercing eyes&mdash;hers were immediately
+cast down; and she trembled&mdash;either with shame or with
+resentment.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Horton rose from her seat&mdash;moved the decanters and
+fruit round the table&mdash;stirred the fire&mdash;and came back to her
+seat again, before another word was uttered. Nor had this
+good woman&rsquo;s officious labours taken the least from the awkwardness
+of the silence, which, as soon as the bustle she had
+made was over, returned in its full force.</p>
+
+<p>At last, Miss Milner rising with alacrity, was preparing
+to go out of the room, when Dorriforth raised his voice, and
+in a tone of authority said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Milner, you shall not leave the house this evening.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sir!&rdquo; she exclaimed with a kind of doubt of what she had
+heard&mdash;a surprise, which fixed her hand on the door she had
+half opened, but which now she shewed herself irresolute
+whether to open wide in defiance, or to shut submissively.
+Before she could resolve, he rose from his chair, and said,
+with a force and warmth she had never heard him use
+before,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I command you to stay at home this evening.&rdquo; And he
+walked immediately out of the apartment by another door.</p>
+
+<p>Her hand fell motionless from that which she held&mdash;she
+appeared motionless herself&mdash;till Mrs. Horton, &ldquo;Beseeching
+her not to be uneasy at the treatment she had received,&rdquo;
+made her tears flow as if her heart was breaking.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley would have said something to comfort her,
+but she had caught the infection, and could not utter a word.
+It was not from any real cause of grief that she wept; but
+there was a magnetic quality in tears, which always attracted
+hers.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Horton secretly enjoyed this scene, though the real
+well meaning of her heart, and ease of her conscience, did
+not suffer her to think so. She, however, declared she had
+&ldquo;long prognosticated it would come to this;&rdquo; and she
+&ldquo;only thanked heaven it was no worse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What could be worse, Madam?&rdquo; cried Miss Milner;
+&ldquo;am not I disappointed of the ball?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t mean to go then?&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton; &ldquo;I
+commend your prudence; and I dare say it is more than
+your guardian gives you credit for.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think I would go,&rdquo; answered Miss Milner, with
+an eagerness that for a time suppressed her tears, &ldquo;in contradiction
+to his will?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not the first time, I believe, you have acted contrary
+to that, Miss Milner,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Horton, and affected
+a tenderness of voice, to soften the harshness of her words.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you think so, Madam, I see nothing that should
+prevent me now.&rdquo; And she flung out of the room as if she
+had resolved to disobey him. This alarmed poor Miss
+Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear aunt,&rdquo; she cried to Mrs. Horton, &ldquo;follow and
+prevail upon Miss Milner to give up her design; she means
+to be at the ball in opposition to her guardian&rsquo;s will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll not be instrumental in
+detering her&mdash;if she does it may be for the best; it may give
+Mr. Dorriforth a clearer knowledge what means are proper
+to convert her from evil.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, my dear Madam, she must be preserved from the evil
+of disobedience; and as you tempted, you will be the most
+likely to dissuade her. But if you will not, I must endeavour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley was leaving the room to perform this good
+work, when Mrs. Horton, in imitation of the example given
+her by Dorriforth, cried,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Niece, I command you not to stir out of this room this
+evening.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley obediently sat down&mdash;and though her
+thoughts and heart were in the chamber of her friend, she
+never marked by one impertinent word, or by one line of
+her face, the restraint she suffered.</p>
+
+<p>At the usual hour, Mr. Dorriforth and his ward were
+summoned to tea:&mdash;he entered with a countenance which
+evinced the remains of anger; his eye gave testimony of his
+absent thoughts; and though he took up a pamphlet affecting
+to read, it was plain to discern that he scarcely knew he held
+it in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Horton began to make tea with a mind as intent
+upon something else as Dorriforth&rsquo;s&mdash;she longed for the event
+of this misunderstanding; and though she wished no ill
+to Miss Milner, yet with an inclination bent upon seeing
+something new&mdash;without the fatigue of going out of her
+own house&mdash;she was not over scrupulous what that novelty
+might be. But for fear she should have the imprudence to
+speak a word upon the subject which employed her thoughts,
+or even to look as if she thought of it at all; she pinched her
+lips close together, and cast her eyes on vacancy, lest their
+significant regards might expose her to detection. And for
+fear any noise should intercept even the sound of what might
+happen, she walked across the room more softly than usual,
+and more softly touched every thing she was obliged to lay
+her hand on.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley thought it her duty to be mute; and now
+the gingle of a tea spoon was like a deep-toned bell, all was
+so quiet.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Horton, too, in the self-approving reflection that she
+was not in a quarrel or altercation of any kind, felt herself
+at this moment remarkably peaceful and charitable. Miss
+Woodley did not recollect <i>herself</i> so, but was so in reality&mdash;in
+her, peace and charity were instinctive virtues, accident
+could not increase them.</p>
+
+<p>The tea had scarce been made, when a servant came with
+Miss Milner&rsquo;s compliments, and she &ldquo;did not mean to have
+any tea.&rdquo; The pamphlet shook in Dorriforth&rsquo;s hand while
+this message was delivered&mdash;he believed her to be dressing
+for her evening&rsquo;s entertainment, and now studied in what
+manner he should prevent, or resent her disobedience to his
+commands. He coughed&mdash;drank his tea&mdash;endeavoured to
+talk, but found it difficult&mdash;sometimes read&mdash;and in this
+manner near two hours were passed away, when Miss Milner
+came into the room.&mdash;Not dressed for a ball, but as she
+had risen from dinner. Dorriforth read on, and seemed
+afraid of looking up, lest he should see what he could not
+have pardoned. She drew a chair and sat at the table by
+the side of her delighted friend.</p>
+
+<p>After a few minutes&rsquo; pause, and some little embarrassment
+on the part of Mrs. Horton, at the disappointment she had
+to encounter from this unexpected dutiful conduct, she
+asked Miss Milner, &ldquo;if she would now have any tea?&rdquo; She
+replied, &ldquo;No, I thank you, Ma&rsquo;am,&rdquo; in a voice so languid,
+compared with her usual one, that Dorriforth lifted up his
+eyes from the book; and seeing her in the same dress that
+she had worn all the day, turned them hastily away from her
+again&mdash;not with a look of triumph, but of confusion.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever he might have suffered if he had seen her
+decorated, and prepared to bid defiance to his commands,
+yet even upon that trial, he would not have endured half
+the painful sensations he now for a moment felt&mdash;he felt
+himself to blame.</p>
+
+<p>He feared that he had treated her with too much severity&mdash;he
+admired her condescension, accused himself for having
+exacted it&mdash;he longed to ask her pardon&mdash;he did not know
+how.</p>
+
+<p>A cheerful reply from her, to a question of Miss Woodley&rsquo;s,
+embarrassed him still more&mdash;he wished that she had been
+sullen, he then would have had a temptation, or pretence,
+to have been sullen too.</p>
+
+<p>With all these sentiments crowding fast upon his heart, he
+still read, or seemed to read, as if he took no notice of what
+was passing; till a servant came into the room and asked
+Miss Milner at what time she should want the carriage? to
+which she replied, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t go out to-night.&rdquo; Dorriforth
+then laid the book out of his hand, and by the time the
+servant had left the room, thus began:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Milner, I give you, I fear, some unkind proofs of
+my regard. It is often the ungrateful task of a friend to be
+troublesome&mdash;sometimes unmannerly. Forgive the duties
+of my office, and believe that no one is half so much
+concerned if it robs you of any degree of happiness, as I
+myself am.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>What he said, he looked with so much sincerity, that had
+she been burning with rage at his late behaviour, she must
+have forgiven him, for the regret which he so forcibly
+exprest. She was going to reply, but found she could not,
+without accompanying her words with tears, therefore, after
+the first attempt, she desisted.</p>
+
+<p>On this he rose from his chair, and going to her, said,
+&ldquo;Once more shew your submission by obeying me a second
+time to-day. Keep your appointment, and be assured that
+I shall issue my commands with more circumspection for
+the future, as I find how strictly they are complied with.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner, the gay, the vain, the dissipated, the haughty
+Miss Milner, sunk underneath this kindness, and wept with
+a gentleness and patience, which did not give more surprise
+than it gave joy to Dorriforth. He was charmed to find her
+disposition so tractable&mdash;prophesied to himself the future
+success of his guardianship, and her eternal as well as temporal
+happiness from this specimen.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_VIII" id="I_CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<p>Although Dorriforth was the good man that he has been
+described, there were in his nature shades of evil&mdash;there was
+an obstinacy which he himself, and his friends termed firmness
+of mind; but had not religion and some opposite
+virtues weighed heavily in the balance, it would frequently
+have degenerated into implacable stubbornness.</p>
+
+<p>The child of a sister once beloved, who married a young
+officer against her brother&rsquo;s consent, was at the age of three
+years left an orphan, destitute of all support but from his
+uncle&rsquo;s generosity: but though Dorriforth maintained, he
+would never see him. Miss Milner, whose heart was a receptacle
+for the unfortunate, no sooner was told the melancholy
+history of Mr. and Mrs. Rushbrook, the parents of the child,
+than she longed to behold the innocent inheritor of her
+guardian&rsquo;s resentment, and took Miss Woodley with her to
+see the boy. He was at a farm house a few miles from town;
+and his extreme beauty and engaging manners, wanted not
+the sorrows to which he had been born, to give him farther
+recommendation to the kindness of her, who had come to
+visit him. She looked at him with admiration and pity, and
+having endeared herself to him by the most affectionate
+words and caresses, on her bidding him farewell, he cried
+most pitiously to go along with her. Unused at any time
+to resist temptations, whether to reprehensible, or to laudable
+actions, she yielded to his supplications, and having overcome
+a few scruples of Miss Woodley&rsquo;s, determined to take young
+Rushbrook to town, and present him to his uncle. This
+idea was no sooner formed than executed. By making
+a present to the nurse, she readily gained her consent to
+part with him for a day or two, and the signs of joy denoted
+by the child on being put into the carriage, repaid her beforehand
+for every reproof she might receive from her guardian,
+for the liberty she had taken.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Besides,&rdquo; said she to Miss Woodley, who had still her
+fears, &ldquo;do you not wish his uncle should have a warmer
+interest in his care than duty?&mdash;it is duty alone which induces
+Mr. Dorriforth to provide for him; but it is proper that
+affection should have some share in his benevolence&mdash;and
+how, hereafter, will he be so fit an object of the love which
+compassion excites, as he is at present?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley acquiesced. But before they arrived at
+their own door it came into Miss Milner&rsquo;s remembrance,
+that there was a grave sternness in the manners of her guardian
+when provoked, the recollection of which made her a little
+apprehensive for what she had done&mdash;her friend, who knew
+him better than she did, was more so. They both became
+silent as they approached the street where they lived&mdash;for
+Miss Woodley having once represented her fears, and having
+suppressed them in resignation to Miss Milner&rsquo;s better judgment,
+would not repeat them&mdash;and Miss Milner would not
+confess they were now troubling her.</p>
+
+<p>Just, however, as the coach stopped at the door, she had
+the forecast and the humility to say, &ldquo;We will not tell
+Mr. Dorriforth the child is his nephew, unless he should
+appear fond, and pleased with him, and then I think we
+may venture without any danger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was agreed; and when Dorriforth entered the room
+just before dinner, poor Harry Rushbrook was introduced
+as the son of a lady who frequently visited there. The
+deception passed&mdash;his uncle shook hands with him, and at
+length highly pleased with his engaging manner, and applicable
+replies, took him on his knee, and kissed him with
+affection. Miss Milner could scarce restrain the joy it gave
+her; but unluckily, Dorriforth said soon after to the child,
+&ldquo;And now tell me your name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Harry Rushbrook,&rdquo; replied he, with force and clearness
+of voice.</p>
+
+<p>Dorriforth was holding him fondly round the waist as he
+stood with his feet upon his knees; and at this reply he did
+not <i>throw</i> him from him&mdash;but he removed his hands, which
+had supported him, so suddenly, that the child, to prevent
+falling on the floor, threw himself about his uncle&rsquo;s neck.
+Miss Milner and Miss Woodley turned aside to conceal their
+tears. &ldquo;I had like to have been down,&rdquo; cried Harry, fearing
+no other danger. But his uncle took hold of each hand
+which had twined around him, and placed him immediately
+on the ground. The dinner being that instant served, he
+gave no greater marks of his resentment than calling for his
+hat, and walking instantly out of the house.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner cried for anger; yet she did not shew less
+kindness to the object of this vexatious circumstance: she
+held him in her arms while she sat at table, and repeatedly
+said to him, (though he had not the sense to thank her)
+&ldquo;That she would always be his friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The first emotions of resentment against Dorriforth being
+passed, she returned with her little charge to the farm house,
+before it was likely his uncle should come back; another
+instance of obedience, which Miss Woodley was impatient
+her guardian should know; she therefore enquired where
+he was, and sent him a note for the sole purpose of acquainting
+him with it, offering at the same time an apology for what
+had happened. He returned in the evening seemingly
+reconciled, nor was a word mentioned of the incident which
+had occurred in the former part of the day; yet in his
+countenance remained a perfect remembrance of it, without
+one trait of compassion for his helpless nephew.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_IX" id="I_CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<p>There are few things so mortifying to a proud spirit as to
+suffer by immediate comparison&mdash;men can hardly bear it, but
+to women the punishment is intolerable; and Miss Milner
+now laboured under this humiliation to a degree which
+gave her no small inquietude.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Fenton, young, of exquisite beauty, elegant manners,
+gentle disposition, and discreet conduct, was introduced to
+Miss Milner&rsquo;s acquaintance by her guardian, and frequently,
+sometimes inadvertently, held up by him as a pattern for her
+to follow&mdash;for when he did not say this in direct terms, it
+was insinuated by the warmth of his panegyric on those
+virtues in which Miss Fenton excelled, and in which his ward
+was obviously deficient. Conscious of her own inferiority
+in these subjects of her guardian&rsquo;s praise, Miss Milner,
+instead of being inspired to emulation, was provoked to
+envy.</p>
+
+<p>Not to admire Miss Fenton was impossible&mdash;to find one
+fault with her person or sentiments was equally impossible&mdash;and
+yet to love her was unlikely.</p>
+
+<p>That serenity of mind which kept her features in a continual
+placid form, though enchanting at the first glance,
+upon a second or third, fatigued the sight for want of variety;
+and to have seen her distorted with rage, convulsed with
+mirth, or in deep dejection, had been to her advantage. But
+her superior soul appeared above those emotions, and there
+was more inducement to worship her as a saint than to love
+her as a woman. Yet Dorriforth, whose heart was not
+formed (at least not educated) for love, regarding her in the
+light of friendship only, beheld her as the most perfect model
+for her sex. Lord Frederick on first seeing her was struck
+with her beauty, and Miss Milner apprehended she had
+introduced a rival; but he had not seen her three times,
+before he called her &ldquo;The most insufferable of Heaven&rsquo;s
+creatures,&rdquo; and vowed there was more charming variation
+in the plain features of Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner had a heart affectionate to her own sex, even
+where she saw them in possession of superior charms; but
+whether from the spirit of contradiction, from feeling herself
+more than ordinarily offended by her guardian&rsquo;s praise of
+this lady, or that there was a reserve in Miss Fenton that did
+not accord with her own frank and ingenuous disposition, so
+as to engage her esteem, certain it is that she took infinite
+satisfaction in hearing her beauty and virtues depreciated
+or turned into ridicule, particularly if Mr. Dorriforth was
+present. This was painful to him upon many accounts;
+perhaps an anxiety for his ward&rsquo;s conduct was not among the
+least; and whenever the circumstance occurred, he could
+with difficulty restrain his anger. Miss Fenton was not only
+a person whose amiable qualities he admired, but she was
+soon to be allied to him by her marriage with his nearest
+relation, Lord Elmwood, a young nobleman whom he
+sincerely loved.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood had discovered all that beauty in Miss
+Fenton which every common observer could not but see.
+The charms of her mind and of her fortune had been pointed
+out by his tutor; and the utility of the marriage, in perfect
+submission to his precepts, he never permitted himself to
+question.</p>
+
+<p>This preceptor held with a magisterial power the government
+of his pupil&rsquo;s passions; nay, governed them so entirely,
+that no one could perceive (nor did the young Lord himself
+know) that he had any.</p>
+
+<p>This rigid monitor and friend was a Mr. Sandford, bred
+a Jesuit in the same college at which Dorriforth had since
+been educated, but before his time the order was compelled
+to take another name. Sandford had been the tutor of
+Dorriforth as well as of his cousin, Lord Elmwood, and by
+this double tie seemed now entailed upon the family. As
+a Jesuit, he was consequently a man of learning; possessed
+of steadiness to accomplish the end of any design once
+meditated, and of sagacity to direct the conduct of men
+more powerful, but less ingenious, than himself. The
+young Earl, accustomed in his infancy to fear him as his
+master, in his youthful manhood received every new indulgence
+with gratitude, and at length loved him as a
+father&mdash;nor had Dorriforth as yet shaken off similar sensations.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Sandford perfectly knew how to influence the sentiments
+and sensations of all human kind, but yet he had the
+forbearance not to &ldquo;draw all hearts towards him.&rdquo; There
+were some whose hatred he thought not unworthy of his
+pious labours; and in that pursuit he was more rapid in his
+success than even in procuring esteem. It was an enterprise
+in which he succeeded with Miss Milner even beyond his
+most sanguine wish.</p>
+
+<p>She had been educated at an English boarding school, and
+had no idea of the superior and subordinate state of characters
+in a foreign seminary&mdash;besides, as a woman, she was privileged
+to say any thing she pleased; and as a beautiful woman,
+she had a right to expect that whatever she pleased to say,
+should be admired.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford knew the hearts of women, as well as those of
+men, though he had passed little of his time in their society&mdash;he
+saw Miss Milner&rsquo;s heart at the first view of her person;
+and beholding in that little circumference a weight of folly
+that he wished to eradicate, he began to toil in the vineyard,
+eagerly courting her detestation of him, in the hope he could
+also make her abominate herself. In the mortifications of
+slight he was expert; and being a man of talents, whom all
+companies, especially her friends, respected, he did not begin
+by wasting that reverence so highly valued upon ineffectual
+remonstrances, of which he could foresee the reception, but
+wakened her attention by his neglect of her. He spoke of
+her in her presence as of an indifferent person, sometimes
+forgetting even to name her when the subject required it;
+then would ask her pardon, and say that he &ldquo;Really did not
+recollect her,&rdquo; with such seeming sorrow for his fault, that
+she could not think the offence intended, and of course felt
+the affront more acutely.</p>
+
+<p>While, with every other person she was the principle, the
+cause upon whom a whole party depended for conversation,
+cards, musick, or dancing, with Mr. Sandford she found that
+she was of no importance. Sometimes she tried to consider
+this disregard of her as merely the effect of ill-breeding;
+but he was not an ill-bred man: he was a gentleman by
+birth, and one who had kept the best company&mdash;a man of
+sense and learning. &ldquo;And such a man slights me without
+knowing it,&rdquo; she said&mdash;for she had not dived so deeply into
+the powers of simulation, as to suspect that such careless
+manners were the result of art.</p>
+
+<p>This behaviour of Mr. Sandford had its desired effect&mdash;it
+humbled her in her own opinion more than a thousand
+sermons would have done preached on the vanity of youth
+and beauty. She felt an inward shame at the insignificance
+of these qualities that she never knew before, and would
+have been cured of all her pride, had she not possessed a degree
+of spirit beyond the generality of her sex&mdash;such a degree as
+even Mr. Sandford, with all his penetration, did not expect.
+She determined to resent his treatment; and, entering the
+lists as his declared enemy, give to the world a reason why
+he did not acknowledge her sovereignty, as well as the rest
+of her devoted subjects.</p>
+
+<p>She now commenced hostilities against all his arguments,
+his learning, and his favourite axioms; and by a happy talent
+of ridicule, in want of other weapons for this warfare, she
+threw in the way of the holy Father as great trials of his
+patience, as any that his order could have substituted in
+penance. Many things he bore like a martyr&mdash;at others, his
+fortitude would forsake him, and he would call on her
+guardian, his former pupil, to interpose with his authority:
+she would then declare that she only had acted thus &ldquo;to try
+the good man&rsquo;s temper, and that if he had combated with
+his fretfulness a few moments longer, she would have acknowledged
+his claim to canonization; but that having yielded
+to the sallies of his anger, he must now go through numerous
+other probations.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>If Miss Fenton was admired by Dorriforth, by Sandford
+she was adored&mdash;and, instead of placing her as an example
+to Miss Milner, he spoke of her as of one endowed beyond
+Miss Milner&rsquo;s power of imitation. Often, with a shake of
+his head and a sigh, would he say,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; I am not so hard upon you as your guardian:
+I only desire you to love Miss Fenton; to resemble her,
+I believe, is above your ability.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was too much to bear composedly&mdash;and poor Miss
+Woodley, who was generally a witness of these controversies,
+felt a degree of sorrow at every sentence which like the foregoing
+chagrined and distressed her friend. Yet as she
+suffered too for Mr. Sandford, the joy of her friend&rsquo;s reply
+was abated by the uneasiness it gave to <i>him</i>. But Mrs. Horton
+felt for none but the right reverend priest; and often did
+she feel so violently interested in his cause, that she could
+not refrain giving an answer herself in his behalf&mdash;thus doing
+the duty of an adversary with all the zeal of an advocate.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_X" id="I_CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<p>Mr. Sandford finding his friend Dorriforth frequently
+perplexed in the management of his ward, and he himself
+thinking her incorrigible, gave his counsel, that a suitable
+match should be immediately sought out for her, and the
+care of so dangerous a person given into other hands. Dorriforth
+acknowledged the propriety of this advice, but lamented
+the difficulty of pleasing his ward as to the quality of her
+lover; for she had refused, besides Sir Edward Ashton,
+many others of equal pretensions. &ldquo;Depend upon it then,&rdquo;
+cried Sandford, &ldquo;that her affections are engaged; and it is
+proper that you should know to whom.&rdquo; Dorriforth thought
+he did know, and mentioned Lord Frederick; but said that
+he had no farther authority for the supposition than what his
+observation had given him, for that every explanation both
+upon his and her side had been evaded. &ldquo;Take her then,&rdquo;
+cried Sandford, &ldquo;into the country, and if Lord Frederick
+should not follow, there is an end of your suspicions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall not easily prevail upon Miss Milner to leave town,&rdquo;
+replied he, &ldquo;while it is in the highest fashion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can
+but try,&rdquo; returned Sandford; &ldquo;and if you should not
+succeed now, at least fix the time you mean to go during
+the autumn, and be firm to your determination.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But
+in the autumn,&rdquo; replied Dorriforth, &ldquo;Lord Frederick will
+of course be in the country; and as his uncle&rsquo;s estate is near
+our residence, he will not then so evidently follow her, as
+he would if I could induce her to go now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was agreed the attempt should be made. Instead of
+receiving this abrupt proposal with uneasiness, Miss Milner,
+to the surprise of all present, immediately consented; and
+gave her guardian an opportunity of saying several of the
+kindest and politest things upon her ready compliance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A token of approbation from you, Mr. Dorriforth,&rdquo;
+returned she, &ldquo;I always considered with high estimation&mdash;but
+your commendations are now become infinitely superior
+in value by their scarcity; for I do not believe that since
+Miss Fenton and Mr. Sandford came to town, I have
+received one testimony of your esteem.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Had these words been uttered with pleasantry, they might
+have passed without observation; but at the conclusion of
+the period, resentment flew to Miss Milner&rsquo;s face, and she
+darted a piercing look at Mr. Sandford, which more pointedly
+expressed that she was angry with him, than if she had
+spoken volumes in her usual strain of raillery. Dorriforth
+was confused&mdash;but the concern which she had so plainly
+evinced for his good opinion throughout all that she had
+been saying, silenced any rebuke he might else have given
+her, for this unwarrantable charge against his friend. Mrs.
+Horton was shocked at the irreverent manner in which
+Mr. Sandford was treated&mdash;and Miss Woodley turned to
+him with a benevolent smile upon her face, hoping to set
+him an example of the manner in which he should receive the
+reproach. Her good wishes did not succeed&mdash;yet he was
+perfectly unruffled, and replied with coolness,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The air of the country has affected the lady already&mdash;but
+it is a comfortable thing,&rdquo; continued he, &ldquo;that in the
+variety of humours to which some women are exposed, they
+cannot be uniform even in deceit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Deceit!&rdquo; cried Miss Milner, &ldquo;in what am I deceitful?
+did I ever pretend that I had an esteem for you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That would not have been deceit, Madam, but merely
+good manners.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never, Mr. Sandford, sacrificed truth to politeness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Except when the country has been proposed, and you
+thought it politeness to appear satisfied.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I <i>was</i> satisfied, till I recollected that you might
+probably be of the party&mdash;then, every grove was changed
+into a wilderness, every rivulet into a stagnated pool, and
+every singing bird into a croaking raven.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A very poetical description,&rdquo; returned he calmly. &ldquo;But,
+Miss Milner, you need not have had any apprehensions of
+<i>my</i> company in the country, for I understand the seat to
+which your guardian means to go, belongs to you; and you
+may depend upon it, Madam, that I shall never enter a house
+in which you are the mistress.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor any house, I am certain, Mr. Sandford, but in which
+you are yourself the master.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean, Madam? (and for the first time he
+elevated his voice,) am I the master here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your servants,&rdquo; replied she, looking at the company,
+&ldquo;will not tell you so; but I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You condescend, Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Horton,
+&ldquo;in talking so much to a young heedless woman; but I know
+you do it for her good.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Miss Milner,&rdquo; cried Dorriforth, (and the most
+cutting thing he could say,) &ldquo;since I find my proposal of
+the country has put you out of humour, I shall mention it
+no more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With all that quantity of resentment, anger, or rage, which
+sometimes boiled in the veins of Miss Milner, she was yet
+never wanting in that respect towards her guardian, which
+with-held her from ever uttering one angry sentence, directed
+immediately to him; and a severe word of his, instead of
+exasperating, was sure to subdue her. This was the case at
+present&mdash;his words wounded her to the heart, but she had
+not the asperity to reply to them as she thought they merited,
+and she burst into tears. Dorriforth, instead of being concerned,
+as he usually was at seeing her uneasy, appeared on
+the present occasion provoked. He thought her weeping
+was a new reproach to his friend Mr. Sandford, and that to
+suffer himself to be moved by it, would be a tacit condemnation
+of his friend&rsquo;s conduct. She understood his thoughts,
+and getting the better of her tears, apologised for her weakness;
+adding,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She could never bear with indifference an unjust accusation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To prove that mine was unjust, Madam,&rdquo; replied Dorriforth;
+&ldquo;be prepared to quit London, without any marks of
+regret, in a few days.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She bowed assent; the necessary preparations were agreed
+upon; and while with apparent satisfaction she adjusted the
+plan of her journey, (like those who behave well, not so
+much to please themselves as to vex their enemies,) she
+secretly triumphed in the mortification she hoped that
+Mr. Sandford would receive from her obedient behaviour.</p>
+
+<p>The news of this intended journey was of course soon
+made public. There is a secret charm in being pitied, when
+the misfortune is but ideal; and Miss Milner found infinite
+gratification in being told, &ldquo;That her&rsquo;s was a cruel case,
+and that it was unjust and barbarous to force so much beauty
+into concealment while London was filled with her admirers;
+who, like her, would languish in consequence of her solitude.&rdquo;
+These things, and a thousand such, a thousand times repeated,
+she still listened to with pleasure; yet preserved the constancy
+not to shrink from her resolution of submitting.</p>
+
+<p>Those involuntary sighs, however, that Miss Woodley had
+long ago observed, became still more frequent; and a tear
+half starting in her eye was an additional subject of her
+friend&rsquo;s observation. Yet though Miss Milner at those times
+was softened into melancholy, she by no means appeared
+unhappy. Her friend was acquainted with love only by
+name; yet she was confirmed from these increased symptoms,
+in what she before only suspected, that <i>love</i> must be the
+foundation of her care. &ldquo;Her senses have been captivated
+by the person and accomplishments of Lord Frederick,&rdquo; said
+Miss Woodley to herself, &ldquo;but her understanding compels
+her to see his faults, and reproaches her passion.&mdash;And, oh!&rdquo;
+cried she, &ldquo;could her guardian and Mr. Sandford know of
+this conflict, how much would they have to admire; how
+little to condemn!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With such friendly thoughts, and with the purest intentions,
+Miss Woodley did not fail to give both gentlemen
+reason to believe, a contention of this nature was the actual
+state of Miss Milner&rsquo;s mind. Dorriforth was affected at the
+description, and Sandford urged more than ever the necessity
+of leaving town. In a few days they departed; Mrs.
+Horton, Miss Woodley, Miss Milner, and Mr. Dorriforth,
+accompanied by Miss Fenton, whom Miss Milner, knowing
+it to be the wish of her guardian, invited, for three months
+before her marriage, to her country seat. Elmwood House,
+or rather Castle, the seat of Lord Elmwood, was only a few
+miles distant from this residence, and he was expected to pass
+great part of the summer there, with his tutor, Mr. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>In the neighbourhood was also (as it has been already said)
+an estate belonging to an uncle of Lord Frederick&rsquo;s, and most
+of the party suspected they should soon see him on a visit
+there. To that expectation they in great measure attributed
+Miss Milner&rsquo;s visible content.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_XI" id="I_CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<p>With this party Miss Milner arrived at her country house,
+and for near six weeks, all around was the picture of tranquillity;
+her satisfaction was as evident as every other
+person&rsquo;s; and all severe admonition being at this time
+unnecessary, either to exhort her to her duty, or to warn her
+against her folly, she was even in perfect good humour with
+Miss Fenton, and added friendship to hospitality.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Sandford, who came with Lord Elmwood to the neighbouring
+seat, about a week after the arrival of Miss Milner
+at her&rsquo;s, was so scrupulously exact in the observance of his
+word, &ldquo;<i>Never to enter a house of Miss Milner&rsquo;s,</i>&rdquo; that he
+would not even call upon his friend Dorriforth there&mdash;but
+in their walks, and at Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s, the two parties would
+occasionally join, and of course Sandford and she at those
+times met&mdash;yet so distant was the reserve on either side,
+that not a single word upon any occasion was ever exchanged
+between them.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner did not like Mr. Sandford; yet as there was
+no cause of inveterate rancour, admiring him too as a man
+who meant well, and being besides of a most forgiving temper,
+she frequently felt concerned that he did not speak to her,
+although it had been to find fault as usual&mdash;and one morning
+as they were all, after a long ramble, drawing towards her
+house, where Lord Elmwood was invited to dine, she could
+not restrain dropping a tear at seeing Sandford turn back
+and wish them a &ldquo;Good day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But though she had the generosity to forgive an affront,
+she had not the humility to make a concession; and she
+foresaw that nothing less than some very humble atonement
+on her part would prevail upon the haughty priest to be
+reconciled. Dorriforth saw her concern upon this last
+trifling occasion with a secret pleasure, and an admiration
+that she had never before excited. She once insinuated to
+him to be a mediator between them; but before any accommodation
+could take place, the peace and composure of their
+abode were disturbed by the arrival of Sir Edward Ashton
+at Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s, where it appeared as if he had been
+invited in order to pursue his matrimonial plan.</p>
+
+<p>At a dinner given by Lord Elmwood, Sir Edward was
+announced as an unexpected visitor; Miss Milner did not
+suppose him such, and she turned pale when his name was
+uttered. Dorriforth fixed his eyes upon her with some tokens
+of compassion, while Sandford seemed to exult, and by his
+repeated &ldquo;Welcomes&rdquo; to the Baronet, gave proofs how
+much he was rejoiced to see him. All the declining enmity
+of Miss Milner was renewed at this behaviour, and suspecting
+Sandford as the instigator of the visit, she could not overcome
+her displeasure, but gave way to it in a manner she
+thought the most mortifying. Sir Edward, in the course
+of conversation, enquired &ldquo;What neighbours were in the
+country;&rdquo; and she, with an appearance of high satisfaction,
+named Lord Frederick Lawnly as being hourly expected at
+his uncle&rsquo;s. The colour spread over Sir Edward&rsquo;s face&mdash;Dorriforth
+was confounded&mdash;and Mr. Sandford looked
+enraged.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did Lord Frederick tell <i>you</i> he should be down?&rdquo; Sandford
+asked of Dorriforth.</p>
+
+<p>To which he replied, &ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I hope, Mr. Sandford, you will permit <i>me</i> to know?&rdquo;
+said Miss Milner. For as she now meant to torment him
+by what she said, she no longer constrained herself to silence&mdash;and
+as he harboured the same kind intention towards her,
+he had no longer any objection to make a reply, and therefore
+answered,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, madam, if it depended upon my permission, you
+should <i>not</i> know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not <i>any thing</i>, Sir, I dare say; you would keep me in
+utter ignorance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I would.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;From a self-interested motive, Mr. Sandford&mdash;that
+I might have a greater respect for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Some of the company laughed&mdash;Mrs. Horton coughed&mdash;Miss
+Woodley blushed&mdash;Lord Elmwood sneered&mdash;Dorriforth
+frowned&mdash;and Miss Fenton looked just as she did before.</p>
+
+<p>The conversation was changed as soon as possible, and early
+in the evening the party from Milner Lodge returned home.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner had scarce left her dressing room, where she
+had been taking off some part of her dress, when Dorriforth&rsquo;s
+servant came to acquaint her that his master was alone in
+his study, and begged to speak with her. She felt herself
+tremble&mdash;she immediately experienced a consciousness that
+she had not acted properly at Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s; for she felt
+a presentiment that her guardian was going to upbraid her,
+and her heart whispered that he had never yet reproached
+her without a cause.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley just then entered her apartment, and she
+found herself so much a coward, as to propose that she
+should go with her, and aid her with a word or two occasionally
+in her excuse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What you, my dear,&rdquo; returned Miss Woodley, &ldquo;who not
+three hours ago had the courage to vindicate your own cause
+before a whole company, of whom many were your adversaries;
+do <i>you</i> want an advocate before your guardian alone,
+who has ever treated you with tenderness?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is that very tenderness which frightens me; which
+intimidates, and strikes me dumb. Is it possible I can
+return impertinence to the language and manners which
+Mr. Dorriforth uses? and as I am debarred from that resource,
+what can I do but stand before him like a guilty
+creature, acknowledging my faults.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She again entreated her friend to go with her; but on
+a positive refusal, from the impropriety of such an intrusion,
+she was obliged at length to go by herself.</p>
+
+<p>How much does the difference of exterior circumstances
+influence not only the manners, but even the persons of
+some people! Miss Milner in Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s drawing
+room, surrounded by listeners, by admirers, (for even her
+enemies could not look at her without admiration) animated
+with approbation and applause&mdash;and Miss Milner, with no
+giddy observer to give her actions a false &eacute;clat, destitute of
+all but her own understanding, (which secretly condemns
+her) upon the point of receiving censure from her guardian
+and friend, are two different beings. Though still beautiful
+beyond description, she does not look even in person the
+same. In the last-mentioned situation, she was shorter in
+stature than in the former&mdash;she was paler&mdash;she was thinner&mdash;and
+a very different contour presided over her whole air,
+and all her features.</p>
+
+<p>When she arrived at the door of the study, she opened it
+with a trepidation she could hardly account for, and entered
+to Dorriforth the altered woman she has been represented.
+His heart had taken the most decided part against her, and
+his face had assumed the most severe aspect of reproach;
+but her appearance gave an instantaneous change to his
+whole mind, and countenance.</p>
+
+<p>She halted, as if she feared to approach&mdash;he hesitated, as
+if he knew not how to speak. Instead of the anger with
+which he was prepared to begin, his voice involuntarily
+softened, and without knowing what he said, he began,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear Miss Milner.&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>She expected he was angry, and in her confusion his gentleness
+was lost upon her. She imagined that what he said
+might be censure, and she continued to tremble, though he
+repeatedly assured her, that he meant only to advise, not
+upbraid her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For as to all those little disputes between Mr. Sandford
+and you,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I should be partial if I blamed you
+more than him&mdash;indeed, when you take the liberty to condemn
+him, his character makes the freedom appear in a more
+serious light than when he complains of you&mdash;and yet, if
+he provokes your retorts, he alone must answer for them; nor
+will I undertake to decide betwixt you. But I have a question
+to ask you, and to which I require a serious and unequivocal
+answer. Do you expect Lord Frederick in the country?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Without hesitation she replied, &ldquo;I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One more question I have to ask, madam, and to which
+I expect a reply equally unreserved. Is Lord Frederick the
+man you approve for your husband?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Upon this close interrogation she discovered an embarrassment,
+beyond any she had ever yet betrayed, and faintly
+replied,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, he is not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your words tell me one thing,&rdquo; answered Dorriforth,
+&ldquo;but your looks declare another&mdash;which am I to believe?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Which you please,&rdquo; was her answer, while she discovered
+an insulted dignity, that astonished, without convincing him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But then why encourage him to follow you hither, Miss
+Milner?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why commit a thousand follies (she replied in tears)
+every hour of my life?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You then promote the hopes of Lord Frederick without
+one serious intention of completing them? This is a conduct
+against which it is my duty to guard you, and you shall no
+longer deceive either him or yourself. The moment he
+arrives, it is my resolution that you refuse to see him, or
+consent to become his wife.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In answer to the alternative thus offered, she appeared
+averse to both propositions; and yet came to no explanation
+why; but left her guardian at the end of the conference as
+much at a loss to decide upon her true sentiments, as he was
+before he had thus seriously requested he might be informed
+of them; but having stedfastly taken the resolution which
+he had just communicated, he found that resolution a certain
+relief to his mind.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_XII" id="I_CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<p>Sir Edward Ashton, though not invited by Miss Milner,
+yet frequently did himself the honour to visit her at her
+house; sometimes he accompanied Lord Elmwood, at other
+times he came to see Dorriforth alone, who generally introduced
+him to the ladies. But Sir Edward was either so
+unwilling to give pain to the object of his love, or so intimidated
+by her frowns, that he seldom addressed her with
+a single word, except the usual compliments at entering,
+and retiring. This apprehension of offending, without one
+hope of pleasing, had the most awkward effect upon the
+manners of the worthy Baronet; and his endeavours to
+insinuate himself into the affections of the woman he loved,
+merely by not giving her offence either in speaking to her
+or looking at her, formed a character so whimsical, that it
+frequently forced a smile from Miss Milner, though his very
+name had often power to throw a gloom over her face: she
+looked upon him as the cause of her being hurried to the
+election of a lover, before her own mind could well direct her
+where to fix. Besides, his pursuit was troublesome, while it
+was no triumph to her vanity, which by the addresses of
+Lord Frederick, was in the highest manner gratified.</p>
+
+<p>His Lordship now arrives in the country, and calls one
+morning at Miss Milner&rsquo;s; her guardian sees his carriage
+coming up the avenue, and gives orders to the servants, to
+say their lady is not at home, but that Mr. Dorriforth is:
+Lord Frederick leaves his compliments and goes away.</p>
+
+<p>The ladies all observed his carriage and servants. Miss
+Milner flew to her glass, adjusted her dress, and in her looks
+expressed every sign of palpitation&mdash;but in vain she keeps her
+eye fixed upon the door of the apartment; no Lord Frederick
+appears.</p>
+
+<p>After some minutes of expectation, the door opens and her
+guardian comes in;&mdash;she was disappointed; he perceived
+that she was, and he looked at her with a most serious face;&mdash;she
+immediately called to mind the assurance he had given
+her, &ldquo;That her acquaintance with Lord Frederick in its
+then improper state should not continue,&rdquo; and between
+chagrin and confusion, she was at a loss how to behave.</p>
+
+<p>Though the ladies were all present, Dorriforth said, without
+the smallest reserve, &ldquo;Perhaps, Miss Milner, you may
+think I have taken an unwarrantable liberty, in giving orders
+to your servants to deny you to Lord Frederick; but until
+his Lordship and I have had a private conference, or you
+condescend to declare your sentiments more fully in regard
+to his visits, I think it my duty to put an end to them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will always perform your duty, Mr. Dorriforth,
+I have no doubt, whether I concur or not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yet believe me, madam, I should perform it more cheerfully,
+if I could hope that it was sanctioned by your inclinations.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not mistress of my inclinations, Sir, or they should
+conform to yours.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Place them under my direction, and I will answer for it
+they will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A servant came in&mdash;&ldquo;Lord Frederick is returned, Sir, and
+says he should be glad to see you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shew him into the
+study,&rdquo; cried Dorriforth hastily, and rising from his chair,
+left the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope they won&rsquo;t quarrel,&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton, meaning,
+that she thought they would.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry to see you so uneasy, Miss Milner,&rdquo; said Miss
+Fenton, with perfect unconcern.</p>
+
+<p>As the badness of the weather had prevented their usual
+morning&rsquo;s exercise, the ladies were employed at their needles
+till the dinner bell called them away. &ldquo;Do you think Lord
+Frederick is gone?&rdquo; then whispered Miss Milner to Miss
+Woodley.&mdash;&ldquo;I think not,&rdquo; she replied.&mdash;&ldquo;Go ask of the servants,
+dear creature.&rdquo; And Miss Woodley went out of the
+room. She soon returned and said, apart, &ldquo;He is now
+getting into his chariot; I saw him pass in violent haste
+through the hall; he seemed to fly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ladies, the dinner is waiting,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Horton, and
+they repaired to the dining room, where Dorriforth soon
+after came, and engrossed their whole attention by his
+disturbed looks, and unusual silence. Before dinner was
+over, he was, however, more himself, but still he appeared
+thoughtful and dissatisfied. At the time of their evening
+walk he excused himself from accompanying them, and they
+saw him in a distant field with Mr. Sandford in earnest conversation;
+for Sandford and he often stopped on one spot
+for a quarter of an hour, as if the interest of the subject had
+so engaged them, they stood still without knowing it.
+Lord Elmwood, who had joined the ladies, walked home
+with them; Dorriforth entered soon after, in a much less
+gloomy humour than when he went out, and told his
+relation, that he and the ladies would dine with him the
+next day if he was disengaged; and it was agreed they
+should.</p>
+
+<p>Still Dorriforth was in some perturbation, but the immediate
+cause was concealed till the day following, when, about
+an hour before the company&rsquo;s departure from the Castle,
+Miss Milner and Miss Woodley were desired, by a servant,
+to walk into a separate apartment, in which they found
+Mr. Dorriforth with Mr. Sandford waiting for them. Her
+guardian made an apology to Miss Milner for the form, the
+ceremony, of which he was going to make use; but he trusted,
+the extreme weight which oppressed his mind, lest he should
+mistake the real sentiments of a person whose happiness
+depended upon his correct knowledge of them, would plead
+his excuse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know, Miss Milner,&rdquo; continued he, &ldquo;the world in
+general allows to unmarried women great latitude in disguising
+their mind with respect to the man they love. I too, am
+willing to pardon any little dissimulation that is but consistent
+with a modesty that becomes every woman upon the
+subject of marriage. But here, to what point I may limit,
+or you may extend, this kind of venial deceit, may so widely
+differ, that it is not impossible for me to remain unacquainted
+with your sentiments, even after you have revealed them to
+me. Under this consideration, I wish once more to hear
+your thoughts in regard to matrimony, and to hear them
+before one of your own sex, that I may form an opinion by
+her constructions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To all this serious oration, Miss Milner made no other
+reply than by turning to Mr. Sandford, and asking, &ldquo;If he
+was the person of her own sex, to whose judgment her
+guardian was to submit his own?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; cried Sandford angrily, &ldquo;you are come hither
+upon serious business.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Any business must be serious to me, Mr. Sandford, in
+which you are concerned; and if you had called it <i>sorrowful</i>,
+the epithet would have suited as well.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Milner,&rdquo; said her guardian, &ldquo;I did not bring you
+here to contend with Mr. Sandford.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then why, Sir, bring him hither? for where he and I are,
+there must be contention.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I brought him hither, Madam, or I should rather say,
+brought you to this house, merely that he might be present
+on this occasion, and with his discernment relieve me from
+a suspicion, that my own judgment is neither able to suppress
+nor to confirm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are there any more witnesses you may wish to call in,
+Sir, to remove your doubts of my veracity? if there are,
+pray send for them before you begin your interrogations.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head&mdash;she continued.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The whole world is welcome to hear what I say, and
+every different person is welcome to judge me differently.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Miss Milner,&rdquo;&mdash;cried Miss Woodley, with a tone
+of reproach for the vehemence with which she had
+spoken.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps, Miss Milner,&rdquo; said Dorriforth, &ldquo;you will not
+now reply to those questions I was going to put?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did I ever refuse, Sir,&rdquo; returned she with a self-approving
+air, &ldquo;to comply with any request that you have seriously
+made? Have I ever refused obedience to your commands
+whenever you thought proper to lay them upon me? If not,
+you have no right to suppose that I will do so now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was going to reply, when Mr. Sandford sullenly interrupted
+him, and making towards the door, cried, &ldquo;When
+you come to the point for which you brought me here, send
+for me again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stay now,&rdquo; said Dorriforth. &ldquo;And Miss Milner,&rdquo; continued
+he, &ldquo;I not only entreat, but command you to tell
+me&mdash;have you given your word, or your affections to Lord
+Frederick Lawnly?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The colour spread over her face, and she replied&mdash;&ldquo;I
+thought confessions were always to be in secret; however,
+as I am not a member of your church, I submit to the persecution
+of a heretic, and I answer&mdash;Lord Frederick has neither
+my word, nor any share in my affections.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, Dorriforth, and Miss Woodley looked at each
+other with a degree of surprise that for some time kept them
+silent. At length Dorriforth said, &ldquo;And it is your firm
+intention never to become his wife?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To which she answered&mdash;&ldquo;At present it is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At present! do you suspect you shall change your
+sentiments?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Women sometimes do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But before that change can take place, your acquaintance
+will be at an end: for it is that which I shall next insist upon,
+and to which you can have no objection.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She replied, &ldquo;I had rather it should continue.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On what account?&rdquo; cried Dorriforth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because it entertains me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For shame, for shame!&rdquo; returned he; &ldquo;it endangers
+your character and your happiness. Yet again, do not suffer
+me to interfere, if the breaking with Lord Frederick can
+militate against your felicity.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By no means,&rdquo; she answered; &ldquo;Lord Frederick makes
+part of my amusement, but could never constitute my
+felicity.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Woodley,&rdquo; said Dorriforth, &ldquo;do you comprehend
+your friend in the same literal and unequivocal sense that
+I do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly I do, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And pray, Miss Woodley,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;were those the
+sentiments which you have always entertained?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley hesitated&mdash;he continued. &ldquo;Or has this
+conversation altered them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated again, then answered&mdash;&ldquo;This conversation
+has altered them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And yet you confide in it!&rdquo; cried Sandford, looking at
+her with contempt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly I do,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not you then, Mr. Sandford?&rdquo; asked Dorriforth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I would advise you to act as if I did,&rdquo; replied Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, Miss Milner,&rdquo; said Dorriforth, &ldquo;you see Lord
+Frederick no more&mdash;and I hope I have your permission to
+apprize him of this arrangement.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have, Sir,&rdquo; she replied with a completely unembarrassed
+countenance and voice.</p>
+
+<p>Her friend looked at her as if to discover some lurking wish,
+adverse to all these protestations, but she could not discern
+one. Sandford too fixed his penetrating eyes upon her, as
+if he would look through her soul, but finding it perfectly
+composed, he cried out,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why then not write his dismission herself, and save you,
+Mr. Dorriforth, the trouble of any farther contest with
+him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed, Miss Milner,&rdquo; said Dorriforth, &ldquo;that would
+oblige me; for it is with great reluctance that I meet him
+upon this subject&mdash;he was extremely impatient and importunate
+when he was last with me&mdash;he took advantage of my
+ecclesiastical situation to treat me with a levity and ill
+breeding, that I could ill have suffered upon any other
+consideration than a compliance with my duty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dictate what you please, Mr. Dorriforth, and I will
+write it,&rdquo; said she, with a warmth like the most unaffected
+inclination. &ldquo;And while you, Sir,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;are so
+indulgent as not to distress me with the importunities of any
+gentleman to whom I am averse, I think myself equally
+bound to rid you of the impertinence of every one to whom
+you may have objection.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; answered he, &ldquo;rest assured I have no material
+objection to my Lord Frederick, except from that dilemma,
+in which your acquaintance with him has involved us all;
+and I should conceive the same against any other man, where
+the same circumstance occurred. As you have now, however,
+freely and politely consented to the manner in which it has
+been proposed that you shall break with him, I will not
+trouble you a moment longer upon a subject on which I have
+so frequently explained my wishes, but conclude it by
+assuring you, that your ready acquiescence has given me
+the sincerest satisfaction.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope, Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; said she, turning to him with
+a smile, &ldquo;I have given <i>you</i> satisfaction likewise?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford could not say yes, and was ashamed to say no;
+he, therefore, made answer only by his looks, which were
+full of suspicion. She, notwithstanding, made him a very
+low courtesy. Her guardian then handed her out of the
+apartment into her coach, which was waiting to take her,
+Miss Woodley, and himself, home.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_XIII" id="I_CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the seeming readiness with which Miss
+Milner had resigned all farther acquaintance with Lord
+Frederick, during the short ride home she appeared to have
+lost great part of her wonted spirits; she was thoughtful,
+and once sighed heavily. Dorriforth began to fear that she
+had not only made a sacrifice of her affections, but of her
+veracity; yet, why she had done so, he could not comprehend.</p>
+
+<p>As the carriage moved slowly through a lane between
+Elmwood Castle and her own house, on casting her eyes out
+of the window, Miss Milner&rsquo;s countenance was brightened
+in an instant, and that instant Lord Frederick, on horse-back,
+was at the coach door, and the coachman stopped.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Miss Milner,&rdquo; cried he, (with a voice and manner
+that could give little suspicion of the truth of what he said)
+&ldquo;I am overjoyed at the happiness of seeing you, even though
+it is but an accidental meeting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was evidently glad to see <i>him</i>; but the earnestness
+with which he spoke, put her upon her guard not to express
+the like, and she said, in a cool constrained manner, she
+&ldquo;Was glad to see his Lordship.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The reserve with which she spoke, gave Lord Frederick
+immediate suspicion who was in the coach with her, and
+turning his head quickly, he met the stern eye of Dorriforth;
+upon which, without the smallest salutation, he turned from
+him again abruptly and rudely. Miss Milner was confused,
+and Miss Woodley in torture, at this palpable affront, to
+which Dorriforth alone appeared indifferent.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; said Miss Milner to the footman, &ldquo;desire the
+coachman to drive on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; cried Lord Frederick, &ldquo;not till you have told me
+when I shall see you again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will write you word, my Lord,&rdquo; replied she, something
+alarmed. &ldquo;You shall have a letter immediately after I get
+home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As if he guessed what its contents were to be, he cried
+out with warmth, &ldquo;Take care, then, Madam, how you treat
+me in that letter&mdash;and you, Mr. Dorriforth,&rdquo; turning to
+him, &ldquo;do you take care what it contains; for if it is dictated
+by you, to you I shall send the answer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Dorriforth, without making any reply, or casting a look
+at him, put his head out of the window on the opposite side,
+and called, in a very angry tone, to the coachman, &ldquo;How
+dare you not drive on, when your Lady orders you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The sound of Dorriforth&rsquo;s voice in anger, was to the
+servants so unusual, that it acted like electricity upon the
+man, and he drove on at the instant with such rapidity,
+that Lord Frederick was in a moment left many yards behind.
+As soon, however, as he recovered from the surprise into
+which this sudden command had thrown him, he rode with
+speed after the carriage, and followed it, till it arrived at the
+door of Miss Milner&rsquo;s house; there, giving himself up to the
+rage of love, or to rage against Dorriforth for the contempt
+he had shewn to him, he leaped from his horse when Miss
+Milner stepped from her carriage, and seizing her hand,
+entreated her &ldquo;Not to desert him, in compliance with the
+injunctions of monkish hypocrisy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Dorriforth heard this, standing silently by, with a manly
+scorn upon his countenance.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner struggled to loose her hand, saying, &ldquo;Excuse
+me from replying to you now, my Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In return, he lifted her hand eagerly to his lips, and began
+to devour it with kisses; when Dorriforth, with an instantaneous
+impulse, rushed forward, and struck him a violent
+blow in the face. Under the force of this assault, and the
+astonishment it excited, Lord Frederick staggered, and
+letting fall the hand of Miss Milner, her guardian immediately
+laid hold of it, and led her into the house.</p>
+
+<p>She was terrified beyond description; and with extreme
+difficulty Mr. Dorriforth conveyed her to her own chamber,
+without taking her in his arms. When, by the assistance of
+her maid, he had placed her upon a sofa&mdash;covered with
+shame and confusion for what he had done, he fell upon his
+knees before her, and earnestly &ldquo;Entreated her forgiveness
+for the indelicacy he had been guilty of in her presence.&rdquo;
+And that he had alarmed her, and had forgot the respect
+which he thought sacredly her due, seemed the only circumstance
+which then dwelt upon his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>She felt the indecorum of the posture he had condescended
+to take, and was shocked. To see her guardian at her feet,
+struck her with a sense of impropriety, as if she had seen
+a parent there. All agitation and emotion, she implored
+him to rise, and, with a thousand protestations, declared,
+&ldquo;That she thought the rashness of the action was the highest
+proof of his regard for her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley now entered; her care being ever employed
+upon the unfortunate, Lord Frederick had been the object of
+it: she had waited by his side, and, with every good purpose,
+had preached patience to him, while he was smarting under
+the pain, but more under the shame, of his chastisement.
+At first, his fury threatened a retort upon the servants
+around him (and who refused his entrance into the house) of
+the punishment he had received. But, in the certainty of
+an <i>amende honorable</i>, which must hereafter be made, he
+overcame the many temptations which the moment offered,
+and re-mounting his horse rode away from the scene of his
+disgrace.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner had Miss Woodley entered the room, and
+Dorriforth had resigned to her the care of his ward, than he
+flew to the spot where he had left Lord Frederick, negligent
+of what might be the event if he still remained there. After
+enquiring, and being told that he was gone, Dorriforth
+returned to his own apartment; and with a bosom torn by
+more excruciating sensations than those which he had given
+to his adversary.</p>
+
+<p>The reflection that struck him first with remorse, as he
+shut the door upon himself, was:&mdash;&ldquo;I have departed from
+my character&mdash;from the sacred character, and the dignity
+of my profession and sentiments&mdash;I have departed from
+myself. I am no longer the philosopher, but the ruffian&mdash;I
+have treated with an unpardonable insult a young nobleman,
+whose only offence was love, and a fond desire to
+insinuate himself into the favour of his mistress. I must
+atone for this outrage in whatever manner he may choose;
+and the law of honour and of justice (though in this one
+instance contrary to the law of religion) enjoins, that if he
+demands my life in satisfaction for his wounded feelings, it
+is his due. Alas! that I could have laid it down this morning,
+unsullied with a cause for which it will make but inadequate
+atonement.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His next reproach was&mdash;&ldquo;I have offended and filled with
+horror, a beautiful young woman, whom it was my duty to
+have protected from those brutal manners, to which I myself
+have exposed her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Again&mdash;&ldquo;I have drawn upon myself the just upbraidings
+of my faithful preceptor and friend; of the man in whose
+judgment it was my delight to be approved&mdash;above all,
+I have drawn upon myself the stings of my conscience.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where shall I pass this sleepless night?&rdquo; cried he, walking
+repeatedly across his chamber; &ldquo;Can I go to the ladies?
+I am unworthy of their society. Shall I go and repose my
+disturbed mind on Sandford? I am ashamed to tell him
+the cause of my uneasiness. Shall I go to Lord Frederick,
+and humbling myself before him, beg his forgiveness? He
+would spurn me for a coward. No&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;(and he lifted up
+his eyes to Heaven) &ldquo;Thou all great, all wise and omnipotent
+Being, Thou whom I have most offended, it is to Thee
+alone that I have recourse in this hour of tribulation, and
+from Thee alone I solicit comfort. And the confidence in
+which I now address myself to Thee, encouraged by that
+long intercourse which religion has effected, repays me amply
+in this one moment, for the many years of my past life
+devoted with my best, though imperfect, efforts to thy
+service.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_XIV" id="I_CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<p>Although Miss Milner had not foreseen any fatal event
+resulting from the indignity offered to Lord Frederick, yet
+she passed a night very different from those to which she had
+been accustomed. No sooner was she falling into a sleep,
+than a thousand vague, but distressing, ideas darted across
+her imagination. Her heart would sometimes whisper to
+her when she was half asleep, &ldquo;Lord Frederick is banished
+from you for ever.&rdquo; She shakes off the uneasiness this idea
+brings along with it&mdash;she then starts, and sees the blow still
+aimed at him by Dorriforth. No sooner has she driven away
+this painful image, than she is again awakened by beholding
+her guardian at her feet sueing for pardon. She sighs, she
+trembles, and is chilled with terror.</p>
+
+<p>Relieved by tears, towards the morning she sinks into
+a slumber, but waking, finds the same images crowding all
+together upon her mind: she is doubtful to which to give
+the preference&mdash;one, however, rushes the foremost, and
+continues so. She knows not the fatal consequence of
+ruminating, nor why she dwells upon that, more than upon
+all the rest, but it will give place to none.</p>
+
+<p>She rises languid and disordered, and at breakfast, adds
+fresh pain to Dorriforth by her altered appearance.</p>
+
+<p>He had scarce left the room, when an officer waited upon
+him with a challenge from Lord Frederick. To the message
+delivered by this gentleman, he replied,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sir, as a clergyman, more especially of the church of
+Rome, I know not whether I am not exempt from answering
+a demand of this kind; but not having had forbearance to
+avoid an offence, I will not claim an exemption that would
+only indemnify me from making reparation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will then, Sir, meet Lord Frederick at the appointed
+hour?&rdquo; said the officer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will, Sir; and my immediate care shall be to find
+a gentleman who will accompany me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The officer withdrew, and when Dorriforth was again
+alone, he was going once more to reflect, but he durst not.
+Since yesterday, reflection, for the first time, was become
+painful to him; and even as he rode the short way to Lord
+Elmwood&rsquo;s immediately after, he found his own thoughts
+were so insufferable, that he was obliged to enter into conversation
+with his servant. Solitude, that formerly charmed him,
+would, at those moments, have been worse than death.</p>
+
+<p>At Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s, he met Sandford in the hall, and the
+sight of him was no longer welcome&mdash;he knew how different
+the principles which he had just adopted were to those of
+that reverend friend, and without his complaining, or even
+suspecting what had happened, his presence was a sufficient
+reproach. He passed him as hastily as he could, and enquiring
+for Lord Elmwood, disclosed to him his errand. It was
+to ask him to be his second;&mdash;the young Earl started, and
+wished to consult his tutor, but that, his kinsman strictly
+forbade; and having urged his reasons with arguments,
+which at least <i>he</i> could not refute, he was at length prevailed
+upon to promise that he would accompany him to the field,
+which was at the distance only of a few miles, and the parties
+were to be there at seven on the same evening.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as his business with Lord Elmwood was settled,
+Dorriforth returned home, to make preparations for the event
+which might ensue from this meeting. He wrote letters to
+several of his friends, and one to his ward, in writing which,
+he could with difficulty preserve the usual firmness of his mind.
+Sandford going into Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s library soon after his
+relation had left him, expressed his surprise at finding he was
+gone; upon which that nobleman having answered a few
+questions, and given a few significant hints that he was
+entrusted with a secret, frankly confessed, what he had
+promised to conceal.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, as much as a holy man could be, was enraged at
+Dorriforth for the cause of the challenge, but was still more
+enraged at his wickedness in accepting it. He applauded
+his pupil&rsquo;s virtue in making the discovery, and congratulated
+himself that he should be the instrument of saving not only
+his friend&rsquo;s life, but of preventing the scandal of his being
+engaged in a duel.</p>
+
+<p>In the ardour of his designs, he went immediately to Miss
+Milner&rsquo;s&mdash;entered that house which he had so long refused
+to enter, and at a time when he was upon aggravated bad
+terms with its owner.</p>
+
+<p>He asked for Dorriforth, went hastily into his apartment,
+and poured upon him a torrent of rebukes. Dorriforth bore
+all he said with the patience of a devotee, but with the
+firmness of a man. He owned his fault, but no eloquence
+could make him recall the promise he had given to repair
+the injury. Unshaken by the arguments, persuasions, and
+menaces of Sandford, he gave an additional proof of that
+inflexibility for which he had been long distinguished&mdash;and
+after a dispute of two hours, they parted, neither of them
+the better for what either had advanced, but Dorriforth
+something the worse; his conscience gave testimony to
+Sandford&rsquo;s opinion, &ldquo;that he was bound by ties more sacred
+than worldly honour.&rdquo; But while he owned, he would not
+yield to the duty.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford left him, determined, however, that Lord
+Elmwood should not be accessory in his guilt, and this he
+declared; upon which Dorriforth took the resolution of
+seeking another second.</p>
+
+<p>In passing through the house on his return home, Sandford
+met, by accident, Mrs. Horton, Miss Milner, and the other
+two ladies returning from a saunter in the garden. Surprised
+at the sight of Mr. Sandford in her house, Miss
+Milner would not express that surprise, but going up to him
+with all the friendly benevolence which in general played
+about her heart, she took hold of one of his hands, and
+pressed it with a kindness which told him more forcibly
+that he was welcome, than if she had made the most
+elaborate speech to convince him of it. He, however, seemed
+little touched with her behaviour, and as an excuse for
+breaking his word, cried,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon, madam, but I was brought hither in
+my anxiety to prevent murder.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Murder!&rdquo; exclaimed all the ladies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered he, addressing himself to Miss Fenton,
+&ldquo;your betrothed husband is a party concerned; he is going
+to be second to Mr. Dorriforth, who means this very evening
+to be killed by my Lord Frederick, or to kill him, in addition
+to the blow that he gave him last night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Horton exclaimed, &ldquo;if Mr. Dorriforth dies, he dies
+a martyr.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley cried with fervour, &ldquo;Heaven forbid!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Fenton cried, &ldquo;dear me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>While Miss Milner, without uttering one word, sunk
+speechless on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>They lifted her up and brought her to the door which
+entered into the garden. She soon recovered; for the
+tumult of her mind would not suffer her to remain inactive,
+and she was rouzed, in spite of her weakness, to endeavour
+to ward off the impending disaster. In vain, however, she
+attempted to walk to her guardian&rsquo;s apartment&mdash;she sunk
+as before, and was taken to a settee, while Miss Woodley was
+dispatched to bring him to her.</p>
+
+<p>Informed of the cause of her indisposition, he followed
+Miss Woodley with a tender anxiety for her health, and with
+grief and confusion that he had so carelessly endangered it.
+On his entering the room Sandford beheld the inquietude of
+his mind, and cried, &ldquo;Here is your <i>Guardian</i>,&rdquo; with a cruel
+emphasis on the word.</p>
+
+<p>He was too much engaged by the sufferings of his ward to
+reply to Sandford. He placed himself on the settee by her,
+and with the utmost tenderness, reverence, and pity, entreated
+her not to be concerned at an accident in which he,
+and he alone, had been to blame; but which he had no
+doubt would be accommodated in the most amicable
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have one favour to require of you, Mr. Dorriforth,&rdquo;
+said she, &ldquo;and that is, your promise, your solemn promise,
+which I know is ever sacred, that you will not meet my Lord
+Frederick.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Madam,&rdquo; cried Sandford, &ldquo;he is grown a libertine
+now, and I would not believe his word, if he were to give
+it you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, Sir,&rdquo; returned Dorriforth angrily, &ldquo;you <i>may</i>
+believe my word, for I will keep that which I gave to <i>you</i>.
+I will give Lord Frederick all the restitution in my power.
+But my dear Miss Milner, let not this alarm you; we may
+not find it convenient to meet this many a day; and most
+probably some fortunate explanation may prevent our
+meeting at all. If not, reckon but among the many duels
+that are fought, how few are fatal: and even in that case,
+how small would be the loss to society, if&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; He was
+proceeding.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should ever deplore the loss!&rdquo; cried Miss Milner;
+&ldquo;on such an occasion, I could not survive the death of
+either.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For my part,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;I look upon my life as much
+forfeited to my Lord Frederick, to whom I have given
+a high offence, as it might in other instances have been
+forfeited to the offended laws of the land. Honour, is the
+law of the polite part of the land; we know it; and when
+we transgress against it knowingly, we justly incur our
+punishment. However, Miss Milner, this affair will not be
+settled immediately, and I have no doubt, but that all will
+be as you could wish. Do you think I should appear thus
+easy,&rdquo; added he with a smile, &ldquo;if I were going to be shot at
+by my Lord Frederick?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well!&rdquo; cried Sandford, with a look that evinced
+he was better informed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will stay within then, all this day?&rdquo; said Miss
+Milner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am engaged to dinner,&rdquo; he replied; &ldquo;it is unlucky&mdash;I
+am sorry for it&mdash;but I&rsquo;ll be at home early in the evening.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stained with human blood,&rdquo; cried Sandford, &ldquo;or yourself
+a corpse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The ladies lifted up their hands!&mdash;Miss Milner rose from
+her seat, and threw herself at her guardian&rsquo;s feet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You kneeled to me last night, I now kneel to you,&rdquo; (she
+cried) &ldquo;kneel, never desiring to rise again, if you persist in
+your intention. I am weak, I am volatile, I am indiscreet,
+but I have a heart from which some impressions can never&mdash;oh!
+never, be erased.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He endeavoured to raise her, she persisted to kneel&mdash;and
+here the affright, the terror, the anguish, she endured,
+discovered to her, her own sentiments&mdash;which, till that
+moment, she had doubted&mdash;and she continued,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I no longer pretend to conceal my passion&mdash;I love Lord
+Frederick Lawnly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her guardian started.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, to my shame I love him:&rdquo; (cried she, all emotion)
+&ldquo;I meant to have struggled with the weakness, because
+I supposed it would be displeasing to you&mdash;but apprehension
+for his safety has taken away every power of restraint, and
+I beseech you to spare his life.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is exactly what I thought,&rdquo; cried Sandford, with
+an air of triumph.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good heaven!&rdquo; cried Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it is very natural,&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I own,&rdquo; said Dorriforth, (struck with amaze, and now
+taking her from his feet with a force that she could not
+resist) &ldquo;I own, Miss Milner, I am greatly affected and
+wounded at this contradiction in your character.&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But did not I say so?&rdquo; cried Sandford, interrupting him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;However,&rdquo; continued he, &ldquo;you may take my word,
+though you have deceived me in your&rsquo;s, that Lord Frederick&rsquo;s
+life is secure. For your sake, I would not endanger it for
+the universe. But let this be a warning to you&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>He was proceeding with the most austere looks, and
+pointed language, when observing the shame, and the self-reproach
+that agitated her mind, he divested himself in great
+measure of his resentment, and said, mildly,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let this be a warning to you, how you deal in future
+with the friends who wish you well. You have hurried me
+into a mistake that might have cost me my life, or the life
+of the man you love; and thus exposed <i>you</i> to misery, more
+bitter than death.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not worthy of your friendship, Mr. Dorriforth,&rdquo;
+said she, sobbing with grief, &ldquo;and from this moment forsake
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Madam, not in the moment you first discover to me,
+how I can make you happy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The conversation appearing now to become of a nature
+in which the rest of the company could have no share whatever,
+they were all, except Mr. Sandford, retiring; when
+Miss Milner called Miss Woodley back, saying, &ldquo;Stay you
+with me; I was never so unfit to be left without your
+friendship.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps at present you can dispense with mine?&rdquo; said
+Dorriforth. She made no answer. He then, once more
+assured her Lord Frederick&rsquo;s life was safe, and was quitting
+the room&mdash;but when he recollected in what humiliation he
+had left her, turning towards her as he opened the door,
+he added,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And be assured, Madam, that my esteem for you, shall
+be <i>the same as ever</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, as he followed him, bowed, and repeated the
+same words&mdash;&ldquo;And, Madam, be assured that my esteem for
+you, shall be the same as ever.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_XV" id="I_CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<p>This taunting reproof from Sandford made little impression
+upon Miss Milner, whose thoughts were all fixed on a subject
+of much more importance than the opinion which he entertained
+of her. She threw her arms about her friend the
+moment they were left alone, and asked, with anxiety, &ldquo;What
+she thought of her behaviour?&rdquo; Miss Woodley, who could
+not approve of the duplicity she had betrayed, still wished
+to reconcile her as much as possible to her own conduct, and
+replied, she &ldquo;Highly commended the frankness with which
+she had, at last, acknowledged her sentiments.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Frankness!&rdquo; cried Miss Milner, starting. &ldquo;Frankness,
+my dear Miss Woodley! What you have just now heard
+me say, is all a falsehood.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How, Miss Milner!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Miss Woodley,&rdquo; returned she, sobbing upon her
+bosom, &ldquo;pity the agonies of my heart, my heart, by nature
+sincere, when such are the fatal propensities it cherishes,
+that I must submit to the grossest falsehoods rather than
+reveal the truth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What can you mean?&rdquo; cried Miss Woodley, with the
+strongest amazement in her face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you suppose I love Lord Frederick? Do you suppose
+I <i>can</i> love him? Oh fly, and prevent my guardian from
+telling him such an untruth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What can you mean?&rdquo; repeated Miss Woodley;
+&ldquo;I protest you terrify me.&rdquo; For this inconsistency in the
+behaviour of Miss Milner, appeared as if her senses had been
+deranged.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fly,&rdquo; she resumed, &ldquo;and prevent the inevitable ill
+consequence which will ensue, if Lord Frederick should be
+told this falsehood. It will involve us all in greater disquiet
+than we suffer at present.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then what has influenced you, my dear Miss Milner?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That which impels all my actions&mdash;an unsurmountable
+instinct&mdash;a fatality, that will for ever render me the most
+miserable of human beings; and yet you, even you, my dear
+Miss Woodley, will not pity me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley pressed her closely in her arms, and vowed,
+&ldquo;That while she was unhappy, from whatever cause, she
+still would pity her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go to Mr. Dorriforth then, and prevent him from
+imposing upon Lord Frederick.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But that imposition is the only means of preventing the
+duel,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley. &ldquo;The moment I have told
+him that your affection was but counterfeited, he will no
+longer refuse accepting the challenge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then at all events I am undone,&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Milner,
+&ldquo;for the duel is horrible, even beyond every thing else.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How so?&rdquo; returned Miss Woodley, &ldquo;since you have
+declared you do not care for Lord Frederick?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But are you so blind,&rdquo; returned Miss Milner with a degree
+of madness in her looks, &ldquo;as to believe I do not care for
+Mr. Dorriforth? Oh! Miss Woodley! I love him with all
+the passion of a mistress, and with all the tenderness of
+a wife.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley at this sentence sat down&mdash;it was on a chair
+that was close to her&mdash;her feet could not have taken her to
+any other. She trembled&mdash;she was white as ashes, and
+deprived of speech. Miss Milner, taking her by the hand,
+said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know what you feel&mdash;I know what you think of me&mdash;and
+how much you hate and despise me. But Heaven is
+witness to all my struggles&mdash;nor would I, even to myself,
+acknowledge the shameless prepossession, till forced by a
+sense of his danger&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Silence,&rdquo; cried Miss Woodley, struck with horror.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And even now,&rdquo; resumed Miss Milner, &ldquo;have I not
+concealed it from all but you, by plunging myself into a new
+difficulty, from which I know not how I shall be extricated?
+And do I entertain a hope? No, Miss Woodley, nor ever will.
+But suffer me to own my folly to you&mdash;to entreat your soothing
+friendship to free me from my weakness. And, oh! give
+me your advice, to deliver me from the difficulties which
+surround me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley was still pale, and still silent.</p>
+
+<p>Education, is called second nature; in the strict (but not
+enlarged) education of Miss Woodley, it was more powerful
+than the first&mdash;and the violation of oaths, persons, or things
+consecrated to Heaven, was, in her opinion, if not the most
+enormous, yet among the most terrific in the catalogue of
+crimes.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner had lived so long in a family who had imbibed
+those opinions, that she was convinced of their existence;
+nay, her own reason told her that solemn vows of every kind,
+ought to be sacred; and the more she respected her guardian&rsquo;s
+understanding, the less did she call in question his religious
+tenets&mdash;in esteeming him, she esteemed all his notions; and
+among the rest, venerated those of his religion. Yet that
+passion, which had unhappily taken possession of her whole
+soul, would not have been inspired, had there not subsisted
+an early difference, in their systems of divine faith. Had
+she been early taught what were the sacred functions of
+a Roman ecclesiastic, though all her esteem, all her admiration,
+had been attracted by the qualities and accomplishments
+of her guardian, yet education, would have given such a prohibition
+to her love, that she would have been precluded
+from it, as by that barrier which divides a sister from a
+brother.</p>
+
+<p>This, unfortunately, was not the case; and Miss Milner
+loved Dorriforth without one conscious check to tell her
+she was wrong, except that which convinced her&mdash;her love
+would be avoided by him with detestation, and with
+horror.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley, something recovered from her first surprise,
+and sufferings&mdash;for never did her susceptible mind suffer so
+exquisitely&mdash;amidst all her grief and abhorrence, felt that
+pity was still predominant&mdash;and reconciled to the faults of
+Miss Milner by her misery, she once more looked at her with
+friendship, and asked, &ldquo;What she could do to render her
+less unhappy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Make me forget,&rdquo; replied Miss Milner, &ldquo;every moment
+of my life since I first saw you&mdash;that moment was teeming
+with a weight of cares, under which I must labour till my
+death.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And even in death,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley, &ldquo;do not
+hope to shake them off. If unrepented in this world&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>She was proceeding&mdash;but the anxiety her friend endured,
+would not suffer her to be free from the apprehension, that,
+notwithstanding the positive assurance of her guardian, if he
+and Lord Frederick should meet, the duel might still take
+place; she therefore rang the bell and enquired if Mr. Dorriforth
+was still at home?&mdash;the answer was&mdash;&ldquo;He had rode
+out. You remember,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;he told you
+he should dine from home.&rdquo; This did not, however, dismiss
+her fears, and she dispatched two servants different ways in
+pursuit of him, acquainting them with her suspicions, and
+charging them to prevent the duel. Sandford had also taken
+his precautions; but though he knew the time, he did not
+know the exact place of their appointment, for that Lord
+Elmwood had forgot to enquire.</p>
+
+<p>The excessive alarm which Miss Milner discovered upon
+this occasion, was imputed by the servants, and by others
+who were witnesses of it, to her affection for Lord Frederick;
+while none but Miss Woodley knew, or had the most distant
+suspicion of the real cause.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Horton and Miss Fenton, who were sitting together
+expatiating on the duplicity of their own sex in the instance
+just before them, had, notwithstanding the interest of the
+discourse, a longing desire to break it off; for they were
+impatient to see this poor frail being whom they were
+loading with their censure. They longed to see if she would
+have the confidence to look them in the face: them, to whom
+she had so often protested, that she had not the smallest
+attachment to Lord Frederick, but from motives of vanity.</p>
+
+<p>These ladies heard with infinite satisfaction that dinner had
+been served, but met Miss Milner at the table with a less
+degree of pleasure than they had expected; for her mind
+was so totally abstracted from any consideration of <i>them</i>,
+that they could not discern a single blush, or confused glance,
+which their presence occasioned. No, she had before them
+divulged nothing of which she was ashamed; she was only
+ashamed that what she had said was not true. In the bosom
+of Miss Woodley alone was that secret entrusted which could
+call a blush into her face, and before her, she <i>did</i> feel confusion&mdash;before
+the gentle friend, to whom she had till this
+time communicated all her faults without embarrassment,
+she now cast down her eyes in shame.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after the dinner was removed, Lord Elmwood
+entered; and that gallant young nobleman declared&mdash;&ldquo;Mr.
+Sandford had used him ill, in not permitting him to accompany
+his relation; for he feared that Mr. Dorriforth would
+now throw himself upon the sword of Lord Frederick, without
+a single friend near to defend him.&rdquo; A rebuke from
+the eye of Miss Woodley, which from this day had a command
+over Miss Milner, restrained her from expressing the
+affright she suffered from this intimation. Miss Fenton
+replied, &ldquo;As to that, my Lord, I see no reason why Mr. Dorriforth
+and Lord Frederick should not now be friends.&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton; &ldquo;for as soon as my Lord
+Frederick is made acquainted with Miss Milner&rsquo;s confession,
+all differences must be reconciled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What confession?&rdquo;
+asked Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner, to avoid hearing a repetition of that which
+gave her pain even to recollect, rose in order to retire into
+her own apartment, but was obliged to sit down again, till she
+received the assistance of Lord Elmwood and her friend, who
+led her into her dressing room. She reclined upon a sofa
+there, and though left alone with that friend, a silence followed
+of half an hour; nor when the conversation began,
+was the name of Dorriforth once uttered&mdash;they were grown
+cool and considerate since the discovery, and both were
+equally fearful of naming him.</p>
+
+<p>The vanity of the world, the folly of riches, the charms of
+retirement, and such topics engaged their discourse, but not
+their thoughts, for near two hours; and the first time the
+word Dorriforth was spoken, was by a servant, who with
+alacrity opened the dressing room door, without previously
+rapping, and cried, &ldquo;Madam, Mr. Dorriforth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Dorriforth immediately came in, and went eagerly to Miss
+Milner. Miss Woodley beheld the glow of joy and of guilt
+upon her face, and did not rise to give him her seat, as was
+her custom, when she was sitting by his ward and he came
+to her with intelligence. He therefore stood while he
+repeated all that had happened in his interview with Lord
+Frederick.</p>
+
+<p>But with her gladness to see her guardian safe, she had
+forgot to enquire of the safety of his antagonist; of the man
+whom she had pretended to love so passionately&mdash;even smiles
+of rapture were upon her face, though Dorriforth might be
+returned from putting him to death. This incongruity of
+behaviour Miss Woodley observed, and was confounded&mdash;but
+Dorriforth, in whose thoughts a suspicion either of her
+love for him, or indifference for Lord Frederick, had no
+place, easily reconciled this inconsistency, and said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see by my countenance that all is well, and therefore
+you smile on me before I tell you what has passed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This brought her to the recollection of her conduct, and
+now with looks ill constrained, she attempted the expression
+of an alarm she did not feel.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, I assure you Lord Frederick is safe,&rdquo; he resumed,
+&ldquo;and the disgrace of his blow washed entirely away, by a few
+drops of blood from this arm.&rdquo; And he laid his hand upon
+his left arm, which rested in his waistcoat as a kind of sling.</p>
+
+<p>She cast her eyes there, and seeing where the ball had
+entered the coat sleeve, she gave an involuntary scream, and
+sunk upon the sofa. Instead of that affectionate sympathy
+which Miss Woodley used to exert upon her slightest illness
+or affliction, she now addressed her in an unpitying tone,
+and said, &ldquo;Miss Milner, you have heard Lord Frederick is
+safe, you have therefore nothing to alarm you.&rdquo; Nor did
+she run to hold a smelling bottle, or to raise her head. Her
+guardian seeing her near fainting, and without any assistance
+from her friend, was going himself to give it; but on this,
+Miss Woodley interfered, and having taken her head upon
+her arm, assured him, &ldquo;It was a weakness to which Miss
+Milner was accustomed: that she would ring for her maid,
+who knew how to relieve her instantly with a few drops.&rdquo;
+Satisfied with this, Dorriforth left the room; and a surgeon
+being come to examine his wound, he retired into his own
+chamber.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_XVI" id="I_CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+<p>The power delegated by the confidential to those entrusted
+with their secrets, Miss Woodley was the last person on earth
+to abuse&mdash;but she was also the last, who, by an accommodating
+complacency, would participate in the guilt of her
+friend&mdash;and there was no guilt, except that of murder, which
+she thought equal to the crime in question, if it was ever
+perpetrated. Adultery, reason would perhaps have informed
+her, was a more pernicious evil to society; but to a religious
+mind, what sound is so horrible as <i>sacrilege</i>? Of vows made
+to God or to man, the former must weigh the heaviest.
+Moreover, the sin of infidelity in the married state, is not
+a little softened to common understandings, by its frequency;
+whereas, of religious vows broken by a devotee she had never
+heard; unless where the offence had been followed by such
+examples of divine vengeance, such miraculous punishments
+in this world, (as well as eternal punishment in the other) as
+served to exaggerate the wickedness.</p>
+
+<p>She, who could, and who did pardon Miss Milner, was
+the person who saw her passion in the severest light, and
+resolved upon every method, however harsh, to root it from
+her heart&mdash;nor did she fear success, resting on the certain
+assurance, that however deep her love might be fixed, it
+would never be returned. Yet this confidence did not
+prevent her taking every precaution, lest Dorriforth should
+come to the knowledge of it. She would not have his composed
+mind disturbed with such a thought&mdash;his steadfast
+principles so much as shaken by the imagination&mdash;nor overwhelm
+him with those self-reproaches which his fatal attraction,
+unpremeditated as it was, would still have drawn upon
+him.</p>
+
+<p>With this plan of concealment, in which the natural
+modesty of Miss Milner acquiesced, there was but one effort
+for which this unhappy ward was not prepared; and that
+was an entire separation from her guardian. She had, from
+the first, cherished her passion without the most remote
+prospect of a return&mdash;she was prepared to see Dorriforth,
+without ever seeing him more nearly connected to her than
+as her guardian and friend; but not to see him at all&mdash;for
+<i>that</i>, she was not prepared.</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Woodley reflected upon the inevitable necessity
+of this measure before she made the proposal; and then
+made it with a firmness that might have done honour to the
+inflexibility of Dorriforth himself.</p>
+
+<p>During the few days that intervened between her open
+confession of a passion for Lord Frederick and this proposed
+plan of separation, the most intricate incoherence appeared
+in the character of Miss Milner&mdash;and in order to evade
+a marriage with him, and conceal, at the same time, the
+shameful propensity which lurked in her breast, she was once
+even on the point of declaring a passion for Sir Edward
+Ashton.</p>
+
+<p>In the duel which had taken place between Lord Frederick
+and Dorriforth, the latter had received the fire of his antagonist,
+but positively refused to return it; by which he had
+kept his promise not to endanger his Lordship&rsquo;s life, and
+had reconciled Sandford, in great measure, to his behaviour&mdash;and
+Sandford now (his resolution once broken) no longer
+refused entering Miss Milner&rsquo;s house, but came whenever it
+was convenient, though he yet avoided the mistress of it as
+much as possible; or showed by every word and look, when
+she was present, that she was still less in his favour than she
+had ever been.</p>
+
+<p>He visited Dorriforth on the evening of his engagement
+with Lord Frederick, and the next morning breakfasted
+with him in his own chamber; nor did Miss Milner see her
+guardian after his first return from that engagement before
+the following noon. She enquired, however, of his servant
+how he did, and was rejoiced to hear that his wound was but
+slight&mdash;yet this enquiry she durst not make before Miss
+Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>When Dorriforth made his appearance the next day, it
+was evident that he had thrown from his heart a load of cares;
+and though they had left a languor upon his face, content
+was in his voice, in his manners, in every word and action.
+Far from seeming to retain any resentment against his ward,
+for the danger into which her imprudence had led him, he
+appeared rather to pity her indiscretion, and to wish to soothe
+the perturbation which the recollection of her own conduct
+had evidently raised in her mind. His endeavours were
+successful&mdash;she was soothed every time he spoke to her;
+and had not the watchful eye of Miss Woodley stood guard
+over her inclinations, she had plainly discovered, that she
+was enraptured with the joy of seeing him again himself,
+after the danger to which he had been exposed.</p>
+
+<p>These emotions, which she laboured to subdue, passed,
+however, the bounds of her ineffectual resistance, when at
+the time of retiring after dinner, he said to her in a low
+voice, but such as it was meant the company should hear,
+&ldquo;Do me the favour, Miss Milner, to call at my study some
+time in the evening; I have to speak with you upon business.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She answered, &ldquo;I will, Sir.&rdquo; And her eyes swam with
+delight, in expectation of the interview.</p>
+
+<p>Let not the reader, nevertheless, imagine, there was in
+that ardent expectation, one idea which the most spotless
+mind, in love, might not have indulged without reproach.
+Sincere love (at least among the delicate of the female sex)
+is often gratified by that degree of enjoyment, or rather
+forbearance, which would be torture in the pursuit of any
+other passion. Real, delicate, and restrained love, such as
+Miss Milner&rsquo;s, was indulged in the sight of the object only;
+and having bounded her wishes by her hopes, the height of
+her happiness was limited to a conversation, in which no
+other but themselves took a part.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley was one of those who heard the appointment,
+but the only one who conceived with what sensation
+it was received.</p>
+
+<p>While the ladies remained in the same room with Dorriforth,
+Miss Milner thought of little, except of him. As soon
+as they withdrew into another apartment, she remembered
+Miss Woodley; and turning her head suddenly, saw her
+friend&rsquo;s face imprinted with suspicion and displeasure: this
+at first was painful to her&mdash;but recollecting that in a couple
+of hours she was to meet her guardian alone&mdash;to speak to him,
+and hear him speak to her only&mdash;every other thought was
+absorbed in that one, and she considered with indifference,
+the uneasiness, or the anger of her friend.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner, to do justice to her heart, did not wish to
+beguile Dorriforth into the snares of love: could any supernatural
+power have endowed her with the means, and at the
+same time have shewn to her the ills that must arise from
+such an effect of her charms, she had assuredly virtue enough
+to have declined the conquest; but without enquiring what
+she proposed, she never saw him, without previously endeavouring
+to look more attractive, than she would have
+desired, before any other person. And now, without listening
+to the thousand exhortations that spoke in every feature
+of Miss Woodley, she flew to a looking-glass, to adjust her
+dress in a manner that she thought most enchanting.</p>
+
+<p>Time stole away, and the time of going to her guardian
+arrived. In his presence, unsupported by the presence of
+any other, every grace that she had practised, every look that
+she had borrowed to set off her charms, were annihilated;
+and she became a native beauty, with the artless arguments
+of reason only for her aid. Awed thus by his power, from
+every thing but what she really was, she never was perhaps
+half so bewitching, as in those timid, respectful, and embarrassed
+moments she passed alone with him. He caught at
+those times her respect, her diffidence, nay, even her embarrassment;
+and never would one word of anger pass on
+either side.</p>
+
+<p>On the present occasion, he first expressed the high satisfaction
+that she had given him, by at length revealing to him
+the real state of her mind.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And when I take every thing into consideration, Miss
+Milner,&rdquo; added he, &ldquo;I rejoice that your sentiments happen
+to be such as you have owned. For, although my Lord
+Frederick is not the very man I could have wished for your
+perfect happiness; yet, in the state of human perfection
+and human happiness, you might have fixed your affections
+with perhaps less propriety; and still, where my unwillingness
+to thwart your inclinations might not have permitted
+me to contend with them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Not a word of reply did this demand; or if it had, not
+a word could she have given.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now, Madam, the reason of my desire to speak
+with you&mdash;is, to know the means you think most proper to
+pursue, in order to acquaint Lord Frederick, that notwithstanding
+this late repulse, there are hopes of your partiality
+in his favour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Defer the explanation,&rdquo; she replied eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon&mdash;it cannot be. Besides, how can you
+indulge a disposition thus unpitying? Even so ardently did
+I desire to render the man who loves you happy, that though
+he came armed against my life, had I not reflected, that
+previous to our engagement it would appear like fear, and
+the means of bartering for his forgiveness, I should have
+revealed your sentiments the moment I had seen him. When
+the engagement was over, I was too impatient to acquaint
+you with his safety, to think then on gratifying him. And
+indeed, the delicacy of the declaration, after the many
+denials which you have no doubt given him, should be
+considered. I therefore consult your opinion upon the
+manner in which it shall be made.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Dorriforth, can you allow nothing to the moments
+of surprise, and that pity, which the fate impending inspired?
+and which might urge me to express myself of Lord Frederick,
+in a manner my cooler thoughts will not warrant?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There was nothing in your expressions, my dear Miss
+Milner, the least equivocal&mdash;if you were off your guard
+when you pleaded for Lord Frederick, as I believe you were,
+you said more sincerely what you thought; and no discreet,
+or rather indiscreet attempts to retract, can make me change
+these sentiments.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am very sorry,&rdquo; she replied, confused and trembling.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why sorry? Come give me commission to reveal your
+partiality. I&rsquo;ll not be too hard upon you&mdash;a hint from me
+will do. Hope is ever apt to interpret the slightest words
+to its own use, and a lover&rsquo;s hope is beyond all others,
+sanguine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never gave Lord Frederick hope.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you never plunged him into despair.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;His pursuit intimates that I never have, but he has no
+other proof.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;However light and frivolous you have been upon frivolous
+subjects, yet I must own, Miss Milner, that I did expect
+when a case of this importance came seriously before you,
+you would have discovered a proper stability in your behaviour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do, Sir; and it was only when I was affected with
+a weakness, which arose from accident, that I have betrayed
+inconsistency.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You then assert again, that you have no affection for
+my Lord Frederick?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not enough to become his wife.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are alarmed at marriage, and I do not wonder you
+should be so; it shews a prudent foresight which does you
+honour&mdash;but, my dear, are there no dangers in a single
+state? If I may judge, Miss Milner, there are many more
+to a young lady of your accomplishments, than if you were
+under the protection of a husband.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My father, Mr. Dorriforth, thought your protection
+sufficient.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But that protection was rather to direct your choice,
+than to be the cause of your not choosing at all. Give me
+leave to point out an observation which, perhaps, I have
+too frequently made before, but upon this occasion I must
+intrude it once again. Miss Fenton is its object&mdash;her
+fortune is inferior to your&rsquo;s, her personal attractions are
+less&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Here the powerful glow of joy, and of gratitude, for an
+opinion so negligently, and yet so sincerely expressed, flew
+to Miss Milner&rsquo;s face, neck, and even to her hands and
+fingers; the blood mounted to every part of her skin that
+was visible, for not a fibre but felt the secret transport,
+that Dorriforth thought her more beautiful than the beautiful
+Miss Fenton.</p>
+
+<p>If he observed her blushes, he was unsuspicious of the
+cause, and went on.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is, besides, in the temper of Miss Fenton, a sedateness
+that might with less hazard ensure her safety in an
+unmarried life; and yet she very properly thinks it her
+duty, as she does not mean to seclude herself by any vows
+to the contrary, to become a wife&mdash;and in obedience to the
+counsel of her friends, will be married within a very few
+weeks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Fenton may marry from obedience, I never will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You mean to say, that love shall alone induce you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you would point out a subject upon which I am the
+least able to reason, and on which my sentiments, such as
+they are, are formed only from theory, (and even there,
+more cautioned than instructed) it is the subject of love.
+And yet, even that little which I know, tells me, without
+a doubt, that what you said yesterday, pleading for Lord
+Frederick&rsquo;s life, was the result of the most violent and
+tender love.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The <i>little you know</i> then, Mr. Dorriforth, has deceived
+you; had you <i>known more</i>, you would have judged otherwise.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I submit to the merit of your reply; but without
+allowing me a judge at all, I will appeal to those who were
+present with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are Mrs. Horton and Mr. Sandford to be the connoisseurs?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; I&rsquo;ll appeal to Miss Fenton and Miss Woodley.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And yet, I believe,&rdquo; replied she with a smile, &ldquo;I believe
+theory must only be the judge even there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then from all you have said, Madam, on this occasion,
+I am to conclude that you still refuse to marry Lord
+Frederick?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you submit never to see him again?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All you then said to me, yesterday, was false?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was not mistress of myself at the time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Therefore it was truth!&mdash;for shame, for shame!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the door opened, and Mr. Sandford
+walked in&mdash;he started back on seeing Miss Milner, and was
+going away; but Dorriforth called to him to stay, and said
+with warmth,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me, Mr. Sandford, by what power, by what persuasion,
+I can prevail upon Miss Milner to confide in me
+as her friend; to lay her heart open, and credit mine
+when I declare to her, that I have no view in all the advice
+I give to her, but her immediate welfare.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Dorriforth, you know my opinion of that lady,&rdquo;
+replied Sandford; &ldquo;it has been formed ever since my first
+acquaintance with her, and it continues the same.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But instruct me how I am to inspire her with confidence,&rdquo;
+returned Dorriforth; &ldquo;how I am to impress her with
+a sense of that, which is for her advantage?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can work no miracles,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;you are
+not holy enough.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And yet my ward,&rdquo; answered Dorriforth, &ldquo;appears to
+be acquainted with that mystery; for what but the force of
+a miracle can induce her to contradict to-day, what before
+you, and several other witnesses, she positively acknowledged
+yesterday?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you call that miraculous?&rdquo; cried Sandford; &ldquo;the
+miracle had been if she had <i>not</i> done so&mdash;for did she not
+yesterday contradict what she acknowledged the day before?
+and will she not to-morrow disavow what she says to-day?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish that she may&mdash;&rdquo; replied Dorriforth mildly, for
+he saw the tears flowing down her face at the rough and
+severe manner in which Sandford had spoken, and he began
+to feel for her uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg pardon,&rdquo; cried Sandford, &ldquo;for speaking so rudely
+to the mistress of the house&mdash;I have no business here, I know;
+but where <i>you</i> are, Mr. Dorriforth, unless I am turned out,
+I shall always think it my duty to come.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner curtsied, as much as to say, he was welcome
+to come. He continued,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was to blame, that upon a nice punctilio, I left you so
+long without my visits, and without my counsel; in that
+time, you have run the hazard of being murdered, and what
+is worse, of being excommunicated; for had you been so
+rash as to have returned your opponent&rsquo;s fire, not all my
+interest at Rome would have obtained remission of the
+punishment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner, through all her tears, could not now restrain
+her laughter. On which he resumed;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And here do I venture, like a missionary among savages&mdash;but
+if I can only save you from their scalping knives&mdash;from
+the miseries which that lady is preparing for you, I am
+rewarded.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford spoke this with great fervour, and the offence of
+her love never appeared to her in so tremendous a point of
+view, as when thus, unknowingly, alluded to by him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>The miseries that lady is preparing for you</i>,&rdquo; hung upon
+her ears like the notes of a raven, and sounded equally
+ominous. The words &ldquo;<i>murder</i>&rdquo; and &ldquo;<i>excommunication</i>&rdquo;
+he had likewise uttered; all the fatal effects of sacrilegious
+love. Frightful superstitions struck her to the heart, and she
+could scarcely prevent falling down under their oppression.</p>
+
+<p>Dorriforth beheld the difficulty she had in sustaining herself,
+and with the utmost tenderness went towards her, and
+supporting her, said, &ldquo;I beg your pardon&mdash;I invited you
+hither with a far different intention than your uneasiness,
+and be assured&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford was beginning to speak, when Dorriforth resumed,&mdash;&ldquo;Hold,
+Mr. Sandford, the lady is under my protection,
+and I know not whether it is not requisite that you
+should apologize to her, and to me, for what you have already
+said.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You asked my opinion, or I had not given it you&mdash;would
+you have me, like <i>her</i>, speak what I do not think?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Say no more, Sir,&rdquo; cried Dorriforth&mdash;and leading her
+kindly to the door, as if to defend her from his malice, told
+her, &ldquo;He would take another opportunity of renewing the
+subject.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="I_CHAPTER_XVII" id="I_CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+<p>When Dorriforth was alone with Sandford, he explained
+to him what before he had only hinted; and this learned
+Jesuit frankly confessed, &ldquo;That the mind of woman was
+far above, or rather beneath, his comprehension.&rdquo; It was
+so, indeed&mdash;for with all his penetration, and few even of
+that school had more, he had not yet penetrated into the
+recesses of Miss Milner&rsquo;s heart.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley, to whom she repeated all that had passed
+between herself, her guardian, and Sandford, took this
+moment, in the agitation of her spirits, to alarm her still
+more by prophetic insinuations; and at length represented
+to her here, for the first time, the necessity, &ldquo;That Mr. Dorriforth
+and she no longer should remain under the same roof.&rdquo;
+This was like the stroke of sudden death to Miss Milner, and
+clinging to life, she endeavoured to avert the blow by prayers,
+and by promises. Her friend loved her too sincerely to be
+prevailed upon.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But in what manner can I accomplish the separation?&rdquo;
+cried she, &ldquo;for till I marry we are obliged, by my father&rsquo;s
+request, to live in the same house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Milner,&rdquo; answered Miss Woodley, &ldquo;much as I
+respect the will of a dying man, I regard your and Mr. Dorriforth&rsquo;s
+present and eternal happiness much more; and it is
+my resolution that you <i>shall part</i>. If <i>you</i> will not contrive
+the means, that duty falls on me, and without any invention
+I see the measure at once.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; cried Miss Milner eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will reveal to Mr. Dorriforth, without hesitation, the
+real state of your heart; which your present inconsistency
+of conduct will but too readily confirm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You would not plunge me into so much shame, into so
+much anguish!&rdquo; cried she, distractedly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley, &ldquo;not for the world, if you
+will separate from him by any mode of your own&mdash;but that
+you <i>shall</i> separate is my determination; and in spite of all
+your sufferings, this shall be the expedient, unless you
+instantly agree to some other.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good Heaven, Miss Woodley! is this your friendship?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;and the truest friendship I have to bestow. Think
+what a task I undertake for your sake and his, when I condemn
+myself to explain to him your weakness. What
+astonishment! what confusion! what remorse, do I foresee
+painted upon his face! I hear him call you by the harshest
+names, and behold him fly from your sight for ever, as an
+object of his detestation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh spare the dreadful picture.&mdash;Fly from my sight for
+ever! Detest my name! Oh! my dear Miss Woodley, let
+but his friendship for me still remain, and I will consent to
+any thing. You may command me. I will go away from
+him directly&mdash;but let us part in friendship&mdash;Oh! without
+the friendship of Mr. Dorriforth, life would be a heavy
+burthen indeed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley immediately began to contrive schemes
+for their separation; and, with all her invention alive on the
+subject, the following was the only natural one that she could
+form.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner, in a letter to her distant relation at Bath,
+was to complain of the melancholy of a country life, which
+she was to say her guardian imposed upon her; and she was
+to entreat the lady to send a pressing invitation that she
+would pass a month or two at her house; this invitation
+was to be laid before Dorriforth for his approbation,
+and the two ladies were to enforce it, by expressing their
+earnest wishes for his consent. This plan having been
+properly regulated, the necessary letter was sent to Bath,
+and Miss Woodley waited with patience, but with a watchful
+guard upon the conduct of her friend, till the answer should
+arrive.</p>
+
+<p>During this interim a tender and complaining epistle from
+Lord Frederick was delivered to Miss Milner; to which,
+as he received no answer, he prevailed upon his uncle, with
+whom he resided, to wait upon her, and obtain a verbal
+reply; for he still flattered himself, that fear of her guardian&rsquo;s
+anger, or perhaps his interception of the letter which he had
+sent, was the sole cause of her apparent indifference.</p>
+
+<p>The old gentleman was introduced both to Miss Milner
+and to Mr. Dorriforth, but received from each an answer
+so explicit, that left his nephew no longer in doubt but that
+all farther pursuit was vain.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Edward Ashton about this time also submitted to
+a formal dismission; and had the mortification to reflect,
+that he was bestowing upon the object of his affections, the
+tenderest proof of his regard, by absenting himself entirely
+from her society.</p>
+
+<p>Upon this serious and certain conclusion to the hopes of
+Lord Frederick, Dorriforth was more astonished than ever
+at the conduct of his ward. He had once thought her
+behaviour in this respect was ambiguous, but since her
+confession of a passion for that nobleman, he had no doubt
+but in the end she would become his wife. He lamented
+to find himself mistaken, and thought it proper now to
+condemn her caprice, not merely in words, but in the
+general tenor of his behaviour. He consequently became
+more reserved, and more austere than he had been since his
+first acquaintance with her; for his manners, not from
+design, but imperceptibly to himself, had been softened
+since he became her guardian, by that tender respect which
+he had uniformly paid to the object of his protection.</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the severity he now assumed, his ward,
+in the prospect of parting from him, grew melancholy; Miss
+Woodley&rsquo;s love to her friend rendered her little otherwise;
+and Dorriforth&rsquo;s peculiar gravity, frequently rigour, could
+not but make their whole party less cheerful than it had been.
+Lord Elmwood too, at this time was lying dangerously ill
+of a fever; Miss Fenton of course was as much in sorrow
+as her nature would permit her to be, and both Sandford and
+Dorriforth in extreme concern upon his Lordship&rsquo;s account.</p>
+
+<p>In this posture of affairs, the letter of invitation arrives
+from Lady Luneham at Bath; it was shewn to Dorriforth;
+and to prove to his ward that he is so much offended, as no
+longer to feel that excessive interest in her concerns which
+he once felt, he gives an opinion on the subject with indifference&mdash;he
+desires &ldquo;Miss Milner will do what she herself
+thinks proper.&rdquo; Miss Woodley instantly accepts this permission,
+writes back, and appoints the day upon which her
+friend means to set off for the visit.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner is wounded at the heart by the cold and
+unkind manners of her guardian, but dares not take one step
+to retrieve his opinion. Alone, or to her friend, she sighs
+and weeps: he discovers her sorrow, and is doubtful whether
+the departure of Lord Frederick from that part of the
+country is not the cause.</p>
+
+<p>When the time she was to set out for Bath was only two
+days off, the behaviour of Dorriforth took, by degrees, its
+usual form, if not a greater share of polite and tender attention
+than ever. It was the first time he had parted from
+Miss Milner since he became her guardian, and he felt upon
+the occasion, a reluctance. He had been angry with her,
+he had shewn her that he was, and he now began to wish
+that he had not. She is not happy, (he considered within
+himself) every word and action declares she is not; I may
+have been too severe, and added perhaps to her uneasiness.
+&ldquo;At least we will part on good terms,&rdquo; said he&mdash;&ldquo;Indeed, my
+regard for her is such, I cannot part otherwise.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She soon discerned his returning kindness, and it was
+a gentle tie that would have fastened her to that spot for
+ever, but for the firm resistance of Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What will the absence of a few months effect?&rdquo; said
+she, pleading her own cause; &ldquo;At the end of a few months
+at farthest, he will expect me back, and where then will be the
+merit of this separation?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In that time,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley, &ldquo;we may find
+some method to make it longer.&rdquo; To this she listened with
+a kind of despair, but uttered, she &ldquo;Was resigned,&rdquo;&mdash;and
+she prepared for her departure.</p>
+
+<p>Dorriforth was all anxiety that every circumstance of her
+journey should be commodious; he was eager she should
+be happy; and he was eager she should see that he entirely
+forgave her. He would have gone part of the way with her,
+but for the extreme illness of Lord Elmwood, in whose
+chamber he passed most of the day, and slept in Elmwood
+House every night.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning of her journey, when Dorriforth gave
+his hand and conducted Miss Milner to the carriage, all the
+way he led her she could not restrain her tears; which
+increased, as he parted from her, to convulsive sobs. He was
+affected by her grief; and though he had previously bid her
+farewell, he drew her gently on one side, and said, with the
+tenderest concern,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear Miss Milner, we part friends?&mdash;I hope we do?&mdash;On
+my side, depend upon it, that I regret nothing so much
+at our separation, as having ever given you a moment&rsquo;s pain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe so,&rdquo; was all she could utter, for she hastened
+from him, lest his discerning eye should discover the cause
+of the weakness which thus overcame her. But her apprehensions
+were groundless; the rectitude of his own heart was
+a bar to the suspicion of her&rsquo;s. He once more kindly bade
+her adieu, and the carriage drove away.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Fenton and Miss Woodley accompanied her part of
+the journey, about thirty miles, where they were met by
+Sir Harry and Lady Luneham. Here was a parting nearly
+as affecting as that between her and her guardian. Miss
+Woodley, who for several weeks had treated her friend with
+a rigidness she herself hardly supposed was in her nature,
+now bewailed that she had done so; implored her forgiveness;
+promised to correspond with her punctually, and to
+omit no opportunity of giving her every consolation short
+of cherishing her fatal passion&mdash;but in that, and that only,
+was the heart of Miss Milner to be consoled.</p>
+
+<p>END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>A<br />
+SIMPLE STORY,</h2>
+
+<h3>IN FOUR VOLUMES,</h3>
+
+<h4>BY</h4>
+
+<h3>MRS. INCHBALD.</h3>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>VOL. II.</h2>
+
+<h4><i>THE FOURTH EDITION.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="center">
+LONDON:<br />
+
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,<br />
+<span class="smcap">Paternoster Row.</span><br />
+
+1799.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>A SIMPLE STORY</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="II_CHAPTER_I" id="II_CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<p>When Miss Milner arrived at Bath, she thought it the
+most altered place she had ever seen&mdash;she was mistaken&mdash;it
+was herself that was changed.</p>
+
+<p>The walks were melancholy, the company insipid, the
+ball-room fatiguing&mdash;for, she had left behind all that could
+charm or please her.</p>
+
+<p>Though she found herself much less happy than when she
+was at Bath before, yet she felt, that she would not, even to
+enjoy all that past happiness, be again reduced to the being
+she was at that period. Thus does the lover consider the
+extinction of his passion with the same horror as the libertine
+looks upon annihilation; the one would rather live hereafter,
+though in all the tortures described as constituting
+his future state, than cease to exist; so, there are no tortures
+which a lover would not suffer, rather than cease to love.</p>
+
+<p>In the wide prospect of sadness before her, Miss Milner&rsquo;s
+fancy caught hold of the only comfort which presented
+itself; and this, faint as it was, in the total absence of every
+other, her imagination painted to her as excessive. The
+comfort was a letter from Miss Woodley&mdash;a letter, in which
+the subject of her love would most assuredly be mentioned,
+and in whatever terms, it would still be the means of delight.</p>
+
+<p>A letter arrived&mdash;she devoured it with her eyes. The
+post mark denoting from whence it came, the name of
+&ldquo;Milner Lodge&rdquo; written on the top, were all sources of
+pleasure&mdash;and she read slowly every line it contained, to
+procrastinate the pleasing expectation she enjoyed, till she
+should arrive at the name of Dorriforth. At last, her impatient
+eye caught the word, three lines beyond the place
+she was reading&mdash;irresistibly, she skipped over those lines,
+and fixed on the point to which she was attracted.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley was cautious in her indulgence; she made
+the slightest mention of Dorriforth; saying only, &ldquo;He was
+extremely concerned, and even dejected, at the little hope
+there was of his cousin, Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s, recovery.&rdquo; Short
+and trivial as this passage was, it was still more important to
+Miss Milner than any other in the letter&mdash;she read it again
+and again, considered, and reflected upon it. Dejected,
+thought she, what does that word exactly mean?&mdash;did I ever
+see Mr. Dorriforth dejected?&mdash;how, I wonder, does he look in
+that state? Thus did she muse, while the cause of his dejection,
+though a most serious one, and pathetically described
+by Miss Woodley, scarce arrested her attention once. She
+ran over with haste the account of Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s state of
+health; she certainly pitied him while she thought of him,
+but she did not think of him long. To die, was a hard
+fate for a young nobleman just in possession of his immense
+fortune, and on the eve of marriage with a beautiful young
+woman; but Miss Milner thought that an abode in Heaven
+might be still better than all this, and she had no doubt but
+his Lordship would go thither. The forlorn state of Miss
+Fenton ought to have been a subject for compassion, but
+she knew that lady had resignation to bear any lot with
+patience, and that a trial of her fortitude might be more
+flattering to her vanity than to be Countess of Elmwood: in
+a word, she saw no one&rsquo;s misfortunes equal to her own,
+because she saw no one so little able to bear misfortune.</p>
+
+<p>She replied to Miss Woodley&rsquo;s letter, and dwelt very long
+on that subject which her friend had passed over lightly;
+this was another indulgence; and this epistolary intercourse
+was now the only enjoyment she possessed. From Bath
+she paid several visits with Lady Luneham&mdash;all were alike
+tedious and melancholy.</p>
+
+<p>But her guardian wrote to her, and though it was on
+a topic of sorrow, the letter gave her joy&mdash;the sentiments it
+expressed were merely common-place, yet she valued them
+as the dearest effusions of friendship and affection; and her
+hands trembled, and her heart beat with rapture while she
+wrote the answer, though she knew it would not be received
+by him with one emotion like those which she experienced.
+In her second letter to Miss Woodley, she prayed like a
+person insane to be taken home from confinement, and like
+a lunatic protested, in sensible language, she &ldquo;Had no
+disorder.&rdquo; But her friend replied, &ldquo;That very declaration
+proves its violence.&rdquo; And she assured her, nothing less than
+placing her affections elsewhere, should induce her to believe
+but that she was incurable.</p>
+
+<p>The third letter from Milner Lodge brought the news of
+Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s death. Miss Woodley was exceedingly
+affected by this event, and said little else on any other subject.
+Miss Milner was shocked when she read the words &ldquo;He is
+dead&rdquo;, and instantly thought,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How transient are all sublunary things! Within a few
+years <i>I</i> shall be dead&mdash;and how happy will it then be, if
+I have resisted every temptation to the alluring pleasures
+of this life!&rdquo; The happiness of a peaceful death occupied
+her contemplation for near an hour; but at length, every
+virtuous and pious sentiment this meditation inspired,
+served but to remind her of the many sentences she had
+heard from her guardian&rsquo;s lips upon the same subject&mdash;her
+thoughts were again fixed on him, and she could think of
+nothing besides.</p>
+
+<p>In a short time after this, her health became impaired
+from the indisposition of her mind; she languished, and was
+once in imminent danger. During a slight delirium of her
+fever, Miss Woodley&rsquo;s name and her guardian&rsquo;s were incessantly
+repeated; Lady Luneham sent them immediate word
+of this, and they both hastened to Bath, and arrived there
+just as the violence and danger of her disorder had ceased.
+As soon as she became perfectly recollected, her first care,
+knowing the frailty of her heart, was to enquire what she
+had uttered while delirious. Miss Woodley, who was by her
+bedside, begged her not to be alarmed on that account,
+and assured her she knew, from all her attendants, that she had
+only spoken with a friendly remembrance (as was really the
+case) of those persons who were dear to her.</p>
+
+<p>She wished to know whether her guardian was come to
+see her, but she had not the courage to ask before her
+friend; and she in her turn was afraid by the too sudden
+mention of his name, to discompose her. Her maid, however,
+after some little time, entered the chamber, and
+whispered Miss Woodley. Miss Milner asked inquisitively
+&ldquo;What she said?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The maid replied softly, &ldquo;Lord Elmwood, Madam, wishes
+to come and see you for a few moments, if you will allow
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At this reply Miss Milner stared wildly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I thought Lord Elmwood had
+been dead&mdash;are my senses disordered still?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, my dear,&rdquo; answered Miss Woodley, &ldquo;it is the present
+Lord Elmwood who wishes to see you; he whom you left
+ill when you came hither, <i>is</i> dead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And who is the present Lord Elmwood?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley, after a short hesitation, replied&mdash;&ldquo;Your
+guardian.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And so he is,&rdquo; cried Miss Milner; &ldquo;he is the next heir&mdash;I
+had forgot. But is it possible that he is here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;&rdquo; returned Miss Woodley with a grave voice and
+manner, to moderate that glow of satisfaction which for
+a moment sparkled even in her languid eye, and blushed over
+her pallid countenance. &ldquo;Yes&mdash;as he heard you were ill,
+he thought it right to come and see you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is very good,&rdquo; she answered, and the tear started in
+her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Would you please to see his Lordship?&rdquo; asked her maid.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet, not yet,&rdquo; she replied; &ldquo;let me recollect myself
+first.&rdquo; And she looked with a timid doubt upon her friend,
+to ask if it was proper.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley could hardly support this humble reference
+to her judgment, from the wan face of the poor invalid, and
+taking her by the hand, whispered, &ldquo;You shall do what you
+please.&rdquo; In a few minutes Lord Elmwood was introduced.</p>
+
+<p>To those who sincerely love, every change of situation or
+circumstances in the object beloved, appears an advantage.
+So, the acquisition of a title and estate was, in Miss Milner&rsquo;s
+eye, an inestimable advantage to her guardian; not on
+account of their real value; but that any change, instead of
+diminishing her passion, would have served only to increase
+it&mdash;even a change to the utmost poverty.</p>
+
+<p>When he entered&mdash;the sight of him seemed to be too
+much for her, and after the first glance she turned her head
+away. The sound of his voice encouraged her to look once
+more&mdash;and then she riveted her eyes upon him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is impossible, my dear Miss Milner,&rdquo; he gently
+whispered, &ldquo;to say, what joy I feel that your disorder has
+subsided.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But though it was impossible to say, it was possible to
+<i>look</i> what he felt, and his looks expressed his feelings. In
+the zeal of those sensations, he laid hold of her hand, and
+held it between his&mdash;this he did not himself know&mdash;but
+she did.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have prayed for me, my Lord, I make no doubt?&rdquo;
+said she, and smiled, as if thanking him for those prayers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fervently, ardently!&rdquo; returned he; and the fervency
+with which he had prayed spoke in every feature.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I am a protestant, you know, and if I had died such,
+do you believe I should have gone to Heaven?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Most assuredly, that would not have prevented you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But Mr. Sandford does not think so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He must; for he means to go there himself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To keep her guardian with her, Miss Milner seemed
+inclined to converse; but her solicitous friend gave Lord
+Elmwood a look, which implied that it might be injurious
+to her, and he retired.</p>
+
+<p>They had only one more interview before he left the place;
+at which Miss Milner was capable of sitting up&mdash;he was with
+her, however, but a very short time, some necessary concerns
+relative to his late kinsman&rsquo;s affairs, calling him in haste to
+London. Miss Woodley continued with her friend till she
+saw her entirely reinstated in her health: during which
+time her guardian was frequently the subject of their private
+conversation; and upon those occasions Miss Milner has
+sometimes brought Miss Woodley to acknowledge, &ldquo;That
+could Mr. Dorriforth have possibly foreseen the early death
+of the last Lord Elmwood, it had been more for the honour
+of his religion (as that ancient title would now after him
+become extinct), if he had preferred marriage vows to those
+of celibacy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="II_CHAPTER_II" id="II_CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<p>When the time for Miss Woodley&rsquo;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, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This concession having been obtained, they parted; and
+as winter was now far advanced, Miss Woodley returned to
+her aunt&rsquo;s house in town, from whence Mrs. Horton was,
+however, preparing to remove, in order to superintend Lord
+Elmwood&rsquo;s house, (which had been occupied by the late
+Earl,) in Grosvenor Square; and her niece was to accompany
+her.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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&rsquo;s youth, that he should
+ever inherit the title and estate which had now fallen to him&mdash;and,
+said Mr. Fleetmond, &ldquo;Independent of rank and
+fortune, it must be matter of infinite joy to Mr. Dorriforth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered Sir Harry, &ldquo;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&rsquo;s orders,
+thus depriving himself of the hopes of an heir, so that his
+title, at his death, will be lost.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By no means,&rdquo; replied Mr. Fleetmond; &ldquo;he may yet
+have an heir, for he will certainly marry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marry!&rdquo; cried the Baronet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered the other, &ldquo;it was that I meant by the
+joy it might probably give him, beyond the possession of
+his estate and title.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How he married?&rdquo; said Lady Luneham, &ldquo;Has he not
+taken a vow never to marry?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Mr. Fleetmond, &ldquo;but there are no
+<i>religious</i> vows, from which the sovereign Pontiff at Rome
+cannot grant a dispensation, as those commandments which
+are made by the church, the church has always the power
+to revoke; and when it is for the general good of religion,
+his Holiness thinks it incumbent on him, to publish his bull,
+and remit all penalties for their non-observance; and
+certainly it is for the honour of the Catholics, that this
+Earldom should continue in a Catholic family. In short,
+I&rsquo;ll venture to lay a wager, my Lord Elmwood is married
+within a year.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner, who listened with attention, feared she was
+in a dream, or deceived by the pretended knowledge of
+Mr. Fleetmond, who might know nothing&mdash;yet all that he
+had said was very probable; and he was himself a Roman
+Catholic, so that he must be well informed on the subject
+upon which he spoke. If she had heard the direst news
+that ever sounded in the ears of the most susceptible of
+mortals, the agitation of her mind and person could not
+have been stronger&mdash;she felt, while every word was speaking,
+a chill through all her veins&mdash;a pleasure too exquisite, not
+to bear along with it the sensation of exquisite pain; of
+which she was so sensible, that for a few moments it made
+her wish that she had not heard the intelligence; though,
+very soon after, she would not but have heard it for the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as she had recovered from her first astonishment
+and joy, she wrote to Miss Woodley an exact account of what
+she had heard, and received this answer:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sorry any body should have given you this piece of
+information, because it was a task, in executing which, I had
+promised myself extreme satisfaction&mdash;but from the fear that
+your health was not yet strong enough to support, without
+some danger, the burthen of hopes which I knew would, upon
+this occasion, press upon you, I deferred my communication
+and it has been anticipated. Yet, as you seem in doubt as
+to the reality of what you have been told, perhaps this confirmation
+of it may fall very little short of the first news;
+especially when it is enforced by my request, that you will
+come to us, as soon as you can with propriety leave Lady
+Luneham.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, my dear Miss Milner, and find in your once rigid
+monitor a faithful confidante. I will no longer threaten to
+disclose a secret you have trusted me with, but leave it to the
+wisdom, or sensibility of <i>his</i> heart, (who is now to penetrate
+into the hearts of our sex, in search of one that may beat
+in unison with his own) to find it out. I no longer condemn,
+but congratulate you on your passion; and will assist you
+with all my advice and my earnest wishes, that it may obtain
+a return.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This letter was another of those excruciating pleasures,
+that almost reduced Miss Milner to the grave. Her appetite
+forsook her; and she vainly endeavoured, for several nights,
+to close her eyes. She thought so much upon the prospect
+of accomplishing her wishes, that she could admit no other
+idea; nor even invent one probable excuse for leaving Lady
+Luneham before the appointed time, which was then at the
+distance of two months. She wrote to Miss Woodley to beg
+her contrivance, to reproach her for keeping the secret so
+long from her, and to thank her for having revealed it in so
+kind a manner at last. She begged also to be acquainted
+how Mr. Dorriforth (for still she called him by that name)
+spoke and thought of this sudden change in his destiny.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley&rsquo;s reply was a summons for her to town
+upon some pretended business, which she avoided explaining,
+but which entirely silenced Lady Luneham&rsquo;s entreaties for
+her stay.</p>
+
+<p>To her question concerning Lord Elmwood she answered,
+&ldquo;It is a subject on which he seldom speaks&mdash;he appears just
+the same he ever did, nor could you by any part of his conduct,
+conceive that any such change had taken place.&rdquo; Miss
+Milner exclaimed to herself, &ldquo;I am glad he is not altered&mdash;if
+his words, looks, or manners, were any thing different from
+what they formerly were, I should not like him so well.&rdquo;
+And just the reverse would have been the case, had Miss
+Woodley sent her word he was changed. The day for
+her leaving Bath was fixed; she expected it with rapture,
+but before its arrival, sunk under the care of expectation;
+and when it came, was so much indisposed, as to be obliged
+to defer her journey for a week.</p>
+
+<p>At length she found herself in London&mdash;in the house of
+her guardian&mdash;and that guardian no longer bound to a single
+life, but <i>enjoined</i> to marry. He appeared in her eyes, as in
+Miss Woodley&rsquo;s, the same as ever; or perhaps more endearing
+than ever, as it was the first time she had beheld him with
+hope. Mr. Sandford did <i>not</i> appear the same; yet he was
+in reality as surly and as disrespectful in his behaviour to her
+as usual; but she did not observe, or she did not feel his
+morose temper as heretofore&mdash;he seemed amiable, mild, and
+gentle; at least this was the happy medium through which
+her self-complacent mind began to see him; for good
+humour, like the jaundice, makes every one of its own
+complexion.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="II_CHAPTER_III" id="II_CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood was preparing to go abroad, for the purpose
+of receiving in form, the dispensation from his vows;
+it was, however, a subject he seemed carefully to avoid
+speaking upon; and when by any accident he was obliged
+to mention it, it was without any marks either of satisfaction
+or concern.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner&rsquo;s pride began to be alarmed. While he was
+Mr. Dorriforth, and confined to a single life, his indifference
+to her charms was rather an honourable than a reproachful
+trait in his character, and in reality, she admired him for the
+insensibility. But on the eve of being at liberty, and on the
+eve of making his choice, she was offended <i>that</i> choice was
+not immediately fixed upon her. She had been accustomed
+to receive the devotion of every man who saw her, and not to
+obtain it of the man from whom, of all others, she most
+wished it, was cruelly humiliating. She complained to Miss
+Woodley, who advised her to have patience; but that was
+one of the virtues in which she was the least practised.</p>
+
+<p>Encouraged, nevertheless, by her friend in the commendable
+desire of gaining the affections of him, who possessed all
+her own, she, however, left no means unattempted for the
+conquest&mdash;but she began with too great a certainty of
+success, not to be sensible of the deepest mortification in the
+disappointment&mdash;nay, she anticipated a disappointment, as
+she had before anticipated her success; by turns feeling the
+keenest emotions from hope and from despair.</p>
+
+<p>As these passions alternately governed her, she was alternately
+in spirits or dejected; in good or in ill humour; and
+the vicissitudes of her prospect at length gave to her behaviour
+an air of caprice, which not all her follies had till now produced.
+This was not the way to secure the affections of
+Lord Elmwood; she knew it was not; and before him she
+was under some restriction. Sandford observed this, and
+without reserve, added to the list of her other failings,
+hypocrisy. It was plain to see that Mr. Sandford esteemed
+her less and less every day; and as he was the person who
+most influenced the opinion of her guardian, he became to
+her, very soon, an object not merely of dislike, but of abhorrence.</p>
+
+<p>These mutual sentiments were discoverable in every word
+and action, while they were in each other&rsquo;s company; but
+still in his absence, Miss Milner&rsquo;s good nature, and total
+freedom from malice, never suffered her to utter a sentence
+injurious to his interest. Sandford&rsquo;s charity did not extend
+thus far; and speaking of her with severity one evening while
+she was at the opera, &ldquo;His meaning,&rdquo; as he said, &ldquo;but to
+caution her guardian against her faults,&rdquo; Lord Elmwood
+replied,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is one fault, however, Mr. Sandford, I cannot
+lay to her charge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what is that, my Lord?&rdquo; cried Sandford, eagerly,
+&ldquo;What is that one fault, which Miss Milner has not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never,&rdquo; replied Lord Elmwood, &ldquo;heard Miss Milner,
+in your absence, utter a syllable to your disadvantage.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She dares not, my Lord, because she is in fear of you
+and she knows you would not suffer it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She then,&rdquo; answered his Lordship, &ldquo;pays me a much
+higher compliment than you do; for you freely censure
+<i>her</i>, and yet imagine I <i>will</i> suffer it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;I am undeceived now,
+and shall never take that liberty again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As Lord Elmwood always treated Sandford with the
+utmost respect, he began to fear he had been deficient upon
+this occasion; and the disposition which had induced him
+to take his ward&rsquo;s part, was likely, in the end, to prove
+unfavourable to her; for perceiving Sandford was offended
+at what had passed, as the only means of retribution, he
+began himself to lament her volatile and captious propensities;
+in which lamentation, Sandford, now forgetting his
+affront, joined with the heartiest concurrence, adding,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You, Sir, having now other cares to employ your thoughts,
+ought to insist upon her marrying, or retiring into the
+country.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She returned home just as this conversation was finished,
+and Sandford, the moment she entered, rang for his candle
+to retire. Miss Woodley, who had been at the opera with
+Miss Milner, cried,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless me, Mr. Sandford, are you not well, you are going
+to leave us so early?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He replied, &ldquo;No, I have a pain in my head.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner, who never listened to complaints without
+sympathy, rose immediately from her seat, saying,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think I never heard you, Mr. Sandford, complain of
+indisposition before. Will you accept of my specific for the
+head-ache? Indeed it is a certain relief&mdash;I&rsquo;ll fetch it
+instantly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She went hastily out of the room, and returned with
+a bottle, which, she assured him, &ldquo;Was a present from
+Lady Luneham, and would certainly cure him.&rdquo; And she
+pressed it upon him with such an anxious earnestness, that
+with all his churlishness he could not refuse taking it.</p>
+
+<p>This was but a common-place civility, such as is paid by
+one enemy to another every day; but the <i>manner</i> was the
+material part. The unaffected concern, the attention, the
+good will, she demonstrated in this little incident, was that
+which made it remarkable, and immediately took from
+Lord Elmwood the displeasure to which he had been just
+before provoked, or rather transformed it into a degree of
+admiration. Even Sandford was not insensible to her
+behaviour, and in return, when he left the room, &ldquo;Wished
+her a good night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To her and Miss Woodley, who had not been witnesses
+of the preceding conversation, what she had done appeared
+of no merit; but to the mind of Lord Elmwood, the merit
+was infinite; and upon the departure of Sandford, he began
+to be unusually cheerful. He first pleasantly reproached
+the ladies for not offering him a place in their box at the
+opera.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Would you have gone, my Lord?&rdquo; asked Miss Milner,
+highly delighted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; returned he, &ldquo;had you invited me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then from this day I give you a general invitation; nor
+shall any other company be admitted but those whom you
+approve.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am very much obliged to you,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you,&rdquo; continued she, &ldquo;who have been accustomed
+only to church-music, will be more than any one, enchanted
+with hearing the softer music of love.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What ravishing pleasures you are preparing for me!&rdquo;
+returned he&mdash;&ldquo;I know not whether my weak senses will be
+able to support them!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She had her eyes upon him when he spoke this, and she
+discovered in his, that were fixed upon her, a sensibility
+unexpected&mdash;a kind of fascination which enticed her to look
+on, while her eyelids fell involuntarily before its mighty
+force, and a thousand blushes crowded over her face. He
+was struck with these sudden signals; hastily recalled his
+former countenance, and stopped the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley, who had been a silent observer for some
+time, now thought a word or two from her would be acceptable
+rather than troublesome.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And pray, my Lord,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;when do you go to
+France?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To Italy you mean;&mdash;I shall not go at all,&rdquo; said he.
+&ldquo;My superiors are very indulgent, for they dispense with all
+my duties. I ought, and I meant, to have gone abroad; but
+as a variety of concerns require my presence in England, every
+necessary ceremony has taken place here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then your Lordship is no longer in orders?&rdquo; said Miss
+Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; they have been resigned these five days.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, I give you joy,&rdquo; said Miss Milner.</p>
+
+<p>He thanked her, but added with a sigh, &ldquo;If I have given
+up content in search of joy, I shall perhaps be a loser by the
+venture.&rdquo; Soon after this, he wished them a good night,
+and retired.</p>
+
+<p>Happy as Miss Milner found herself in his company, she
+saw him leave the room with infinite satisfaction, because
+her heart was impatient to give a loose to its hopes on the
+bosom of Miss Woodley. She bade Mrs. Horton immediately
+good night; and, in her friend&rsquo;s apartment, gave way
+to all the language of passion, warmed with the confidence
+of meeting its return. She described the sentiments she
+had read in Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s looks; and though Miss Woodley
+had beheld them too, Miss Milner&rsquo;s fancy heightened the
+expression of every glance, till her construction became, by
+degrees, so extremely favourable to her own wishes, that had
+not her friend been present, and known in what measure
+to estimate those symptoms, she must infallibly have thought,
+by the joy to which they gave birth, that he had openly
+avowed a passion for her.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley, therefore, thought it her duty to allay
+these ecstasies, and represented to her, she might be deceived
+in her hopes&mdash;or even supposing his wishes inclined towards
+her, there were yet great obstacles between them.&mdash;&ldquo;Would
+not Sandford, who directed his every thought and purpose,
+be consulted upon this? and if he was, upon what, but the
+most romantic affection on the part of Lord Elmwood, had
+Miss Milner to depend? and his Lordship was not a man to
+be suspected of submitting to the excess of any passion.&rdquo;
+Thus did Miss Woodley argue, lest her friend should be
+misled by her wishes; yet, in her own mind, she scarce
+harboured a doubt that any thing would thwart them.
+The succeeding circumstance proved she was mistaken.</p>
+
+<p>Another gentleman of family and fortune made overtures
+to Miss Milner; and her guardian, so far from having his
+thoughts inclined towards her on his own account, pleaded
+this lover&rsquo;s cause even with more zeal than he had pleaded
+for Sir Edward and Lord Frederick; thus at once destroying
+all those plans of happiness which poor Miss Milner had
+formed.</p>
+
+<p>In consequence, her melancholy humour was now predominant;
+she confined herself at home, and yet, by her own
+order, was denied to all her visitors. Whether this arose
+from pure melancholy, or the still lingering hope of making
+her conquest, by that sedateness of manners which she knew
+her guardian admired, she herself perhaps did not perfectly
+know. Be that as it may, Lord Elmwood could not but
+observe this change, and one morning thought fit to mention,
+and to applaud it.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley and she were at work together when he
+came into the room; and after sitting several minutes, and
+talking upon indifferent subjects, to which his ward replied
+with a dejection in her voice and manner&mdash;he said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps I am wrong, Miss Milner, but I have observed
+that you are lately more thoughtful than usual.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She blushed, as she always did when the subject was herself.
+He continued, &ldquo;Your health appears perfectly restored, and
+yet I have observed you take no delight in your former
+amusements.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you sorry for that, my Lord?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I am extremely glad; and I was going to congratulate
+you upon the change. But give me leave to enquire, to
+what lucky accident we may attribute this alteration?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your Lordship then thinks all my commendable deeds
+arise from accident, and that I have no virtues of my own.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pardon me, I think you have many.&rdquo; This he spoke
+emphatically; and her blushes increased.</p>
+
+<p>He resumed&mdash;&ldquo;How can I doubt of a lady&rsquo;s virtues, when
+her countenance gives me such evident proofs of them?
+Believe me, Miss Milner, that in the midst of your gayest
+follies, while you thus continue to blush, I shall reverence
+your internal sensations.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! my Lord, did you know some of them, I am afraid
+you would think them unpardonable.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was so much to the purpose, that Miss Woodley
+found herself alarmed&mdash;but without reason&mdash;Miss Milner
+loved too sincerely to reveal it to the object. He answered,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And did you know some of mine, you might think them
+<i>equally</i> unpardonable.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She turned pale, and could no longer guide her needle&mdash;in
+the fond transport of her heart she imagined that his
+love for her, was among the sensations to which he alluded.
+She was too much embarrassed to reply, and he continued,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We have all much to pardon in one another: and
+I know not whether the officious person who forces, even his
+good advice, is not as blameable as the obstinate one, who
+will not listen to it. And now, having made a preface to
+excuse you, should you once more refuse mine, I shall venture
+to give it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, I have never yet refused to follow your
+advice, but where my own peace of mind was so nearly concerned,
+as to have made me culpable, had I complied.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Madam, I submit to your determinations; and
+shall never again oppose your inclination to remain single.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This sentence, as it excluded the idea of soliciting for himself,
+gave her the utmost pain; and her eye glanced at him,
+full of reproach. He did not observe it, but went on.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;While you continue unmarried, it seems to have been
+your father&rsquo;s intention that you should continue under my
+immediate care; but as I mean for the future to reside
+chiefly in the country&mdash;answer me candidly, do you think
+you could be happy there, for at least three parts of the year?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After a short hesitation, she replied, &ldquo;I have no objection.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad to hear it,&rdquo; he returned eagerly, &ldquo;for it is my
+earnest desire to have you with me&mdash;your welfare is dear to
+me as my own; and were we apart, continual apprehensions
+would prey upon my mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The tear started in her eye, at the earnestness that accompanied
+these words; he saw it, and to soften her still more
+with the sense of his esteem for her, he increased his earnestness
+while he said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you will take the resolution to quit London for the
+time I mention, there shall be no means omitted to make the
+country all you can wish&mdash;I shall insist upon Miss Woodley&rsquo;s
+company for both our sakes; and it will not only be <i>my</i>
+study to form such a society as you may approve, but I am
+certain it will be likewise the study of Lady Elmwood&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was going on, but as if a poniard had thrust her to the
+heart, she writhed under this unexpected stroke.</p>
+
+<p>He saw her countenance change&mdash;he looked at her steadfastly.</p>
+
+<p>It was not a common change from joy to sorrow, from
+content to uneasiness, which Miss Milner discovered&mdash;she
+felt, and she expressed anguish&mdash;Lord Elmwood was alarmed
+and shocked. She did not weep, but she called Miss Woodley
+to come to her, with a voice that indicated a degree of agony.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; (cried Miss Woodley, seeing his consternation
+and trembling lest he should guess the secret,) &ldquo;My Lord,
+Miss Milner has again deceived you&mdash;you must not take her
+from London&mdash;it is that, and that alone, which is the cause
+of her uneasiness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He seemed more amazed still&mdash;and still more shocked at
+her duplicity than at her torture. &ldquo;Good Heaven!&rdquo; exclaimed
+he, &ldquo;How am I to accomplish her wishes? What
+am I to do? How can I judge, if she will not confide in me,
+but thus for ever deceive me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She leaned, pale as death, on the shoulder of Miss Woodley,
+her eye fixed with apparent insensibility to all that was said,
+while he continued,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Heaven is my witness, if I knew&mdash;If I could conceive the
+means how to make her happy, I would sacrifice my own
+happiness to hers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley with a smile, &ldquo;perhaps I
+may call upon you hereafter to fulfil your word.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was totally ignorant what she meant, nor had he
+leisure, from the confusion of his thoughts, to reflect upon
+her meaning; he nevertheless replied, with warmth, &ldquo;Do.
+You shall find I&rsquo;ll perform it.&mdash;Do. I will faithfully perform
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Though Miss Milner was conscious this declaration could
+not, in delicacy, be ever adduced against him; yet the
+fervent and solemn manner in which he made it, cheered
+her spirits; and as persons enjoy the reflection of having in
+their possession some valuable gem, though they are determined
+never to use it, so she upon this, was comforted and
+grew better. She now lifted up her head, and leaned it on
+her hand, as she sat by the side of a table&mdash;still she did not
+speak, but seemed overcome with sorrow. As her situation
+became, however, less alarming, her guardian&rsquo;s pity and
+affright began to take the colour of resentment; and though
+he did not say so, he was, and looked, highly offended.</p>
+
+<p>At this juncture Mr. Sandford entered. On beholding
+the present party, it required not his sagacity to see at the
+first view, that they were all uneasy; but instead of the
+sympathy this might have excited in some dispositions,
+Mr. Sandford, after casting a look at each of them,
+appeared in high spirits.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You seem unhappy, my Lord,&rdquo; said he, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You do <i>not</i>&mdash;Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; Lord Elmwood replied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, my Lord, nor would I, were I in your situation.
+What should make a man of sense out of temper but a worthy
+object!&rdquo; And he looked at Miss Milner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are no objects unworthy our care:&rdquo; replied
+Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But there are objects on whom all care is fruitless, your
+Lordship will allow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never yet despaired of any one, Mr. Sandford.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And yet there are persons, of whom it is presumption to
+entertain hopes.&rdquo; And he looked again at Miss Milner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does your head ache, Miss Milner?&rdquo; asked her friend,
+seeing her hold it with her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very much,&rdquo; returned she.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;did you use all those
+drops Miss Milner gave you for a pain in the head?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes:&rdquo; answered he, &ldquo;I did.&rdquo; But the question at
+that moment somewhat embarrassed him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I hope you found benefit from them:&rdquo; said Miss
+Milner, with great kindness, as she rose from her seat, and
+walked slowly out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Though Miss Woodley followed her, so that Mr. Sandford
+was left alone with Lord Elmwood, and might have continued
+his unkind insinuations without one restraint, yet his
+lips were closed for the present. He looked down on the
+carpet&mdash;twitched himself upon his chair&mdash;and began to talk
+of the weather.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="II_CHAPTER_IV" id="II_CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<p>When the first transports of despair were past, Miss Milner
+suffered herself to be once more in hope. She found there
+were no other means to support her life; and to her comfort,
+her friend was much less severe on the present occasion than
+she expected. No engagement between mortals was, in Miss
+Woodley&rsquo;s opinion, binding like that entered into with
+heaven; and whatever vows Lord Elmwood had possibly
+made to another, she justly supposed that no woman&rsquo;s love
+for him equalled Miss Milner&rsquo;s&mdash;it was prior to all others too;
+that established her claim to contend at least for success;
+and in a contention, what rival would not fall before her?</p>
+
+<p>It was not difficult to guess who this rival was; or if they
+were a little time in suspence, Miss Woodley soon arrived
+at the certainty, by inquiring of Mr. Sandford; who, unsuspecting
+why she asked, readily informed her the intended
+Lady Elmwood was no other than Miss Fenton; and that
+their marriage would be solemnized as soon as the mourning
+for the late Lord Elmwood was over. This last intelligence
+made Miss Woodley shudder&mdash;she repeated it, however, to
+Miss Milner, word for word.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Happy! happy woman!&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Milner of
+Miss Fenton; &ldquo;she has received the first fond impulse of
+his heart, and has had the transcendent happiness of teaching
+him to love!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By no means,&rdquo; returned Miss Woodley, finding no other
+suggestion likely to comfort her; &ldquo;do not suppose that his
+marriage is the result of love&mdash;it is no more than a duty,
+a necessary arrangement, and this you may plainly see by
+the wife on whom he has fixed. Miss Fenton was thought
+a proper match for his cousin, and that same propriety has
+transferred her to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was easy to convince Miss Milner that all her friend
+said was truth, for she wished it so. &ldquo;And oh!&rdquo; she
+exclaimed, &ldquo;could I but stimulate passion, against the cold influence
+of propriety;&mdash;Do you think, my dear Miss Woodley,&rdquo;
+(and she looked with such begging eyes, it was impossible
+not to answer as she wished,) &ldquo;do you think it would be
+unjust to Miss Fenton, were I to inspire her destined husband
+with a passion which she may not have inspired, and which
+I believe <i>she</i> cannot feel?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley paused a minute, and then answered,
+&ldquo;No:&rdquo;&mdash;but there was a hesitation in her manner of
+delivery&mdash;she <i>did</i> say, &ldquo;No:&rdquo; but she looked as if she was
+afraid she ought to have said &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; Miss Milner, however,
+did not give her time to recall the word, or to alter
+its meaning by adding others to it, but ran on eagerly, and
+declared, &ldquo;As that was her opinion, she would abide by it,
+and do all she could to supplant her rival.&rdquo; In order, nevertheless,
+to justify this determination, and satisfy the conscience
+of Miss Woodley, they both concluded that Miss
+Fenton&rsquo;s heart was not engaged in the intended marriage,
+and consequently that she was indifferent whether it ever
+took place or not.</p>
+
+<p>Since the death of the late Earl, she had not been in town;
+nor had the present Earl been near the place where she resided,
+since the week in which her lover died; of course, nothing
+similar to love could have been declared at so early a period;
+and if it had been made known at a later, it must only have
+been by letter, or by the deputation of Mr. Sandford, who
+they knew had been once in the country to visit her; but
+how little he was qualified to enforce a tender passion, was
+a comfortable reflection.</p>
+
+<p>Revived by these conjectures, of which some were true,
+and others false; the very next day a gloom overspread their
+bright prospects, on Mr. Sandford&rsquo;s saying, as he entered
+the breakfast-room,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Fenton, ladies, desired me to present her compliments.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is she in town?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Horton.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She came yesterday morning,&rdquo; returned Sandford, &ldquo;and
+is at her brother&rsquo;s, in Ormond-street; my Lord and I supped
+there last night, and that made us so late home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood entered soon after, and bowing to his ward,
+confirmed what had been said, by telling her, that &ldquo;Miss
+Fenton had charged him with her kindest respects.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How does poor Miss Fenton look?&rdquo; Mrs. Horton asked
+Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>To which question Sandford replied, &ldquo;Beautiful&mdash;she
+looks beautifully.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She has got over her uneasiness, I suppose then?&rdquo; said
+Mrs. Horton&mdash;not dreaming that she was asking the questions
+before her new lover.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Uneasy!&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;uneasy at any trial this
+world can send? That would be highly unworthy of her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But sometimes women do fret at such things:&rdquo; replied
+Mrs. Horton, innocently.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood asked Miss Milner&mdash;&ldquo;If she meant to ride,
+this delightful day?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>While she was hesitating&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are different kinds of women,&rdquo; (said Sandford,
+directing his discourse to Mrs. Horton;) &ldquo;there is as much
+difference between some women, as between good and evil
+spirits.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood asked Miss Milner again&mdash;If she took an
+airing?</p>
+
+<p>She replied, &ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And beauty,&rdquo; continued Sandford, &ldquo;when endowed
+upon spirits that are evil, is a mark of their greater, their
+more extreme wickedness. Lucifer was the most beautiful
+of all the angels in Paradise&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you know?&rdquo; said Miss Milner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But the beauty of Lucifer,&rdquo; (continued Sandford, in
+perfect neglect and contempt of her question,) &ldquo;was an
+aggravation of his guilt; because it shewed a double share
+of ingratitude to the Divine Creator of that beauty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now you talk of angels,&rdquo; said Miss Milner, &ldquo;I wish I had
+wings; and I should like to fly through the park this morning.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You would be taken for an angel in good earnest,&rdquo; said
+Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford was angry at this little compliment, and cried,
+&ldquo;I should think the serpent&rsquo;s skin would be much more
+characteristic.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; cried she, &ldquo;does not Mr. Sandford use me
+ill?&rdquo; Vext with other things, she felt herself extremely
+hurt at this, and made the appeal almost in tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed, I think he does.&rdquo; And he looked at Sandford
+as if he was displeased.</p>
+
+<p>This was a triumph so agreeable to her, that she immediately
+pardoned the offence; but the offender did not so
+easily pardon her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good morning, ladies,&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood, rising to
+go away.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;you promised Miss
+Milner to accompany her one evening to the opera; this is
+opera night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you go, my Lord?&rdquo; asked Miss Milner, in a voice
+so soft, that he seemed as if he wished, but could not
+resist it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am to dine at Mr. Fenton&rsquo;s to-day,&rdquo; he replied;
+&ldquo;and if he and his sister will go, and you will allow them
+part of your box, I will promise to come.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was a condition by no means acceptable to her; but
+as she felt a desire to see him in company of his intended
+bride, (for she fancied she could perceive his secret sentiments,
+could she once see them together) she answered not
+ungraciously, &ldquo;Yes, my compliments to Mr. and Miss
+Fenton, and I hope they will favour me with their company.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, Madam, if they come, you may expect me&mdash;else
+not.&rdquo; He bowed and left the room.</p>
+
+<p>All the day was passed in anxious expectation by Miss
+Milner, what would be the event of the evening: for upon
+her penetration that evening all her future prospects she
+thought depended. If she saw by his looks, by his words,
+or assiduities, that he loved Miss Fenton, she flattered herself
+she would never think of him again with hope; but if she
+observed him treat her with inattention or indifference, she
+would cherish, from that moment, the fondest expectations.
+Against that short evening her toilet was consulted the whole
+day: the alternate hope and fear which fluttered in her
+heart, gave a more than usual brilliancy to her eyes, and more
+than usual bloom to her complection. But vain was her
+beauty; vain all her care to decorate that beauty; vain her
+many looks to her box-door in hopes to see it open&mdash;Lord
+Elmwood never came.</p>
+
+<p>The music was discord&mdash;every thing she saw was disgusting&mdash;in
+a word, she was miserable.</p>
+
+<p>She longed impatiently for the curtain to drop, because
+she was uneasy where she was&mdash;yet she asked herself, &ldquo;Shall
+I be less unhappy at home? Yes; at home I shall see Lord
+Elmwood, and that will be happiness. But he will behold
+me with neglect, and that will be misery! Ungrateful man!
+I will no longer think of him.&rdquo; Yet could she have thought
+of him, without joining in the same idea Miss Fenton, her
+anguish had been supportable; but while she painted them
+as lovers, the tortures of the rack are but a few degrees more
+painful than those which she endured.</p>
+
+<p>There are but few persons who ever felt the real passion
+of jealousy, because few have felt the real passion of love;
+but with those who have experienced them both, jealousy
+not only affects the mind, but every fibre of their frame;
+and Miss Milner&rsquo;s every limb felt agonizing torment, when
+Miss Fenton, courted and beloved by Lord Elmwood, was
+present to her imagination.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>Piqued&mdash;heart-broken&mdash;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, &ldquo;Will you permit me to lead you to
+your carriage?&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;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?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Strange,&rdquo; cried Miss Woodley, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear Miss Woodley,&rdquo; returned she, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s carriage drove to his door just at the
+time her&rsquo;s did; Mr. Sandford was with him, and they were
+both come from passing the evening at Mr. Fenton&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So, my Lord,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, as soon as they met
+in the apartment, &ldquo;you did not come to us?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered he, &ldquo;I was sorry; but I hope you did
+not expect me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not expect you, my Lord?&rdquo; cried Miss Milner; &ldquo;Did
+not you say that you would come?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I had, I certainly should have come,&rdquo; returned he,
+&ldquo;but I only said so conditionally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That I am a witness to,&rdquo; cried Sandford, &ldquo;for I was
+present at the time, and he said it should depend upon
+Miss Fenton.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And she, with her gloomy disposition,&rdquo; said Miss Milner,
+&ldquo;chose to sit at home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gloomy disposition!&rdquo; repeated Sandford: &ldquo;She has
+a great share of sprightliness&mdash;and I think I never saw her
+in better spirits than she was this evening, my Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless me, Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; cried Miss Milner, &ldquo;I meant
+no reflection upon Miss Fenton&rsquo;s disposition; I only meant
+to censure her taste for staying at home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; replied Mr. Sandford, &ldquo;a much heavier
+censure should be passed upon those who prefer rambling
+abroad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I hope, ladies, my not coming,&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood,
+&ldquo;was no inconvenience to you; for you had still, I see,
+a gentleman with you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! yes, two gentlemen:&rdquo; answered the son of Lady
+Evans, a lad from school, whom Miss Milner had taken
+along with her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What two?&rdquo; asked Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>Neither Miss Milner nor Miss Woodley answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know, Madam,&rdquo; said young Evans, &ldquo;that handsome
+gentleman who handed you into your carriage, and
+you called my Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! he means Lord Frederick Lawnly:&rdquo; said Miss
+Milner carelessly, but a blush of shame spread over her face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And did he hand you into your coach?&rdquo; asked Lord
+Elmwood earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By mere accident, my Lord,&rdquo; Miss Woodley replied,
+&ldquo;for the crowd was so great&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think, my Lord,&rdquo; said Sandford, &ldquo;it was very lucky
+that you were <i>not</i> there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Had Lord Elmwood been with us, we should not have had
+occasion for the assistance of any other,&rdquo; said Miss Milner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord Elmwood has been with you, Madam,&rdquo; returned
+Sandford, &ldquo;very frequently, and yet&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood, interrupting him,
+&ldquo;it is near bed-time, your conversation keeps the ladies from
+retiring.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your Lordship&rsquo;s does not,&rdquo; said Miss Milner, &ldquo;for you
+say nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because, Madam, I am afraid to offend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But do not you also hope to please? and without risking
+the one, it is impossible to arrive at the other.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think, at present, the risk would be too hazardous, and
+so I wish you a good night.&rdquo; And he went out of the room
+somewhat abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord Elmwood,&rdquo; said Miss Milner, &ldquo;is very grave&mdash;he
+does not look like a man who has been passing the evening with
+the woman he loves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps he is melancholy at parting from her,&rdquo; said Miss
+Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;More likely offended,&rdquo; said Sandford, &ldquo;at the manner
+in which that lady has spoken of her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who, I? I protest I said nothing&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing! Did not you say that she was gloomy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing but what I thought&mdash;I was going to add,
+Mr. Sandford.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When you think unjustly, you should not express your
+thoughts.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, perhaps, I should never speak.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And it were better you did not, if what you say is to
+give pain. Do you know, Madam, that my Lord is going
+to be married to Miss Fenton?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Miss Milner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know that he loves her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered Miss Milner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How! do you suppose he does not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose that he does, yet I don&rsquo;t know it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then if you suppose that he does, how can you have the
+imprudence to find fault with her before him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did not. To call her gloomy, was, I knew, to commend
+her both to him and to you, who admire such tempers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Whatever her temper is, <i>every one</i> admires it; and so
+far from its being what you have described, she has great
+vivacity; vivacity which comes from the heart.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, if it <i>came</i> from thence, I should admire it too; but,
+if she has any, it rests there, and no one is the better
+for it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pshaw!&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;it is time for us to
+retire; you and Mr. Sandford must finish your dispute in
+the morning.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dispute, Madam!&rdquo; said Sandford, &ldquo;I never disputed
+with any one beneath a doctor of divinity in my life. I was
+only cautioning your friend not to make light of those virtues
+which it would do her honour to possess. Miss Fenton is
+a most amiable young woman, and worthy of just such
+a husband as my Lord Elmwood will make her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sure,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;Miss Milner thinks so&mdash;she
+has a high opinion of Miss Fenton&mdash;she was at present
+only jesting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, Madam, a jest is a very pernicious thing, when
+delivered with a malignant sneer. I have known a jest
+destroy a lady&rsquo;s reputation&mdash;I have known a jest give one
+person a distaste for another&mdash;I have known a jest break off
+a marriage.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I suppose there is no apprehension of that in the
+present case?&rdquo; said Miss Woodley&mdash;wishing he might
+answer in the affirmative.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not that I can foresee. No, Heaven forbid,&rdquo; he replied,
+&ldquo;for I look upon them to be formed for each other&mdash;their
+dispositions, their pursuits, their inclinations the same.
+Their passions for each other just the same&mdash;pure&mdash;white as
+snow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I dare say, not warmer,&rdquo; replied Miss Milner.</p>
+
+<p>He looked provoked beyond measure.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; cried Miss Woodley, &ldquo;how can you talk
+thus? I believe in my heart you are only envious, because
+my Lord Elmwood has not offered himself to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To her!&rdquo; said Sandford, affecting an air of the utmost
+surprise; &ldquo;to her! Do you think he received a dispensation
+from his vows, to become the husband of a coquette&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;.&rdquo;&mdash;He
+was going on.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; cried Miss Milner, &ldquo;I believe,
+after all, my worst crime, in your eyes, is that of being
+a heretic.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By no means&mdash;it is the only circumstance that can
+apologize for your faults; and if you had not that excuse,
+there would be none for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, at present, there <i>is</i> an excuse&mdash;I thank you,
+Mr. Sandford&mdash;this is the kindest thing you ever said to me.
+But I am vext to see that you are sorry you have said it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Angry at your being a heretic!&rdquo; he resumed&mdash;&ldquo;Indeed
+I should be much more concerned to see you a disgrace to
+our religion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner had not been in a good humour the whole
+evening&mdash;she had been provoked several times to the full
+extent of her patience: but this harsh sentence hurried her
+beyond all bounds, and she arose from her seat in the most
+violent agitation, exclaiming, &ldquo;What have I done to be thus
+treated?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Though Mr. Sandford was not a man easily intimidated,
+he was upon this occasion evidently alarmed; and stared
+about him with so violent an expression of surprise, that it
+partook, in some degree, of fear. Miss Woodley clasped her
+friend in her arms, and cried with the tenderest affection and
+pity, &ldquo;My dear Miss Milner, be composed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner sat down, and was so for a minute; but her
+dead silence was almost as alarming to Sandford as her rage
+had been; and he did not perfectly recover himself till he
+saw tears pouring down her face. He then heaved a sigh
+of content that all had thus ended; but in his heart resolved
+never to forget the ridiculous affright into which he had been
+thrown. He stole out of the room without uttering a
+syllable&mdash;but as he never retired to rest before he had
+repeated a long form of evening prayer, when this evening
+he came to that part which supplicates &ldquo;Grace for the
+wicked,&rdquo; he mentioned Miss Milner&rsquo;s name with the most
+fervent devotion.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="II_CHAPTER_V" id="II_CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<p>Of the many restless nights that Miss Milner passed, this
+was not one. It is true, she had a weight of care upon her
+heart, even heavier than usual, but the burden had overcome
+her strength: wearied out with hopes, with fears, and, at
+the end, with disappointment and rage, she sunk at once
+into a deep slumber. But the more forgetfulness had then
+prevailed, the more powerful was the force of remembrance
+when she awoke. At first, so sound her sleep had been, that
+she had a difficulty in calling to mind why she was unhappy;
+but that she <i>was</i> unhappy she well recollected&mdash;when the
+cause came to her memory, she would have slept again&mdash;but
+it was impossible.</p>
+
+<p>Though her rest had been sound, it had not been refreshing&mdash;she
+was far from well, and sent word of her indisposition,
+as an apology for not being present at breakfast. Lord
+Elmwood looked concerned when the message was delivered&mdash;Mr.
+Sandford shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Milner&rsquo;s health is not good!&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton
+a few minutes after.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood laid down the newspaper to attend to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To me, there is something very extraordinary about
+her!&rdquo; continued Mrs. Horton, finding she had caught his
+Lordship&rsquo;s attention.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So there is to me!&rdquo; added Sandford, with a sarcastic
+sneer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And so there is to me!&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, with
+a serious face and a heartfelt sigh.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood gazed by turns at each, as each delivered
+their sentiments&mdash;and when they were all silent, he looked
+bewildered, not knowing what judgment to form from any
+of these sentences.</p>
+
+<p>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,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That, I am certain,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley, &ldquo;she does
+<i>not</i> mean&mdash;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.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad to hear it,&rdquo; he returned quickly; &ldquo;for although
+I am not of a suspicious nature, yet in regard to her affections
+for him, I cannot but still have my doubts.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You need have none, my Lord,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley,
+with a smile of confidence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And yet you must own her behaviour has warranted
+them&mdash;has it not been in this particular incoherent and
+unaccountable?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The behaviour of a person in love, no doubt,&rdquo; answered
+Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t I say so?&rdquo; replied he warmly; &ldquo;and is not that
+a just reason for my suspicions?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But is there only one man in the world on whom those
+suspicions can fix?&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, with the colour
+mounting into her face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not that I know of&mdash;not one more that I know of,&rdquo; he
+replied, with astonishment at what she had insinuated, and
+yet with a perfect assurance that she was in the wrong.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps I am mistaken,&rdquo; answered she.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, that is impossible too,&rdquo; returned he with anxiety&mdash;&ldquo;You
+share her confidence&mdash;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.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe I am <i>perfectly</i> acquainted with them,&rdquo; replied
+Miss Woodley, with a significance in her voice and manner
+which convinced him there was some secret to learn.</p>
+
+<p>After a hesitation&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is far from me,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;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&mdash;and
+every step that I take for her happiness, I take in the
+most perplexing uncertainty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley sighed&mdash;but she did not speak. He seemed
+to wait for her reply; but as she made none, he proceeded&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;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&mdash;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.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! my Lord,&rdquo; cried Miss Woodley, with a most
+forcible accent, &ldquo;<i>You</i> are the last person on earth she would
+pardon me for entrusting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why so?&rdquo; said he, warmly. &ldquo;But that is the way&mdash;the
+person who is our friend we distrust&mdash;where a common
+interest is concerned, we are ashamed of drawing on a common
+danger&mdash;afraid of advice, though that advice is to save us.&mdash;&mdash;Miss
+Woodley,&rdquo; said he, changing his voice with excess of
+earnestness, &ldquo;do you not believe, that I would do anything
+to make Miss Milner happy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Any thing in honour, my Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She can desire nothing farther,&rdquo; he replied in agitation.
+&ldquo;Are her desires so unwarrantable, that I cannot grant
+them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley again did not speak&mdash;and he continued&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Great as my friendship is, there are certainly bounds to
+it&mdash;bounds that shall save her in spite of herself:&rdquo;&mdash;and he
+raised his voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the disposal of themselves,&rdquo; resumed he, with a less
+vehement tone, &ldquo;that great, that terrific disposal in marriage,
+(at which I have always looked with fear and dismay) there
+is no accounting for the rashness of a woman&rsquo;s choice, or
+sometimes for the depravity of her taste. But in such a case,
+Miss Milner&rsquo;s election of a husband shall not direct mine.
+If she does not know how to estimate her own value, I do.
+Independent of her fortune, she has beauty to captivate the
+heart of any man; and with all her follies, she has a frankness
+in her manner, an unaffected wisdom in her thoughts,
+a vivacity in her conversation, and withal, a softness in her
+demeanour, that might alone engage the affections of a man
+of the nicest sentiments, and the strongest understanding.
+I will not see all these qualities and accomplishments debased.
+It is my office to protect her from the consequences of a
+degrading choice, and I will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, Miss Milner&rsquo;s taste is not a depraved one; it
+is but too refined.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What can you mean by that, Miss Woodley? You talk
+mysteriously. Is she not afraid that I will thwart her
+inclinations?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is sure that you will, my Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then must the person be unworthy of her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley rose from her seat&mdash;she clasped her hands&mdash;every
+look and every gesture proved her alternate resolution
+and irresolution of proceeding. Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s attention
+was arrested before; but now it was fixed to a degree which
+her extraordinary manner only could occasion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; said she, with a tremulous voice, &ldquo;promise
+me, declare to me, nay, swear to me, that it shall ever remain
+a secret in your own breast, and I will reveal to you, on whom
+she has placed her affections.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This preparation made Lord Elmwood tremble, and he
+ran over instantly in his mind all the persons he could recollect,
+in order to arrive at the knowledge by thought, quicker
+than by words. It was in vain he tried; and he once more
+turned his inquiring eyes upon Miss Woodley. He saw her
+silent and covered with confusion. Again he searched his
+own thoughts; nor ineffectually as before. At the first
+glance, the object was presented, and he beheld&mdash;<i>himself</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The rapid emotion of varying passions, which immediately
+darted over his features, informed Miss Woodley that her
+secret was discovered&mdash;she hid her face, while the tears that
+fell down to her bosom, confirmed the truth of his suggestion,
+beyond what oaths could have done. A short interval of
+silence followed, during which, she suffered tortures for the
+manner in which he would next address her&mdash;two seconds
+gave her this reply:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For God&rsquo;s sake take care what you are doing&mdash;you are
+destroying my prospects of futurity&mdash;you are making this
+world too dear to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her drooping head was then lifted up, and she caught the
+eye of Dorriforth; she saw it beam expectation, amazement,
+joy, ardour, and love.&mdash;&mdash;Nay, there was a fire, a vehemence
+in the quick fascinating rays it sent forth, she never before
+had seen&mdash;it filled her with alarm&mdash;she wished him to love
+Miss Milner, but to love her with moderation. Miss Woodley
+was too little versed in the subject, to know, this would
+have been not to love at all; at least, not to the extent of
+breaking through engagements, and all the various obstacles
+that still militated against their union.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood was sensible of the embarrassment his
+presence gave Miss Woodley, and understood the reproaches
+which she seemed to vent upon herself in silence. To relieve
+her from both, he laid his hand with force upon his heart,
+and said, &ldquo;Do you believe me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do, my Lord,&rdquo; she answered, trembling.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will make no unjust use of what I know,&rdquo; he replied
+with firmness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe you, my Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But for what my passions now dictate,&rdquo; continued he,
+&ldquo;I will not answer. They are confused&mdash;they are triumphant
+at present. I have never yet, however, been vanquished
+by them; and even upon this occasion, my reason
+shall combat them to the last&mdash;and my reason shall fail me,
+before I do wrong.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was going to leave the room&mdash;she followed him, and
+cried, &ldquo;But, my Lord, how shall I see again the unhappy
+object of my treachery?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See her,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;as one to whom you meant no
+injury, and to whom you have done none.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But she would account it an injury.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We are not judges of what belongs to ourselves,&rdquo; he
+replied&mdash;&ldquo;I am transported at the tidings you have revealed,
+and yet, perhaps, I had better never have heard them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley was going to say something farther, but as
+if incapable of attending to her, he hastened out of the room.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="II_CHAPTER_VI" id="II_CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley stood for some time to consider which
+way she was to go. The first person she met, would enquire
+why she had been weeping? and if Miss Milner was to ask
+the question, in what words could she tell, or in what manner
+deny the truth? To avoid her was her first caution, and she
+took the only method; she had a hackney-coach ordered,
+rode several miles out of town, and returned to dinner with
+so little remains of her swoln eyes, that complaining of the
+head-ache was a sufficient excuse for them.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner was enough recovered to be present at dinner,
+though she scarce tasted a morsel. Lord Elmwood did not
+dine at home, at which Miss Woodley rejoiced, but at which
+Mr. Sandford appeared highly disappointed. He asked the
+servants several times, what he said when he went out? They
+replied, &ldquo;Nothing more than that he should not be at home
+to dinner.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t imagine where he dines?&rdquo; said
+Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless me, Mr. Sandford, can&rsquo;t you guess?&rdquo;
+(cried Mrs. Horton, who by this time was made acquainted
+with his intended marriage) &ldquo;He dines with Miss Fenton
+to be sure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;he is not there;
+I came from thence just now, and they had not seen him
+all day.&rdquo; Poor Miss Milner, on this, ate something; for
+where we hope for nothing, we receive small indulgencies
+with joy.</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the anxiety and trouble under which
+Miss Woodley had laboured all the morning, her heart for
+many weeks had not felt so light as it did this day at dinner.
+The confidence that she reposed in the promises of Lord
+Elmwood&mdash;the firm reliance she had upon his delicacy and
+his justice&mdash;the unabated kindness with which her friend
+received her, while she knew that no one suspicious thought
+had taken harbour in her bosom&mdash;and the conscious integrity
+of her own intentions, though she might have been misled
+by her judgment, all comforted her with the hope, she had
+done nothing she ought to wish recalled. But although she
+felt thus tranquil, in respect to what she had divulged, yet
+she was a good deal embarrassed with the dread of next
+seeing Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner, not having spirits to go abroad, passed the
+evening at home. She read part of a new opera, played upon
+her guitar, mused, sighed, occasionally talked with Miss
+Woodley, and so passed the tedious hours till near ten, when
+Mrs. Horton asked Mr. Sandford to play a game at piquet,
+and on his excusing himself, Miss Milner offered in his stead,
+and was gladly accepted. They had just begun to play
+when Lord Elmwood came into the room&mdash;Miss Milner&rsquo;s
+countenance immediately brightened, and though she was
+in a negligent morning dress, and looked paler than usual, she
+did not look less beautiful. Miss Woodley was leaning on
+the back of her chair to observe the game, and Mr. Sandford
+sat reading one of the Fathers at the other side of the fire
+place. Lord Elmwood, as he advanced to the table, bowed,
+not having seen the ladies since the morning, or Miss Milner
+that day: they returned the salute, and he was going up
+to Miss Milner, (as if to enquire of her health) when Mr. Sandford,
+laying down his book, said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, where have you been all day?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have been very busy,&rdquo; replied he, and walking from
+the card-table, went up to him.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner played one card for another.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have been at Mr. Fenton&rsquo;s this evening, I suppose?&rdquo;
+said Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; not at all to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How came that about, my Lord?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner played the ace of diamonds instead of the
+king of hearts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall call to-morrow,&rdquo; answered Lord Elmwood; and
+then walking with a very ceremonious air up to Miss Milner,
+said, &ldquo;He hoped she was perfectly recovered.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Horton begged her &ldquo;To mind what she was about.&rdquo;
+She replied, &ldquo;I am much better, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He then returned to Sandford again; but never, during
+all this time, did his eye once encounter Miss Woodley&rsquo;s; and
+she, with equal care, avoided his.</p>
+
+<p>Some cold dishes were now brought up for supper&mdash;Miss
+Milner lost her deal, and the game ended.</p>
+
+<p>As they were arranging themselves at the supper-table,
+&ldquo;Do, Miss Milner,&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton, &ldquo;have something
+warm for your supper; a chicken boiled, or something of
+that kind; you have eat nothing to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With feelings of humanity, and apparently no other sensation&mdash;but
+never did he feel his philanthropy so forcible&mdash;Lord
+Elmwood said, &ldquo;Let me beg of you, Miss Milner, to
+have something provided for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The earnestness and emphasis with which these few words
+were pronounced, were more flattering than the finest turned
+compliment would have been; her gratitude was expressed
+in blushes, and by assuring him she was now &ldquo;So well, as to
+sup on the dishes before her.&rdquo; She spoke, however, and had
+not made the trial; for the moment she carried a morsel
+to her lips, she laid it on her plate again, and turned paler,
+from the vain endeavour to force her appetite. Lord Elmwood
+had always been attentive to her; but now he watched
+her as he would a child; and when he saw by her struggles
+that she could not eat, he took her plate from her; gave her
+something else; and all with a care and watchfulness in his
+looks, as if he had been a tender-hearted boy, and she his
+darling bird, the loss of which would embitter all the joy
+of his holidays.</p>
+
+<p>This attention had something in it so tender, so officious,
+and yet so sincere, that it brought the tears into Miss Woodley&rsquo;s
+eyes, attracted the notice of Mr. Sandford, and the
+observation of Mrs. Horton; while the heart of Miss Milner
+overflowed with a gratitude, that gave place to no sentiment
+except her love.</p>
+
+<p>To relieve the anxiety which her guardian expressed, she
+endeavoured to appear cheerful, and that anxiety, at length,
+really made her so. He now pressed her to take one glass of
+wine with such solicitude, that he seemed to say a thousand
+things besides. Sandford still made his observations, and
+being unused to conceal his thoughts before the present
+company, he said bluntly,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Fenton was indisposed the other night, my Lord,
+and you did not seem half thus anxious about her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Had Sandford laid all Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s estate at Miss
+Milner&rsquo;s feet, or presented her with that eternal bloom which
+adorns the face of a goddess, he would have done less to
+endear himself to her, than by this one sentence&mdash;she looked
+at him with a most benign countenance, and felt affliction
+that she had ever offended him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Fenton,&rdquo; Lord Elmwood replied, &ldquo;has a brother
+with her: her health and happiness are in <i>his</i> care&mdash;Miss
+Milner&rsquo;s are in mine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; said Miss Milner, &ldquo;I am afraid that
+I behaved uncivilly to you last night&mdash;will you accept of an
+atonement?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Madam,&rdquo; returned he, &ldquo;I accept no expiation
+without amendment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; said she, smiling, &ldquo;suppose I promise
+never to offend you again, what then?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, then, you&rsquo;ll break your promise.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not promise him,&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood, &ldquo;for he
+means to provoke you to it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In the like conversation the evening passed, and Miss Milner
+retired to rest in far better spirits than her morning&rsquo;s prospect
+had given her the least pretence to hope. Miss Woodley,
+too, had cause to be well pleased; but her pleasure was in
+great measure eclipsed by the reflection, that there was such
+a person as Miss Fenton&mdash;she wished she had been equally
+acquainted with her&rsquo;s as with Miss Milner&rsquo;s heart, and she
+would then have acted without injustice to either; but Miss
+Fenton had of late shunned their society, and even in their
+company was of a temper too reserved ever to discover her
+mind; Miss Woodley was obliged, therefore, to act to the
+best of her own judgment only, and leave all events to
+Providence.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="II_CHAPTER_VII" id="II_CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<p>Within a few days, in the house of Lord Elmwood, every
+thing, and every person, wore a new face. He, was the
+professed lover of Miss Milner&mdash;she, the happiest of human
+beings&mdash;Miss Woodley partaking in the joy&mdash;Mr. Sandford
+lamenting, with the deepest concern, that Miss Fenton had
+been supplanted; and what added poignantly to his concern
+was, that she had been supplanted by Miss Milner. Though
+a churchman, he bore his disappointment with the impatience
+of one of the laity: he could hardly speak to
+Lord Elmwood; he would not look at Miss Milner, and was
+displeased with every one. It was his intention, when he
+first became acquainted with Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s resolution, to
+quit his house; and as the Earl had, with the utmost degree
+of inflexibility, resisted all his good counsel upon this subject,
+he resolved, in quitting him, never to be his adviser again.
+But, in preparing to leave his friend, his pupil, his patron,
+and yet him, who, upon most occasions, implicitly obeyed
+his will, the spiritual got the better of the temporal man,
+and he determined to stay, lest in totally abandoning him to
+the pursuit of his own passions, he should make his punishment
+even greater than his offence. &ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; said he,
+&ldquo;on the stormy sea, upon which you are embarked, though
+you will not shun the rocks that your faithful pilot would
+point out, he will, nevertheless, sail in your company, and
+lament over your watery grave. The more you slight my
+advice, the more you want it; so that, until you command
+me to leave your house, (as I suppose you will soon do, to
+oblige your Lady) I will continue along with you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood liked him sincerely, and was glad that he
+took this resolution; yet as soon as his reason and affections
+had once told him that he ought to break with Miss Fenton,
+and marry his ward, he became so decidedly of this opinion,
+that Sandford&rsquo;s never had the most trivial weight; nor would
+he even flatter the supposed authority he possessed over him,
+by urging him to remain in his house a single day, contrary
+to his inclinations. Sandford observed, with grief, this
+firmness; but finding it vain to contend, submitted&mdash;not,
+however, with a good grace.</p>
+
+<p>Amidst all the persons affected by this change in Lord
+Elmwood&rsquo;s marriage-designs, Miss Fenton was, perhaps,
+affected the least&mdash;she would have been content to have
+married, she was content to live single. Mr. Sandford had
+been the first who made overtures to her on the part of
+Lord Elmwood, and was the first sent to ask her to dispense
+with the obligation.&mdash;She received both of these proposals
+with the same insipid smile of approbation, and the same
+cold indifference at the heart.</p>
+
+<p>It was a perfect knowledge of this disposition in his intended
+wife which had given to Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s thoughts on
+matrimony, the idea of dreary winter; but the sensibility
+of Miss Milner had now reversed that prospect into perpetual
+spring; or the dearer variety of spring, summer, and autumn.</p>
+
+<p>It was a knowledge also of this torpor in Miss Fenton&rsquo;s
+nature, from which he formed the purpose of breaking with
+her; for Lord Elmwood still retained enough of the sanctity
+of his former state to have yielded up his own happiness,
+and even that of his beloved ward, rather than have plunged
+one heart into affliction by his perfidy. This, before he
+offered his hand to Miss Milner, he was perfectly convinced
+would not be the case&mdash;even Miss Fenton herself assured
+him, that her thoughts were more upon the joys of Heaven
+than upon those of earth; and as this circumstance would,
+she believed, induce her to retire into a convent, she thought
+it a happy, rather than an unhappy, event. Her brother, on
+whom her fortune devolved if she took this resolution, was
+exactly of her opinion.</p>
+
+<p>Lost in the maze of happiness that surrounded her, Miss
+Milner oftentimes asked her heart, and her heart whispered
+like a flatterer, &ldquo;Yes;&rdquo; Are not my charms even more
+invincible than I ever believed them to be? Dorriforth, the
+grave, the pious, the anchorite Dorriforth, by their force, is
+animated to all the ardour of the most impassioned lover&mdash;while
+the proud priest, the austere guardian is humbled, if
+I but frown, into the veriest slave of love. She then asked,
+&ldquo;Why did I not keep him longer in suspense? He could
+not have loved me more, I believe: but my power over him
+might have been greater still. I am the happiest of women
+in the affection he has proved to me, but I wonder whether
+it would exist under ill treatment? If it would not, he still
+does not love me as I wish to be loved&mdash;if it would, my
+triumph, my felicity, would be enhanced.&rdquo; These thoughts
+were mere phantoms of the brain, and never, by system,
+put into action; but, repeatedly indulged, they were practised
+by casual occurrences; and the dear-bought experiment
+of being loved in spite of her faults, (a glory proud
+women ever aspire to) was, at present, the ambition of
+Miss Milner.</p>
+
+<p>Unthinking woman! she did not reflect, that to the
+searching eye of Lord Elmwood, she had faults, with her
+utmost care to conceal or overcome them, sufficient to try
+all his love, and all his patience. But what female is not
+fond of experiments? To which, how few do not fall a
+sacrifice!</p>
+
+<p>Perfectly secure in the affections of the man she loved,
+her declining health no longer threatened her; her declining
+spirits returned as before; and the suspicions of her guardian
+being now changed to the liberal confidence of a doting
+lover, she again professed all her former follies, all her fashionable
+levities, and indulged them with less restraint than ever.</p>
+
+<p>For a while, blinded by his passion, Lord Elmwood
+encouraged and admired every new proof of her restored
+happiness; nor till sufferance had tempted her beyond her
+usual bounds, did he remonstrate. But she, who, as his ward,
+had been ever gentle, and (when he strenuously opposed)
+always obedient; became, as a mistress, sometimes haughty,
+and, to opposition, always insolent. He was surprised, but
+the novelty pleased him. And Miss Milner, whom he
+tenderly loved, could put on no change, or appear in no
+new character that did not, for the time she adopted it,
+seem to become her.</p>
+
+<p>Among the many causes of complaint which she gave him,
+want of &#339;conomy, in the disposal of her income, was one.
+Bills and drafts came upon him without number, while the
+account, on her part, of money expended, amounted chiefly
+to articles of dress that she sometimes never wore, toys that
+were out of fashion before they were paid for, and charities
+directed by the force of whim. Another complaint was, as
+usual, extreme late hours, and often company that he did
+not approve.</p>
+
+<p>She was charmed to see his love struggling with his censure&mdash;his
+politeness with his anxiety&mdash;and by the light, frivolous,
+or resentful manner in which she treated his admonitions,
+she triumphed in shewing to Miss Woodley, and, more
+especially to Mr. Sandford, how much she dared upon the
+strength of his affections.</p>
+
+<p>Everything in preparation for their marriage, which was
+to take place at Elmwood House during the summer months,
+she resolved for the short time she had to remain in London
+to let no occasion pass of tasting all those pleasures that were
+not likely ever to return; but which, though eager as she
+was in their pursuit, she never placed in competition with
+those she hoped would succeed&mdash;those more sedate and
+superior joys, of domestic and conjugal happiness. Often,
+merely to hasten on the tedious hours that intervened, she
+varied and diverted them, with the many recreations her
+intended husband could not approve.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;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&rsquo;s failing was to think ill of Miss Milner&mdash;he
+pitied him for it, and he pitied her for it&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Sandford perceived his friend&rsquo;s uneasiness,
+&ldquo;There, my Lord!&rdquo; cried he, exultingly, &ldquo;did I not
+always say the marriage was an improper one? but you would
+not be ruled&mdash;you would not see.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can you blame <i>me</i> for not seeing,&rdquo; replied his Lordship,
+&ldquo;when <i>you</i> were blind? Had you been dispassionate, had
+you seen Miss Milner&rsquo;s virtues as well as her faults, I should
+have believed, and been guided by you&mdash;but you saw her
+failings only, and therein have been equally deceived with
+me, who have only beheld her perfections.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My observations, however, my Lord, would have been
+of most use to you; for I have seen what to avoid.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But mine have been the most gratifying,&rdquo; replied he;
+&ldquo;for I have seen&mdash;what I must always love.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford sighed, and lifted up his hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; 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,
+&ldquo;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&mdash;for I believe it was compassion at your
+unkind treatment, that first gained her my heart.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I, my Lord?&rdquo; cried Sandford; &ldquo;do not load me with
+the burthen&mdash;with the mighty burthen of your love for her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not interrupt me. Whatever your meaning has been,
+the effect of it is what I have described. Now, I will no
+longer,&rdquo; continued he, &ldquo;have an enemy, such as you have
+been, to heighten her charms, which are too transcendent
+in their native state. I will hear no more complaints against
+her, but I will watch her closely myself&mdash;and if I find her
+mind and heart (such as my suspicions have of late whispered)
+too frivolous for that substantial happiness I look for with an
+object so beloved, depend upon my word&mdash;the marriage
+shall yet be broken off.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I depend upon your word; it <i>will</i> then,&rdquo;&mdash;replied Sandford
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are unjust, Sir, in saying so before the trial,&rdquo; replied
+Lord Elmwood, &ldquo;and your injustice shall make me more
+cautious, lest I follow your example.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, my Lord&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My mind is made up, Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; returned he,
+interrupting him; &ldquo;I am no longer engaged to Miss Milner
+than she shall deserve I should be&mdash;but, in my strict observations
+upon her conduct, I will take care not to wrong her
+as you have done.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, call my observations wrong, when you have
+reflected upon them as a man, and not as a lover&mdash;divest
+yourself of your passion, and meet me upon equal ground.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will meet no one&mdash;I will consult no one&mdash;my own
+judgment shall be the judge, and in a few months marry, or&mdash;<i>banish
+me from her for ever</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was something in these last words, in the tone and
+firmness with which they were delivered, that the heart of
+Sandford rested upon with content&mdash;they bore the symptoms
+of a menace that would be executed; and he parted from
+his patron with congratulations upon his wisdom, and with
+giving him the warmest assurances of his firm reliance on
+his <i>word</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood having come to this resolution, was more
+composed than he had been for several days before; while
+the horror of domestic wrangles&mdash;a family without subordination&mdash;a
+house without &#339;conomy&mdash;in a word, a wife without
+discretion, had been perpetually present to his mind.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Sandford, although he was a man of understanding, of
+learning, and a complete casuist, yet all the faults he himself
+committed, were entirely&mdash;for want of knowing better.
+He constantly reproved faults in others, and he was most
+assuredly too good a man not to have corrected and amended
+his own, had they been known to him&mdash;but they were not.
+He had been for so long a time the superior of all with whom
+he lived, had been so busied with instructing others, that he
+had not recollected that himself wanted instructions&mdash;and
+in such awe did his habitual severity keep all about him,
+that although he had numerous friends, not one told him
+of his failings&mdash;except just now Lord Elmwood, but whom,
+in this instance, as a man in love, he would not credit. Was
+there not then some reason for him to suppose he <i>had</i> no
+faults? his enemies, indeed, hinted that he had, but enemies
+he never harkened to; and thus, with all his good sense,
+wanted the sense to follow the rule, <i>Believe what your enemies
+say of you, rather than what is said by your friends</i>. This
+rule attended to, would make a thousand people amiable,
+who are now the reverse; and would have made <i>him</i> a perfectly
+upright character. For could an enemy to whom
+he would have listened, have whispered to Sandford as he
+left Lord Elmwood, &ldquo;Cruel, barbarous man! you go away
+with your heart satisfied, nay, even elated, in the prospect
+that Miss Milner&rsquo;s hopes, on which she alone exists, those
+hopes which keep her from the deepest affliction, and cherish
+her with joy and gladness, will all be disappointed. You
+flatter yourself it is for the sake of your friend, Lord Elmwood,
+that you rejoice, and because he has escaped a danger.
+You wish him well; but there is another cause for your
+exultation which you will not seek to know&mdash;it is, that in
+his safety, shall dwell the punishment of his ward. For
+shame! for shame! forgive her faults, as this of yours
+requires to be forgiven.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Had any one said this to Sandford, whom he would have
+credited, or had his own heart suggested it, he was a man of
+that rectitude and conscientiousness, that he would have
+returned immediately to Lord Elmwood, and have strengthened
+all his favourable opinions of his intended wife&mdash;but
+having no such monitor, he walked on, highly contented,
+and meeting Miss Woodley, said, with an air of triumph,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s your friend? where&rsquo;s Lady Elmwood?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley smiled, and answered&mdash;She was gone with
+such and such ladies to an auction. &ldquo;But why give her that
+title already, Mr. Sandford?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because,&rdquo; answered he, &ldquo;I think she will never have it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless me, Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;you
+shock me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought I should,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;and therefore I told
+it you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For Heaven&rsquo;s sake what has happened?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing new&mdash;her indiscretions only.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know she is imprudent,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley&mdash;&ldquo;I can
+see that her conduct is often exceptionable&mdash;but then Lord
+Elmwood surely loves her, and love will overlook a great
+deal.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He <i>does</i> love her&mdash;but he has understanding and resolution.
+He loved his sister too, tenderly loved her, and yet
+when he had taken the resolution, and passed his word that
+he would never see her again&mdash;even upon her death-bed he
+would not retract it&mdash;no entreaties could prevail upon him.
+And now, though he maintains, and I dare say loves, her
+child, yet you remember, when you brought him home, that
+he would not suffer him in his sight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor Miss Milner!&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, in the most
+pitying accents.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; said Sandford, &ldquo;Lord Elmwood has not <i>yet</i>
+passed his word, that he will never see her more&mdash;he has
+only threatened to do it; but I know enough of him to
+know, that his threats are generally the same as if they were
+executed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are very good,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;to acquaint
+me of this in time&mdash;I may now warn Miss Milner of it, and
+she may observe more circumspection.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By no means,&rdquo; cried Sandford, hastily&mdash;&ldquo;What would
+you warn her for? It will do her no good&mdash;besides,&rdquo; added
+he, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whether Lord Elmwood does not expect
+secrecy on my part; and if he does&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, with all deference to your opinion,&rdquo; said Miss
+Woodley, (and with all deference did she speak) &ldquo;don&rsquo;t you
+think, Mr. Sandford, that secrecy upon this occasion would
+be wicked? For consider the anguish that it may occasion
+to my friend; and if, by advising her, we can save her
+from&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; She was going on.&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may call it wicked, Madam, not to inform her of
+what I have hinted at,&rdquo; cried he; &ldquo;but I call it a breach
+of confidence&mdash;if it <i>was</i> divulged to me in confidence&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was going to explain; but Miss Milner entered, and
+put an end to the discourse. She had been passing the
+whole morning at an auction, and had laid out near two
+hundred pounds in different things for which she had
+no one use, but bought them because they were said to be
+cheap&mdash;among the rest was a lot of books upon chemistry,
+and some Latin authors.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Madam,&rdquo; cried Sandford, looking over the catalogue
+where her purchases were marked by a pencil, &ldquo;do you
+know what you have done? You can&rsquo;t read a word of these
+books.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t I, Mr. Sandford? But I assure you that you will
+be very much pleased with them, when you see how elegantly
+they are bound.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton, &ldquo;why have you bought
+china? You and my Lord Elmwood have more now, than
+you have places to put them in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very true, Mrs. Horton&mdash;I forgot that&mdash;but then you
+know I can give these away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood was in the room at the conclusion of this
+conversation&mdash;&mdash;he shook his head and sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I have had a very agreeable
+morning; but I wished for you&mdash;if you had been with me,
+I should have bought a great many other things; but I did
+not like to appear unreasonable in your absence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford fixed his inquisitive eyes upon Lord Elmwood,
+to observe his countenance&mdash;he smiled, but appeared
+thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And, oh! my Lord, I have bought you a present,&rdquo;
+said she.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not wish for a present, Miss Milner.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What not from me? Very well.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you present me with yourself, it is all that I ask.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford moved upon his chair, as if he sat uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why then, Miss Woodley,&rdquo; said Miss Milner, &ldquo;<i>you</i> shall
+have the present. But then it won&rsquo;t suit you&mdash;it is for
+a gentleman. I&rsquo;ll keep it and give it to my Lord Frederick
+the first time I meet with him. I saw him this morning,
+and he looked divinely&mdash;I longed to speak to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley cast, by stealth, an eye of apprehension
+upon Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s face, and trembled at seeing it
+flushed with resentment.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford stared with both his eyes full upon him: then
+threw himself upright on his chair, and took a pinch of snuff
+upon the strength of the Earl&rsquo;s uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p>A silence ensued.</p>
+
+<p>After a short time&mdash;&ldquo;You all appear melancholy,&rdquo; said
+Miss Milner: &ldquo;I wish I had not come home yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley was in agony&mdash;she saw Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s
+extreme displeasure, and dreaded lest he should express it by
+some words he could not recall, or she could not forgive&mdash;therefore,
+whispering to her she had something particular
+to say, she took her out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>The moment she was gone, Mr. Sandford rose nimbly from
+his seat, rubbed his hands, walked briskly across the room,
+then asked Lord Elmwood in a cheerful tone, &ldquo;Whether he
+dined at home to-day?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That which had given Sandford cheerfulness, had so
+depressed Lord Elmwood, that he sat dejected and silent.
+At length he answered in a faint voice, &ldquo;No, I believe I shall
+<i>not</i> dine at home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is your Lordship going to dine?&rdquo; asked Mrs.
+Horton; &ldquo;I thought we should have had your company
+to-day; Miss Milner dines at home, I believe.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have not yet determined where I shall dine,&rdquo; replied he,
+taking no notice of the conclusion of her speech.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, if you mean to go to the hotel, I&rsquo;ll go with
+you, if you please,&rdquo; cried Sandford officiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;With all my heart, Sandford&mdash;&rdquo; and they both went
+out together, before Miss Milner returned to the apartment.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="II_CHAPTER_VIII" id="II_CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley, for the first time, disobeyed the will of
+Mr. Sandford; and as soon as Miss Milner and she were
+alone, repeated all he had revealed to her; accompanying
+the recital, with her usual testimonies of sympathy and
+affection. But had the genius of Sandford presided over
+this discovery, it could not have influenced the mind of
+Miss Milner to receive the intelligence with a temper more
+exactly the opposite of that which it was the intention of the
+informer to recommend. Instead of shuddering at the
+menace Lord Elmwood had uttered, she said, she &ldquo;Dared
+him to perform it.&rdquo; &ldquo;He dares not,&rdquo; repeated she.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why dares not?&rdquo; said Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because he loves me too well&mdash;because his own happiness
+is too dear to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe he loves you,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley, &ldquo;and yet
+there is a doubt if&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There shall be no longer a doubt,&rdquo; cried Miss Milner,
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll put him to the proof.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For shame, my dear! you talk inconsiderately&mdash;what
+can you mean by proof?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mean I will do something that no prudent man <i>ought</i>
+to forgive; and yet, with all his vast share of prudence, <i>he</i>
+shall forgive it, and make a sacrifice of just resentment to
+partial affection.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But if you should be disappointed, and he should <i>not</i>
+make the sacrifice?&rdquo; said Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I have only lost a man who had no regard for
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He may have a great regard for you, notwithstanding.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But for the love I have felt, and do still feel, for my
+Lord Elmwood, I will have something more than a <i>great
+regard</i> in return.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have his love, I am sure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But is it such as mine? <i>I</i> could love <i>him</i> if he had
+a thousand faults. And yet,&rdquo; said she, recollecting herself,
+&ldquo;and yet, I believe his being faultless, was the first cause
+of my passion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thus she talked on&mdash;sometimes in anger, sometimes
+apparently jesting&mdash;till her servant came to let her know
+the dinner was served. Upon entering the dining-room,
+and seeing Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s place at table vacant, she started
+back. She was disappointed of the pleasure she expected
+in dining with him; and his sudden absence, so immediately
+after the intelligence that she had received from Miss Woodley,
+increased her uneasiness. She drew her chair, and sat down
+with an indifference, that said she should not eat; and as
+soon as she was seated, she put her fingers sullenly to her
+lips, nor touched her knife and fork, nor spoke a word in
+reply to any thing that was said to her during the whole
+dinner. Miss Woodley and Mrs. Horton were both too well
+acquainted with the good disposition of her heart, to take
+offence, or appear to notice this behaviour. They dined,
+and said nothing either to provoke or sooth her. Just as
+the dinner was going to be removed, a loud rap came at the
+door&mdash;&ldquo;Who is that?&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton. One of the
+servants went to the window, and answered, &ldquo;My Lord and
+Mr. Sandford, Madam.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come back to dinner as I live,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Horton.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner continued her position and said nothing&mdash;but
+at the corners of her mouth, which her fingers did not
+entirely cover, there were discoverable, a thousand dimpled
+graces like small convulsive fibres, which a restrained smile
+upon Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s return, had sent there.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood and Sandford entered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad you are returned, my Lord,&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton,
+&ldquo;for Miss Milner would not eat a morsel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was only because I had no appetite,&rdquo; returned she,
+blushing like crimson.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We should not have come back,&rdquo; said Sandford, &ldquo;but
+at the place where we went to dine, all the rooms were filled
+with company.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood put the wing of a fowl on Miss Milner&rsquo;s
+plate, but without previously asking if she chose any; yet she
+condescended to eat&mdash;they spoke to each other too in the
+course of conversation, but it was with a reserve that appeared
+as if they had been quarrelling, and felt so to themselves,
+though no such circumstance had happened.</p>
+
+<p>Two weeks passed away in this kind of distant behaviour
+on both sides, without either of them venturing a direct
+quarrel, and without either of them expressing (except
+inadvertently) their strong affection for each other.</p>
+
+<p>During this time they were once, however, very near
+becoming the dearest friends in expression, as well as in
+sentiment. This arose from a favour that he had granted
+in compliance with her desire, though that desire had not
+been urged, but merely insinuated; and as it was a favour
+which he had refused to the repeated requests of many of
+his friends, the value of the obligation was heightened.</p>
+
+<p>She and Miss Woodley had taken an airing to see the poor
+child, young Rushbrook. Lord Elmwood inquiring of the
+ladies how they had passed their morning, Miss Milner
+frankly told him; and added, &ldquo;What pain it gave her to
+leave the child behind, as he had again cried to come away
+with her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go for him then to-morrow,&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood, &ldquo;and
+bring him home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Home!&rdquo; she repeated, with surprise.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;if you desire it, this shall be his home&mdash;you
+shall be a mother, and I will, henceforward, be a father
+to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, who was present, looked unusually sour at this
+high token of regard for Miss Milner; yet, with resentment
+on his face, he wiped a tear of joy from his eye, for the boy&rsquo;s
+sake&mdash;his frown was the force of prejudice, his tear the force
+of nature.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook was brought home; and whenever Lord
+Elmwood wished to shew a kindness to Miss Milner, without
+directing it immediately to her, he took his nephew upon
+his knee, talked to him, and told him, he &ldquo;Was glad they
+had become acquainted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In the various, though delicate, struggles for power between
+Miss Milner and her guardian, there was not one person a
+witness to these incidents, who did not suppose, that all would
+at last end in wedlock&mdash;for the most common observer perceived,
+that ardent love was the foundation of every discontent,
+as well as of every joy they experienced. One great
+incident, however, totally reversed the hope of all future
+accommodation.</p>
+
+<p>The fashionable Mrs. G&mdash;&mdash; gave a masked ball; tickets
+were presented to persons of quality and fashion; among
+the rest, three were sent to Miss Milner. She had never
+been at a masquerade, and received them with ecstasy&mdash;the
+more especially, as the masque being at the house of a woman
+of fashion, she did not conceive there could be any objection
+to her going. She was mistaken&mdash;the moment she mentioned
+it to Lord Elmwood, he desired her, somewhat sternly,
+&ldquo;Not to think of being there.&rdquo; She was vexed at the prohibition,
+but more at the manner in which it was delivered, and
+boldly said, &ldquo;That she should certainly go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She expected a rebuke for this, but what alarmed her
+much more, he said not a word; but looked with a resignation,
+which foreboded her sorrow greater than the severest
+reproaches would have done. She sat for a minute, reflecting
+how to rouse him from this composure&mdash;she first
+thought of attacking him with upbraidings; then she
+thought of soothing him; and at last of laughing at him.
+This was the most dangerous of all, and yet, this she ventured
+upon.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am sure your Lordship,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;with all your
+saintliness, can have no objection to my being present at
+the masquerade, if I go as a Nun.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is a habit,&rdquo; continued she, &ldquo;which covers a multitude
+of faults&mdash;and, for that evening, I may have the chance
+of making a conquest even of you&mdash;nay, I question not, if
+under that inviting attire, even the pious Mr. Sandford
+would not ogle me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; said Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why hush?&rdquo; cried Miss Milner, aloud, though Miss
+Woodley had spoken in a whisper, &ldquo;I am sure,&rdquo; continued
+she, &ldquo;I am only repeating what I have read in books about
+nuns and their confessors.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your conduct, Miss Milner,&rdquo; replied Lord Elmwood
+&ldquo;gives evident proofs of the authors you have read; you
+may spare yourself the trouble of quoting them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her pride was hurt at this, beyond bearing; and as she
+could not, like him, govern her anger, it flushed in her face,
+and almost forced her into tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, (in a tone so soft and
+peaceful, that it should have calmed the resentment of both,)
+&ldquo;my Lord, suppose you were to accompany Miss Milner?
+there are tickets for three, and you can then have no objection.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner&rsquo;s brow was immediately smoothed; and she
+fetched a sigh, in anxious expectation that he would consent.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I go, Miss Woodley?&rdquo; he replied, with astonishment,
+&ldquo;Do you imagine I would play the buffoon at a masquerade?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner&rsquo;s face changed into its former state.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have seen grave characters there, my Lord,&rdquo; said Miss
+Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Miss Woodley,&rdquo; cried Miss Milner, &ldquo;why persuade
+Lord Elmwood to put on a mask, just at the time he has laid
+it aside?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His patience was now tempted to its height, and he
+answered, &ldquo;If you suspect me of inconsistency, Madam, you
+shall find me changed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Pleased that she had been able at last to irritate him, she
+smiled with a degree of triumph, and in that humour was
+going to reply; but before she could speak four words, and
+before she thought of it, he abruptly left the room.</p>
+
+<p>She was highly offended at this insult, and declared,
+&ldquo;From that moment she banished him from her heart for
+ever.&rdquo; And to prove that she set his love and his anger at
+equal defiance, she immediately ordered her carriage, and
+said, she &ldquo;Was going to some of her acquaintance, whom
+she knew to have tickets, and with whom she would fix upon
+the habit she was to appear in at the masquerade; for
+nothing, unless she was locked up, should alter the resolution
+she had formed, of being there.&rdquo; To remonstrate at that
+moment, Miss Woodley knew would be in vain&mdash;her coach
+came to the door, and she drove away.</p>
+
+<p>She did not return to dinner, nor till it was late in the
+evening; Lord Elmwood was at home, but he never once
+mentioned her name.</p>
+
+<p>She came home, after he had retired, in great spirits; and
+then, for the first time, in her whole life, appeared careless
+what he might think of her behaviour:&mdash;but her whole
+thoughts were occupied upon the business which had
+employed the chief of her day; and her dress engrossed all her
+conversation, as soon as Miss Woodley and she were alone.
+She told her, she had been shewn the greatest variety of
+beautiful and becoming dresses she had ever beheld; &ldquo;and
+yet,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I have at last fixed upon a very plain one;
+but one I look so well in, that you will hardly know me, when
+I have it on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are seriously then resolved to go,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley,
+&ldquo;if you hear no more on the subject from your guardian?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Whether I do hear or not, Miss Woodley, I am equally
+resolved to go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you know, my dear, he has desired you not&mdash;and
+you used always to obey his commands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As my guardian, I certainly did obey him; and I could
+obey him as a husband; but as a lover, I will not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yet that is the way never to have him for a husband.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As he pleases&mdash;for if he will not submit to be my lover,
+I will not submit to be his wife&mdash;nor has he the affection
+that I require in a husband.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thus the old sentiments, repeated again and again, prevented
+a separation till towards morning.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner, for that night, dreamed less of her guardian
+than of the masquerade. On the evening of the next day
+it was to be&mdash;she was up early, breakfasted in her dressing
+room, and remained there most of the day, busied in a
+thousand preparations for the night; one of them was, to
+take every particle of powder out of her hair, and have it
+curled all over in falling ringlets. Her next care was, that
+her dress should exactly fit, and display her fine person to
+the best advantage&mdash;it did so. Miss Woodley entered as it
+was trying on, and was all astonishment at the elegance of
+the habit, and its beautiful effect upon her graceful person;
+but, most of all, she was astonished at her venturing on such
+a character&mdash;for though it represented the goddess of
+Chastity, yet from the buskins, and the petticoat festooned
+far above the ankle, it had, on a first glance, the appearance
+of a female much less virtuous. Miss Woodley admired this
+dress, yet objected to it; but as she admired first, her
+objections after had no weight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Lord Elmwood?&rdquo; said Miss Milner&mdash;&ldquo;he
+must not see me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, for heaven&rsquo;s sake,&rdquo; cried Miss Woodley, &ldquo;I would
+not have him see you in such a disguise for the universe.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; returned the other, with a sigh, &ldquo;why am
+I then thus pleased with my dress? for I had rather he
+should admire me than all the world besides, and yet he is
+not to see me in it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But he would not admire you so dressed,&rdquo; said Miss
+Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How shall I contrive to avoid him,&rdquo; said Miss Milner,
+&ldquo;if in the evening he should offer to hand me into my
+carriage? But I believe he will not be in good humour
+enough for that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You had better dress at the house of the ladies with
+whom you go,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley; and this was agreed
+upon.</p>
+
+<p>At dinner they learnt that Lord Elmwood was to go that
+evening to Windsor, in order to be in readiness for the
+king&rsquo;s hunt early in the morning. This intelligence having
+dispersed Miss Milner&rsquo;s fears, she concluded upon dressing
+at home.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood appeared at dinner, in an even, but not in
+a good temper; the subject of the masquerade was never
+brought up, nor indeed was it once in his thoughts; for
+though he was offended at his ward&rsquo;s behaviour on the
+occasion, and considered that she committed a fault in
+telling him, &ldquo;She would go,&rdquo; yet he never suspected she
+meant to do so, not even at the time she said it, much less
+that she would persist, coolly and deliberately, in so direct
+a contradiction to his will. She, for her part, flattered
+herself, that his going to Windsor, was intended in order
+to give her an opportunity of passing the evening as she
+pleased, without his being obliged to know of it, and consequently
+to complain. Miss Woodley, who was willing to
+hope as she wished, began to be of the same opinion; and,
+without reluctance, dressed herself as a wood-nymph to
+accompany her friend.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="II_CHAPTER_IX" id="II_CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<p>At half after eleven, Miss Milner&rsquo;s chair, and another with
+Miss Woodley, took them from Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s, to call
+upon the party (wood-nymphs and huntresses) who were to
+accompany them, and make up the suit of Diana.</p>
+
+<p>They had not left the house two minutes, when a thundering
+rap came at the door&mdash;it was Lord Elmwood in a post
+chaise. Upon some occasion the next day&rsquo;s hunt was deferred:
+he had been made acquainted with it, and came
+from Windsor at that late hour. After he had informed
+Mrs. Horton and Mr. Sandford, who were sitting together,
+of the cause of his sudden return, and had supper ordered
+for him, he enquired, &ldquo;What company had just left the
+house?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We have been alone the whole evening, my Lord,&rdquo;
+replied Mrs. Horton.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; returned he, &ldquo;I saw two chairs, with several
+servants, come out of the door as I drove up, but what livery
+I could not discern.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We have had no creature here,&rdquo; repeated Mrs. Horton.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor has Miss Milner had visitors?&rdquo; asked he.</p>
+
+<p>This brought Mrs. Horton to her recollection, and she
+cried, &ldquo;Oh! now I know;&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;and then checked herself,
+as if she knew too much.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you know, Madam?&rdquo; said he, sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton, &ldquo;I know nothing&mdash;&rdquo; and
+she lifted up her hands and shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So all people say, who know a great deal,&rdquo; cried Sandford,
+&ldquo;and I suspect that is at present your case.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I know more than I wish, I am sure, Mr. Sandford,&rdquo;
+returned she, shrugging up her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood was all impatience.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Explain, Madam, explain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear my Lord,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;if your Lordship will recollect,
+you may just have the same knowledge that I have.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Recollect what?&rdquo; said he sternly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The quarrel you and your ward had about the masquerade.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What of that? she is not gone there?&rdquo; he cried.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not sure she is,&rdquo; returned Mrs. Horton; &ldquo;but if
+your Lordship saw two sedan chairs going out of this house,
+I cannot but suspect it must be Miss Milner and my niece
+going to the masquerade.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He made no answer, but rang the bell violently. A servant
+entered. &ldquo;Send Miss Milner&rsquo;s maid hither,&rdquo; said he,
+&ldquo;immediately.&rdquo; The man withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, my Lord,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Horton, &ldquo;any of the other
+servants could tell you just as well, whether Miss Milner is
+at home, or gone out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps not,&rdquo; replied he.</p>
+
+<p>The maid entered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is your mistress?&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>The woman had received no orders to conceal where the
+ladies were gone, and yet a secret influence which governs the
+thoughts of all waiting-women and chambermaids, whispered
+to her that she ought not to tell the truth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is your mistress?&rdquo; repeated he, in a louder voice
+than before.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gone out, my Lord,&rdquo; she replied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lady did not tell me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And don&rsquo;t you know?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, my Lord:&rdquo; she answered, and without blushing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is this the night of the masquerade?&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, my Lord, upon my word; but, I believe,
+my Lord, it is not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, as soon as Lord Elmwood had asked the last
+question, ran hastily to the table, at the other side of the
+room, took something from it, and returned to his place
+again&mdash;and when the maid said, &ldquo;It was not the night of
+the masquerade,&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;But it is, my Lord, it is&mdash;yes,
+it is,&rdquo; and shewing a newspaper in his hand, pointed to
+the paragraph which contained the information.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Leave the room,&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood to the woman,
+&ldquo;I have done with you.&rdquo; She withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, yes, here it is,&rdquo; repeated Sandford, with the paper
+in his hand.&mdash;&mdash;He then read the paragraph: &ldquo;&lsquo;<i>The masquerade
+at the honorable Mrs. G&mdash;&mdash;&rsquo;s this evening</i>&rsquo;&mdash;This
+evening, my Lord, you find&mdash;&lsquo;<i>it is expected will be the
+most brilliant, of any thing of the kind for these many years
+past.</i>&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They should not put such things in the papers,&rdquo; said
+Mrs. Horton, &ldquo;to tempt young women to their ruin.&rdquo; The
+word ruin grated upon Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s ear, and he said to
+the servant who came to wait on him, while he supped,
+&ldquo;Take the supper away.&rdquo; He had not attempted either to
+eat, or even to sit down; and he now walked backwards and
+forwards in the room, lost in thought and care.</p>
+
+<p>A little time after, one of Miss Milner&rsquo;s footmen came in
+upon some occasion, and Mr. Sandford said to him, &ldquo;Pray
+did you attend your lady to the masquerade?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir,&rdquo; replied the man.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood stopped himself short in his walk, and said
+to the servant, &ldquo;You did?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my Lord,&rdquo; replied he.</p>
+
+<p>He walked again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should like to know what she was dressed in,&rdquo; said
+Mrs. Horton: and turning to the servant, &ldquo;Do you know
+what your lady had on?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Madam,&rdquo; replied the man, &ldquo;she was in men&rsquo;s
+clothes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How!&rdquo; cried Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You tell a story, to be sure,&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton to the
+servant.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; cried Sandford, &ldquo;I am sure he does not; for he is
+an honest good young man, and would not tell a lie upon
+any account&mdash;would you, George?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood ordered Miss Milner&rsquo;s woman to be again
+sent up. She came.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In what dress did your lady go to the masquerade?&rdquo;
+asked he, and with a look so extremely morose, it seemed
+to command the answer in a single word, and that word to
+be truth.</p>
+
+<p>A mind, with a spark of sensibility more than this woman
+possessed, could not have equivocated with such an interrogator,
+but her reply was, &ldquo;She went in her own dress, my
+Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Was it a man&rsquo;s or a woman&rsquo;s?&rdquo; asked he, with a look of
+the same command.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ha, ha, my Lord,&rdquo; (half laughing and half crying)
+&ldquo;a woman&rsquo;s dress, to be sure, my Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>On which Sandford cried&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Call the footman up, and let him confront her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was called; but Lord Elmwood, now disgusted at the
+scene, withdrew to the further end of the room, and left
+Sandford to question them.</p>
+
+<p>With all the authority and consequence of a country
+magistrate, Sandford&mdash;his back to the fire, and the witnesses
+before him, began with the footman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In what dress do you say, that you saw your lady,
+when you attended, and went along with her, to the masquerade?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In men&rsquo;s clothes,&rdquo; replied the man, boldly and firmly
+as before.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless my soul, George, how can you say such a thing?&rdquo;
+cried the woman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What dress do <i>you</i> say she went in?&rdquo; cried Sandford
+to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In women&rsquo;s clothes, indeed, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is very odd!&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Had she on, or had she not on, a coat?&rdquo; asked Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir, a petticoat,&rdquo; replied the woman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do <i>you</i> say she had on a petticoat?&rdquo; said Sandford to the
+man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t answer exactly for that,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;but I know
+she had boots on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They were not boots,&rdquo; replied the maid with vehemence&mdash;&ldquo;indeed,
+Sir, (turning to Sandford) they were only half
+boots.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My girl,&rdquo; said Sandford kindly to her, &ldquo;your own
+evidence convicts your mistress&mdash;What has a woman to do
+with <i>any</i> boots?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Impatient at this mummery, Lord Elmwood rose, ordered
+the servants out of the room, and then, looking at his watch,
+found it was near one. &ldquo;At what hour am I to expect her
+home?&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps not till three in the morning,&rdquo; answered
+Mrs. Horton.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Three! more likely six,&rdquo; cried Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t wait with patience till that time,&rdquo; answered Lord
+Elmwood, with a most anxious sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You had better go to bed, my Lord,&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton;
+&ldquo;and, by sleeping, the time will pass away unperceived.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I <i>could</i> sleep, Madam.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you play a game of cards, my Lord?&rdquo; said Sandford,
+&ldquo;for I will not leave you till she comes home; and
+though I am not used to sit up all night&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All night!&rdquo; repeated Lord Elmwood; &ldquo;she dares not
+stay all night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And yet, after going,&rdquo; said Sandford, &ldquo;in defiance to
+your commands, I should suppose she dared.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is in good company, at least, my Lord,&rdquo; said
+Mrs. Horton.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She does not know herself what company she is in,&rdquo;
+replied he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How should she,&rdquo; cried Sandford, &ldquo;where every one
+hides his face?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Till five o&rsquo;clock in the morning, in conversation such as
+this, the hours passed away. Mrs. Horton, indeed, retired
+to her chamber at two, and left the gentlemen to a more
+serious discourse; but a discourse still less advantageous to
+poor Miss Milner.</p>
+
+<p>She, during this time, was at the scene of pleasure she had
+painted to herself, and all the pleasure it gave her was, that
+she was sure she should never desire to go to a masquerade
+again. Its crowd and bustle fatigued her&mdash;its freedom
+offended her delicacy&mdash;and though she perceived that she
+was the first object of admiration in the place, yet there was
+one person still wanting to admire; and the remorse at
+having transgressed his injunctions for so trivial an entertainment,
+weighed upon her spirits, and added to its weariness.
+She would have come away sooner than she did,
+but she could not, with any degree of good manners, leave
+the company with whom she went; and not till half after
+four, were they prevailed on to return.</p>
+
+<p>Daylight just peeped through the shutters of the room
+in which Lord Elmwood and Sandford were sitting, when
+the sound of her carriage, and the sudden stop it made at
+the door, caused Lord Elmwood to start from his chair. He
+trembled extremely, and looked pale. Sandford was ashamed
+to seem to notice it, yet he could not help asking him, &ldquo;To
+take a glass of wine.&rdquo; He took it&mdash;and for once, evinced he
+was reduced so low, as to be <i>glad</i> of such a resource.</p>
+
+<p>What passion thus agitated Lord Elmwood at this crisis, it
+is hard to define&mdash;perhaps it was indignation at Miss Milner&rsquo;s
+imprudence, and exultation at being on the point of revenge&mdash;perhaps
+it was emotion arising from joy, to find that she
+was safe&mdash;perhaps it was perturbation at the regret he felt
+that he must upbraid her&mdash;perhaps it was not one alone of
+these sensations, but all of them combined.</p>
+
+<p>She, wearied out with the tedious night&rsquo;s dissipation, and
+far less joyous than melancholy, had fallen asleep as she rode
+home, and came half asleep out of her carriage. &ldquo;Light me
+to my bed-chamber instantly,&rdquo; said she to her maid, who
+waited in the hall to receive her. But one of Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s
+valets went up to her, and answered, &ldquo;Madam, my Lord
+desires to see you before you retire.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your Lord!&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;Is he not out of town?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Madam, my Lord has been at home ever since you
+went out; and has been sitting up with Mr. Sandford,
+waiting for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was wide awake immediately. The heaviness was
+removed from her eyes, but fear, grief, and shame, seized
+upon her heart. She leaned against her maid, as if unable to
+support herself under those feelings, and said to Miss
+Woodley,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Make my excuse&mdash;I cannot see him to-night&mdash;I am unfit&mdash;indeed
+I cannot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley was alarmed at the idea of going to him by
+herself, and thus, perhaps, irritating him still more: she,
+therefore, said, &ldquo;He has sent for <i>you</i>; for heaven&rsquo;s sake, do
+not disobey him a second time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, dear Madam, don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; cried her woman, &ldquo;for he is
+like a lion&mdash;he has been scolding me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; (exclaimed Miss Milner, and in a tone
+that seemed prophetic) &ldquo;Then he is not to be my husband,
+after all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; cried Miss Woodley, &ldquo;if you will only be humble,
+and appear sorry. You know your power over him, and all
+may yet be well.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She turned her speaking eyes upon her friend, the tears
+starting from them, her lips trembling&mdash;&ldquo;Do I not appear
+sorry?&rdquo; she cried.</p>
+
+<p>The bell at that moment rang furiously, and they hastened
+their steps to the door of the apartment where Lord Elmwood
+was.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, this shuddering is only fright,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley&mdash;&ldquo;Say
+to him you are sorry, and beg his pardon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;if Mr. Sandford is with him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The servant opened the door, and she and Miss Woodley
+went in. Lord Elmwood, by this time, was composed, and
+received her with a slight inclination of his head&mdash;she bowed
+to him in return, and said, with some marks of humility,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose, my Lord, I have done wrong.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have indeed, Miss Milner,&rdquo; answered he; &ldquo;but
+do not suppose, that I mean to upbraid you: I am, on the
+contrary, going to release you from any such apprehension
+<i>for the future</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Those last three words he delivered with a countenance
+so serious and so determined, with an accent so firm and so
+decided, they pierced through her heart. Yet she did not
+weep, or even sigh; but her friend, knowing what she felt,
+exclaimed, &ldquo;Oh?&rdquo; as if for her.</p>
+
+<p>She herself strove with her anguish, and replied, (but with
+a faltering voice) &ldquo;I expected as much, my Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, Madam, you perhaps expect <i>all</i> that I intend?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In regard to myself,&rdquo; she replied, &ldquo;I suppose I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;you may expect that in a few days we
+shall part.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am prepared for it, my Lord,&rdquo; she answered, and, while
+she said so, sunk upon a chair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, what you have to say farther,&rdquo; said Miss
+Woodley, in tears, &ldquo;defer till the morning&mdash;Miss Milner,
+you see, is not able to bear it now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have nothing to <i>say</i> further,&rdquo; replied he coolly&mdash;&ldquo;I
+have now only to act.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord Elmwood,&rdquo; cried Miss Milner, divided between
+grief and anger, &ldquo;you think to terrify me by your menaces&mdash;but
+I can part with you&mdash;heaven knows I can&mdash;your late
+behaviour has reconciled me to a separation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>On this he was going out of the room&mdash;but Miss Woodley,
+catching hold of him, cried, &ldquo;Oh! my Lord, do not leave
+her in this sorrow&mdash;pity her weakness, and forgive it.&rdquo; She
+was proceeding; and he seemed as if inclined to listen, when
+Sandford called out in a tone of voice so harsh,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Woodley, what do you mean?&rdquo;&mdash;She gave a start,
+and desisted.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood then turned to Sandford, and said, &ldquo;Nay,
+Mr. Sandford, you need entertain no doubts of me&mdash;I have
+judged, and have deter&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was going to say <i>determined</i>; but Miss Milner, who
+dreaded the word, interrupted the period, and exclaimed,
+&ldquo;Oh! could my poor father know the days of sorrow I have
+experienced since his death, how would he repent his fatal
+choice of a protector!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This sentence, in which his friend&rsquo;s memory was recalled,
+with an additional allusion to her long and secret love for
+him, affected Lord Elmwood much&mdash;he was moved, but
+ashamed of being so, and as soon as possible conquered the
+propensity to forgive. Yet, for a short interval, he did not
+know whether to go out of the room, or to remain in it;
+whether to speak, or to be silent. At length he turned
+towards her, and said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Appeal to your father in some other form&mdash;in that
+(pointing at her dress) he will not know you. Reflect upon
+him, too, in your moments of dissipation, and let his idea
+controul your indiscretions&mdash;not merely in an hour of contradiction
+call peevishly upon his name, only to wound the
+dearest friend you have.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a degree of truth, and a degree of passionate
+feeling, in the conclusion of this speech, that alarmed Sandford&mdash;he
+caught up one of the candles, and, laying hold of
+his friend&rsquo;s elbow, drew him out of the room, crying, &ldquo;Come,
+my Lord, come to your bed-chamber&mdash;it is very late&mdash;it is
+morning&mdash;it is time to rise.&rdquo; And by a continual repetition
+of these words, in a very loud voice, drowned whatever Lord
+Elmwood, or any other person might have wished either to
+have said or to have heard.</p>
+
+<p>In this manner, Lord Elmwood was forced out of the
+apartment, and the evening&rsquo;s entertainment concluded.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="II_CHAPTER_X" id="II_CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<p>Two whole days passed in the bitterest suspense on the
+part of Miss Milner, while neither one word or look from
+Lord Elmwood, denoted the most trivial change of the
+sentiments he had declared, on the night of the masquerade.
+Still those sentiments, or intentions, were not explicitly
+delivered; they were more like intimations, than solemn
+declarations&mdash;for though he had said, &ldquo;He would never
+reproach her <i>for the future</i>,&rdquo; and that &ldquo;She might expect
+they should part,&rdquo; he had not positively said they should;
+and upon this doubtful meaning of his words, she hung with
+the strongest agitation of hope and of fear.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley seeing the distress of her mind, (much as she
+endeavoured to conceal it) entreated, nay implored of her,
+to permit her to be a mediator; to suffer her to ask for
+a private interview with Lord Elmwood, and if she found
+him inflexible, to behave with a proper spirit in return;
+but if he appeared not absolutely averse to a reconciliation,
+to offer it in so cautious a manner, that it might take place
+without farther uneasiness on either side. But Miss Milner
+peremptorily forbade this, and acknowledging to her friend
+every weakness she felt on the occasion, yet concluded with
+solemnly declaring, &ldquo;That after what had passed between
+her and Lord Elmwood, <i>he</i> must be the first to make a concession,
+before she herself would condescend to be reconciled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe I know Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s temper,&rdquo; replied
+Miss Woodley, &ldquo;and I do not think he will be easily induced
+to beg pardon for a fault which he thinks <i>you</i> have
+committed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then he does not love me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pshaw! Miss Milner, this is the old argument. He may
+love you too well to spoil you&mdash;consider that he is your
+guardian as well as your lover, he means also to become your
+husband; and he is a man of such nice honour, that he will
+not indulge you with any power before marriage, to which
+he does not intend to submit hereafter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But tenderness, affection, the politeness due from a lover
+to his mistress demands his submission; and as I now despair
+of enticing, I will oblige him to it&mdash;at least I&rsquo;ll make the
+trial, and know my fate at once.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean to do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Invite Lord Frederick to the house, and ask my guardian&rsquo;s
+consent for our immediate union; you will then see, what
+effect that will have upon his pride.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you will then make it too late for him to be humble.
+If you resolve on this, my dear Miss Milner, you are undone
+at once&mdash;you may thus hurry yourself into a marriage with
+a man you do not love, and the misery of your whole future
+life may be the result. Or, would you force Mr. Dorriforth
+(I mean Lord Elmwood) to another duel with my Lord
+Frederick?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, call him Dorriforth,&rdquo; answered she, with the tears
+stealing from her eyes; &ldquo;I thank you for calling him so;
+for by that name alone, is he dear to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, Miss Milner, with what rapture did you not receive
+his love, as Lord Elmwood!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But under this title he has been barbarous; under the
+first, he was all friendship and tenderness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding Miss Milner indulged herself in all these
+soft bewailings to her friend&mdash;before Lord Elmwood she
+maintained a degree of pride and steadiness, which surprised
+even him, who perhaps thought less of her love for him, than
+any other person. She now began to fear she had gone too
+far in discovering her affection, and resolved to make trial
+of a contrary method. She determined to retrieve that
+haughty character which had inspired so many of her
+admirers with passion, and take the chance of its effect upon
+this only one, to whom she ever acknowledged a mutual
+attachment. But although she acted this character well&mdash;so
+well, that every one but Miss Woodley thought her in
+earnest&mdash;yet, with nice and attentive anxiety, she watched
+even the slightest circumstances that might revive her hopes,
+or confirm her despair. Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s behaviour was
+calculated only to produce the latter&mdash;he was cold, polite,
+and perfectly indifferent. Yet, whatever his manners now
+were, they did not remove from her recollection what they
+had been&mdash;she recalled, with delight, the ardour with which
+he had first declared his passion to her, and the thousand
+proofs he had since given of its reality. From the constancy
+of his disposition, she depended that sentiments like these
+were not totally eradicated; and from the extreme desire
+which Mr. Sandford now, more than ever, discovered of
+depreciating her in his patron&rsquo;s esteem&mdash;from the now, more
+than common zeal, which urged him to take Lord Elmwood
+from her company, whenever he had it in his power, she was
+led to believe, that while his friend entertained such strong
+fears of his relapsing into love, she had reason to indulge the
+strongest hopes that he would.</p>
+
+<p>But the reserve, and even indifference, that she had so well
+assumed for a few days, and which might perhaps have
+effected her design, she had not the patience to persevere in,
+without calling levity to their aid. She visited repeatedly
+without saying where, or with whom&mdash;kept later hours than
+usual&mdash;appeared in the highest spirits&mdash;sung, laughed, and
+never heaved a sigh&mdash;but when she was alone.</p>
+
+<p>Still Lord Elmwood protracted a resolution, that he was
+determined he would never break when taken.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley was excessively uneasy, and with cause;
+she saw her friend was providing herself with a weight of
+cares, that she would soon find infinitely too much for her
+strength to bear&mdash;she would have reasoned with her, but
+all her arguments had long since proved unavailing. She
+wished to speak to Lord Elmwood upon the subject, and
+(unknown to her) plead her excuse; but he apprehended
+Miss Woodley&rsquo;s intention, and evidently shunned her.
+Mr. Sandford was now the only person to whom she could
+speak of Miss Milner, and the delight he took to expatiate on
+her faults, was more sorrow to her friend, than not to speak
+of her at all. She, therefore, sat a silent spectator, waiting
+with dread for the time when she, who now scorned her
+advice, would fly to her in vain for comfort.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford had, however, said one thing to Miss Woodley,
+which gave her a ray of hope. During their conversation on
+the subject, (not by way of consolation to her, but as a reproach
+to Lord Elmwood) he one day angrily exclaimed,
+&ldquo;And yet, notwithstanding all this provocation, he has not
+come to the determination that he will think no more of her&mdash;he
+lingers and he hesitates&mdash;I never saw him so weak upon
+any occasion before.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was joyful hearing to Miss Woodley; still, she could
+not but reflect, the longer he was in coming to this determination,
+the more irrevocable it would be, when once taken;
+and every moment that passed, she trembled lest it should
+be the very moment, in which Lord Elmwood should resolve
+to banish Miss Milner from his heart.</p>
+
+<p>Amongst her unpardonable indiscretions, during this trial
+upon the temper of her guardian, was the frequent mention
+of many gentlemen, who had been her professed admirers,
+and the mention of them with partiality. Teased, if not
+tortured, by this, Lord Elmwood still behaved with a manly
+evenness of temper, and neither appeared provoked on the
+subject, nor insolently careless. In a single instance, however,
+this calmness was near deserting him.</p>
+
+<p>Entering the drawing-room, one evening, he started, on
+seeing Lord Frederick Lawnly there, in earnest conversation
+with Miss Milner.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Horton and Miss Woodley were both indeed present,
+and Lord Frederick was talking in an audible voice, upon
+some indifferent subjects; but with that impressive manner,
+in which a man never fails to speak to the woman he loves,
+be the subject what it may. The moment Lord Elmwood
+started, which was the moment he entered, Lord Frederick
+arose.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon, my Lord,&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood,
+&ldquo;I protest I did not know you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I ought to entreat your Lordship&rsquo;s pardon,&rdquo; returned
+Lord Frederick, &ldquo;for this intrusion, which an accident alone
+has occasioned. Miss Milner has been almost overturned
+by the carelessness of a lady&rsquo;s coachman, in whose carriage
+she was, and therefore suffered me to bring her home in
+mine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope you are not hurt,&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood to Miss
+Milner, but his voice was so much affected by what he felt
+that he could scarce articulate the words. Not with the
+apprehension that she was hurt, was he thus agitated, for
+the gaiety of her manners convinced him <i>that</i> could not be
+the case, nor did he indeed suppose any accident, of the kind
+mentioned, had occurred; but the circumstance of unexpectedly
+seeing Lord Frederick had taken him off his guard,
+and being totally unprepared, he could not conceal indications
+of the surprise, and of the shock it had given him.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Frederick, who had heard nothing of his intended
+union with his ward, (for it was even kept a secret, at present,
+from every servant in the house) imputed this discomposure
+to the personal resentment he might bear him, in consequence
+of their duel; for though Lord Elmwood had assured the
+uncle of Lord Frederick, (who once waited upon him on the
+subject of Miss Milner) that all resentment was, on his part,
+entirely at an end; and that he was willing to consent to his
+ward&rsquo;s marriage with his nephew, if she would concur; yet
+Lord Frederick doubted the sincerity of this, and would still
+have had the delicacy not to have entered Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s
+house, had he not been encouraged by Miss Milner, and
+emboldened by his love. Personal resentment was therefore
+the construction he put upon Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s emotion on
+entering the room; but Miss Milner and Miss Woodley
+knew his agitation to arise from a far different cause.</p>
+
+<p>After his entrance, Lord Frederick did not attempt once
+to resume his seat, but having bowed most respectfully to all
+present, he took his leave; while Miss Milner followed him
+as far as the door, and repeated her thanks for his protection.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood was hurt beyond measure; but he had
+a second concern, which was, that he had not the power
+to conceal how much he was affected. He trembled&mdash;when
+he attempted to speak, he stammered&mdash;he perceived his face
+burning with confusion, and thus one confusion gave birth
+to another, till his state was pitiable.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner, with all her assumed gaiety and real insolence,
+had not, however, the insolence to seem as if she observed
+him; she had only the confidence to observe him by stealth.
+And Mrs. Horton and Miss Woodley, having opportunely
+begun a discourse upon some trivial occurrences, gave him
+time to recover himself by degrees&mdash;yet, still it was merely
+by degrees; for the impression which this incident had
+made, was deep, and not easily to be erased. The entrance
+of Mr. Sandford, who knew nothing of what had happened,
+was however, another relief; for he began a conversation
+with him, which they very soon retired into the library to
+terminate. Miss Milner, taking Miss Woodley with her,
+went directly to her own apartment, and there exclaimed
+in rapture,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is mine&mdash;he loves me&mdash;and he is mine for ever.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley congratulated her upon believing so, but
+confessed she herself &ldquo;Had her fears.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What fears?&rdquo; cried Miss Milner: &ldquo;don&rsquo;t you perceive
+that he loves me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;but that I always believed;
+and, I think, if he loves you now, he has yet the good sense to
+know that he has reason to hate you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What has good sense to do with love?&rdquo; returned Miss
+Milner&mdash;&ldquo;If a lover of mine suffers his understanding to
+get the better of his affection&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The same arguments were going to be repeated; but Miss
+Woodley interrupted her, by requiring an explanation of
+her conduct as to Lord Frederick, whom, at least, she was
+treating with cruelty, if she only made use of his affection
+to stimulate that of Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By no means, my dear Miss Woodley,&rdquo; returned she&mdash;&ldquo;I
+have, indeed, done with my Lord Frederick from this
+day; and he has certainly given me the proof I wanted of
+Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s love; but then I did not engage him to this
+by the smallest ray of hope. No; do not suspect me of
+that, while my heart was another&rsquo;s: and I assure you,
+seriously, that it was from the circumstance we described he
+came with me home&mdash;yet, I must own, that if I had not had
+this design upon Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s jealousy in idea, I would
+have walked on foot through the streets, rather than have
+suffered his rival&rsquo;s civilities. But he pressed his services so
+violently, and my Lady Evans (in whose coach I was when
+the accident happened) pressed me so violently to accept them,
+that he cannot expect any farther meaning from this acquiescence
+than my own convenience.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley was going to reply, when she resumed,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, if you intend to say I have done wrong, still I am
+not sorry for it, when it has given me such convincing proofs
+of Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s love. Did you see him? I am afraid
+you did not see how he trembled? and that manly voice
+faltered, as mine does sometimes&mdash;his proud heart was
+humbled too, as mine is now and then. Oh! Miss Woodley,
+I have been counterfeiting indifference to <i>him</i>&mdash;I now find
+that all <i>his</i> indifference to <i>me</i> has been counterfeit, and that
+we not only love, but love equally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose this all as you hope&mdash;I yet think it highly
+necessary that your guardian should be informed, seriously
+informed, it was mere accident (for, at present, that plea
+seems but as a subterfuge) which brought Lord Frederick
+hither.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, that will be destroying the work so successfully
+begun. I will not suffer any explanation to take place, but
+let my Lord Elmwood act just as his love shall dictate; and
+now I have no longer a doubt of its excess, instead of stooping
+to him, I wait in the certain expectation of his submission
+to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="II_CHAPTER_XI" id="II_CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<p>In vain, for three long days, did Miss Milner wait impatiently
+for this submission; not a sign, not a symptom
+appeared&mdash;nay, Lord Elmwood had, since the evening of
+Lord Frederick&rsquo;s visit, (which, at the time it happened,
+seemed to affect him so exceedingly) become just the same
+man he was before the circumstance occurred; except,
+indeed, that he was less thoughtful, and now and then
+cheerful; but without any appearance that his cheerfulness
+was affected. Miss Milner was vext&mdash;she was alarmed&mdash;but
+was ashamed to confess those humiliating sensations, even to
+Miss Woodley&mdash;she supported, therefore, when in company,
+the vivacity she had so long assumed; but gave way, when
+alone, to a still greater degree of melancholy than usual.
+She no longer applauded her scheme of bringing Lord
+Frederick to the house, and trembled, lest, on some pretence,
+he should dare to call again. But as these were feelings which
+her pride would not suffer her to disclose even to her friend,
+who would have condoled with her, their effects were doubly
+poignant.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting in her dressing-room one forenoon with Miss
+Woodley, and burthened with a load of grief that she blushed
+to acknowledge, while her companion was charged with
+apprehensions that she too was loath to disclose, one of
+Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s valets tapped gently at the door, and
+delivered a letter to Miss Milner. By the person who
+brought it, as well as by the address, she knew it came from
+Lord Elmwood, and laid it down upon her toilet, as if she
+was fearful to unfold it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; said Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A letter from Lord Elmwood,&rdquo; replied Miss Milner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good Heaven!&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; returned she, &ldquo;it is, I have no doubt, a letter
+to beg my pardon.&rdquo; But her reluctance to open it plainly
+evinced she did not think so.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not read it yet,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not intend it,&rdquo; replied she, trembling extremely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you dine first?&rdquo; said Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;for not knowing its contents, I shall not know how
+to conduct myself towards him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here a silence followed. Miss Milner took up the letter&mdash;looked
+earnestly at the handwriting on the outside&mdash;at the
+seal&mdash;inspected into its folds&mdash;and seemed to wish, by some
+equivocal method, to guess at the contents, without having
+the courage to come at the certain knowledge of them.</p>
+
+<p>Curiosity, at length, got the better of her fears&mdash;she
+opened the letter, and, scarce able to hold it while she read,
+she read the following words:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Madam</span>,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;While I considered you only as my ward, my friendship
+for you was unbounded&mdash;when I looked upon you as
+a woman formed to grace a fashionable circle, my admiration
+equalled my friendship&mdash;and when fate permitted me to
+behold you in the tender light of my betrothed wife, my
+soaring love left those humbler passions at a distance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That you have still my friendship, my admiration, and
+even my love, I will not attempt to deceive either myself or
+you by disavowing; but still, with a firm assurance, I declare,
+that prudence outweighs them all; and I have not, from
+henceforward, a wish to be regarded by you, in any other
+respect than as one &lsquo;who wishes you well.&rsquo; That you ever
+beheld me in the endearing quality of a destined and
+an affectionate husband, (such as I would have proved) was
+a deception upon my hopes: they acknowledge the mistake,
+and are humbled&mdash;but I entreat you to spare their farther
+trial, and for a single week do not insult me with the open
+preference of another. In the short space of that period
+I shall have taken my leave of you&mdash;<i>for ever</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall visit Italy, and some other parts of the Continent;
+from whence I propose passing to the West Indies, in order
+to inspect my possessions there: nor shall I return to
+England till after a few years&rsquo; absence; in which time I hope
+to become once more reconciled to the change of state I am
+enjoined&mdash;a change I now most fervently wish could be
+entirely dispensed with.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The occasion of my remaining here a week longer, is to
+settle some necessary affairs, among which the principal is,
+that of delivering to a friend, a man of worth and of tenderness,
+all those writings which have invested me with the
+power of my guardianship&mdash;he will, the day after my departure,
+(without one upbraiding word) resign them to you
+in my name; and even your most respected father, could
+he behold the resignation, would concur in its propriety.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now, my dear Miss Milner, let not affected resentment,
+contempt, or levity, oppose that serenity, which, for
+the week to come, I wish to enjoy. By complying with this
+request, give me to believe, that, since you have been under
+my care, you think I have, at least, faithfully discharged
+some part of my duty. And wherever I have been inadequate
+to your wishes, attribute my demerits to some infirmity
+of mind, rather than to a negligence of your happiness. Yet,
+be the cause what it will, since these faults have existed,
+I do not attempt to disavow or extenuate them, and I beg
+your pardon.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;However time, and a succession of objects, may eradicate
+more tender sentiments, I am sure <i>never</i> to lose the liveliest
+anxiety for your welfare&mdash;and with all that solicitude, which
+cannot be described, I entreat for your own sake, for mine&mdash;when
+we shall be far asunder&mdash;and for the sake of your dead
+father&rsquo;s memory, that, <i>upon every important occasion, you will
+call your serious judgment to direct you</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am, Madam,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your sincerest friend,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Elmwood</span>.&rdquo;</p></div>
+
+<p>After she had read every syllable of this letter, it dropped
+from her hands; but she uttered not a word. There was,
+however, a paleness in her face, a deadness in her eye, and
+a kind of palsy over her frame, which Miss Woodley, who
+had seen her in every stage of her uneasiness, never had seen
+before.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not want to read the letter,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley;
+&ldquo;your looks tell me its contents.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They will then discover to Lord Elmwood,&rdquo; replied she,
+&ldquo;what I feel; but Heaven forbid&mdash;that would sink me even
+lower than I am.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Scarce able to move, she rose, and looked in her glass, as
+if to arrange her features, and impose upon him: alas! it
+was of no avail&mdash;a serenity of mind could alone effect what
+she desired.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must endeavour,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;to feel the
+disposition you wish to make appear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will,&rdquo; replied she, &ldquo;I will feel a proper pride&mdash;and
+a proper scorn of this treatment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And so desirous was she to attain the appearance of these
+sentiments, that she made the strongest efforts to calm her
+thoughts, in order to acquire it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have but a few days to remain with him,&rdquo; she said to
+herself, &ldquo;and we part for ever&mdash;during those few days it
+is not only my duty to obey his commands, or rather comply
+with his request, but it is also my wish to leave upon his mind
+an impression, which may not add to the ill opinion he has
+formed of me, but, perhaps, serve to diminish it. If, in every
+other instance, my conduct has been blameable, he shall, at
+least in this, acknowledge its merit. The fate I have drawn
+upon myself, he shall find I can be resigned to; and he shall
+be convinced, that the woman, of whose weakness he has had
+so many fatal proofs, is yet in possession of some fortitude&mdash;fortitude,
+to bid him farewell, without discovering one
+affected or one real pang, though her death should be the
+immediate consequence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thus she resolved, and thus she acted. The severest judge
+could not have arraigned her conduct, from the day she
+received Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s letter, to the day of his departure.
+She had, indeed, involuntary weaknesses, but none with which
+she did not struggle, and, in general, her struggles were
+victorious.</p>
+
+<p>The first time she saw him after the receipt of his letter,
+was on the evening of the same day&mdash;she had a little concert
+of amateurs of music, and was herself singing and playing
+when he entered the room: the connoisseurs immediately
+perceived she made a false cadence&mdash;but Lord Elmwood was
+no connoisseur in the art, and he did not observe it.</p>
+
+<p>They occasionally spoke to each other through the evening,
+but the subjects were general&mdash;and though their manners
+every time they spoke, were perfectly polite, they were not
+marked with the smallest degree of familiarity. To describe
+his behaviour exactly, it was the same as his letter, polite,
+friendly, composed, and resolved. Some of the company
+staid supper, which prevented the embarrassment that must
+unavoidably have arisen, had the family been by themselves.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning each breakfasted in his separate apartments&mdash;more
+company dined with them&mdash;in the evening,
+and at supper, Lord Elmwood was from home.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, all passed on as peaceably as he had requested, and
+Miss Milner had not betrayed one particle of frailty; when,
+the third day at dinner, some gentlemen of his acquaintance
+being at table, one of them said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And so, my Lord, you absolutely set off on Tuesday
+morning?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was Friday.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford and he both replied at the same time, &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+And Sandford, but not Lord Elmwood, looked at Miss
+Milner when he spoke. Her knife and fork gave a sudden
+spring in her hand, but no other emotion witnessed what
+she felt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aye, Elmwood,&rdquo; cried another gentleman at table,
+&ldquo;you&rsquo;ll bring home, I am afraid, a foreign wife, and that
+I shan&rsquo;t forgive.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is his errand abroad, I make no doubt,&rdquo; said another
+visitor.</p>
+
+<p>Before he could return an answer, Sandford cried, &ldquo;And
+what objection to a foreigner for a wife? do not crowned
+heads all marry foreigners? and who happier in the married
+state than some kings?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood directed his eyes to the side of the table,
+opposite to that where Miss Milner sat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; (answered one of the guests, who was a country
+gentleman) &ldquo;what do you say, ladies&mdash;do you think my
+Lord ought to go out of his own nation for a wife?&rdquo; and
+he looked at Miss Milner for the reply.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley, uneasy at her friend&rsquo;s being thus forced
+to give an opinion upon so delicate a subject, endeavoured
+to satisfy the gentleman, by answering to the question herself:
+&ldquo;Whoever my Lord Elmwood marries, Sir,&rdquo; said Miss
+Woodley, &ldquo;he, no doubt, will be happy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But what say you, Madam?&rdquo; asked the visitor, still
+keeping his eyes on Miss Milner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That whoever Lord Elmwood marries, he <i>deserves</i> to be
+happy:&rdquo; returned she, with the utmost command of her
+voice and looks; for Miss Woodley, by replying first, had
+given her time to collect herself.</p>
+
+<p>The colour flew to Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s face, as she delivered
+this short sentence; and Miss Woodley persuaded herself,
+she saw a tear start in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner did not look that way.</p>
+
+<p>In an instant he found means to change the subject, but
+that of his journey still employed the conversation; and
+what horses, servants, and carriages he took with him, was
+minutely asked, and so accurately answered, either by himself
+or by Mr. Sandford, that Miss Milner, although she had
+known her doom before, till now had received no circumstantial
+account of it&mdash;and as circumstances increase or
+diminish all we feel, the hearing these things told, increased
+the bitterness of their truth.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after dinner the ladies retired; and from that time,
+though Miss Milner&rsquo;s behaviour continued the same, yet her
+looks and her voice were totally altered&mdash;for the world, she
+could not have looked cheerfully; for the world, she could
+not have spoken with a sprightly accent; she frequently
+began in one, but not three words could she utter, before
+her tones sunk into dejection. Not only her colour, but her
+features became changed; her eyes lost their brilliancy, her
+lips seemed to hang without the power of motion, her head
+drooped, and her dress was neglected. Conscious of this
+appearance, and conscious of the cause from whence it arose,
+it was her desire to hide herself from the only object she
+could have wished to have charmed. Accordingly, she sat
+alone, or with Miss Woodley in her own apartment as much
+as was consistent with that civility which her guardian had
+requested, and which forbade her totally absenting herself.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley felt so acutely the torments of her friend,
+that had not her reason told her, that the inflexible mind of
+Lord Elmwood, was fixed beyond her power to shake, she
+had cast herself at his feet, and implored the return of his
+affection and tenderness, as the only means to save his once-beloved
+ward from an untimely death. But her understanding&mdash;her
+knowledge of his firm and immoveable temper; and
+of all his provocations&mdash;her knowledge of his word, long since
+given to Sandford, &ldquo;That if once resolved, he would not
+recall his resolution&rdquo;&mdash;the certainty of the various plans
+arranged for his travels, all convinced her, that by any
+interference, she would only expose Miss Milner&rsquo;s love and
+delicacy, to a contemptuous rejection.</p>
+
+<p>If the conversation did not every day turn upon the subject
+of Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s departure&mdash;a conversation he evidently
+avoided himself&mdash;yet, every day, some new preparation for
+his journey, struck either the ear or the eye of Miss Milner&mdash;and
+had she beheld a frightful spectre, she could not have
+shuddered with more horror, than when she unexpectedly
+passed his large trunks in the hall, nailed and corded, ready
+to be sent off to meet him at Venice. At the sight, she flew
+from the company that chanced to be with her, and stole to
+the first lonely corner of the house to conceal her tears&mdash;she
+reclined her head upon her hands, and bedewed them with
+the sudden anguish, that had overcome her. She heard
+a footstep advancing towards the spot where she hoped to
+have been concealed; she lifted up her eyes, and saw Lord
+Elmwood. Pride, was the first emotion his presence inspired&mdash;pride,
+which arose from the humility into which she was
+plunged.</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him earnestly, as if to imply, &ldquo;What now,
+my Lord?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He only answered with a bow, which expressed; &ldquo;I beg
+your pardon.&rdquo; And immediately withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>Thus each understood the other&rsquo;s language, without either
+having uttered a word.</p>
+
+<p>The just construction she put upon his looks and behaviour
+upon this occasion, kept up her spirits for some little time;
+and she blessed heaven, repeatedly, for the singular favour
+of shewing to her, clearly, by this accident, his negligence of
+her sorrows, his total indifference.</p>
+
+<p>The next day was the eve of that on which he was to
+depart&mdash;of the day on which she was to bid adieu to Dorriforth,
+to her guardian, to Lord Elmwood; to all her hopes
+at once.</p>
+
+<p>The moment she awoke on Monday morning, the recollection,
+that this was, perhaps, the last day she was ever again
+to see him, softened all the resentment his yesterday&rsquo;s conduct
+had raised: forgetting his austerity, and all she had
+once termed cruelties, she now only remembered his friendship,
+his tenderness, and his love. She was impatient to see
+him, and promised herself, for this last day, to neglect no
+one opportunity of being with him. For that purpose she
+did not breakfast in her own room, as she had done for several
+mornings before, but went into the breakfast-room, where
+all the family in general met. She was rejoiced on hearing
+his voice as she opened the door, yet the sound made her
+tremble so much, that she could scarcely totter to the table.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley looked at her as she entered, and was never
+so shocked at seeing her; for never had she yet seen her look
+so ill. As she approached, she made an inclination of her
+head to Mrs. Horton, then to her guardian, as was her
+custom, when she first saw them in a morning&mdash;he looked in
+her face as he bowed in return, then fixed his eyes upon the
+fire-place, rubbed his forehead, and began talking with
+Mr. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, during breakfast, by accident cast a glance upon
+Miss Milner; his attention was caught by her deadly
+countenance, and he looked earnestly. He then turned to
+Lord Elmwood to see if he was observing her appearance&mdash;he
+was not&mdash;and so much were her thoughts engaged on him
+alone, that she did not once perceive Sandford gazing at her.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Horton, after a little while observed, &ldquo;It was a
+beautiful morning.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood said, &ldquo;He thought he heard it rain in the
+night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford cried, &ldquo;For his part he slept too well to know.&rdquo;
+And then (unasked) held a plate with biscuits to Miss Milner&mdash;it
+was the first civility he had ever in his life offered her;
+she smiled at the whimsicality of the circumstance, but she
+took one in return for his attention. He looked grave beyond
+his usual gravity, and yet not with his usual ill temper. She
+did not eat what she had so politely taken, but laid it down
+soon after.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood was the first who rose from breakfast, and
+he did not return to dinner.</p>
+
+<p>At dinner, Mrs. Horton said, &ldquo;She hoped he would, however,
+favour them with his company at supper.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To which Sandford replied, &ldquo;No doubt, for you will
+hardly any of you see him in the morning; as we shall be off
+by six, or soon after.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford was not going abroad with Lord Elmwood, but
+was to go with him as far as Dover.</p>
+
+<p>These words of his&mdash;&ldquo;<i>Not see Lord Elmwood in the morning</i>&rdquo;&mdash;[never
+again to see him after this evening,] were like the
+knell of death to Miss Milner. She felt the symptoms of
+fainting, and eagerly snatched a glass of water, which the
+servant was holding to Sandford, who had called for it, and
+drank it off;&mdash;as she returned the glass to the servant, she
+began to apologize to Mr. Sandford for her seeming rudeness,
+but before she could utter what she intended, he said, good-naturedly,
+&ldquo;Never mind&mdash;you are very welcome&mdash;I am glad
+you took it.&rdquo; She looked at him to observe, whether he had
+really spoken kindly, or ironically; but before his countenance
+could satisfy her, her thoughts were called away from that
+trivial matter, and again fixed upon Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>The moments seemed tedious till he came home to supper,
+and yet, when she reflected how short the remainder of the
+evening would be after that time, she wished to defer the
+hour of his return for months. At ten o&rsquo;clock he arrived;
+and at half after ten the family, without any visitor, met at
+supper.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner had considered, that the period for her to
+counterfeit appearances, was diminished now to a most contracted
+one; and she rigorously enjoined herself not to
+shrink from the little which remained. The certain end, that
+would be so soon put to this painful deception, encouraged
+her to struggle through it with redoubled zeal; and this
+was but necessary, as her weakness increased. She therefore
+listened, she talked, and even smiled with the rest of the
+company, nor did <i>their</i> vivacity seem to arise, from a much
+less compulsive source than her own.</p>
+
+<p>It was past twelve, when Lord Elmwood looked at his
+watch, and rising from his chair, went up to Mrs. Horton,
+and taking her hand, said, &ldquo;Till I see you again, Madam,
+I sincerely wish you every happiness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner fixed her eyes upon the table before her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Horton, &ldquo;I sincerely wish you
+health and happiness likewise.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He then went to Miss Woodley, and taking her hand,
+repeated much the same, as he had said to Mrs. Horton.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner now trembled beyond all power of concealment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley, a good deal affected, &ldquo;I
+sincerely hope my prayers for your happiness may be heard.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She and Mrs. Horton were both standing as well as Lord
+Elmwood; but Miss Milner kept her seat, till his eye was
+turned upon her, and he moved slowly towards her; she
+then rose:&mdash;every one who was present, attentive to what
+he would now say, and how she would receive what he said,
+here cast their eyes upon them, and listened with impatience.
+They were all disappointed&mdash;he did not utter a syllable.
+Yet he took her hand, and held it closely between his. He
+then bowed most respectfully and left her.</p>
+
+<p>No &ldquo;I wish you well;&mdash;I wish you health and happiness.&rdquo;
+No &ldquo;Prayers for blessings on her.&rdquo; Not even the word
+&ldquo;Farewell,&rdquo; escaped his lips&mdash;perhaps, to have attempted
+any of these, might have choaked his utterance.</p>
+
+<p>She had behaved with fortitude the whole evening, and
+she continued to do so, till the moment he turned away
+from her. Her eyes then overflowed with tears, and in the
+agony of her mind, not knowing what she did, she laid her
+cold hand upon the person next to her&mdash;it happened to be
+Sandford; but not observing it was he, she grasped his hand
+with violence&mdash;yet he did not snatch it away, nor look at
+her with his wonted severity. And thus she stood, silent and
+motionless, while Lord Elmwood, now at the door, bowed
+once more to all the company, and retired.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford had still Miss Milner&rsquo;s hand fixed upon his; and
+when the door was shut after Lord Elmwood, he turned his
+head to look in her face, and turned it with some marks of
+apprehension for the grief he might find there. She strove
+to overcome that grief, and after a heavy sigh, sat down, as
+if resigned to the fate to which she was decreed.</p>
+
+<p>Instead of following Lord Elmwood, as usual, Sandford
+poured out a glass of wine, and drank it. A general silence
+ensued for near three minutes. At last, turning himself
+round on his seat, towards Miss Milner, who sat like a statue
+of despair at his side, &ldquo;Will you breakfast with us to-morrow?&rdquo;
+said he.</p>
+
+<p>She made no answer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We shan&rsquo;t breakfast before half after six,&rdquo; continued he,
+&ldquo;I dare say; and if you can rise so early&mdash;why do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Milner,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, (for she caught
+eagerly at the hope of her passing this night in less unhappiness
+than she had foreboded) &ldquo;pray rise at that hour to
+breakfast; Mr. Sandford would not invite you, if he thought
+it would displease Lord Elmwood.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not I,&rdquo; replied Sandford, churlishly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then desire her maid to call her:&rdquo; said Mrs. Horton
+to Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, she will be awake, I have no doubt;&rdquo; returned
+her niece.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No;&rdquo; replied Miss Milner, &ldquo;since Lord Elmwood has
+thought proper to take his leave of me, without even speaking
+a word; by my own design, never will I see him again.&rdquo; And
+her tears burst forth, as if her heart burst at the same time.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why did not <i>you</i> speak to <i>him</i>?&rdquo; cried Sandford&mdash;&ldquo;Pray
+did <i>you</i> bid <i>him</i> farewell? and I don&rsquo;t see why one is
+not as much to be blamed, in that respect, as the other.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was too weak to say I wished him happy,&rdquo; cried Miss
+Milner; &ldquo;but, Heaven is my witness, I do wish him so from
+my soul.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And do you imagine he does not wish you so?&rdquo; cried
+Sandford. &ldquo;You should judge him by your own heart; and
+what you feel for him, imagine he feels for you, my dear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Though &ldquo;<i>my dear</i>&rdquo; is a trivial phrase, yet from certain
+people, and upon certain occasions, it is a phrase of infinite
+comfort and assurance. Mr. Sandford seldom said &ldquo;my dear&rdquo;
+to any one; to Miss Milner never; and upon this occasion,
+and from him, it was an expression most precious.</p>
+
+<p>She turned to him with a look of gratitude; but as she
+only looked, and did not speak, he rose up, and soon after
+said, with a friendly tone he had seldom used in her presence,
+&ldquo;I sincerely wish you a good night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As soon as he was gone, Miss Milner exclaimed, &ldquo;However
+my fate may have been precipitated by the unkindness of
+Mr. Sandford, yet, for that particle of concern which he has
+shown for me this night, I will always be grateful to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Horton, &ldquo;good Mr. Sandford may
+show his kindness now, without any danger from its consequences.
+Now Lord Elmwood is going away for ever, he
+is not afraid of your seeing him once again.&rdquo; And she
+thought she praised him by this suggestion.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="II_CHAPTER_XII" id="II_CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<p>When Miss Milner retired to her bed-chamber, Miss
+Woodley went with her, nor would leave her the whole night&mdash;but
+in vain did she persuade her to rest&mdash;she absolutely
+refused; and declared she would never, from that hour,
+indulge repose. &ldquo;The part I undertook to perform,&rdquo; cried
+she, &ldquo;is over&mdash;I will now, for my whole life, appear in my
+own character, and give a loose to the anguish I endure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As daylight showed itself&mdash;&ldquo;And yet I might see him once
+again,&rdquo; said she&mdash;&ldquo;I might see him within these two hours,
+if I pleased, for Mr. Sandford invited me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you think, my dear Miss Milner,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley,
+&ldquo;that a second parting from Lord Elmwood would but give
+you a second agony, in the name of Heaven do not see him
+any more&mdash;but, if you hope your mind would be easier, were
+you to bid each other adieu in a more direct manner than
+you did last night, let us go down and breakfast with him.
+I&rsquo;ll go before, and prepare him for your reception&mdash;you shall
+not surprise him&mdash;and I will let him know, it is by Mr. Sandford&rsquo;s
+invitation you are coming.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She listened with a smile to this proposal, yet objected to
+the indelicacy of her wishing to see him, after he had taken
+his leave&mdash;but as Miss Woodley perceived that she was
+inclined to infringe this delicacy, of which she had so proper
+a sense, she easily persuaded her, it was impossible for the
+most suspicious person (and Lord Elmwood was far from
+such a character) to suppose, that the paying him a visit
+at that period of time, could be with the most distant idea of
+regaining his heart, or of altering one resolution he had taken.</p>
+
+<p>But though Miss Milner acquiesced in this opinion, yet
+she had not the courage to form the determination that she
+would go.</p>
+
+<p>Daylight now no longer peeped, but stared upon them.
+Miss Milner went to the looking-glass, breathed upon her
+hands and rubbed them on her eyes, smoothed her hair and
+adjusted her dress; yet said, after all, &ldquo;I dare not see him
+again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may do as you please,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;but
+I will. I that have lived for so many years under the same
+roof with him, and on the most friendly terms, and he going
+away, perhaps for these ten years, perhaps for ever, I should
+think it a disrespect not to see him to the last moment of his
+remaining in the house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then do you go,&rdquo; said Miss Milner, eagerly; &ldquo;and if he
+should ask for me, I will gladly come, you know; but if he
+does not ask for me, I will not&mdash;and pray don&rsquo;t deceive me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley promised her not to deceive her; and soon
+after, as they heard the servants pass about the house, and
+the clock had struck six, Miss Woodley went to the breakfast
+room.</p>
+
+<p>She found Lord Elmwood there in his travelling dress,
+standing pensively by the fire-place&mdash;and, as he did not
+dream of seeing her, he started when she entered, and, with
+an appearance of alarm, said, &ldquo;Dear Miss Woodley, what&rsquo;s
+the matter?&rdquo; She replied, &ldquo;Nothing, my Lord; but I could
+not be satisfied without seeing your Lordship once again,
+while I had it in my power.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thank you,&rdquo; he returned with a sigh&mdash;the heaviest and
+most intelligent sigh she ever heard him condescend to give.
+She imagined, alas, that he looked as if he wished to ask how
+Miss Milner did, but would not allow himself the indulgence.
+She was half inclined to mention her to him, and was debating
+in her mind whether she should or not, when Mr. Sandford
+came into the room, saying, as he entered,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For Heaven&rsquo;s sake, my Lord, where did you sleep last
+night?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why do you ask!&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;I went into your bed-chamber
+just now, and I found your bed made. You have
+not slept there to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have slept no where,&rdquo; returned he; &ldquo;I could not
+sleep&mdash;and having some papers to look over, and to set off
+early, I thought I might as well not go to bed at all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley was pleased at the frank manner in which
+he made this confession, and could not resist the strong
+impulse to say, &ldquo;You have done just then, my Lord, like
+Miss Milner, for she has not been in bed the whole night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley spoke this in a negligent manner, and yet,
+Lord Elmwood echoed back the words with solicitude,
+&ldquo;Has not Miss Milner been in bed the whole night?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If she is up, why does not she come and take some coffee?&rdquo;
+said Sandford, as he began to pour it out.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If she thought it would be agreeable,&rdquo; returned Miss
+Woodley, &ldquo;I dare say she would.&rdquo; And she looked at Lord
+Elmwood while she spoke, though she did not absolutely
+address him; but he made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Agreeable!&rdquo; returned Sandford, angrily&mdash;&ldquo;Has she
+then a quarrel with any body here? or does she suppose any
+body here bears enmity to <i>her</i>? Is she not in peace and
+charity?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley, &ldquo;that I am sure she is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then bring her hither,&rdquo; cried Sandford, &ldquo;directly.
+Would she have the wickedness to imagine we are not all
+friends with her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley left the room, and found Miss Milner almost
+in despair, lest she should hear Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s carriage
+drive off before her friend&rsquo;s return.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did he send for me?&rdquo; were the words she uttered as
+soon as she saw her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Sandford did, in his presence,&rdquo; returned Miss
+Woodley, &ldquo;and you may go with the utmost decorum, or
+I would not tell you so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She required no protestations of this, but readily followed
+her beloved adviser, whose kindness never appeared in so
+amiable a light as at that moment.</p>
+
+<p>On entering the room, through all the dead white of her
+present complection, she blushed to a crimson. Lord Elmwood
+rose from his seat, and brought a chair for her to sit
+down.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford looked at her inquisitively, sipped his tea, and
+said, &ldquo;He never made tea to his own liking.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner took a cup, but had scarce strength to hold it.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed but a very short time they were at breakfast,
+when the carriage, that was to take Lord Elmwood away,
+drove to the door. Miss Milner started at the sound&mdash;so
+did he&mdash;but she had nearly dropped her cup and saucer; on
+which Sandford took them out of her hand, saying,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps you had rather have coffee?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her lips moved, but he could not hear what she said.</p>
+
+<p>A servant came in, and told Lord Elmwood, &ldquo;The carriage
+was at the door.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He replied, &ldquo;Very well.&rdquo; But though he had breakfasted,
+he did not attempt to move.</p>
+
+<p>At last, rising briskly, as if it was necessary to go in haste
+when he did go; he took up his hat, which he had brought
+with him into the room, and was turning to Miss Woodley
+to take his leave, when Sandford cried, &ldquo;My Lord, you are
+in a great hurry.&rdquo; And then, as if he wished to give poor
+Miss Milner every moment he could, added, (looking about)
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know where I have laid my gloves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood, after repeating to Miss Woodley his last
+night&rsquo;s farewell, now went up to Miss Milner, and taking one
+of her hands, again held it between his, but still without
+speaking&mdash;while she, unable to suppress her tears as heretofore,
+suffered them to fall in torrents.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is all this?&rdquo; cried Sandford, going up to them in
+anger.</p>
+
+<p>They neither of them replied, or changed their situation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Separate this moment,&rdquo; cried Sandford, &ldquo;or resolve to
+be separated only by&mdash;death.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The commanding and awful manner in which he spoke
+this sentence, made them both turn to him in amazement,
+and as it were, petrified with the sensation his words had
+caused.</p>
+
+<p>He left them for a moment, and going to a small bookcase
+in one corner of the room, took out of it a book, and returning
+with it in his hand, said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord Elmwood, do you love this woman?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;More than my life.&rdquo; He replied, with the most heartfelt
+accents.</p>
+
+<p>He then turned to Miss Milner&mdash;&ldquo;Can you say the same
+by him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She spread her hands over her eyes, and exclaimed, &ldquo;Oh,
+Heavens!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe you <i>can</i> say so,&rdquo; returned Sandford; &ldquo;and in
+the name of God, and your own happiness, since this is the
+state of you both, let me put it out of your power to part.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood gazed at him with wonder! and yet, as if
+enraptured by the sudden change this conduct gave to his
+prospects.</p>
+
+<p>She, sighed with a kind of trembling ecstasy; while Sandford,
+with all the dignity of his official character, delivered
+these words&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, while I thought my counsel might save you
+from the worst of misfortunes, conjugal strife, I importuned
+you hourly, and set forth your danger in the light it appeared
+to me. But though old, and a priest, I can submit to think
+I have been in an error; and I now firmly believe, it is for
+the welfare of you both, to become man and wife. My Lord,
+take this woman&rsquo;s marriage vows&mdash;you can ask no fairer
+promises of her reform&mdash;she can give you none half so sacred,
+half so binding; and I see by her looks that she will mean
+to keep them. And my dear,&rdquo; continued he, addressing
+himself to her, &ldquo;act but under the dominion of those vows,
+to a husband of sense and virtue, like him, and you will be
+all that I, himself, or even Heaven can desire. Now, then,
+Lord Elmwood, this moment give her up for ever, or this
+moment constrain her by such ties from offending you, as
+she shall not <i>dare</i> to violate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood struck his forehead in doubt and agitation;
+but, still holding her hand, he cried, &ldquo;I cannot part from
+her.&rdquo; Then feeling this reply as equivocal, he fell upon his
+knees, and cried, &ldquo;Will you pardon my hesitation? and will
+you, in marriage, show me that tender love you have not
+shown me yet? Will you, in possessing all my affections,
+bear with all my infirmities?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She raised him from her feet, and by the expression of her
+countenance, by the tears that bathed his hands, gave him
+confidence.</p>
+
+<p>He turned to Sandford&mdash;then placing her by his own side,
+as the form of matrimony requires, gave this for a sign to
+Sandford that he should begin the ceremony. On which,
+he opened his book, and&mdash;married them.</p>
+
+<p>With voice and manners so serious, so solemn and so fervent,
+he performed these rites, that every idea of jest, or even of
+lightness, was absent from the mind of all who were present.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Milner, covered with shame, sunk on the bosom of
+Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>When the ring was wanting, Lord Elmwood supplied it
+with one from his own hand, but throughout all the rest of
+the ceremony, appeared lost in zealous devotion to Heaven.
+Yet, no sooner was it finished, than his thoughts descended
+to this world. He embraced his bride with all the transport
+of the fondest, happiest bridegroom, and in raptures called
+her by the endearing name of &ldquo;wife.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But still, my Lord,&rdquo; cried Sandford, &ldquo;you are only
+married by your own church and conscience, not by your
+wife&rsquo;s, or by the law of the land; and let me advise you not
+to defer that marriage long, lest in the time you disagree, and
+she should refuse to become your legal spouse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think there is danger,&rdquo; returned Lord Elmwood, &ldquo;and
+therefore our second marriage must take place to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To this the ladies objected, and Sandford was to fix their
+second wedding-day, as he had done their first. He, after
+consideration, gave them four days.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley then recollected (for every one else had
+forgot it) that the carriage was still at the door to convey
+Lord Elmwood far away. It was of course dismissed&mdash;and
+one of those great incidents of delight which Miss Milner
+that morning tasted, was to look out of the window, and see
+this very carriage drive from the door unoccupied.</p>
+
+<p>Never was there a more rapid change from despair to
+happiness&mdash;to happiness perfect and supreme&mdash;than was
+that, which Miss Milner and Lord Elmwood experienced in
+one single hour.</p>
+
+<p>The few days that intervened between this and their
+lawful marriage, were passed in the delightful care of preparing
+for that happy day&mdash;yet, with all its delights inferior
+to the first, when every unexpected joy was doubled by the
+once expected sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, on that first wedding-day, that joyful day,
+which restored her lost lover to her hopes again; even on that
+<i>very</i> day, after the sacred ceremony was over, Miss Milner&mdash;(with
+all the fears, the tremors, the superstition of her sex)&mdash;felt
+an excruciating shock; when, looking on the ring Lord
+Elmwood had put upon her finger, in haste, when he married
+her, she perceived it was a&mdash;mourning ring.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>A<br />
+SIMPLE STORY,</h2>
+
+<h3>IN FOUR VOLUMES,</h3>
+
+<h4>BY</h4>
+
+<h3>MRS. INCHBALD.</h3>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>VOL. III.</h2>
+
+<h4><i>THE FOURTH EDITION.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="center">
+LONDON:<br />
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,<br />
+<span class="smcap">Paternoster Row</span>.<br />
+1799.
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>A SIMPLE STORY.</h2>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_I" id="III_CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<p>Not any event, throughout life, can arrest the reflection
+of a thoughtful mind more powerfully, or leave so lasting an
+impression, as that of returning to a place after a few years
+absence, and observing an entire alteration, in respect to all
+the persons who once formed the neighbourhood. To find
+that many, who but a few years before were left in their
+bloom of youth and health, are dead&mdash;to find that children
+left at school, are married and have children of their own&mdash;that
+some, who were left in riches, are reduced to poverty&mdash;that
+others, who were in poverty are become rich&mdash;to find,
+those once renowned for virtue, now detested for vice&mdash;roving
+husbands, grown constant&mdash;constant husbands, become
+rovers&mdash;the firmest friends, changed to the most
+implacable enemies&mdash;beauty faded. In a word, every change
+to demonstrate, that,</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>&ldquo;All is transitory on this side the grave.&rdquo;</p></div>
+
+<p>Guided by a wish, that the reflecting reader may experience
+the sensation, which an attention to circumstances like these,
+must excite; he is desired to imagine seventeen years
+elapsed, since he has seen or heard of any of those persons
+who in the foregoing volumes have been introduced to his
+acquaintance&mdash;and then, supposing himself at the period of
+those seventeen years, follow the sequel of their history.</p>
+
+<p>To begin with the first female object of this story. The
+beautiful, the beloved Miss Milner&mdash;she is no longer beautiful&mdash;no
+longer beloved&mdash;no longer&mdash;tremble while you read it!&mdash;no
+longer&mdash;virtuous.</p>
+
+<p>Dorriforth, the pious, the good, the tender Dorriforth, is
+become a hard-hearted tyrant. The compassionate, the
+feeling, the just Lord Elmwood, an example of implacable
+rigour and injustice.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley is grown old, but less with years than grief.</p>
+
+<p>The boy, Rushbrook, is become a man, and the apparent
+heir of Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s fortune; while his own daughter,
+his only child by his once adored Miss Milner, he refuses
+ever to see again, in vengeance to her mother&rsquo;s crimes.</p>
+
+<p>The least wonderful change, is, the death of Mrs. Horton.
+Except Sandford, who remains much the same as heretofore.</p>
+
+<p>We left Lady Elmwood in the last volume at the summit
+of human happiness; a loving and beloved bride. We begin
+this volume, and find her upon her death-bed.</p>
+
+<p>At thirty-five, her &ldquo;Course was run&rdquo;&mdash;a course full of
+perils, of hopes, of fears, of joys, and at the end, of sorrows;
+all exquisite of their kind, for exquisite were the feelings of
+her susceptible heart.</p>
+
+<p>At the commencement of this story, her father is described
+in the last moments of his life, with all his cares fixed upon
+her, his only child&mdash;how vain these cares! how vain every
+precaution that was taken for her welfare! She knows, she
+reflects upon this; and yet, impelled by that instinctive
+power which actuates a parent, Lady Elmwood on <i>her</i> dying
+day has no worldly thoughts, but that of the future happiness
+of an only child. To every other prospect in her view, &ldquo;Thy
+will be done&rdquo; is her continual exclamation; but where the
+misery of her daughter presents itself, the expiring penitent
+would there combat the will of Heaven.</p>
+
+<p>To detail the progression by which vice gains a predominancy
+in the heart, may be a useful lesson; but it is one
+so little to the satisfaction of most readers, that the degrees
+of misconduct by which Lady Elmwood fell, are not meant
+to be related here; but instead of picturing every occasion
+of her fall, to come briefly to the events that followed.</p>
+
+<p>There are, nevertheless, some articles under the former
+class, which ought not to be entirely omitted.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood, after four years enjoyment of the most
+perfect happiness that marriage could give, after becoming
+the father of a beautiful daughter, whom he loved with
+a tenderness almost equal to his love of her mother, was under
+the indispensable necessity of leaving them both for a time,
+in order to rescue from the depredation of his own steward,
+his very large estates in the West Indies. His voyage was
+tedious; his residence there, from various accidents, prolonged
+from time to time, till near three years had at length
+passed away. Lady Elmwood, at first only unhappy, became
+at last provoked; and giving way to that irritable disposition
+which she had so seldom governed, resolved, in spite of his
+injunctions, to divert the melancholy hours caused by his
+absence, by mixing in the gay circles of London.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood at this time, and for many months before,
+had been detained abroad by a severe and dangerous illness,
+which a too cautious fear of her uneasiness, had prompted
+him to conceal; and she received his frequent apologies for
+not returning, with a suspicion and resentment they were
+calculated, but not intended, to inspire.</p>
+
+<p>To violent anger, succeeded a degree of indifference still
+more fatal&mdash;Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s heart was not formed for such
+a state&mdash;there, where all the tumultuous passions harboured
+by turns, one among them soon found the means to occupy
+all vacancies: a passion, commencing innocently, but
+terminating in guilt. The dear object of her fondest, her
+truest affections, was away; and those affections, painted
+the time so irksome that was past; so wearisome, that, which
+was still to come; that she flew from the present tedious
+solitude, to the dangerous society of one, whose whole mind
+depraved by fashionable vices, could not repay her for
+a moment&rsquo;s loss of him, whose absence he supplied. Or,
+if the delirium gave her a moment&rsquo;s recompence, what were
+her sufferings, her remorse, when she was awakened from
+the fleeting joy, by the arrival of her husband? How happy,
+how transporting would have been that arrival a few months
+before! As it would then have been felicity unbounded, it
+was now&mdash;language affords no word that can describe Lady
+Elmwood&rsquo;s sensations, on being told her Lord was arrived,
+and that necessity alone had so long delayed his return.</p>
+
+<p>Guilty, but not hardened in her guilt, her pangs, her
+shame were the more excessive. She fled from the place at
+his approach; fled from his house, never again to return
+to a habitation where he was the master. She did not, however,
+elope with her paramour, but escaped to shelter herself
+in the most dreary retreat; where she partook of no one
+comfort from society, or from life, but the still unremitting
+friendship of Miss Woodley. Even her infant daughter she
+left behind, nor would allow herself the consolation of her
+innocent, though reproachful smiles&mdash;she left her in her
+father&rsquo;s house, that she might be under his protection;
+parted with her, as she thought, for ever, with all the
+agonies with which mothers part from their infant children:
+and yet, even a mother can scarce conceive how much more
+sharp those agonies were, on beholding&mdash;the child sent after
+her, as the perpetual outcast of its father.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s love to his wife had been extravagant&mdash;the
+effect of his hate was the same. Beholding himself
+separated from her by a barrier never to be removed, he
+vowed in the deep torments of his revenge, never to be
+reminded of her by one individual object; much less, by one
+so near to her as her child. To bestow upon that child his
+affections, would be, he imagined, still, in some sort, to divide
+them with the mother. Firm in his resolution, the beautiful
+Matilda, was, at the age of six years, sent out of her father&rsquo;s
+house, and received by her mother with all the tenderness,
+but with all the anguish, of those parents, who behold their
+offspring visited by the punishment due only to their own
+offences.</p>
+
+<p>While this rigid act was executing by Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s
+agents at his command, himself was engaged in an affair of
+still weightier importance&mdash;that of life or death:&mdash;he
+determined upon his own death, or the death of the man
+who had wounded his honour and destroyed his happiness.
+A duel with his old antagonist was the result of this determination;
+nor was the Duke of Avon (who before the
+decease of his father and eldest brother, was Lord Frederick
+Lawnly) averse from giving him all the satisfaction he
+required. For it was no other than he, whose passion for
+Lady Elmwood had still subsisted, and whose address in
+gallantry left no means unattempted for the success of his
+designs;&mdash;no other than he, (who, next to Lord Elmwood,
+had been of all her lovers, the most favoured,) to whom
+Lady Elmwood sacrificed her own and her husband&rsquo;s future
+peace, and thus gave to his vanity a prouder triumph, than
+if she had never bestowed her hand in marriage on another.
+This triumph however was but short&mdash;a month only, after
+the return of Lord Elmwood, the Duke was called upon to
+answer for his conduct, and was left where they met, so
+defaced with scars, as never again to endanger the honour
+of a husband. As Lord Elmwood was inexorable to all
+accommodation, their engagement continued for a long
+space of time; nor could any thing but the assurance that
+his opponent was slain, have at last torn him from the field,
+though he himself was dangerously wounded.</p>
+
+<p>Yet even during the period of his danger, while for days he
+lay in the continual expectation of his own death, not all the
+entreaties of his dearest, most intimate, and most respected
+friends, could prevail upon him to pronounce forgiveness
+of his wife, or to suffer them to bring his daughter to him,
+for his last blessing.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Elmwood, who was made acquainted with the
+minutest circumstance as it passed, appeared to wait the news
+of her husband&rsquo;s decease with patience; but upon her brow,
+and in every lineament of her face was marked, that his
+death was an event she would not for a day survive: and
+she would have left her child an orphan, to have followed
+Lord Elmwood to the tomb. She was prevented the trial;
+he recovered; and from the ample vengeance he had obtained
+upon the irresistible person of the Duke, in a short
+time seemed to regain his usual tranquillity.</p>
+
+<p>He recovered, but Lady Elmwood fell sick and languished&mdash;possessed
+of youth to struggle with her woes, she lingered
+on, till ten years decline brought her to that period, with
+which the reader is now going to be presented.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_II" id="III_CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<p>In a lonely country on the borders of Scotland, a single
+house by the side of a dreary heath, was the residence of the
+once gay, volatile Miss Milner. In a large gloomy apartment
+of this solitary habitation (the windows of which scarce
+rendered the light accessible) was laid upon her death-bed,
+the once lovely Lady Elmwood&mdash;pale, half suffocated with
+the loss of breath; yet her senses perfectly clear and collected,
+which served but to sharpen the anguish of dying.</p>
+
+<p>In one corner of the room, by the side of an old fashioned
+stool, kneels Miss Woodley, praying most devoutly for her
+still beloved friend, but in vain endeavouring to pray composedly&mdash;floods
+of tears pour down her furrowed cheeks,
+and frequent sobs of sorrow, break through each pious
+ejaculation.</p>
+
+<p>Close by her mother&rsquo;s side, one hand supporting her head,
+the other wiping from her face the cold dew of death, behold
+Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s daughter&mdash;Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s daughter too&mdash;yet
+he far away, negligent of what either suffers. Lady
+Elmwood turns to her often and attempts an embrace, but
+her feeble arms forbid, and they fall motionless. The
+daughter perceiving these ineffectual efforts, has her whole
+face convulsed with grief: kisses her mother; holds her to
+her bosom; and hangs upon her neck, as if she wished to
+cling there, not to be parted even by the grave.</p>
+
+<p>On the other side of the bed sits Sandford&mdash;his hair grown
+white&mdash;his face wrinkled with age&mdash;his heart the same as
+ever.&mdash;The reprover, the enemy of the vain, the idle, and
+the wicked; but the friend and comforter of the forlorn
+and miserable.</p>
+
+<p>Upon those features where sarcasm, reproach, and anger
+dwelt, to threaten and alarm the sinner; mildness, tenderness,
+and pity beamed, to support and console the penitent.
+Compassion changed his language, and softened all those
+harsh tones that used to denounce perdition.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the name of God,&rdquo; said he to Lady Elmwood, &ldquo;of
+that God, who suffered for you, and, suffering, knew and
+pitied all our weaknesses&mdash;By him, who has given his word to
+<i>take compassion on the sinner&rsquo;s tears</i>, I bid you hope for mercy.
+By that innocence in which you once lived, be comforted&mdash;By
+the sorrows you have known since your degradation,
+hope, that in some measure, you have atoned&mdash;By the sincerity
+that shone upon your youthful face when I joined
+your hands, and those thousand virtues you have since given
+proofs of, trust, that you were not born to die <i>the death of
+the wicked</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke these words of consolation, her trembling
+hand clasped his&mdash;her dying eyes darted a ray of brightness&mdash;but
+her failing voice endeavoured in vain, to articulate. At
+length, fixing her looks upon her daughter as their last
+dear object, she was just understood to utter the word
+&ldquo;Father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I understand you,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;and by all that
+influence I ever had over him, by my prayers, my tears,&rdquo;
+(and they flowed as he spoke) &ldquo;I will implore him to own
+his child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She could now only smile in thanks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And if I should fail,&rdquo; continued he, &ldquo;yet while I live,
+she shall not want a friend or protector&mdash;all an old man, like
+me can answer for&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;here his tears interrupted him.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Elmwood was sufficiently sensible of his words and
+their import, to make a sign as if she wished to embrace him:
+but finding her life leaving her fast, she reserved this last
+token of love for her daughter&mdash;with a struggle she lifted herself
+from her pillow, clung to her child&mdash;and died in her
+arms.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_III" id="III_CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood was by nature, and more from education,
+of a serious, thinking, and philosophic turn of mind. His
+religious studies had completely taught him to consider this
+world but as a passage to another; to enjoy with gratitude
+what Heaven in its bounty should bestow, and to bear with
+submission, whatever in its vengeance it might inflict. In
+a greater degree than most people he practised this doctrine;
+and as soon as the shock he received from Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s
+conduct was abated, an entire calmness and resignation
+ensued; but still of that sensible and feeling kind, that could
+never suffer him to forget the happiness he had lost; and it
+was this sensibility, which urged him to fly from its more
+keen recollection as much as possible&mdash;this, he alleged as
+the reason why he would never permit Lady Elmwood, or
+even her child, to be named in his hearing. But this injunction
+(which all his friends, and even the servants in the house
+who attended his person, had received) was, by many people,
+suspected rather to proceed from his resentment, than his
+tenderness; nor did he deny, that resentment co-operated
+with his prudence: for prudence he called it, not to remind
+himself of happiness he could never taste again, and of
+ingratitude that might impel him to hatred: and prudence
+he called it, not to form another attachment near to his heart,
+more especially so near as a parent&rsquo;s which might again
+expose him to all the torments of ingratitude, from an object
+whom he affectionately loved.</p>
+
+<p>Upon these principles he formed the unshaken resolution,
+never to acknowledge Lady Matilda as his child&mdash;or acknowledging
+her as such&mdash;never to see, to hear of, or take one
+concern whatever in her fate and fortune. The death of her
+mother appeared a favourable time, had he been so inclined,
+to have recalled this declaration which he had solemnly and
+repeatedly made&mdash;she was now destitute of the protection
+of her other parent, and it became his duty, at least, to provide
+her a guardian, if he did not chuse to take that tender title
+upon himself&mdash;but to mention either the mother or child to
+Lord Elmwood, was an equal offence, and prohibited in the
+strongest terms to all his friends and household; and as he
+was an excellent good master, a sincere friend, and a most
+generous patron, not one of his acquaintance or dependants,
+were hardy enough to draw upon themselves his certain
+displeasure, which was always violent in the extreme, by
+even the official intelligence of Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s death.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford himself, intimidated through age, or by the
+austere, and morose manners which Lord Elmwood had of
+late years adopted; Sandford wished, if possible, that some
+other would undertake the dangerous task of recalling to his
+memory there ever was such a person as his wife. He advised
+Miss Woodley to write a proper letter to him on the subject;
+but she reminded him that such a step would be more perilous
+to her, than to any other person, as she was the most destitute
+being on earth, without the benevolence of Lord Elmwood.
+The death of her aunt, Mrs. Horton, had left her solely
+relying on the bounty of Lady Elmwood, and now her death,
+had left her totally dependant upon the Earl&mdash;for Lady
+Elmwood though she had separate effects, had long before
+her death declared it was not her intention to leave a sentence
+behind her in the form of a will. She had no will, she said,
+but what she would wholly submit to Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s;
+and, if it were even his will, that her child should live in
+poverty, as well as banishment, it should be so. But, perhaps,
+in this implicit submission to him, there was a distant hope,
+that the necessitous situation of his daughter, might plead
+more forcibly than his parental love; and that knowing her
+bereft of every support but through himself, that idea might
+form some little tie between them, and be at least a token
+of the relationship.</p>
+
+<p>But as Lady Elmwood anxiously wished this principle upon
+which she acted, should be concealed from his suspicion, she
+included her friend, Miss Woodley, in the same fate; and
+thus, the only persons dear to her, she left, but at Lord
+Elmwood&rsquo;s pleasure, to be preserved from perishing in want.
+Her child was too young to advise her on this subject, her
+friend too disinterested; and at this moment they were
+both without the smallest means of subsistence, except
+through the justice or compassion of Lord Elmwood. Sandford
+had indeed promised his protection to the daughter;
+but his liberality had no other source than from his patron,
+with whom he still lived as usual, except during part of the
+winter, when the Earl resided in town; he then mostly stole
+a visit to Lady Elmwood.&mdash;On this last visit he staid to see
+her buried.</p>
+
+<p>After some mature deliberations, Sandford was now
+preparing to go to Lord Elmwood at his house in town, and
+there, to deliver himself the news that must sooner or later
+be told; and he meant also to venture, at the same time,
+to keep the promise he had made to his dying Lady&mdash;but
+the news reached his Lordship before Sandford arrived; it
+was announced in the public papers, and by that means first
+came to his knowledge.</p>
+
+<p>He was breakfasting by himself, when the newspaper that
+first gave the intelligence of Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s death, was
+laid before him&mdash;the paragraph contained these words:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On Wednesday last died, at Dring Park, a village in
+Northumberland, the right honourable Countess Elmwood.&mdash;This
+lady, who has not been heard of for many years in the
+fashionable world, was a rich heiress, and of extreme beauty;
+but although she received overtures from many men of the
+first rank, she preferred her guardian, the present Lord
+Elmwood (then Mr. Dorriforth) to them all&mdash;and it is said,
+their marriage was followed by an uncommon share of felicity,
+till his Lordship going abroad, and remaining there some
+time, the consequences (to a most captivating young woman
+left without a protector) were such as to cause a separation on
+his return. Her Ladyship has left one child by the Earl,
+a daughter, about fifteen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood had so much feeling upon reading this, as
+to lay down the paper, and not take it up again for several
+minutes&mdash;nor did he taste his chocolate during this interval,
+but leaned his elbow on the table and rested his head upon
+his hand. He then rose up&mdash;walked two or three times across
+the room&mdash;sat down again&mdash;took up the paper&mdash;and read as
+usual.&mdash;Nor let the vociferous mourner, or the perpetual
+weeper, here complain of his want of sensibility&mdash;but let
+them remember that Lord Elmwood was a man&mdash;a man of
+understanding&mdash;of courage&mdash;of fortitude&mdash;above all, a man
+of the nicest feelings&mdash;and who shall say, but that at the
+time he leaned his head upon his hand, and rose to walk away
+the sense of what he felt, he might not feel as much as Lady
+Elmwood did in her last moments.</p>
+
+<p>Be this as it may, his susceptibility on the occasion was not
+suspected by any one&mdash;yet he passed that day the same as
+usual; the next day too, and the day after. On the morning
+of the fourth, he sent for his steward to his study, and after
+talking of other business, said to him;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it true that Lady Elmwood is dead?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is, my Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His Lordship looked unusually grave, and at this reply,
+fetched an involuntary sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Sandford, my lord,&rdquo; continued the steward, &ldquo;sent me
+word of the news, but left it to my own discretion, whether
+I would make your Lordship acquainted with it or not:
+I let him know I declined.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Sandford?&rdquo; asked Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was with my Lady,&rdquo; replied the steward.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When she died?&rdquo; asked he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad of it&mdash;he will see that every thing she desired
+is done&mdash;Sandford is a good man, and would be a friend to
+every body.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is a very good man indeed, my Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was now a silence.&mdash;&mdash;Mr. Giffard then bowing, said,
+&ldquo;Has your Lordship any further commands?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Write to Sandford,&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood, hesitating as
+he spoke, &ldquo;and tell him to have every thing performed as
+she desired. And whoever she may have selected for the
+guardian of her child, has my consent to act as such.&mdash;Nor
+in one instance, where I myself am not concerned, shall
+I oppose her will.&rdquo; The tears rushed into his eyes as he said
+this, and caused them to start in the steward&rsquo;s&mdash;observing
+which, he sternly resumed,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not suppose from this conversation, that any of those
+resolutions I have long since taken, are, or will be changed&mdash;they
+are the same; and shall continue inflexible.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I understand you, my Lord,&rdquo; replied Mr. Giffard, &ldquo;your
+express orders, to me, as well as to every other person, remain
+just the same as formerly, never to mention this subject to
+you again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They do, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, I always obeyed you, and hope I always shall.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope so too,&rdquo; he replied in a threatening accent&mdash;&ldquo;Write
+to Sandford,&rdquo; continued he, &ldquo;to let him know my
+pleasure, and that is all you have to do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The steward bowed and withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>But before his letter arrived to Sandford, Sandford arrived
+in town; and Mr. Giffard related, word for word, what had
+passed between him and his Lord. Upon every occasion, and
+upon every topic, except that of Lady Elmwood and her
+child, Sandford was just as free with Lord Elmwood as he
+had ever been; and as usual (after his interview with the
+steward) went into his apartment without any previous
+notice. Lord Elmwood shook him by the hand, as upon all
+other meetings; and yet, whether his fear suggested it or
+not, Sandford thought he appeared more cool and reserved
+with him than formerly.</p>
+
+<p>During the whole day, the slightest mention of Lady
+Elmwood, or of her child, was cautiously avoided&mdash;and not till
+the evening, (after Sandford had risen to retire, and had
+wished Lord Elmwood good night) did he dare to mention
+the subject. He then, after taking leave, and going to the
+door&mdash;turned back and said, &ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>It was easy to guess on what he was preparing to speak&mdash;his
+voice failed, the tears began to trickle down his cheeks,
+he took out his handkerchief, and could proceed no farther.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought,&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood, angrily, &ldquo;I thought
+I had given my orders upon the subject&mdash;did not my steward
+write them to you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He did, my Lord,&rdquo; said Sandford, humbly, &ldquo;but I was
+set out before they arrived.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Has he not <i>told</i> you my mind then?&rdquo; cried he, more
+angrily still.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has;&rdquo; replied Sandford,&mdash;&ldquo;But&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But what, Sir?&rdquo; cried Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your Lordship,&rdquo; continued Sandford, &ldquo;was mistaken in
+supposing that Lady Elmwood left a will, she left none.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No will? no will at all?&rdquo; returned he, surprised.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, my Lord,&rdquo; answered Sandford, &ldquo;she wished every
+thing to be as you willed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She left me all the trouble, then, you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No great trouble, Sir; for there are but two persons
+whom she has left behind her, to hope for your protection.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And who are those two?&rdquo; cried he hastily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One, my Lord, I need not name&mdash;the other is Miss
+Woodley.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a delicacy and humility in the manner in which
+Sandford delivered this reply, that Lord Elmwood could <i>not</i>
+resent, and he only returned,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Woodley&mdash;is she yet living?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is&mdash;I left her at the house I came from.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well then,&rdquo; answered he, &ldquo;you must see that my
+steward provides for those two persons. That care I leave
+to you&mdash;and should there be any complaints, on you they
+fall.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford bowed and was going.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now,&rdquo; resumed Lord Elmwood, in a more stern
+voice, &ldquo;let me never hear again on this subject. You have
+power to act in regard to the persons you have mentioned;
+and upon you their situation, the care, the whole management
+of them depends&mdash;but be sure you never let them be
+named before me, from this moment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said Sandford, &ldquo;as this must be the last time
+they are mentioned, I must now take the opportunity to
+disburden my mind of a charge&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What charge?&rdquo; cried Lord Elmwood, morosely interrupting
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Though Lady Elmwood, my Lord, left no will behind
+her, she left a request.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A request!&rdquo; said he, starting, &ldquo;If it is for me to see
+her daughter, I tell you now before you ask, that I will not
+grant it&mdash;for by heaven (and he spoke and looked most
+solemnly) though I have no resentment against the innocent
+child, and wish her happy, yet I will never see her. Never,
+for her mother&rsquo;s sake, suffer my heart again to be softened
+by an object I might dote upon. Therefore, Sir, if that is
+the request, it is already answered; my will is fixed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The request, my Lord,&rdquo; replied Sandford, (and he took
+out a pocket-book from whence he drew several papers)
+&ldquo;is contained in this letter; nor do I rightly know what its
+contents are.&rdquo; And he held it out to him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s writing?&rdquo; asked Lord Elmwood,
+extremely discomposed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is, my Lord.&mdash;She wrote it a few days before she died,
+and enjoined me to deliver it to you, with my own hands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I refuse to read it:&rdquo; cried he, putting it from him&mdash;and
+trembling while he did so.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She desired me,&rdquo; said Sandford, (still presenting the
+letter) &ldquo;to conjure you to read it, <i>for her father&rsquo;s sake</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood took it instantly. But as soon as it was in his
+hand, he seemed distressed to know what he should do with
+it&mdash;in what place to go and read it&mdash;or how to fortify himself
+against its contents. He appeared ashamed too, that he had
+been so far prevailed upon, and said, by way of excuse,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For Mr. Milner&rsquo;s sake I would do much&mdash;nay, any
+thing, but that to which I have just now sworn never to
+consent. For his sake I have borne a great deal&mdash;for his
+sake alone, his daughter died my wife. You know, no other
+motive than respect for him, prevented my divorcing her.
+Pray (and he hesitated) was she buried with him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, my Lord&mdash;she expressed no such desire; and as
+that was the case, I did not think it necessary to carry the
+corpse so far.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At the word corpse, Lord Elmwood shrunk, and looked
+shocked beyond measure&mdash;but recovering himself, said,
+&ldquo;I am sorry for it; for he loved <i>her</i> sincerely, if she did not
+love him&mdash;and I wish they had been buried together.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not then too late,&rdquo; said Sandford, and was going
+on&mdash;but the other interrupted him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no&mdash;we will have no disturbing the dead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Read her letter then,&rdquo; said Sandford, &ldquo;and bid her rest
+in peace.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If it is in my power,&rdquo; returned he, &ldquo;to grant what she
+asks, I will&mdash;but if her demand is what I apprehend, I cannot,
+I will not, bid her rest by complying. You know my resolution,
+my disposition, and take care how you provoke me.
+You may do an injury to the very person you are seeking to
+befriend&mdash;the very maintenance I mean to allow her daughter
+I can withdraw.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Poor Sandford, all alarmed at this menace, replied with
+energy, &ldquo;My Lord, unless you begin the subject, I never
+shall presume to mention it again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I take you at your word, and in consequence of that,
+but of that alone, we are friends. Good night, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford bowed with humility, and they went to their
+separate bedchambers.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_IV" id="III_CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<p>After Lord Elmwood had retired into his chamber, it
+was some time before he read the letter Sandford had given
+him. He first walked backwards and forwards in the room&mdash;he
+then began to take off some part of his dress, but he did
+it slowly. At length, he dismissed his valet, and sitting down,
+took the letter from his pocket. He looked at the seal, but
+not at the direction; for he seemed to dread seeing Lady
+Elmwood&rsquo;s handwriting. He then laid it on the table, and
+began again to undress. He did not proceed, but taking up
+the letter quickly, (with a kind of effort in making the
+resolution) broke it open. These were its contents:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who writes this letter I well know&mdash;I well know also to
+whom it is addressed&mdash;I feel with the most powerful force
+both our situations; nor should I dare to offer you even this
+humble petition, but that at the time you receive it, there
+will be no such person as I am, in existence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For myself, then, all concern will be over&mdash;but there is
+a care that pursues me to the grave, and threatens my want of
+repose even there.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I leave a child&mdash;I will not call her mine: that has undone
+her&mdash;I will not call her yours; that will be of no avail&mdash;I
+present her before you as the granddaughter of Mr. Milner.
+Oh! do not refuse an asylum even in your own house, to the
+destitute offspring of your friend; the last, and only remaining
+branch of his family.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Receive her into your household, be her condition there
+ever so abject. I cannot write distinctly what I would&mdash;my
+senses are not impaired, but the powers of expression are.
+The complaint of the unfortunate child in the scriptures
+(a lesson I have studied) has made this wish cling so fast to
+my heart, that without the distant hope of its being fulfilled,
+death would have more terrors than my weak mind could
+support.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;<i>I will go to my father; how many servants live in my
+father&rsquo;s house, and are fed with plenty, while I starve in a
+foreign land?</i>&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not ask a parent&rsquo;s festive rejoicing at her approach&mdash;I
+do not even ask her father to behold her; but let her live
+under his protection. For her grandfather&rsquo;s sake do not
+refuse this&mdash;to the child of his child, whom he entrusted to
+your care, do not refuse it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Be her host; I remit the tie of being her parent. Never
+see her&mdash;but let her sometimes live under the same roof
+with you.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is Miss Milner, your ward, to whom you never refused
+a request, who supplicates you&mdash;not now for your nephew,
+Rushbrook, but for one so much more dear, that a denial&mdash;&mdash;she
+dares not suffer her thoughts to glance that way.&mdash;She
+will hope&mdash;and in that hope, bids you farewell, with all the
+love she ever bore you.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Farewell Dorriforth&mdash;farewell Lord Elmwood&mdash;and
+before you throw this letter from you with contempt or
+anger, cast your imagination into the grave where I am
+lying. Reflect upon all the days of my past life&mdash;the anxious
+moments I have known, and what has been their end.
+Behold <i>me</i>, also&mdash;in my altered face there is no anxiety&mdash;no
+joy or sorrow&mdash;all is over.&mdash;&mdash;My whole frame is motionless&mdash;my
+heart beats no more. Look at my horrid habitation,
+too,&mdash;and ask yourself&mdash;whether I am an object of resentment?&rdquo;</p></div>
+
+<p>While Lord Elmwood read this letter, it trembled in his
+hand: he once or twice wiped the tears from his eyes as he
+read, and once laid the letter down for a few minutes. At
+its conclusion, the tears flowed fast down his face; but he
+seemed both ashamed and angry they did, and was going
+to throw the paper upon the fire&mdash;he however suddenly
+checked his hand, and putting it hastily into his pocket, went
+to bed.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_V" id="III_CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<p>The next morning, when Lord Elmwood and Sandford
+met at breakfast, the latter was pale with fear for the success
+of Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s letter&mdash;the Earl was pale too, but there
+was besides upon his face, something which evidently marked
+he was displeased. Sandford observed it, and was all humbleness,
+both in his words and looks, in order to soften him.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as the breakfast was removed, Lord Elmwood
+drew the letter from his pocket, and holding it towards
+Sandford, said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That, may be of more value to you, than it is to me,
+therefore I give it you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford called up a look of surprise, as if he did not know
+the letter again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Tis Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s letter,&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood, &ldquo;and
+I return it to you for two reasons.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford took it, and putting it up, asked fearfully, &ldquo;What
+those two reasons were?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;First,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;because I think it is a relick you may like
+to preserve&mdash;my second reason is, that you may shew it to
+her daughter, and let her know why, and on what conditions,
+I grant her mother&rsquo;s request.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You <i>do</i> then grant it?&rdquo; cried Sandford joyfully;
+&ldquo;I thank you&mdash;you are kind&mdash;you are considerate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Be not hasty in your gratitude; you may have cause to
+recall it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know what you have said;&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;you
+have said you grant Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s request&mdash;you cannot
+recall these words, nor I my gratitude.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know what her request is?&rdquo; returned he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not exactly, my Lord&mdash;I told you before, I did not; but
+it is no doubt something in favour of her child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think not,&rdquo; he replied: &ldquo;such as it is, however, I grant
+it: but in the strictest sense of the word&mdash;no farther&mdash;and
+one neglect of my commands, releases me from this
+promise totally.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We will take care, Sir, not to disobey them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then listen to what they are, for to you I give the charge
+of delivering them again. Lady Elmwood has petitioned me
+in the name of her father, (a name I reverence) to give his
+grandchild the sanction of my protection. In the literal
+sense, to suffer that she may reside at one of my seats; dispensing
+at the same time with my ever seeing her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you will comply?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will, till she encroaches on this concession, and dares to
+hope for a greater. I will, while she avoids my sight, or the
+giving me any remembrance of her. But if, whether by
+design or by accident, I ever see or hear from her, that
+moment, my compliance to her mother&rsquo;s supplication ceases,
+and I abandon her once more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford sighed. Lord Elmwood continued:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad her request stopped where it did. I would
+rather comply with her desires than not; and I rejoice they
+are such as I can grant with ease and honour to myself.
+I am seldom now at Elmwood castle; let her daughter go
+there; the few weeks or months I am down in the summer,
+she may easily in that extensive house avoid me&mdash;while she
+does, she lives in security&mdash;when she does not&mdash;you know my
+resolution.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford bowed&mdash;the Earl resumed:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor can it be a hardship to obey this command&mdash;she
+cannot lament the separation from a parent whom she never
+knew&mdash;&rdquo; Sandford was going eagerly to prove the error of
+that assertion, but he prevented him, saying, &ldquo;In a word&mdash;without
+farther argument&mdash;if she obeys me in this, I will
+provide for her as my daughter during my life, and leave
+her a fortune at my death&mdash;but if she dares&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford interrupted the menace prepared for utterance,
+saying, &ldquo;and you still mean, I suppose, to make Mr. Rushbrook
+your heir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you not heard me say so? And do you imagine
+I have changed my determination? I am not given to alter
+my resolutions, Mr. Sandford; and I thought you knew
+I was not; besides, will not my title be extinct, whoever
+I make my heir? Could any thing but a son have preserved
+my title?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then it is yet possible&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By marrying again, you mean? No&mdash;no&mdash;I have had
+enough of marriage&mdash;and Henry Rushbrook I shall leave my
+heir. Therefore, Sir&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, I do not presume&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not, Sandford, and we may still be good friends.
+But I am not to be controlled as formerly; my temper is
+changed of late; changed to what it was originally; till
+your religious precepts reformed it. You may remember,
+how troublesome it was, to conquer my stubborn disposition
+in my youth; <i>then</i>, indeed, you <i>did</i>; but in my more
+advanced age, you will find the task too difficult.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford again repeated, &ldquo;He should not presume&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To which Lord Elmwood again made answer, &ldquo;Do not,
+Sandford;&rdquo; and added, &ldquo;for I have a sincere regard for
+you, and should be loath, at these years, to quarrel with
+you seriously.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford turned away his head to conceal his feelings.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, if we do quarrel,&rdquo; resumed Lord Elmwood, &ldquo;You
+know it must be your own fault; and as this is a theme the
+most likely of any, nay, the only one on which we can have
+a difference (such as we cannot forgive) take care never from
+this day to resume it; indeed that of itself, would be an
+offence I could not pardon. I have been clear and explicit in
+all I have said; there can be no fear of mistaking my meaning;
+therefore, all future explanation is unnecessary&mdash;nor will
+I permit a word, or a hint on the subject from any one,
+without shewing my resentment even to the hour of my
+death.&rdquo; He was going out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But before we bid adieu to the subject for ever, my Lord&mdash;there
+was another person whom I named to you&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you mean Miss Woodley? Oh, by all means let her
+live at Elmwood House too. On consideration, I have no
+objection to see Miss Woodley at any time&mdash;I shall be glad
+to see her&mdash;do not let <i>her</i> be frightened at me&mdash;to her I shall
+be the same, that I have always been.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She is a good woman, my Lord,&rdquo; cried Sandford, pleased.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You need not tell me that, Mr. Sandford; I know her
+worth.&rdquo; And he left the room.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, to relieve Miss Woodley and her lovely charge
+from the suspence in which he had left them, prepared to set
+off for their habitation, in order himself to conduct them
+from thence to Elmwood Castle, and appoint some retired
+part of it for Lady Matilda, against the annual visit her
+father should pay there. But before he left London, Giffard,
+the steward, took an opportunity to wait upon him, and let
+him know, that his Lord had acquainted him with the consent
+he had given for his daughter to be admitted at Elmwood
+Castle, and upon what restrictions: that he had farther
+uttered the severest threats, should these restrictions ever be
+infringed. Sandford thanked Giffard for his friendly information.
+It served him as a second warning of the circumspection
+that was necessary; and having taken leave of his
+friend and patron, under the pretence that &ldquo;He could not
+live in the smoke of London,&rdquo; he set out for the North.</p>
+
+<p>It is unnecessary to say with what delight Sandford was
+received by Miss Woodley, and the hapless daughter of Lady
+Elmwood, even before he told his errand. They both loved
+him sincerely; more especially Lady Matilda, whose forlorn
+state, and innocent sufferings, had ever excited his compassion
+and caused him to treat her with affection, tenderness, and
+respect. She knew, too, how much he had been her mother&rsquo;s
+friend; for that, she also loved him; and for being honoured
+with the friendship of her father, she looked up to him with
+reverence. For Matilda (with an excellent understanding,
+a sedateness above her years, and early accustomed to the
+most private converse between Lady Elmwood and Miss
+Woodley) was perfectly acquainted with the whole fatal
+history of her mother; and was, by her, taught the respect
+and admiration of her father&rsquo;s virtues which they justly
+merited.</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the joy of Mr. Sandford&rsquo;s presence, once
+more to cheer their solitary dwelling; no sooner were the
+first kind greetings over, than the dread of what he might
+have to inform them of, possessed poor Matilda and Miss
+Woodley so powerfully, that all their gladness was changed
+into affright. Their apprehensions were far more forcible
+than their curiosity; they dared not ask a question, and
+even began to wish he would continue silent upon the subject
+on which they feared to listen. For near two hours he was
+so.&mdash;&mdash;At length, after a short interval from speaking,
+(during which they waited with anxiety for what he might
+next say) he turned to Lady Matilda, and said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t ask for your father, my dear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did not know it was proper:&rdquo; she replied, timidly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is always proper,&rdquo; answered Sandford, &ldquo;for <i>you</i> to
+think of him, though he should never think on you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She burst into tears, and said that she &ldquo;<i>Did</i> think of him,
+but she felt an apprehension of mentioning his name&rdquo;&mdash;and
+she wept bitterly while she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not think I reproved you,&rdquo; said Sandford; &ldquo;I only
+told you what was right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;she does not weep for that&mdash;she
+fears her father has not complied with her mother&rsquo;s
+request. Perhaps&mdash;not even read her letter?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, he <i>has</i> read it,&rdquo; returned Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh Heavens!&rdquo; exclaimed Matilda, clasping her hands
+together, and the tears falling still faster.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not be so much alarmed, my dear,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley;
+&ldquo;you know we are prepared for the worst; and you
+know you promised your mother, whatever your fate should
+be, to submit with patience.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Matilda, &ldquo;and I am prepared for every
+thing, but my father&rsquo;s refusal to my dear mother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your father has not refused your mother&rsquo;s request,&rdquo;
+replied Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>She was leaping from her seat in ecstasy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; continued he, &ldquo;do you know what her request
+was?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not entirely,&rdquo; replied Matilda, &ldquo;and since it is granted,
+I am careless. But she told me her letter concerned none
+but me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To explain perfectly to Matilda, Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s letter,
+and that she might perfectly understand upon what terms
+she was admitted into Elmwood Castle, Sandford now read
+the letter to her; and repeated, as nearly as he could remember,
+the whole of the conversation that passed between Lord
+Elmwood and himself; not even sparing, through an
+erroneous delicacy, any of those threats her father had
+denounced, should she dare to transgress the limits he
+prescribed&mdash;nor did he try to soften, in one instance, a word
+he uttered. She listened sometimes with tears, sometimes
+with hope, but always with awe, and with terror, to every
+sentence in which her father was concerned. Once she called
+him cruel&mdash;then exclaimed &ldquo;He was kind;&rdquo; but at the end
+of Sandford&rsquo;s intelligence, concluded &ldquo;that she was happy
+and grateful for the boon bestowed.&rdquo; Even her mother
+had not a more exalted idea of Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s worth than
+his daughter had formed; and this little bounty just obtained,
+would not have been greater in her mother&rsquo;s estimation,
+than it was now in hers. Miss Woodley, too, smiled
+at the prospect before her&mdash;she esteemed Lord Elmwood
+beyond any mortal living&mdash;she was proud to hear what he
+had said in her praise, and overjoyed at the prospect of being
+once again in his company; painting at the same time
+a thousand bright hopes, from watching every emotion of his
+soul, and catching every proper occasion to excite or increase
+his paternal sentiments. Yet she had the prudence to conceal
+those vague hopes from his child, lest a disappointment might
+prove fatal; and assuming a behaviour neither too much
+elated or depressed, she advised that they should hope for
+the best, but yet, as usual, expect and prepare for the worst.&mdash;&mdash;After
+taking measures for quitting their melancholy
+abode, within the fortnight, they all departed for Elmwood
+Castle&mdash;Matilda, Miss Woodley, and even Sandford, first
+visiting Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s grave, and bedewing it with their
+tears.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_VI" id="III_CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<p>It was on a dark evening in the month of March, that
+Lady Matilda, accompanied by Sandford and Miss Woodley,
+arrived at Elmwood Castle, the magnificent seat of her
+father. Sandford chose the evening, rather to steal into
+the house privately, than by any appearance of parade, to
+suffer Lord Elmwood to be reminded of their arrival by the
+public prints, or by any other accident. Nor would he give
+the neighbours or servants reason to suppose, the daughter
+of their Lord was admitted into his house, in any other
+situation than that, in which she really was permitted to be
+there.</p>
+
+<p>As the porter opened the gates of the avenue to the carriage
+that brought them, Matilda felt an awful, and yet gladsome
+sensation, which no terms can describe. As she entered the
+door of the house this sensation increased&mdash;and as she passed
+along the spacious hall, the splendid staircase, and many
+stately apartments, wonder, with a crowd of the tenderest,
+yet most afflicting sentiments, rushed to her heart. She
+gazed with astonishment!&mdash;she reflected with still more.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And is <i>my father</i> the master of this house?&rdquo; she cried&mdash;&ldquo;and
+was my mother once the mistress of this castle?&rdquo; Here
+tears relieved her from a part of that burthen, which was
+before insupportable.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;and you are the mistress of it
+now, till your father arrives.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; exclaimed she, &ldquo;and will he ever arrive?
+and shall I live to sleep under the same roof with my father?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley, &ldquo;have not you been
+told so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;but though I heard it with extreme
+pleasure, yet the idea never so forcibly affected me as at this
+moment. I now feel, as the reality approaches, that to be
+admitted here, is kindness enough&mdash;I do not ask for more&mdash;I
+am now convinced, from what this trial makes me feel, that
+to see my father, would occasion emotions I could not
+survive.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The next morning gave to Matilda, more objects of
+admiration and wonder, as she walked over the extensive
+gardens, groves, and other pleasure grounds belonging to
+the house. She, who had never been beyond the dreary,
+ruinous places which her deceased mother had made her
+residence, was naturally struck with amazement and delight
+at the grandeur of a seat, which travellers came for miles to
+see, nor thought their time mispent.</p>
+
+<p>There was one object, however, among all she saw, which
+attracted her attention above the rest, and she would stand
+for hours to look at it. This was a whole length portrait of
+Lord Elmwood, esteemed a very capital picture, and a perfect
+likeness&mdash;to this picture she would sigh and weep; though
+when it was first pointed out to her, she shrunk back with fear,
+and it was some time before she dared venture to cast her
+eyes completely upon it. In the features of her father she
+was proud to discern the exact mould in which her own
+appeared to have been modelled; yet Matilda&rsquo;s person,
+shape, and complexion were so extremely like what her
+mother&rsquo;s once were, that at the first glance she appeared to
+have a still greater resemblance of her, than of her father&mdash;but
+her mind and manners were all Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s;
+softened by the delicacy of her sex, the extreme tenderness
+of her heart, and the melancholy of her situation.</p>
+
+<p>She was now in her seventeenth year&mdash;of the same age,
+within a year and a few months, of her mother, when she
+became the ward of Dorriforth. She was just three years old
+when her father went abroad, and remembered something
+of bidding him farewell; but more of taking cherries from
+his hand, as he pulled them from the tree to give to her.</p>
+
+<p>Educated in the school of adversity, and inured to retirement
+from her infancy, she had acquired a taste for all those
+amusements which a recluse life affords. She was fond of
+walking and riding&mdash;was accomplished in the arts of music
+and drawing, by the most careful instructions of her mother&mdash;and
+as a scholar, she excelled most of her sex, from the
+pains which Sandford had taken with that part of her education,
+and the superior abilities he possessed for the task.</p>
+
+<p>In devoting certain hours of the day to study with him,
+others to music, riding, and such amusements, Matilda&rsquo;s
+time never appeared tedious at Elmwood Castle, although
+she received and paid no one visit&mdash;for it was soon divulged
+in the neighbourhood, upon what stipulation she resided at
+her father&rsquo;s, and studiously intimated, that the most prudent
+and friendly behaviour of her true friends, would be, to take
+no notice whatever that she lived among them: and as Lord
+Elmwood&rsquo;s will was a law all around, such was the consequence
+of that will, known, or merely supposed.</p>
+
+<p>Neither did Miss Woodley regret the want of visitors, but
+found herself far more satisfied in her present situation, than
+her most sanguine hopes could have formed. She had
+a companion whom she loved with an equal fondness, with
+which she had loved her deceased mother; and frequently,
+in this charming mansion, where she had so often beheld
+Lady Elmwood, her imagination represented Matilda as her
+friend risen from the grave, in her former youth, health, and
+exquisite beauty.</p>
+
+<p>In peace, in content, though not in happiness, the days
+and weeks passed away till about the middle of August, when
+preparations began to be made for the arrival of Lord
+Elmwood. The week in which he was to come was at length
+fixed, and some part of his retinue was arrived before him.
+When this was told Matilda, she started, and looked just as
+her mother at her age had often done, when in spite of her
+love, she was conscious that she had offended him, and was
+terrified at his approach. Sandford observing this, put out
+his hand, and taking hers, shook it kindly; and bade her
+(but it was not in a cheering tone) &ldquo;not be afraid.&rdquo; This
+gave her no confidence; and she began, before her father&rsquo;s
+arrival, to seclude herself in the apartments allotted for her
+during the time of his stay; and in the timorous expectation
+of his coming, her appetite declined, and she lost all her
+colour. Even Miss Woodley, whose spirits had been for some
+time elated with the hopes she had formed, on drawing near
+to the test, found those hopes vanished; and though she
+endeavoured to conceal it, she was full of apprehensions.
+Sandford, had certainly fewer fears than either; yet upon
+the eve of the day on which his patron was to arrive, he was
+evidently cast down.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Matilda once asked him&mdash;&ldquo;Are you certain, Mr.
+Sandford, you made no mistake in respect to what Lord
+Elmwood said, when he granted my mother&rsquo;s request? Are
+you sure he <i>did</i> grant it? Was there nothing equivocal on
+which he may ground his displeasure should he be told that
+I am here? Oh do not let me hazard being once again
+turned out of his house! Oh! save me from provoking him
+perhaps to curse me.&rdquo; And here she clasped her hands
+together with the most fervent petition, in the dread of
+what might happen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you doubt my words or my senses,&rdquo; said Sandford,
+&ldquo;call Giffard, and let him inform you; the same words were
+repeated to him as to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Though from her reason, Matilda could not doubt of any
+mistake from Mr. Sandford, yet her fears suggested a thousand
+scruples; and this reference to the steward she received
+with the utmost satisfaction, (though she did not think it
+necessary to apply to him) as it perfectly convinced her of
+the folly of the suspicions she had entertained.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And yet, Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;if it is so, why are
+you less cheerful than you were? I cannot help thinking but
+it must be your expectation of Lord Elmwood, which has
+occasioned this change.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; replied Sandford, carelessly, &ldquo;but I
+believe I am grown afraid of your father. His temper is
+a great deal altered from what it once was&mdash;he raises his
+voice, and uses harsh expressions upon the least provocation&mdash;his
+eyes flash lightning, and his face is distorted with anger
+upon the slightest motives&mdash;he turns away his old servants
+at a moment&rsquo;s warning, and no concession can make their
+peace. In a word, I am more at my ease when I am away
+from him&mdash;and I really believe,&rdquo; added he with a smile, but
+with a tear at the same time, &ldquo;I really believe, I am more
+afraid of <i>him</i> in my age, than he was of <i>me</i> when he was a boy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley was present; she and Matilda looked at one
+another; and each of them saw the other turn pale at this
+description.</p>
+
+<p>The day at length came, on which Lord Elmwood was
+expected to dinner. It would have been a high gratification
+to his daughter to have gone to the topmost window of the
+house, and have only beheld his carriage enter the avenue;
+but it was a gratification which her fears, her tremor, her
+extreme sensibility would not permit her to enjoy.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley and she, sat down that day to dinner in
+their retired apartments, which were detached from the
+other part of the house by a gallery; and of the door leading
+to the gallery, they had a key to impede any one from passing
+that way, without first ringing a bell; to answer which, was
+the sole employment of a servant, who was placed there
+during the Earl&rsquo;s residence, lest by any accident he might
+chance to come near that unfrequented part of the house,
+on which occasion the man was to give immediate notice to
+his Lady.</p>
+
+<p>Matilda and Miss Woodley sat down to dinner, but did not
+dine. Sandford dined as usual, with Lord Elmwood. When
+tea was brought, Miss Woodley asked the servant, who
+attended, if he had seen his Lord. The man answered,
+&ldquo;Yes, Madam; and he looks vastly well.&rdquo; Matilda wept
+with joy to hear it.</p>
+
+<p>About nine in the evening, Sandford rang at the bell, and
+was admitted&mdash;never had he been so welcome&mdash;Matilda
+hung upon him, as if his recent interview with her father,
+had endeared him to her more than ever; and staring
+anxiously in his face, seemed to enquire of him something
+about Lord Elmwood, and something that should not alarm
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well&mdash;how do you find yourself?&rdquo; said he to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How are you, Mr. Sandford?&rdquo; she returned, with a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! very well,&rdquo; replied he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is my Lord in a good temper?&rdquo; asked Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; very well,&rdquo; replied Sandford, with indifference.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did he seem glad to see you?&rdquo; asked Matilda.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He shook me by the hand,&rdquo; replied Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was a sign he was glad to see you, was it not?&rdquo;
+said Matilda.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; but he could not do less.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor more:&rdquo; replied she.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He looks very well, our servant tells us,&rdquo; said Miss
+Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Extremely well indeed,&rdquo; answered Sandford: &ldquo;and to
+tell the truth, I never saw him in better spirits.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is well&mdash;&rdquo; said Matilda, and sighed a weight of
+fears from her heart.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is he now, Mr. Sandford?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gone to take a walk about his grounds, and I stole here
+in the mean time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What was your conversation during dinner?&rdquo; asked
+Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Horses, hay, farming, and politics.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you sup with him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall see him again before I go to bed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And again to-morrow!&rdquo; cried Matilda, &ldquo;what happiness!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has visitors to-morrow,&rdquo; said Sandford, &ldquo;coming
+for a week or two.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank Heaven,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;he will then be
+diverted from thinking on us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; returned Sandford, &ldquo;it is my firm
+opinion, that his thinking of ye at present, is the cause of his
+good spirits.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Heavens!&rdquo; cried Matilda, lifting up her hands with
+rapture.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, do not mistake me,&rdquo; said Sandford; &ldquo;I would
+not have you build a foundation for joy upon this surmise;
+for if he is in spirits that you are in this house&mdash;so near him&mdash;positively
+under his protection&mdash;yet he will not allow himself
+to think it is the cause of his content&mdash;and the sentiments he
+has adopted, and which are now become natural to him, will
+remain the same as ever; nay, perhaps with greater force,
+should he suspect his weakness (as he calls it) acting in opposition
+to them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If he does but think of me with tenderness,&rdquo; cried
+Matilda, &ldquo;I am recompensed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what recompense would his kind thoughts be to
+you,&rdquo; said Sandford, &ldquo;were he to turn you out to beggary?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A great deal&mdash;a great deal,&rdquo; she replied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But how are you to know he has these kind thoughts,
+if he gives you no proof of them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Mr. Sandford; but <i>supposing</i> we could know them
+without proof.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But as that is impossible,&rdquo; answered he, &ldquo;I shall suppose,
+till proof appears, that I have been mistaken in my conjectures.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Matilda looked deeply concerned that the argument should
+conclude in her disappointment; for to have believed herself
+thought of with tenderness by her father, would have alone
+constituted her happiness.</p>
+
+<p>When the servant came up with something by way of
+supper, he told Mr. Sandford that his Lord was returned
+from his walk and had enquired for him; Sandford immediately
+bade his companions good night, and left them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How strange is this!&rdquo; cried Matilda, when Miss
+Woodley and she were alone, &ldquo;My father within a few rooms
+of me, and yet I am debarred from seeing him! Only by
+walking a few paces I could be at his feet, and perhaps receive
+his blessing!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You make me shudder,&rdquo; cried Miss Woodley; &ldquo;but
+some spirits less timid than mine, might perhaps advise you
+to the experiment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not for worlds!&rdquo; returned Matilda, &ldquo;no counsel could
+tempt me to such temerity&mdash;and yet to entertain the thought
+that it is possible I could do this, is a source of infinite
+comfort.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This conversation lasted till bed time, and later; for they
+sat up beyond their usual hour to indulge it.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley slept little, but Matilda less&mdash;she awaked
+repeatedly during the night, and every time sighed to herself,
+&ldquo;I sleep in the same house with my father! Blessed spirit
+of my mother, look down and rejoice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_VII" id="III_CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<p>The next day the whole Castle appeared to Lady Matilda
+(though she was in some degree retired from it) all tumult
+and bustle, as was usually the case while Lord Elmwood was
+there. She saw from her windows, the servants running
+across the yards and park; horses and carriages driving with
+fury; all the suite of a nobleman; and it sometimes elated,
+at other times depressed her.</p>
+
+<p>These impressions however, and others of fear and anxiety,
+which her father&rsquo;s arrival had excited, by degrees wore off;
+and after some little time, she was in the same tranquil state
+that she enjoyed before he came.</p>
+
+<p>He had visitors, who passed a week or two with him; he
+paid visits himself for several days; and thus the time stole
+away, till it was about four weeks from the time that he had
+arrived; in which long period, Sandford, with all his penetration,
+could never clearly discover whether he had once
+called to mind that his daughter was living in the same house.
+He had not once named her (that was not extraordinary)
+consequently no one dared name her to him; but he had not
+even mentioned Miss Woodley, of whom he had so lately
+spoken in the kindest terms, and had said, &ldquo;He should take
+pleasure in seeing her again.&rdquo; From these contradictions in
+Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s behaviour in respect to her, it was Miss
+Woodley&rsquo;s plan neither to throw herself in his way, nor avoid
+him. She therefore frequently walked about the house while
+he was in it, not indeed entirely without restraint, but at
+least with the show of liberty. This freedom, indulged for
+some time without peril, became at last less cautious; and
+as no ill consequences had arisen from its practice, her
+scruples gradually ceased.</p>
+
+<p>One morning, however, as she was crossing the large hall,
+thoughtless of danger, a footstep at a distance alarmed her
+almost without knowing why. She stopped for a moment,
+thinking to return; the steps approached quicker, and before
+she could retreat, she beheld Lord Elmwood at the other end
+of the hall, and perceived that he saw her. It was too late
+to hesitate what was to be done; she could not go back,
+and had not courage to go on; she therefore stood still.
+Disconcerted, and much affected at his sight, (their former
+intimacy coming to her mind with the many years, and many
+sad occurrences passed, since she last saw him) all her intentions,
+all her meditated plans how to conduct herself on
+such an occasion, gave way to a sudden shock&mdash;and to make
+the meeting yet more distressing, her very fright, she knew,
+would serve to recall more powerfully to his mind, the
+subject she most wished him to forget. The steward was
+with him, and as they came up close by her side, Giffard
+observing him look at her earnestly, said softly, but so as she
+heard him, &ldquo;My Lord, it is Miss Woodley.&rdquo; Lord Elmwood
+took off his hat instantly&mdash;and, with an apparent friendly
+warmth, laying hold of her hand, he said, &ldquo;Indeed, Miss
+Woodley, I did not know you&mdash;I am very glad to see you:&rdquo;
+and while he spoke, shook her hand with a cordiality which
+her tender heart could not bear&mdash;and never did she feel so
+hard a struggle as to restrain her tears. But the thought of
+Matilda&rsquo;s fate&mdash;the idea of awakening in his mind a sentiment
+that might irritate him against his child, wrought more
+forcibly than every other effort; and though she could not
+reply distinctly, she replied without weeping. Whether he
+saw her embarrassment, and wished to release her from it,
+or was in haste to conceal his own, he left her almost instantly:
+but not till he had entreated she would dine that very day
+with him and Mr. Sandford, who were to dine without other
+company. She curtsied assent, and flew to tell Matilda what
+had occurred. After listening with anxiety and with joy
+to all she told, Matilda laid hold of that hand which she said
+Lord Elmwood had held, and pressed it to her lips with love
+and reverence.</p>
+
+<p>When Miss Woodley made her appearance at dinner,
+Sandford, (who had not seen her since the invitation, and
+did not know of it) looked amazed; on which Lord Elmwood
+said, &ldquo;Do you know, Sandford, I met Miss Woodley this
+morning, and had it not been for Giffard, I should have
+passed her without knowing her&mdash;but Miss Woodley, if I am
+not so much altered but that you knew me, I take it unkind
+you did not speak first.&rdquo; She was unable to speak even now&mdash;he
+saw it, and changed the conversation; when Sandford
+eagerly joined in discourse, which relieved him from the pain
+of the former.</p>
+
+<p>As they advanced in their dinner, the embarrassment of
+Miss Woodley and of Mr. Sandford diminished; Lord
+Elmwood in his turn became, not embarrassed, but absent
+and melancholy. He now and then sighed heavily&mdash;and called
+for wine much oftener than he was accustomed.</p>
+
+<p>When Miss Woodley took her leave, he invited her to dine
+with him and Sandford whenever it was convenient to her;
+he said, besides, many things of the same kind, and all with
+the utmost civility, yet not with that warmth with which he
+had spoken in the morning&mdash;into <i>that</i> he had been surprised&mdash;his
+coolness was the effect of reflection.</p>
+
+<p>When she came to Lady Matilda, and Sandford had
+joined them, they talked and deliberated on what had passed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You acknowledge Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley,
+&ldquo;that you think my presence affected Lord Elmwood, so as
+to make him much more thoughtful than usual; if you
+imagine these thoughts were upon Lady Elmwood, I will
+never intrude again; but if you suppose that I made him
+think upon his daughter, I cannot go too often.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see how he can divide those two objects in his
+mind,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;therefore you must e&rsquo;en visit him
+on, and take your chance, what reflections you may cause&mdash;but,
+be they what they will, time will steal away from you
+that power of affecting him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She concurred in the opinion, and occasionally she walked
+into Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s apartments, dined, or took her coffee
+with him, as the accident suited; and observed, according
+to Sandford&rsquo;s prediction, that time wore off the impression
+her visits first made. Lord Elmwood now became just the
+same before her as before others. She easily discerned, too,
+through all that politeness which he assumed&mdash;that he was
+no longer the considerate, the forbearing character he
+formerly was; but haughty, impatient, imperious, and more
+than ever, <i>implacable</i>.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_VIII" id="III_CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<p>When Lord Elmwood had been at his country seat about
+six weeks, Mr. Rushbrook, his nephew, and his adopted
+child&mdash;that friendless boy whom poor Lady Elmwood first
+introduced into his uncle&rsquo;s house, and by her kindness preserved
+there&mdash;arrived from his travels, and was received by
+his uncle with all the marks of affection due to the man he
+thought worthy to be his heir. Rushbrook had been a
+beautiful boy, and was now an extremely handsome young
+man; he had made unusual progress in his studies, had
+completed the tour of Italy and Germany, and returned
+home with the air and address of a perfect man of fashion&mdash;there
+was, besides, an elegance and persuasion in his manner
+almost irresistible. Yet with all those accomplishments,
+when he was introduced to Sandford, and put forth his hand
+to take his, Sandford, with evident reluctance, gave it to him;
+and when Lord Elmwood asked him, in the young man&rsquo;s
+presence, &ldquo;If he did not think his nephew greatly improved?&rdquo;
+He looked at him from head to foot, and muttered &ldquo;He
+could not say he observed it.&rdquo; The colour heightened in
+Mr. Rushbrook&rsquo;s face upon the occasion, but he was too well
+bred not to be in perfect good humour.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford saw this young man treated, in the house of
+Lord Elmwood, with the same respect and attention as if he
+had been his son; and it was but probable the old priest
+would make a comparison between the situation of him, and
+of Lady Matilda Elmwood. Before her, it was Sandford&rsquo;s
+meaning to have concealed his thoughts upon the subject,
+and never to have mentioned it but with composure; that
+was, however, impossible&mdash;unused to hide his feelings, at the
+name of Rushbrook, his countenance would always change,
+and a sarcastic sneer, sometimes a frown of resentment, would
+force its way in spite of his resolution. Miss Woodley, too,
+with all her boundless charity and good will, was, upon this
+occasion, induced to limit their excess; and they did not
+extend so far as to reach poor Rushbrook. She even, and in
+<i>reality</i>, did not think him handsome or engaging in his
+manners&mdash;she thought his gaiety frivolousness, his complaisance
+affectation, and his good humour impertinence.
+It was impossible to conceal those unfavourable sentiments
+entirely from Matilda; for when the subject arose, as it
+frequently did, Miss Woodley&rsquo;s undisguised heart, and
+Sandford&rsquo;s undisguised countenance, told them instantly.
+Matilda had the understanding to imagine, that she was,
+perhaps, the object who had thus deformed Mr. Rushbrook,
+and frequently (though he was a stranger to her, and one who
+had caused her many a jealous heart-ache) frequently she would
+speak in his vindication.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are very good,&rdquo; said Sandford, one day to her;
+&ldquo;you like him, because you know your father loves him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was a hard sentence for the daughter of Lord Elmwood
+to hear, to whom her father&rsquo;s love would have been more
+precious than any other blessing.&mdash;She, however, checked
+the assault of envy, and kindly replied,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My mother loved him too, Mr. Sandford.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Sandford, &ldquo;he has been a <i>grateful</i> man
+to your poor mother.&mdash;She did not suppose when she took
+him into the house; when she intreated your father to take
+him; and through her caresses and officious praises of him,
+first gave him that power which he now possesses over his
+uncle; she little foresaw, at that time, his ingratitude, and
+its effects.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very true,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, with a heavy sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What ingratitude?&rdquo; asked Matilda, &ldquo;do you suppose
+Mr. Rushbrook is the cause that my father will not see me?
+Oh do not pay Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s motive so ill a compliment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not say that he is the absolute cause,&rdquo; returned
+Sandford; &ldquo;but if a parent&rsquo;s heart is void, I would have it
+remain so, till its lawful owner is replaced&mdash;usurpers I
+detest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No one can take Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s heart by force,&rdquo; replied
+his daughter, &ldquo;it must, I believe, be a free gift to the possessor;
+and as such, whoever has it, has a right to it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In this manner she would plead the young man&rsquo;s excuse&mdash;perhaps
+but to hear what could be said in his disfavour,
+for secretly his name was bitter to her&mdash;and once she
+exclaimed in vexation, on Sandford&rsquo;s saying Lord Elmwood
+and Mr. Rushbrook were gone out shooting together,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All that pleasure is now eclipsed which I used to take in
+listening to the report of my father&rsquo;s gun, for I cannot now
+distinguish his, from his parasite&rsquo;s.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, (much as he disliked Rushbrook) for this expression
+which comprised her father in the reflection, turned to
+Matilda in extreme anger&mdash;but as he saw the colour mount
+into her face, for what, in the strong feelings of her heart
+had escaped her lips, he did not say a word&mdash;and by her tears
+that followed, he rejoiced to see how much she reproved
+<i>herself</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley, vexed to the heart, and provoked every
+time she saw Lord Elmwood and Rushbrook together, and
+saw the familiar terms on which this young man lived with his
+benefactor, now made her visits to him very seldom. If
+Lord Elmwood observed this, he did not appear to observe it;
+and though he received her politely when she did pay him
+a visit, it was always very coldly; nor did she suppose if she
+never went, he would ever ask for her. For his daughter&rsquo;s
+sake, however, she thought it right sometimes to shew herself
+before him; for she knew it must be impossible that, with
+all his apparent indifference, he could ever see <i>her</i> without
+thinking for a moment on his child; and what one fortunate
+thought might some time bring about, was an object much
+too serious for her to overlook. She therefore, after remaining
+confined to her apartments near three weeks, (excepting
+those anxious walks she and Matilda stole, while Lord
+Elmwood dined, or before he rose in a morning) went one
+forenoon into his apartments, where, as usual, she found him,
+with Mr. Sandford, and Mr. Rushbrook. After she had
+sat about half an hour, conversing with them all, though
+but very little with the latter, Lord Elmwood was called
+out of the room upon some business; presently after, Sandford;
+and now, by no means pleased with the companion
+with whom she was left, she rose, and was going likewise,
+when Rushbrook fixed his speaking eyes upon her, and cried,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Woodley, will you pardon me what I am going
+to say?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, Sir. You can, I am sure, say nothing but
+what I must forgive.&rdquo; But she made this reply with a distance
+and a reserve, very unlike the usual manners of Miss
+Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her earnestly and cried, &ldquo;Ah! Miss Woodley,
+you don&rsquo;t behave so kindly to me as you used to do!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not understand you, Sir,&rdquo; she replied very gravely;
+&ldquo;Times are changed, Mr. Rushbrook, since you were last
+here&mdash;you were then but a child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yet I love all those persons now, that I loved then,&rdquo;
+replied he; &ldquo;and so I shall for ever.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you mistake, Mr. Rushbrook; I was not even then
+so very much the object of your affections&mdash;there were other
+ladies you loved better. Perhaps you don&rsquo;t remember Lady
+Elmwood?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t I,&rdquo; cried he, &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; (clasping his hands and
+lifting up his eyes to heaven) &ldquo;shall I ever forget her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That moment Lord Elmwood opened the door; the conversation
+of course that moment ended; but confusion, at
+the sudden surprise, was on the face of both parties&mdash;he saw
+it, and looked at each of them by turns, with a sternness that
+made poor Miss Woodley ready to faint; while Rushbrook,
+with the most natural and happy laugh that ever was affected,
+cried, &ldquo;No, don&rsquo;t tell my Lord, pray Miss Woodley.&rdquo; She
+was more confused than before, and Lord Elmwood turning
+to him, asked what the subject was. By this time he had
+invented one, and, continuing his laugh, said, &ldquo;Miss Woodley,
+my Lord, will to this day protest that she saw my
+apparition when I was a boy; and she says it is a sign I shall
+die young, and is really much affected at it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood turned away before this ridiculous speech
+was concluded; yet so well had it been acted, that he did
+not for an instant doubt its truth.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley felt herself greatly relieved; and yet so little
+is it in the power of those we dislike to do any thing to please
+us, that from this very circumstance, she formed a more
+unfavourable opinion of Mr. Rushbrook than she had done
+before. She saw in this little incident the art of dissimulation,
+cunning, and duplicity in its most glaring shape; and
+detested the method by which they had each escaped Lord
+Elmwood&rsquo;s suspicion, and perhaps anger, the more, because
+it was so dexterously managed.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Matilda and Sandford were both in their turns
+informed of this trait in Mr. Rushbrook&rsquo;s character; and
+although Miss Woodley had the best of dispositions, and
+upon every occasion spoke the strictest truth, yet in relating
+this occurrence, she did not speak <i>all</i> the truth; for every
+circumstance that would have told to the young man&rsquo;s
+advantage, <i>literally</i> had slipped her memory.</p>
+
+<p>The twenty-ninth of October arrived; on which a dinner,
+a ball, and supper, was given by Lord Elmwood to all the
+neighbouring gentry&mdash;the peasants also dined in the park off
+a roasted bullock, several casks of ale were distributed, and
+the bells of the village rung. Matilda, who heard and saw
+some part of this festivity from her windows, inquired the
+cause; but even the servant who waited upon her had too
+much sensibility to tell her, and answered, &ldquo;He did not
+know.&rdquo; Miss Woodley however, soon learned the reason,
+and groaning with the painful secret, informed her, &ldquo;Mr.
+Rushbrook on that day was come of age.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>My</i> birth-day was last week,&rdquo; replied Matilda; but not
+a word beside.</p>
+
+<p>In their retired apartments, this day passed away not only
+soberly, but almost silently; for to speak upon any subject
+that did not engage their thoughts had been difficult, and to
+speak upon the only one that did, had been afflicting.</p>
+
+<p>Just as they were sitting down to dinner their bell gently
+rung, and in walked Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why are you not among the revellers, Mr. Sandford?&rdquo;
+cried Miss Woodley, with an ironical sneer&mdash;(the first her
+features ever wore)&mdash;&ldquo;Pray, were not you invited to dine
+with the company?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Sandford; &ldquo;but my head ached; and so
+I had rather come and take a bit with you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Matilda, as if she had seen his heart as he spoke, clung round
+his neck and sobbed on his bosom: he put her peevishly
+away, crying &ldquo;Nonsense, nonsense&mdash;eat your dinner.&rdquo; But
+he did not eat himself.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_IX" id="III_CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<p>About a week after this, Lord Elmwood went out two days
+for a visit; consequently Rushbrook was for that time master
+of the house. The first morning he went a shooting, and
+returning about noon, enquired of Sandford, who was sitting
+in the room, if he had taken up a volume of plays left upon
+the table. &ldquo;I read no such things,&rdquo; replied Sandford, and
+quitted the room abruptly. Rushbrook then rang for his
+servant, and desired him to look for the book, asking him
+angrily, &ldquo;Who had been in the apartment? for he was sure
+he had left it there when he went out.&rdquo; The servant withdrew
+to enquire, and presently returned with the volume in
+his hand, and &ldquo;Miss Woodley&rsquo;s compliments, she begs your
+pardon, Sir, she did not know the book was yours, and hopes
+you will excuse the liberty she took.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Woodley!&rdquo; cried Rushbrook with surprise, &ldquo;she
+comes so seldom into these apartments, I did not suppose
+it was her who had it&mdash;take it back to her instantly, with
+my respects, and I beg she will keep it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The man went; but returned with the book again, and
+laying it on the table without speaking, was going away;
+when Rushbrook, hurt at receiving no second message, said,
+&ldquo;I am afraid, Sir, you did very wrong when you first took
+this book from Miss Woodley.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was not from her I took it, Sir,&rdquo; replied the man,
+&ldquo;it was from Lady Matilda.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Since he had entered the house, Rushbrook had never
+before heard the name of Lady Matilda, he was shocked&mdash;confounded
+more than ever&mdash;and to conceal what he felt,
+instantly ordered the man out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>In the mean time, Miss Woodley and Matilda were talking
+over this trifling occurrence; and frivolous as it was, drew
+from it strong conclusions of Rushbrook&rsquo;s insolence and
+power. In spite of her pride, the daughter of Lord Elmwood
+even wept at the insult she had received on this insignificant
+occasion; for the volume being merely taken from her at
+Mr. Rushbrook&rsquo;s command, she felt an insult; and the
+manner in which it was done by the servant, might contribute
+to the offence.</p>
+
+<p>While Miss Woodley and she were upon this conversation,
+a note came from Rushbrook to Miss Woodley, wherein he
+entreated he might be permitted to see her. She sent a verbal
+answer, &ldquo;She was engaged.&rdquo; He sent again, begging she
+would name her own time. But sure of a second denial, he
+followed the servant who took the last message, and as Miss
+Woodley came out of her apartment into the gallery to speak
+to him, Rushbrook presented himself, and told the man to
+retire.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Rushbrook,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;this intrusion is
+insupportable; and destitute as you may think me of the
+friendship of Lord Elmwood&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>In the ardour with which Rushbrook was waiting to
+express himself, he interrupted her, and caught hold of her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>She immediately snatched it from him, and withdrew into
+her chamber.</p>
+
+<p>He followed, saying, in a low voice, &ldquo;Dear Miss Woodley,
+hear me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At that juncture Lady Matilda, who was in an inner apartment,
+came out of it into Miss Woodley&rsquo;s. Perceiving
+a gentleman, she stopped short at the door.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook cast his eyes upon her, and stood motionless&mdash;his
+lips only moved. &ldquo;Do not depart, Madam,&rdquo; said he,
+&ldquo;without hearing my apology for being here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Though Matilda had never seen him since her infancy,
+there was no occasion to tell her who it was that addressed
+her&mdash;his elegant and youthful person, joined to the incident
+which had just occurred, convinced her it was Rushbrook:
+she looked at him with an air of surprise, but with still more,
+of dignity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Woodley is severe upon me, Madam,&rdquo; continued
+he, &ldquo;she judges me unkindly; and I am afraid she will prepossess
+you with the same unfavourable sentiments.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Still Matilda did not speak, but looked at him with the
+same air of dignity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If, Lady Matilda,&rdquo; resumed he, &ldquo;I have offended you,
+and must quit you without pardon, I am more unhappy
+than I should be with the loss of your father&rsquo;s protection&mdash;more
+forlorn, than when an orphan boy, your mother first
+took pity on me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At this last sentence, Matilda turned her eyes on Miss
+Woodley, and seemed in doubt what reply she was to
+give.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook immediately fell upon his knees&mdash;&ldquo;Oh! Lady
+Matilda,&rdquo; cried he, &ldquo;if you knew the sensations of my heart,
+you would not treat me with this disdain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We can only judge of those sensations, Mr. Rushbrook,&rdquo;
+said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;by the effect they have upon your
+conduct; and while you insult Lord and Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s
+daughter by an intrusion like this, and then ridicule her
+abject state by mockeries like these&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He rose from his knees instantly, and interrupted her,
+crying, &ldquo;What can I do? What am I to say, to make you
+change your opinion of me? While Lord Elmwood has been
+at home, I have kept an awful distance; and though every
+moment I breathed was a wish to cast myself at his daughter&rsquo;s
+feet, yet as I feared, Miss Woodley, that you were incensed
+against me, by what means was I to procure an interview
+but by stratagem or force? This accident has given a third
+method, and I had not strength, I had not courage, to let it
+pass. Lord Elmwood will soon return, and we may both
+of us be hurried to town immediately&mdash;then how for a
+tedious winter could I endure the reflexion that I was
+despised, nay, perhaps considered as an object of ingratitude,
+by the only child of my deceased benefactress?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Matilda replied with all her father&rsquo;s haughtiness, &ldquo;Depend
+upon it, Sir, if you should ever enter my thoughts, it will
+only be as an object of envy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suffer me then, Madam,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;as an earnest that
+you do not think worse of me than I merit, suffer me to be
+sometimes admitted into your presence&mdash;.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She would scarce permit him to finish the period, before
+she replied, &ldquo;This is the last time, Sir, we shall ever meet,
+depend upon it&mdash;unless, indeed, Lord Elmwood should
+delegate to you the controul of me&mdash;<i>his</i> commands I never
+dispute.&rdquo; And here she burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook walked towards the window, and did not speak
+for some time&mdash;then turning himself to make a reply, both
+Matilda and Miss Woodley were somewhat surprised to see,
+that he had been shedding tears himself.&mdash;Having conquered
+them, he said, &ldquo;I will not offend you, Madam, by remaining
+one moment longer; and I give you my honour, that, upon
+no pretence whatever, will I presume to intrude here again.
+Professions, I find, have no weight, and only by this obedience
+to your orders, can I give a proof of that respect which you
+inspire;&mdash;and let the agitation I now feel, convince you,
+Lady Matilda, that, with all my seeming good fortune, I am
+not happier than yourself.&rdquo; And so much was he agitated
+while he delivered this, that it was with difficulty he came
+to the conclusion. When he did, he bowed with reverence,
+as if leaving the presence of a deity, and retired.</p>
+
+<p>Matilda immediately entered the chamber she had left,
+and without casting a single look at Miss Woodley by which
+she might guess of the opinion she had formed of Mr. Rushbrook&rsquo;s
+conduct. The next time they met they did not even
+mention his name; for they were ashamed to own a partiality
+in his favour, and were too just to bring any accusation
+against him.</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Woodley, the day following, communicated the
+intelligence of this visit to Mr. Sandford, who not being
+present, and a witness of those marks of humility and respect
+which were conspicuous in the deportment of Mr. Rushbrook,
+was highly offended at his presumption, and threatened
+if he ever dared to force his company there again, he would
+acquaint Lord Elmwood with his arrogance, whatever might
+be the event. Miss Woodley, however, assured him, she
+believed he would have no cause for such a complaint, as
+the young man had made the most solemn promise never to
+commit the like offence; and she thought it her duty to
+enjoin Sandford, till he did repeat it, not to mention the
+circumstance, even to Rushbrook himself.</p>
+
+<p>Matilda could not but feel a regard for her father&rsquo;s heir,
+in return for that which he had so fervently declared for
+her; yet the more favourable her opinion of his mind and
+manners, the more he became an object of her jealousy for
+the affections of Lord Elmwood, and he was now consequently,
+an object of greater sorrow to her, than when she
+believed him less worthy. These sentiments were reversed
+on his part towards her&mdash;no jealousy intervened to bar his
+admiration and esteem&mdash;the beauty of her person, and
+grandeur of her mien, not only confirmed, but improved,
+the exalted idea he had formed of her previous to their
+meeting, and which his affection to both her parents had
+inspired. The next time he saw his benefactor, he began
+to feel a new esteem and regard for him, for his daughter&rsquo;s
+sake; as he had at first an esteem for her, on the foundation
+of his love for Lord and Lady Elmwood. He gazed with
+wonder at his uncle&rsquo;s insensibility to his own happiness, and
+would gladly have led him to the jewel he cast away, though
+even his own expulsion should be the fatal consequence.
+Such was the youthful, warm, generous, grateful, but unreflecting
+mind of Rushbrook.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_X" id="III_CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<p>After this incident, Miss Woodley left her apartments
+less frequently than before&mdash;she was afraid, though till now
+mistrust had been a stranger to her heart, she was afraid
+that duplicity might be concealed under the apparent
+friendship of Rushbrook; it did not indeed appear so from
+any part of his behaviour, but she was apprehensive for the
+fate of Matilda; she disliked him too, and therefore she
+suspected him. Near three weeks she had not now paid
+a visit to Lord Elmwood, and though to herself every visit
+was a pain, yet as Matilda took a delight in hearing of her
+father, what he said, what he did, what his attention seemed
+most employed on, and a thousand other circumstantial
+informations, in which Sandford would scorn to be half so
+particular, it was a deprivation to her, that Miss Woodley
+did not go oftener. Now too, the middle of November was
+come, and it was expected her father would soon quit the
+country.</p>
+
+<p>Partly therefore to indulge her hapless companion, and
+partly because it was a duty, Miss Woodley once again paid
+Lord Elmwood a morning visit, and staid dinner. Rushbrook
+was officiously polite, (for that was the epithet she gave his
+attention in relating it to Lady Matilda) yet she owned he
+had not that forward impertinence she had formerly discovered
+in him, but appeared much more grave and sedate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But tell me of my father,&rdquo; said Matilda.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was going, my dear&mdash;but don&rsquo;t be concerned&mdash;don&rsquo;t
+let it vex you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What? what?&rdquo; cried Matilda, frightened by the
+preface.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, on my observing that I thought Mr. Rushbrook
+looked paler than usual, and appeared not to be in perfect
+health, (which was really the case) your father expressed the
+greatest anxiety imaginable; he said he could not bear to
+see him look so ill, begged him, with all the tenderness of
+a parent, to take the advice of a physician, and added a
+thousand other affectionate things.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I detest Mr. Rushbrook,&rdquo; said Matilda, with her eyes
+flashing indignation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, for shame,&rdquo; returned Miss Woodley; &ldquo;do you
+suppose I told you this, to make you hate him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, there was no occasion for that,&rdquo; replied Matilda;
+&ldquo;my sentiments (though I have never before avowed them)
+were long ago formed; he was always an object which added
+to my unhappiness; but since his daring intrusion into my
+apartments, he has been an object of my hatred.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But now, perhaps, I may tell you something to please
+you,&rdquo; cried Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what is that?&rdquo; said Matilda, with indifference;
+for the first intelligence had hurt her spirits too much to
+suffer her to listen with pleasure to anything.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Rushbrook,&rdquo; continued Miss Woodley, &ldquo;replied to
+your father, that his indisposition was but a slight nervous
+fever, and he would defer a physician&rsquo;s advice till he went to
+London&rdquo;&mdash;on which Lord Elmwood said, &ldquo;And when do you
+expect to be there?&rdquo;&mdash;he replied, &ldquo;Within a week or two,
+I suppose, my Lord.&rdquo; But your father answered, &ldquo;I do not
+mean to go myself till after Christmas.&rdquo; &ldquo;No indeed, my
+Lord!&rdquo; said Mr. Sandford, with surprise: &ldquo;you have not
+passed your Christmas here these many years.&rdquo; &ldquo;No,&rdquo;
+returned your father; &ldquo;but I think I feel myself more
+attached to this house at present, than ever I did in my
+life.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You imagine, then, my father thought of me, when he
+said this?&rdquo; cried Matilda eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I may be mistaken,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley. &ldquo;I leave
+you to judge. Though I am sure Mr. Sandford imagined
+he thought of you, for I saw a smile over his whole face
+immediately.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you, Miss Woodley?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; it appeared on every feature except his lips; those
+he kept fast closed, for fear Lord Elmwood should perceive it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley, with all her minute intelligence, did not
+however acquaint Matilda, that Rushbrook followed her to
+the window when the Earl was out of the room, and Sandford
+half asleep at the other end of it, and inquired respectfully
+but anxiously for <i>her</i>; adding, &ldquo;It is my concern for
+Lady Matilda which makes me thus indisposed: I suffer
+more than she does; but I am not permitted to tell her so,
+nor can I hope, Miss Woodley, you will.&rdquo; She replied, &ldquo;You
+are right, Sir.&rdquo; Nor did she reveal this conversation, while
+not a sentence that passed except that, was omitted.</p>
+
+<p>When Christmas arrived, Lord Elmwood had many convivial
+days at Elmwood House, but Matilda was never mentioned
+by one of his guests, and most probably was never
+thought of. During all those holidays, she was unusually
+melancholy, but sunk into the deepest dejection when she
+was told the day was fixed, on which her father was to return
+to town. On the morning of that day she wept incessantly;
+and all her consolation was, &ldquo;She would go to the chamber
+window that was fronting the door through which he was
+to pass to his carriage, and for the first time, and most
+probably for the last time in her life, behold him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This design was soon forgot in another:&mdash;&ldquo;She would
+rush boldly into the apartment where he was, and at his feet
+take leave of him for ever&mdash;she would lay hold of his hands,
+clasp his knees, provoke him to spurn her, which would be
+joy in comparison to this cruel indifference.&rdquo; In the bitterness
+of her grief, she once called upon her mother, and
+reproached her memory&mdash;but the moment she recollected
+this offence, (which was almost instantaneously) she became
+all mildness and resignation. &ldquo;What have I said?&rdquo; cried
+she; &ldquo;Dear, dear saint, forgive me; and for your sake I will
+bear all with patience&mdash;I will not groan, I will not even sigh
+again&mdash;this task I set myself to atone for what I have dared
+to utter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>While Lady Matilda laboured under this variety of sensations,
+Miss Woodley was occupied in bewailing and endeavouring
+to calm her sorrows&mdash;and Lord Elmwood, with
+Rushbrook, was ready to set off. The Earl, however,
+loitered, and did not once seem in haste to be gone. When
+at last he got up to depart, Sandford thought he pressed his
+hand, and shook it with more warmth than ever he had done
+in his life. Encouraged by this supposition, Sandford said,
+&ldquo;My Lord, won&rsquo;t you condescend to take your leave of
+Miss Woodley?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, Sandford,&rdquo; replied he, and
+seemed glad of an excuse to sit down again.</p>
+
+<p>Impressed with the idea of the state in which she had left
+his only child, Miss Woodley, when she came before Lord
+Elmwood to bid him farewell, was pale, trembling, and in
+tears. Sandford, notwithstanding his patron&rsquo;s apparently
+kind humour, was shocked at the construction he must put
+upon her appearance, and cried, &ldquo;What, Miss Woodley, are
+you not recovered of your illness yet?&rdquo; Lord Elmwood,
+however, took no notice of her looks, but after wishing her
+her health, walked slowly out of the house; turning back
+frequently and speaking to Sandford, or to some other
+person who was behind him, as if part of his thoughts were
+left behind, and he went with reluctance.</p>
+
+<p>When he had quitted the room where Miss Woodley was,
+Rushbrook, timid before her, as she had been before her
+benefactor, went up to her, all humility, and said, &ldquo;Miss
+Woodley, we ought to be friends: our concern, our devotion
+is paid to the same objects, and one common interest should
+teach us to be friendly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She made no reply.&mdash;&ldquo;Will you permit me to write to you
+when I am away?&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;You may wish to hear of
+Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s health, and of what changes may take
+place in his resolutions.&mdash;Will you permit me?&rdquo; At that
+moment a servant came and said, &ldquo;Sir, my Lord is in the
+carriage, and waiting for you.&rdquo; He hastened away, and Miss
+Woodley was relieved from the pain of giving him a denial.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner was the chaise, with all its attendants, out of
+sight, than Lady Matilda was conducted by Miss Woodley
+from her lonely retreat, into that part of the house from
+whence her father had just departed&mdash;and she visited every
+spot where he had so long resided, with a pleasing curiosity
+that for a while diverted her grief. In the breakfast and
+dining rooms, she leaned over those seats with a kind of filial
+piety, on which she was told he had been accustomed to sit.
+And, in the library, she took up with filial delight, the pen
+with which he had been writing; and looked with the most
+curious attention into those books that were laid upon his
+reading desk. But a hat, lying on one of the tables, gave her
+a sensation beyond any other she experienced on this occasion&mdash;in
+that trifling article of his dress, she thought she saw
+himself, and held it in her hand with pious reverence.</p>
+
+<p>In the mean time, Lord Elmwood and Rushbrook were
+proceeding on the road, with hearts not less heavy than those
+which they had left at Elmwood House; though neither of
+them could so well define the cause of this oppression, as
+Matilda could account for the weight which oppressed her&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_XI" id="III_CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<p>Young as Lady Matilda was during the life of her mother,
+neither her youth, nor the recluse state in which she lived,
+had precluded her from the notice and solicitations of a nobleman
+who had professed himself her lover. Viscount Margrave
+had an estate not far distant from the retreat Lady Elmwood
+had chosen; and being devoted to the sports of the country,
+he seldom quitted it for any of those joys which the town
+offered. He was a young man, of a handsome person, and
+was, what his neighbours called, &ldquo;A man of spirit.&rdquo; He was
+an excellent fox-hunter, and as excellent a companion over
+his bottle at the end of the chace&mdash;he was prodigal of his
+fortune, where his pleasures were concerned, and as those
+pleasures were chiefly social, his sporting companions and
+his mistresses (for these were also of the plural number)
+partook largely of his wealth.</p>
+
+<p>Two months previous to Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s death, Miss
+Woodley and Lady Matilda were taking their usual walk in
+some fields and lanes near to their house, when chance threw
+Lord Margrave in their way during a thunder storm in which
+they were suddenly caught; and he had the satisfaction to
+convey his new acquaintances to their home in his coach,
+safe from the fury of the elements. Grateful for the service
+he had rendered them, Miss Woodley and her charge, permitted
+him to enquire occasionally after their health, and
+would sometimes see him. The story of Lady Elmwood was
+known to Lord Margrave, and as he beheld her daughter
+with a passion such as he had been unused to overcome, he
+indulged it with the probable hope, that on the death of
+the mother Lord Elmwood would receive his child, and
+perhaps accept him as his son-in-law. Wedlock was not the
+plan which Lord Margrave had ever proposed to himself
+for happiness; but the excess of his love on this new occasion,
+subdued all the resolutions he had formed against the
+married state; and not daring to hope for the consummation
+of his wishes by any other means, he suffered himself
+to look forward to that, as his only resource. No sooner was
+the long expected death of Lady Elmwood arrived, than he
+waited with impatience to hear that Lady Matilda was sent
+for and acknowledged by her father; for he meant to be the
+first to lay before Lord Elmwood his pretensions as a suitor.
+But those pretensions were founded on the vague hopes of
+a lover only; and Miss Woodley, to whom he first declared
+them, said every thing possible to convince him of their
+fallacy. As to the object of his passion, she was not only
+insensible, but wholly inattentive to all that was said to her
+on the subject. Lady Elmwood died without ever being
+disturbed with it; for her daughter did not even remember
+his proposals so as to repeat them again, and Miss Woodley
+thought it prudent to conceal from her friend, every new
+incident which might give her cause for new anxieties.</p>
+
+<p>When Sandford and the ladies left the north and came to
+Elmwood House, so much were their thoughts employed with
+other ideas, that Lord Margrave did not occupy a place; and
+during the whole time they had been at their new abode,
+they had never once heard of him. He had, nevertheless, his
+whole mind fixed upon Lady Matilda, and had placed spies
+in the neighbourhood to inform him of every circumstance
+relating to her situation. Having imbibed an aversion to
+matrimony, he heard with but little regret, that there was
+no prospect of her ever becoming her father&rsquo;s heir, while such
+an information gave him the hope of obtaining her, upon the
+terms of a mistress.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s departure to town forwarded this hope,
+and flattering himself that the humiliating state in which
+Matilda must feel herself in the house of her father might
+gladly induce her to take shelter under any other protection,
+he boldly advanced as soon as the Earl was gone, to make such
+overture as his wishes and his vanity told him, could not be
+rejected.</p>
+
+<p>Inquiring for Miss Woodley, he easily gained admittance;
+but at the sight of so much modesty and dignity in the
+person of Matilda, the appearance of so much good will, and
+yet such circumspection in her companion; and charmed
+at the good sense and proper spirit which were always
+apparent in the manners of Sandford, he fell once more into
+the despondency of never becoming to Lady Matilda any
+thing of more importance to his reputation, than a husband.</p>
+
+<p>Even that humble hope was sometimes denied him, while
+Sandford set forth the impropriety of troubling Lord Elmwood
+on such a subject at present; and while the Viscount&rsquo;s
+penetration, small as it was, discovered in his fair one, more
+to discourage, than to favour his wishes. Plunged, however,
+too deep in his passion to emerge from it in haste, he meant
+still to visit, and wait for a change to happier circumstances,
+when he was peremptorily desired by Mr. Sandford to desist
+from ever coming again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And why, Mr. Sandford?&rdquo; cried he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For two reasons, my Lord;&mdash;in the first place, your visits
+might be displeasing to Lord Elmwood; in the next place,
+I know they are so to his daughter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Unaccustomed to be addressed so plainly, particularly in
+a case where his heart was interested, he nevertheless submitted
+with patience; but in his own mind determined how
+long this patience should continue&mdash;no longer than it served
+as the means to prove his obedience, and by that artifice, to
+secure his better reception at some future period.</p>
+
+<p>On his return home, cheered with the huzzas of his jovial
+companions, he began to consult those friends, what scheme
+was best to be adopted for the accomplishment of his desires.
+Some, boldly advised application to the father in defiance to
+the old priest; but that was the very last method his Lordship
+himself approved, as marriage must inevitably have
+followed Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s consent: besides, though a Peer,
+Lord Margrave was unused to rank with Peers; and even
+the formality of an interview with one of his equals, carried
+along with it a terror, or at least a fatigue, to a rustic Baron.
+Others of his companions advised seduction; but happily
+the Viscount possessed no arts of this kind, to affect a heart
+joined with such an understanding as Matilda&rsquo;s. There were
+not wanting among his most favourite counsellors some, who
+painted the superior triumph and gratification of force;
+those assured him there was nothing to apprehend under this
+head, as from the behaviour of Lord Elmwood to his child,
+it was more than probable, he would be utterly indifferent
+as to any violence that might be offered her. This last advice
+seemed inspired by the aid of wine; and no sooner had the
+wine freely circulated, than this was always the expedient,
+which appeared by far the best.</p>
+
+<p>While Lord Margrave alternately cherished his hopes and
+his fears in the country, Rushbrook in town gave way to his
+fears only. Every day of his life made him more acquainted
+with the firm, unshaken temper of Lord Elmwood, and every
+day whispered more forcibly to him, that pity, gratitude,
+and friendship, strong and affectionate as these passions are,
+were weak and cold to that, which had gained the possession
+of his heart&mdash;he doubted, but he did not long doubt, that,
+which he felt was love. &ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; said he to himself, &ldquo;it
+is love of such a kind, as arising from causes independent of
+the object itself can scarce deserve that sacred name. Did I
+not love Lady Matilda before I beheld her?&mdash;for her mother&rsquo;s
+sake I loved her&mdash;and even for her father&rsquo;s. Should I have
+felt the same affection for her, had she been the child of other
+parents? No. Or should I have felt that sympathetic
+tenderness which now preys upon my health, had not her
+misfortunes excited it? No.&rdquo; Yet the love which is the
+result of gratitude and pity only, he thought had little claim
+to rank with his; and after the most deliberate and deep
+reflection, he concluded with this decisive opinion&mdash;He had
+loved Lady Matilda, in <i>whatever state</i>, in <i>whatever circumstances</i>;
+and that the tenderness he felt towards her, and
+the anxiety for her happiness before he knew her, extreme
+as they were, were yet cool and dispassionate sensations,
+compared to those which her person and demeanour had incited&mdash;and
+though he acknowledged, that by the preceding
+sentiments, his heart was softened, prepared, and moulded,
+as it were, to receive this last impression, yet the violence
+of his passion told him that genuine love, if not the basis on
+which it was founded, had been the certain consequence.
+With a strict scrutiny into his heart he sought this knowledge,
+but arrived at it with a regret that amounted to despair.</p>
+
+<p>To shield him from despondency, he formed in his mind
+a thousand visions, displaying the joys of his union with
+Lady Matilda; but her father&rsquo;s implacability confounded
+them all. Lord Elmwood was a man who made few resolutions&mdash;but
+those were the effect of deliberation; and as he
+was not the least capricious or inconstant in his temper, they
+were resolutions which no probable event could shake.
+Love, that produces wonders, that seduces and subdues the
+most determined and rigid spirits, had in two instances
+overcome the inflexibility of Lord Elmwood; he married
+Lady Elmwood contrary to his determination, because he
+loved; and for the sake of this beloved object, he had, contrary
+to his resolution, taken under his immediate care young
+Rushbrook; but the magic which once enchanted away
+this spirit of immutability was no more&mdash;Lady Elmwood was
+no more, and the charm was broken.</p>
+
+<p>As Miss Woodley was deprived of the opportunity of
+desiring Rushbrook not to write, when he asked her the
+permission, he passed one whole morning, in the gratification
+of forming and writing a letter to her, which he thought
+might possibly be shewn to Matilda. As he dared not touch
+upon any of those circumstances in which he was the most
+interested, this, joined to the respect he wished to pay the
+lady to whom he wrote, limited his letter to about twenty
+lines; yet the studious manner with which these lines were
+dictated, the hope that they might, and the fear that they
+might not, be seen and regarded by Lady Matilda, rendered
+the task an anxiety so pleasing, that he could have wished
+it might have lasted for a year; and in this tendency to
+magnify trifles, was discoverable, the never-failing symptom
+of ardent love.</p>
+
+<p>A reply to this formal address, was a reward he wished for
+with impatience, but he wished in vain; and in the midst
+of his chagrin at the disappointment, a sorrow, little thought
+of, occurred, and gave him a perturbation of mind he had
+never before experienced. Lord Elmwood proposed a wife
+to him; and in a way so assured of his acquiescence, that
+if Rushbrook&rsquo;s life had depended upon his daring to dispute
+his benefactor&rsquo;s will, he would not have had the courage to
+have done so. There was, however, in his reply, and his
+embarrassment, something which his uncle distinguished from
+a free concurrence; and looking stedfastly at him, he said,
+in that stern manner which he now almost invariably
+adopted,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have no engagements, I suppose! Have made no
+previous promises!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;None on earth, my Lord,&rdquo; replied Rushbrook candidly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor have you disposed of your heart?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, my Lord,&rdquo; replied he; but not candidly&mdash;nor with
+any appearance of candour: for though he spoke hastily, it
+was rather like a man frightened than assured. He hurried
+to tell the falsehood he thought himself obliged to tell, that
+the pain and shame might be over; but there he was deceived&mdash;the
+lie once told was as troublesome as in the conception,
+and added another confusion to the first.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood now fixed his eyes upon him with a sullen
+contempt, and rising from his chair, said, &ldquo;Rushbrook, if
+you have been so inconsiderate as to give away your heart,
+tell me so at once, and tell me the object.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook shuddered at the thought.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I here,&rdquo; continued the Earl, &ldquo;tolerate the first untruth
+you ever told me, as the false assertion of a lover; and give
+you an opportunity of recalling it&mdash;but after this moment,
+it is a lie between man and man&mdash;a lie to your friend and
+father, and I will not forgive it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook stood silent, confused, alarmed, and bewildered
+in his thoughts. Lord Elmwood proceeded:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Name the person, if there is any, on whom you have
+bestowed your heart; and though I do not give you the hope
+that I shall not censure your folly, I will at least not reproach
+you for having at first denied it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To repeat these words in writing, the reader must condemn
+the young man that he could hesitate to own he loved, if he
+was even afraid to name the object of his passion; but his
+interrogator had made the two answers inseparable, so that
+all evasions of the second, Rushbrook knew would be fruitless,
+after having avowed the first&mdash;and how could he confess the
+latter? The absolute orders he received from the steward
+on his first return from his travels, were, &ldquo;Never to mention
+his daughter, any more than his late wife, before Lord
+Elmwood.&rdquo; The fault of having rudely intruded into Lady
+Matilda&rsquo;s presence, rushed also upon his mind; for he did
+not even dare to say, by what means he had beheld her. But
+more than all, the threatening manner in which this rational
+and apparently conciliating speech was uttered, the menaces,
+the severity which sat upon the Earl&rsquo;s countenance while
+he delivered those moderate words, might have intimidated
+a man wholly independent, and less used to fear than his
+nephew had been.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You make no answer, Sir,&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood, after
+waiting a few moments for his reply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have only to say, my Lord,&rdquo; returned Rushbrook,
+&ldquo;that although my heart may be totally disengaged, I may
+yet be disinclined to marriage.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May! May! Your heart <i>may</i> be disengaged,&rdquo; repeated
+he. &ldquo;Do you dare to reply to me equivocally, when I have
+asked a positive answer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps I am not positive myself, my Lord; but I will
+enquire into the state of my mind, and make you acquainted
+with it very soon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As the angry demeanour of his uncle affected Rushbrook
+with fear, so that fear, powerfully (but with proper manliness)
+expressed, again softened the displeasure of Lord Elmwood;
+and seeing and pitying his nephew&rsquo;s sensibility, he now
+changed his austere voice, and said mildly, but firmly,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I give you a week to consult with yourself; at the
+expiration of that time I shall talk with you again, and
+I command you to be then prepared to speak, not only
+without deceit, but without hesitation.&rdquo; He left the room
+at these words, and left Rushbrook released from a fate,
+which his apprehensions had beheld impending that moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>He had now a week to call his thoughts together, to weigh
+every circumstance, and to determine whether implicitly to
+submit to Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s recommendation of a wife, or
+to revolt from it, and see another, with more subserviency
+to his will, appointed his heir.</p>
+
+<p>Undetermined how to act upon this trial which was to
+decide his future destiny, Rushbrook suffered so poignant an
+uncertainty, that he became at length ill, and before the end
+of the week that was allotted him for his reply, he was confined
+to his bed in a high fever. Lord Elmwood was extremely
+affected at his indisposition; he gave him every care he could
+bestow, and even much of his personal attendance. This last
+favour had a claim upon the young man&rsquo;s gratitude, superior
+to every other obligation which since his infancy his benefactor
+had conferred; and he was at times so moved by
+those marks of kindness he received, that he would form the
+intention of tearing from his heart every trace that Lady
+Matilda had left there, and as soon as his health would permit
+him, obey, to the utmost of his views, every wish his uncle had
+conceived. Yet again, her pitiable situation presented itself
+to his compassion, and her beauteous person to his love.
+Divided between the claims of obligation to the father,
+and tender attachment to the daughter, his illness was increased
+by the tortures of his mind, and he once sincerely
+wished for that death, of which he was in danger, to free
+him from the dilemma in which his affections had involved
+him.</p>
+
+<p>At the time his disorder was at the height, and he lay
+complaining of the violence of his fever, Lord Elmwood,
+taking his hand, asked him, &ldquo;If there was any thing he could
+do for him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, yes, my Lord, a great deal:&rdquo; he replied eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, Harry?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! my Lord,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;that is what I must not
+tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Defer it then till you are well:&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood;
+afraid of being surprised, or affected by the state of his health,
+into any promises which he might hereafter find the impropriety
+of granting.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And when I recover, my Lord, you give me leave to
+reveal to you my wishes, let them be what they will?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His uncle hesitated&mdash;&mdash;but seeing an anxiety for the
+answer, by his raising himself upon his elbow in the bed and
+staring wildly, Lord Elmwood at last said, &ldquo;Certainly&mdash;Yes,
+yes,&rdquo; as a child is answered for its quiet.</p>
+
+<p>That Lord Elmwood could have no idea what the real
+petition was, which Rushbrook meant to present him is
+certain; but it is certain he expected he had some request
+to make, with which it might be wrong for him to comply,
+and therefore he avoided hearing what it was; for great as
+his compassion for him was in his present state, it was not of
+sufficient force to urge him to give a promise he did not
+mean to perform. Rushbrook, on his part was pleased with
+the assurance he might speak when he was restored to health;
+but no sooner was his fever abated, and his senses perfectly
+recovered from the slight derangement his malady had
+occasioned, than the lively remembrance of what he had
+hinted, alarmed him, and he was even afraid to look his kind,
+but awful relation in the face. Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s cheerfulness,
+however, on his returning health, and his undiminished
+attention, soon convinced him that he had nothing to fear.
+But, alas! he found too, that he had nothing to hope. As
+his health re-established, his wishes re-established also, and
+with his wishes, his despair.</p>
+
+<p>Convinced now, that his nephew had something on his
+mind which he feared to reveal, the Earl no longer doubted
+but that some youthful attachment had armed him against
+any marriage he should propose; but he had so much pity
+for his present weak state, to delay that further inquiry which
+he had threatened before his illness, to a time when he should
+be entirely restored.</p>
+
+<p>It was the end of May before Rushbrook was able to partake
+in the usual routine of the day&mdash;the country was now prescribed
+him as the means of complete restoration; and as Lord
+Elmwood designed to leave London some time in June, he
+advised him to go to Elmwood House a week or two before
+him; this advice was received with delight, and a letter was
+sent to Mr. Sandford to prepare for Mr. Rushbrook&rsquo;s arrival.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_XII" id="III_CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<p>During the illness of Rushbrook, news had been sent of his
+danger, from the servants in town to those at Elmwood
+House, and Lady Matilda expressed compassion when she
+was told of it&mdash;she began to conceive, the instant she thought
+he would soon die, that his visit to her had merit rather than
+impertinence in its design, and that he might possibly be
+a more deserving man, than she had supposed him to be.
+Even Sandford and Miss Woodley, began to recollect qualifications
+he possessed, which they never had reflected on before,
+and Miss Woodley in particular, reproached herself that she
+had been so severe and inattentive to him. Notwithstanding
+the prospects his death pointed out to her, it was with infinite
+joy she heard he was recovered; nor was Sandford less satisfied;
+for he had treated the young man too unkindly not to
+dread, lest any ill should befall him; but although he was
+glad to hear of his restored health, when he was informed he
+was coming down to Elmwood House for a few weeks in the
+style of its master, Sandford, with all his religious and
+humane principles, could not help thinking, &ldquo;That if the
+lad had been properly prepared to die, he had been as well
+out of the world as in it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was still less his friend when he saw him arrive with
+his usual florid complexion: had he come pale and sickly,
+Sandford had been kind to him; but in apparently good
+health and spirits, he could not form his lips to tell him he
+was &ldquo;Glad to see him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>On his arrival, Matilda, who for five months had been at
+large, secluded herself as she would have done upon the
+arrival of Lord Elmwood; but with far different sensations.
+Notwithstanding her restriction on the latter occasion, the
+residence of her father in that house had been a source
+of pleasure, rather than of sorrow to her; but from the
+abode of Rushbrook she derived punishment alone.</p>
+
+<p>When, from inquiries, Rushbrook found that on his
+approach, Matilda had retired to her own confined apartments,
+the thought was torture to him; it was the hope of
+seeing and conversing with her, of being admitted at all
+times to her society as the mistress of the house, that had
+raised his spirits, and effected his perfect cure beyond any
+other cause; and he was hurt to the greatest degree at this
+respect, or rather contempt, shown to him by her retreat.</p>
+
+<p>It was, nevertheless, a subject too delicate for him to touch
+upon in any one sense&mdash;an invitation for her company on his
+part, might carry the appearance of superior authority, and
+an affected condescension, which he justly considered as the
+worst of all insults. And yet, how could he support the idea
+that his visit had placed the daughter of his benefactor, as
+a dependent stranger in that house, where in reality <i>he</i> was
+the dependent, and she the lawful heir? For two or three
+days he suffered the torment of these reflections, hoping
+that he should come to an explanation of all he felt, by
+a fortunate meeting with Miss Woodley; but when that
+meeting occurred, though he observed she talked to him with
+less reserve than she had formerly done, and even gave some
+proofs of the native goodness of her disposition, yet she
+scrupulously avoided naming Lady Matilda; and when he
+diffidently inquired of her health, a cold restraint overspread
+Miss Woodley&rsquo;s face, and she left him instantly. To Sandford
+it was still more difficult for him to apply; for though
+frequently together, they were never sociable; and as Sandford
+seldom disguised his feelings, to Rushbrook he was
+always extremely severe, and sometimes unmannerly.</p>
+
+<p>In this perplexed situation, the country air was rather of
+detriment than service to the invalid; and had he not, like
+a true lover, clung fast to hope, while he could perceive
+nothing but despair, he would have returned to town, rather
+than by his stay have placed in a subordinate state, the object
+of his adoration. Persisting in his hopes, he one morning
+met Miss Woodley in the garden, and engaging her a longer
+time than usual in conversation, at last obtained her promise
+&ldquo;She would that day dine with him and Mr. Sandford.&rdquo;
+But no sooner had she parted from him, than she repented
+of her consent; and upon communicating it, Matilda, for
+the first time in her life, darted upon her kind companion,
+a look of the most cutting reproach and haughty resentment.
+Miss Woodley&rsquo;s own sentiments had upbraided her
+before; but she was not prepared to receive so pointed
+a mark of disapprobation from her young friend, till now
+duteous and humble to her as to a mother, and not less
+affectionate. Her heart was too susceptible to bear this
+disrespectful and contumelious frown, from the object of her
+long-devoted care and concern; the tears instantly covered
+her face, and she laid her hands upon her heart, as if she
+thought it would break. Matilda was moved, but she
+possessed too much of the manly resentment of her father, to
+discover what she felt for the first few minutes. Miss Woodley,
+who had given so many tears to her sorrows, but never
+till now, one to her anger, had a deeper sense of this indifference,
+than of the anger itself, and to conceal what she
+suffered, left the room. Matilda, who had been till this time
+working at her needle, seemingly composed, now let her work
+drop from her hand, and sat for a while in a deep reverie.
+At length she rose up, and followed Miss Woodley to the other
+apartment. She entered grave, majestic and apparently
+serene, while her poor heart fluttered with a thousand distressing
+sensations. She approached Miss Woodley (who was
+still in tears) with silence; and awed by her manners, the
+faithful friend of her deceased mother exclaimed, &ldquo;Dear
+Lady Matilda, think no more on what I have done&mdash;do not
+resent it any longer, and on my knees I&rsquo;ll beg your pardon.&rdquo;
+Miss Woodley rose as she uttered these last words; but
+Matilda laid fast hold of her to prevent the posture she offered
+to take, and instantly assumed it herself. &ldquo;Oh, let this be
+my atonement!&rdquo; she cried with the most earnest supplication.</p>
+
+<p>They interchanged forgiveness; and as this reconciliation
+was sincere, they each, without reserve, gave their opinion
+upon the subject that had caused the misunderstanding;
+and it was agreed an apology should be sent to Mr. Rushbrook,
+&ldquo;That Miss Woodley had been suddenly indisposed:&rdquo;
+nor could this be said to differ from the truth, for since what
+had passed she was unfit to pay a visit.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook, who had been all the morning elated with the
+advance he supposed he had made in that lady&rsquo;s favour, was
+highly disappointed, vexed, and angry, when this apology
+was delivered; nor did he, nor perhaps could he, conceal
+what he felt, although his severe observer, Mr. Sandford, was
+present.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am a very unfortunate man!&rdquo; said he, as soon as the
+servant was gone who brought the message.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford cast his eyes upon him with a look of surprise
+and contempt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A very unfortunate man indeed, Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; repeated
+he, &ldquo;although you treat my complaint contemptuously.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford made no reply, and seemed above making one.</p>
+
+<p>They sat down to dinner;&mdash;Rushbrook eat scarce any thing,
+but drank frequently; Sandford took no notice of either,
+but had a book (which was his custom when he dined with
+persons whose conversation was not interesting to him) laid
+by the side of his plate, which he occasionally looked into, as
+the dishes were removing, or other opportunities served.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook, just now more hopeless than ever of forming
+an acquaintance with Lady Matilda, began to give way to
+symptoms of despondency; and they made their first attack,
+by urging him, to treat on the same level of familiarity that
+he himself was treated, Mr. Sandford, to whom he had, till
+now, ever behaved with the most profound tokens of respect.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said he to him as soon as the dinner was removed,
+&ldquo;lay aside your book and be good company.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford lifted up his eyes upon him&mdash;stared in his face&mdash;and
+cast them on the book again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pshaw,&rdquo; continued Rushbrook, &ldquo;I want a companion;
+and as Miss Woodley has disappointed me, I must have your
+company.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford now laid his book down upon the table; but
+still holding his fingers in the pages he was reading, said,
+&ldquo;And why are you disappointed of Miss Woodley&rsquo;s company?
+When people expect what they have no right to
+hope, &rsquo;tis impertinent assurance to complain they are disappointed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had a right to hope she would come,&rdquo; answered Rushbrook,
+&ldquo;for she promised she would.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But what right had you to ask her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The right every one has, to make his time pass as agreeably
+as he can.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But not at the expence of another.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe, Mr. Sandford, it would be a heavy expence to
+you, to see me happy; I believe it would cost you even your
+own happiness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is a price I have not now to give:&rdquo; replied Sandford,
+and began reading again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, you have already paid it away? No wonder that
+at your time of life it should be gone. But what do you
+think of my having already squandered mine?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think about you;&rdquo; returned Sandford, without
+taking his eyes from the book.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can you look me in the face and say that, Mr. Sandford?
+No, you cannot&mdash;for you know you <i>do</i> think of me, and you
+know you hate me.&rdquo;&mdash;Here he drank two glasses of wine
+one after another; &ldquo;And I can tell you why you hate me,&rdquo;
+continued he: &ldquo;It is from a cause for which I often hate
+myself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford read on.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is on Lady Matilda&rsquo;s account you hate me, and use
+me thus.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford put down the book hastily, and put both his
+hands by his side.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; resumed Rushbrook, &ldquo;you think I am wronging
+her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think you insult her,&rdquo; exclaimed Sandford, &ldquo;by this
+rude mention of her name; and I command you at your
+peril to desist.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At my peril! Mr. Sandford? Do you assume the
+authority of my Lord Elmwood?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do on this occasion; and if you dare to give your
+tongue a freedom&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook interrupted him&mdash;&ldquo;Why then I boldly say,
+(and as her friend you ought rather to applaud than resent
+it) I boldly say, that my heart suffers so much for her situation,
+that I am regardless of my own. I love her father&mdash;I
+loved her mother more&mdash;but I love <i>her</i> beyond either.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hold your licentious tongue,&rdquo; cried Sandford, &ldquo;or quit
+the room.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Licentious! Oh! the pure thoughts that dwell in her
+innocent mind, are not less sensual than mine towards her.
+Do you upbraid me with my respect, my pity for her? They
+are the sensations which impel me to speak thus undisguised,
+even to you, my open&mdash;no, even worse&mdash;my secret enemy!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Insult <i>me</i> as you please, Mr. Rushbrook,&mdash;but beware
+how you mention Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s daughter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can it be to her dishonour that I pity her? that I would
+quit the house this moment never to return, so that she
+supplied the place I with-hold from her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go, then;&rdquo; cried Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It would be of no use to her, or I would. But come,
+Mr. Sandford, I will dare do as much as you. Only second
+me, and I will entreat Lord Elmwood to be reconciled&mdash;to
+see and own her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your vanity would be equal to your temerity&mdash;<i>you</i>
+entreat? She must greatly esteem those paternal favours
+which <i>your</i> entreaties gained her! Do you forget, young
+man, how short a time it is, since you were <i>entreated for</i>?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I prove that I do not, while this anxiety for Lady Matilda,
+arises, from what I feel on that account.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Remove your anxiety, then, from her to yourself; for
+were I to let Lord Elmwood know what has now passed&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is for your own sake, not for mine, if you do not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You shall not dare me to it, Mr. Rushbrook.&rdquo; And he
+rose from his seat: &ldquo;You shall not dare me to do you an
+injury. But to avoid the temptation, I will never again
+come into your company, unless my friend, Lord Elmwood,
+be present, to protect me and his child from your insults.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook rose in yet more warmth than Sandford</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you the injustice to say that I have insulted Lady
+Matilda?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To speak of her at all, is in you an insult. But you have
+done more&mdash;you have dared to visit her&mdash;to force into her
+presence and shock her with your offers of services which
+she scorns; and with your compassion, which she is above.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did she complain to you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She or her friend did.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I rather suppose, Mr. Sandford, that you have bribed
+some of the servants to reveal this.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The suspicion becomes Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s heir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It becomes the man, who lives in a house with you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thank you, Mr. Rushbrook, for what has passed this
+day&mdash;it has taken a weight off my mind. I thought my disinclination
+to you, might perhaps arise from prejudice&mdash;this
+conversation has relieved me from those fears, and&mdash;I thank
+you.&rdquo; Saying this he calmly walked out of the room, and
+left Rushbrook to reflect on what he had been doing.</p>
+
+<p>Heated with the wine he had drank (and which Sandford,
+engaged on his book, had not observed) no sooner was he
+alone, than he became by degrees cool and repentant.
+&ldquo;What had he done?&rdquo; was the first question to himself&mdash;&ldquo;He
+had offended Sandford.&rdquo;&mdash;The man, whom reason as
+well as prudence had ever taught him to respect, and even to
+revere. He had grossly offended the firm friend of Lady
+Matilda, by the unreserved and wanton use of her name.
+All the retorts he had uttered came now to his memory;
+with a total forgetfulness of all that Sandford had said to
+provoke them.</p>
+
+<p>He once thought to follow him and beg his pardon; but
+the contempt with which he had been treated, more than all
+the anger, with-held him.</p>
+
+<p>As he sat forming plans how to retrieve the opinion, ill as
+it was, which Sandford formerly entertained of him, he
+received a letter from Lord Elmwood, kindly enquiring after
+his health, and saying that he should be down early in the
+following week. Never were the friendly expressions of his
+uncle half so welcome to him; for they served to sooth
+his imagination, racked with Sandford&rsquo;s wrath, and his own
+displeasure.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_XIII" id="III_CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<p>When Sandford acted deliberately, he always acted up to
+his duty; it was his duty to forgive Rushbrook, and he did
+so&mdash;but he had declared he would never &ldquo;Be again in his
+company unless Lord Elmwood was present;&rdquo; and with all
+his forgiveness, he found an unforgiving gratification, in the
+duty, of being obliged to keep his word.</p>
+
+<p>The next day Rushbrook dined alone, while Sandford gave
+his company to the ladies. Rushbrook was too proud to
+seek to conciliate Sandford by abject concessions, but he
+endeavoured to meet him as by accident, and meant to try
+what, in such a case, a submissive apology might effect. For
+two days all the schemes he formed on that head proved
+fruitless; he could never procure even a sight of him. But
+on the evening of the third day, taking a lonely walk, he
+turned the corner of a grove, and saw in the very path he
+was going, Sandford accompanied by Miss Woodley; and,
+what agitated him infinitely more, Lady Matilda was with
+them. He knew not whether to proceed, or to quit the
+path and palpably shun them&mdash;to one, who seemed to put
+an unkind construction upon all he said and did, he knew
+that to do either, would be to do wrong. In spite of the
+propensity he felt to pass so near to Matilda, could he have
+known what conduct would have been deemed the most
+respectful, whatever painful denial it had cost him, <i>that</i>, he
+would have adopted. But undetermined whether to go
+forward, or to cross to another path, he still walked on till he
+came too nigh to recede: he then, with a diffidence not
+affected, but most powerfully felt, pulled off his hat; and
+without bowing, stood respectfully silent while the company
+passed. Sandford walked on some paces before, and took no
+further notice as he went by him, than just touching the
+fore part of his hat with his finger. Miss Woodley curtsied
+as she followed. But Lady Matilda made a full stop, and said,
+in the gentlest accents, &ldquo;I hope, Mr. Rushbrook, you are
+perfectly recovered.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was the sweetest music he had ever listened to; and he
+replied with the most reverential bow, &ldquo;I am better a great
+deal, Ma&rsquo;am.&rdquo; Then instantly pursued his way as if he did
+not dare to utter another syllable.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford seldom found fault with Lady Matilda; not
+because he loved her, but because she seldom did wrong&mdash;upon
+this occasion, however, he was half inclined to reprimand
+her; but yet he did not know what to say&mdash;the subsequent
+humility of Rushbrook, had taken from the indiscretion
+of her speaking to him, and the event could by no means
+justify his censure. On hearing her begin to speak, Sandford
+had stopped; and as Rushbrook after replying, walked away,
+Sandford called to her crossly, &ldquo;Come, come along.&rdquo; But
+at the same time he put out his elbow for her to take hold of
+his arm.</p>
+
+<p>She hastened her steps, and did so&mdash;then turning to Miss
+Woodley, she said, &ldquo;I expected you would have spoken to
+Mr. Rushbrook; it might have prevented me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley replied, &ldquo;I was at a loss what to do;&mdash;when
+we met formerly, he always spoke first.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And he ought now,&rdquo; cried Sandford angrily&mdash;and then
+added, with a sarcastic smile, &ldquo;It is certainly proper that
+the <i>superior</i>, should be the first who speaks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He did not look as if he thought himself our superior,&rdquo;
+replied Matilda.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; returned Sandford, &ldquo;some people can put on what
+looks they please.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then while he looks so pale,&rdquo; replied Matilda, &ldquo;and so
+dejected, I can never forbear speaking to him when we meet,
+whatever he may think of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And were he and I to meet a hundred, nay a thousand
+times,&rdquo; returned Sandford, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I should ever
+speak to him again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless me! what for, Mr. Sandford?&rdquo; cried Matilda&mdash;for
+Sandford, who was not a man that repeated little incidents,
+had never mentioned the circumstance of their
+quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have taken such a resolution,&rdquo; answered he, &ldquo;yet
+I bear him no enmity.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As this short reply indicated that he meant to say no more,
+no more was asked; and the subject was dropped.</p>
+
+<p>In the mean time, Rushbrook, happier than he had been
+for months, intoxicated with joy at that voluntary mark of
+civility he had received from Lady Matilda, felt his heart
+so joyous, and so free from every particle of malice, that
+he resolved, in the humblest manner, to make atonement for
+the violation of decorum he had lately committed against
+Mr. Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>Too happy, at this time, to suffer a mortification from
+any indignities he might receive, he sent his servant to him
+into his study, as soon as he was returned home, to beg to
+know &ldquo;If he might be permitted to wait upon him, with
+a message he had to deliver from Lord Elmwood.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The servant returned&mdash;&ldquo;Mr. Sandford desired he would
+send the message by him, or the house-steward.&rdquo; This was
+highly affronting; but Rushbrook was not in a humour to
+be offended, and he sent again, begging he would admit
+him; but the answer was, &ldquo;He was busy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thus wholly defeated in his hopes of reconciliation, his
+new transports felt an allay, and the few days that remained
+before Lord Elmwood came, he passed in solitary musing,
+and ineffectual walks and looks towards that path in which
+he had met Matilda&mdash;she came that way no more&mdash;indeed
+scarce quitted her apartment, in the practice of that confinement
+she was to experience on the arrival of her father.</p>
+
+<p>All her former agitations now returned. On the day he
+arrived she wept&mdash;all the night she did not sleep&mdash;and the
+name of Rushbrook again became hateful to her. The Earl
+came in extremely good health and spirits, but appeared
+concerned to find Rushbrook less well than when he went
+from town. Sandford was now under the necessity of being
+in Rushbrook&rsquo;s company, yet he would never speak to him
+but when he was obliged; or look at him, but when he could
+not help it. Lord Elmwood observed this conduct, yet he
+neither wondered, or was offended at it&mdash;he had perceived
+what little esteem Sandford showed his nephew from his
+first return; but he forgave, in Sandford&rsquo;s humour, a
+thousand faults he would not forgive in any other; nor did
+he deem this one of his greatest faults, knowing the demand
+upon his partiality from another object.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley waited on Lord Elmwood as formerly;
+dined with him, and related, as heretofore, to the attentive
+Matilda, all that passed.</p>
+
+<p>About this time Lord Margrave, deprived by the season
+of all the sports of the field, felt his love for Matilda (which
+had been violent, even though divided with the love of
+hunting) now too strong to be subdued; and he resolved,
+though reluctantly, to apply to her father for his consent to
+their union; but writing to Sandford this resolution, he was
+once more repulsed, and charged as a man of honour, to
+forbear to disturb the tranquillity of the family by any
+application of the kind. To this, Sandford received no
+answer; for the peer, highly incensed at his mistress&rsquo;s
+repugnance to him, determined more firmly than ever to
+consult his own happiness alone; and as that depended
+merely upon his obtaining her, he cared not by what method
+it was effected.</p>
+
+<p>About a fortnight after Lord Elmwood came into the
+country, as he was riding one morning, his horse fell with
+him, and crushed his leg in so unfortunate a manner, as to
+be at first pronounced of dangerous consequence. He was
+brought home in a post chaise, and Matilda heard of the
+accident with more grief than would, perhaps, on such an
+occasion, appertain to the most fondled child.</p>
+
+<p>In consequence of the pain he suffered, his fever was one
+night very high; and Sandford, who seldom quitted his
+apartment, went frequently to his bedside, every time with
+the secret hope he should hear him ask to see his daughter&mdash;he
+was every time disappointed&mdash;yet he saw him shake, with
+a cordial friendship, the hand of Rushbrook, as if he delighted
+in seeing those he loved.</p>
+
+<p>The danger in which Lord Elmwood was supposed to be,
+was but of short duration, and his sudden recovery succeeded.
+Matilda, who had wept, moaned, and watched during the
+crisis of his illness, when she heard he was amending, exclaimed,
+(with a kind of surprise at the novelty of the sensation)
+&ldquo;And this is joy that I feel! Oh! I never till now
+knew, what those persons felt who experienced joy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Nor did she repine, like Mr. Sandford and Miss Woodley,
+at her father&rsquo;s inattention to her during his malady, for she
+did not hope like them&mdash;she did not hope he would behold
+her, even in dying.</p>
+
+<p>But notwithstanding his seeming indifference, while his
+indisposition continued, no sooner was he recovered so as to
+receive the congratulations of his friends, than there was no
+one person he evidently showed so much satisfaction at
+seeing, as Miss Woodley. She waited upon him timorously,
+and with more than ordinary distaste at his late conduct,
+when he put out his hand with the utmost warmth to receive
+her; drew her to him; saluted her, (an honour he had never
+in his life conferred before) with signs of the sincerest friendship
+and affection. Sandford was present; and ever associating
+the idea of Matilda with Miss Woodley, felt his heart
+bound with a triumph it had not enjoyed for many a day.</p>
+
+<p>Matilda listened with delight to the recital Miss Woodley
+gave on her return, and many times while it lasted exclaimed,
+&ldquo;She was happy.&rdquo; But poor Matilda&rsquo;s sudden transports of
+joy, which she termed happiness, were not made for long
+continuance; and if she ever found cause for gladness, she
+far oftener had motives for grief.</p>
+
+<p>As Mr. Sandford was sitting with her and Miss Woodley,
+one evening about a week after, a person rang at the bell and
+inquired for him: on being told of it by the servant, he went
+to the door of the apartment, and cried, &ldquo;Oh! is it you?
+Come in.&rdquo; An elderly man entered, who had been for many
+years the head gardener at Elmwood House; a man of
+honesty and sobriety, and with an indigent family of aged
+parents, children, and other relations, who subsisted wholly
+on the income arising from his place. The ladies, as well as
+Sandford, knew him well, and they all, almost at once, asked,
+&ldquo;What was the matter?&rdquo; for his looks told them something
+distressful had befallen him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Sir!&rdquo; said he to Sandford, &ldquo;I come to intreat your
+interest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In what, Edwards?&rdquo; said Sandford with a mild voice;
+for when his assistance was supplicated in distress, his rough
+tones always took a plaintive key.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord has discharged me from his service!&rdquo; (returned
+Edwards trembling, and the tears starting in his eyes) &ldquo;I am
+undone, Mr. Sandford, unless you plead for me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will,&rdquo; said Sandford, &ldquo;I will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And yet I am almost afraid of your success,&rdquo; replied the
+man, &ldquo;for my Lord has ordered me out of his house this
+moment; and though I knelt down to him to be heard, he
+had no pity.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Matilda sighed from the bottom of her heart, and yet she
+envied this poor man, who had been kneeling to her father.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What was your offence?&rdquo; cried Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>The man hesitated; then looking at Matilda, said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
+tell you, Sir, some other time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you name me, before Lord Elmwood?&rdquo; cried she
+eagerly, and terrified.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Madam,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;but I unthinkingly spoke of
+my poor Lady who is dead and gone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Matilda burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How came you to do so mad a thing?&rdquo; cried Sandford;
+and the encouragement which his looks had once given him,
+now fled from his face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was unthinkingly,&rdquo; repeated Edwards; &ldquo;I was showing
+my Lord some plans for the new walks, and told him,
+among other things, that her Ladyship had many years ago
+approved of them. &lsquo;Who?&rsquo; cried he. Still I did not call
+to mind, but said, &lsquo;Lady Elmwood, Sir, while you were
+abroad.&rsquo;&mdash;As soon as these words were delivered, I saw my
+doom in his looks, and he commanded me to quit his house
+and service that instant.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid,&rdquo; said Sandford, shaking his head, &ldquo;I can do
+nothing for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir, you know you have more power over my Lord
+than any body&mdash;and perhaps you may be able to save me
+and all mine from misery.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I would, if I could,&rdquo; replied Sandford quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can but try, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Matilda was all this while bathed in tears; nor was Miss
+Woodley much less affected&mdash;Lady Elmwood was before their
+eyes&mdash;Matilda beheld her in her dying moments; Miss
+Woodley saw her as the gay ward of Dorriforth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ask Mr. Rushbrook,&rdquo; said Sandford, &ldquo;prevail on him to
+speak for you; he has more power than I have.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has not enough, then,&rdquo; replied Edwards, &ldquo;for he was
+in the room with my Lord when what I have told you
+happened.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And did he say nothing?&rdquo; asked Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir; he offered to speak in my behalf, but my Lord
+interrupted him, and ordered him out of the room&mdash;he
+instantly went.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, now observing the effect which this narration
+had on the two ladies, led the man to his own apartments,
+and there assured him he dared not undertake his cause;
+but that if time or chance should happily make an alteration
+in his Lord&rsquo;s disposition, he would be the first who would
+endeavour to replace him.&mdash;Edwards was obliged to submit;
+and before the next day at noon, his pleasant house by the
+side of the park, his garden, and his orchard, which he had
+occupied above twenty years, were cleared of their old
+inhabitant, and all his wretched family.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="III_CHAPTER_XIV" id="III_CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<p>This melancholy incident, perhaps affected Matilda and
+all the friends of the deceased Lady Elmwood, beyond any
+other that had occurred since her death. A few days after
+this circumstance, Miss Woodley, in order to divert the
+disconsolate mind of Lady Matilda, (and in the hope of bringing
+her some little anecdotes, to console her for that which
+had given her so much pain) waited upon Lord Elmwood in
+his library, and borrowed some books out of it. He was now
+perfectly well from his fall, and received her with his usual
+politeness, but, of course, not with that peculiar warmth
+which he had discovered when he received her just after his
+illness. Rushbrook was in the library at the same time; he
+shewed her several beautiful prints which Lord Elmwood
+had just received from London, and appeared anxious to
+entertain and give tokens of his esteem and respect for her.
+But what gave her pleasure beyond any other attention, was,
+that after she had taken (by the aid of Rushbrook) about a dozen
+volumes from different shelves, and had laid them together,
+saying she would send her servant to fetch them; Lord
+Elmwood went eagerly to the place where they were, and
+taking up each book, examined minutely what it was. One
+author he complained was too light, another too depressing,
+and put them on the shelves again: another was erroneous,
+and he changed it for a better: thus, he warned her against
+some, and selected other authors, as the most cautious preceptor
+culls for his pupil, or a fond father for his darling
+Child. She thanked him for his attention to her, but her
+heart thanked him for his attention to his daughter. For
+as she had herself never received such a proof of his care since
+all their long acquaintance, she reasonably supposed, Matilda&rsquo;s
+reading, and not hers, was the object of his solicitude.</p>
+
+<p>Having in these books store of comfort for poor Matilda,
+she eagerly returned with them; and in reciting every
+particular circumstance, made her consider the volumes,
+almost like presents from her father.</p>
+
+<p>The month of September was now arrived; and Lord
+Elmwood, accompanied by Rushbrook, went to a small
+shooting seat, near twenty miles distant from Elmwood
+Castle, for a week&rsquo;s particular sport. Matilda was once more
+at large; and one beautiful morning, about eleven o&rsquo;clock,
+seeing Miss Woodley walking on the lawn before the house,
+she hastily took her hat to join her; and not waiting to put
+it on, went nimbly down the great staircase, with it hanging
+on her arm. When she had descended a few stairs, she heard
+a footstep walking slowly up; and, (from what emotion she
+could not tell,) she stopped short, half resolved to turn back.
+She hesitated a single instant whether she should or not&mdash;then
+went a few steps further till she came to the second landing
+place; when, by the sudden winding of the staircase,&mdash;Lord
+Elmwood was immediately before her!</p>
+
+<p>She had felt something like affright before she saw him;
+but her reason told her she had nothing to fear, as he was
+away. But now, the appearance of a stranger whom she had
+never before seen; the authority in his looks, as well as in
+the sound of his steps; a resemblance to the portrait she
+had been shown of him; a start of astonishment which he
+gave on beholding her; but above all&mdash;her <i>fears</i> confirmed
+her that it was him. She gave a scream of terror&mdash;put out
+her trembling hands to catch the balustrades for support&mdash;missed
+them&mdash;and fell motionless into her father&rsquo;s arms.</p>
+
+<p>He caught her, as by the same impulse, he would have
+caught any other person falling for want of aid. Yet when
+he found her in his arms, he still held her there&mdash;gazed on
+her attentively&mdash;and once pressed her to his bosom.</p>
+
+<p>At length trying to escape the snare into which he had
+been led, he was going to leave her on the spot where she
+fell, when her eyes opened and she uttered, &ldquo;Save me.&rdquo;
+Her voice unmanned him. His long-restrained tears now
+burst forth&mdash;and seeing her relapsing into the swoon, he
+cried out eagerly to recall her. Her name did not, however,
+come to his recollection&mdash;nor any name but this&mdash;&ldquo;Miss
+Milner&mdash;Dear Miss Milner.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That sound did not awaken her; and now again he wished
+to leave her in this senseless state, that not remembering what
+had passed, she might escape the punishment.</p>
+
+<p>But at this instant, Giffard, with another servant, passed
+by the foot of the stairs: on which, Lord Elmwood called
+to them&mdash;and into Giffard&rsquo;s hands delivered his apparently
+dead child; without one command respecting her, or one
+word of any kind; while his face was agitated with shame,
+with pity, with anger, with paternal tenderness.</p>
+
+<p>As Giffard stood trembling, while he relieved his Lord
+from this hapless burthen, her father had to unloose her
+hand from the side of his coat, which she had caught fast
+hold of as she fell, and grasped so closely, it was with difficulty
+released.&mdash;On attempting to take the hand away he trembled&mdash;faltered&mdash;then
+bade Giffard do it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who, I, my Lord! I separate you!&rdquo; cried he. But
+recollecting himself, &ldquo;My Lord, I will obey your commands
+whatever they are.&rdquo; And seizing her hand, pulled it with
+violence&mdash;it fell&mdash;and her father went away.</p>
+
+<p>Matilda was carried to her own apartments, laid upon the
+bed, and Miss Woodley hasted to attend her, after listening
+to the recital of what had passed.</p>
+
+<p>When Lady Elmwood&rsquo;s old and affectionate friend entered
+the room, and saw her youthful charge lying pale and speechless,
+yet no father by to comfort or sooth her, she lifted up
+her hands to Heaven exclaiming, with a burst of tears, &ldquo;And
+is this the end of thee, my poor child? Is this the end of all
+our hopes?&mdash;of thy own fearful hopes&mdash;and of thy mother&rsquo;s
+supplications! Oh! Lord Elmwood! Lord Elmwood!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At that name Matilda started, and cried, &ldquo;Where is he?
+Is it a dream, or have I seen him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is all a dream, my dear,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And yet I thought he held me in his arms,&rdquo; she replied&mdash;&ldquo;I
+thought I felt his hands press mine.&mdash;Let me sleep and
+dream again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Now thinking it best to undeceive her, &ldquo;It is no dream,
+my dear,&rdquo; returned Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it not?&rdquo; cried she, starting up and leaning on her
+elbow&mdash;&ldquo;Then I suppose I must go away&mdash;go for ever
+away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford now entered. Having been told the news, he
+came to condole&mdash;but at the sight of him Matilda was
+terrified, and cried, &ldquo;Do not reproach me, do not upbraid
+me&mdash;I know I have done wrong&mdash;I know I had but one
+command from my father, and that I have disobeyed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford could not reproach her, for he could not speak;
+he therefore only walked to the window and concealed his
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>That whole day and night was passed in sympathetic grief,
+in alarm at every sound, lest it should be a messenger to pronounce
+Matilda&rsquo;s destiny.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood did not stay upon this visit above three
+hours at Elmwood House; he then set off again for the seat
+he had left; where Rushbrook still remained, and from
+whence his Lordship had merely come by accident, to look
+over some writings which he wanted dispatched to town.</p>
+
+<p>During his short continuance here, Sandford cautiously
+avoided his presence; for he thought, in a case like this, what
+nature would not of herself effect, no art, no arguments of
+his, could accomplish: to Nature and Providence he left
+the whole. What these two powerful principles brought
+about, the reader will judge, when he peruses the following
+letter, received early the next morning by Miss Woodley.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>A<br />
+SIMPLE STORY,</h2>
+
+<h3>IN FOUR VOLUMES,</h3>
+
+<h4>BY</h4>
+
+<h3>MRS. INCHBALD.</h3>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>VOL. IV.</h2>
+
+<h4><i>THE FOURTH EDITION.</i></h4>
+
+<p class="center">
+LONDON:<br />
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,<br />
+PATERNOSTER ROW.<br />
+1799.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>A SIMPLE STORY.</h2>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="IV_CHAPTER_I" id="IV_CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><i>A letter from Giffard, Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s House Steward,
+to Miss Woodley.</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Madam</span>,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, above a twelvemonth ago, acquainted me
+he had permitted his daughter to reside in his house; but
+at the same time he informed me, the grant was under
+a certain restriction, which, if ever broken, I was to see his
+then determination (of which he also acquainted me) put
+in execution. In consequence of Lady Matilda&rsquo;s indisposition,
+Madam, I have ventured to delay this notice till morning.&mdash;I
+need not say with what concern I now give it, or mention
+to you, I believe, what is forfeited. My Lord staid but a few
+hours yesterday, after the unhappy circumstance on which
+I write, took place; nor did I see him after, till he was in
+his carriage; he then sent for me to the carriage door, and
+told me he should be back in two days time, and added,
+&lsquo;Remember your duty.&rsquo; That duty, I hope, Madam, you
+will not require me to explain in more direct terms.&mdash;As soon
+as my Lord returns, I have no doubt but he will ask me if
+it is fulfilled, and I shall be under the greatest apprehension,
+should his commands not be obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If there is any thing wanting for the convenience of
+your and Lady Matilda&rsquo;s departure, you have but to order
+it, and it is at your service&mdash;I mean likewise any cash you
+may have occasion for. I should presume to add my opinion
+where you might best take up your abode; but with such
+advice as you will have from Mr. Sandford, mine would be
+but assuming.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I would also have waited upon you, Madam, and have
+delivered myself the substance of this letter; but I am an
+old man, and the changes I have been witness to in my
+Lord&rsquo;s house since I first lived in it, has encreased my age
+many years; and I have not the strength to see you upon
+this occasion. I loved my deceased Lady&mdash;I love my Lord&mdash;and
+I love their child&mdash;nay, so I am sure does my Lord
+himself; but there is no accounting for his resolutions, or
+for the alteration his disposition has lately undergone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg pardon, Madam, for this long intrusion, and am,
+and ever will be, (while you and my Lord&rsquo;s daughter are so)
+your afflicted humble servant,</p>
+
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;" class="smcap">&ldquo;Robert Giffard.</span><br />
+&ldquo;Elmwood House,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">&ldquo;Sept. 12.&rdquo;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>When this letter was brought to Miss Woodley, she knew
+what it contained before she opened it, and therefore took
+it with an air of resignation&mdash;yet though she guessed the
+momentous part of its contents, she dreaded in what words
+it might be related; and having now no essential good to
+expect, hope, that will never totally expire, clung at this
+crisis to little circumstances, and she hoped most fervently,
+the terms of the letter might not be harsh, but that Lord
+Elmwood had delivered his commands in gentle language.
+The event proved he had; and lost to every important
+comfort, she felt grateful to him for this small one.</p>
+
+<p>Matilda, too, was cheered by this letter, for she expected
+something worse; and the last line, in which Giffard said he
+knew &ldquo;His Lordship loved her,&rdquo; she thought repaid her for
+the purport of the other part.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford was not so easily resigned or comforted&mdash;he
+walked about the room when the letter was shewn to him&mdash;called
+it cruel&mdash;stifled his tears, and wished to show his
+resentment only&mdash;but the former burst through all his
+endeavours, and he sunk into grief.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was the fortitude of Matilda, which came to her
+assistance on the first onset of this trial, sufficient to arm her,
+when the moment came she was to quit the house&mdash;her
+father&rsquo;s house&mdash;never to see that, or him again.</p>
+
+<p>When word was brought that the carriage was at the door,
+which was to convey her from all she held so dear, and she
+saw before her the prospect of a long youthful and healthful
+life, in which misery and despair were all she could discern;
+that despair seized her at once, and gaining courage from
+it, she cried,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What have I to fear if I disobey my father&rsquo;s commands
+once more?&mdash;he cannot use me worse. I&rsquo;ll stay here till he
+returns&mdash;again throw myself in his way, and then I will not
+faint, but plead for mercy. Perhaps were I to kneel to him&mdash;kneel,
+like other children to their parents, and beg his blessing,
+he would not refuse it me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must not try:&rdquo; said Sandford, mildly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who,&rdquo; cried she, &ldquo;shall prevent me flying to my father?
+Have I another friend on earth? Have I one relation in the
+world but him? This is the second time I have been turned
+out of his house. In my infant state my cruel father turned
+me out; but then, he sent me to a mother&mdash;now I have
+none; and I will stay with him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Again the steward sent to let them know the coach was
+waiting.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, now, with a determined countenance, went
+coolly up to Lady Matilda, and taking her hand, seemed
+resolved to lead her to the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>Accustomed to be awed by every serious look of his, she
+yet resisted this; and cried, &ldquo;Would <i>you</i> be the minister of
+my father&rsquo;s cruelty?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said Sandford solemnly to her, &ldquo;farewell&mdash;from
+this moment you and I part. I will take my leave, and do
+you remain where you are&mdash;at least till you are forced away.
+But I&rsquo;ll not stay to be driven hence&mdash;for it is impossible
+your father will suffer any friend of yours to continue here,
+after this disobedience. Adieu.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go this moment,&rdquo; said she, and rose hastily.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley took her at her word, and hurried her
+immediately out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford followed slow behind, as if he had followed at
+her funeral.</p>
+
+<p>When she came to that spot on the stairs where she had
+met her father, she started back, and scarce knew how to
+pass it. When she had&mdash;&ldquo;There he held me in his arms,&rdquo;
+said she, &ldquo;and I thought I felt him press me to his heart,
+but I now find I was mistaken.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As Sandford came forward, to hand her into the coach,
+&ldquo;Now you behave well;&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;by this behaviour, you
+do not entirely close all prospect of reconciliation with your
+father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think it is not yet impossible?&rdquo; cried she,
+clasping his hand. &ldquo;Giffard says he loves me,&rdquo; continued
+she, &ldquo;and do you think he might yet be brought to forgive
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Forgive you!&rdquo; cried Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose I was to write to him, and entreat his forgiveness?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not write yet,&rdquo; said Sandford, with no cheering
+accent.</p>
+
+<p>The carriage drove off&mdash;and as it went, Matilda leaned
+her head from the window, to survey Elmwood House from
+the roof to the bottom. She cast her eyes upon the gardens
+too&mdash;upon the fish ponds&mdash;even the coach houses, and all the
+offices adjoining&mdash;which, as objects that she should never
+see again&mdash;she contemplated, as objects of importance.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="IV_CHAPTER_II" id="IV_CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<p>Rushbrook, who, at twenty miles distance, could have no
+conjecture what had passed at Elmwood House, during the
+short visit Lord Elmwood made there, went that way with
+his dogs and gun in order to meet him on his return, and
+accompany him in the chaise back&mdash;he did so&mdash;and getting
+into the carriage, told him eagerly the sport he had had
+during the day; laughed at an accident that had befallen
+one of his dogs; and for some time did not perceive but
+that his uncle was perfectly attentive. At length, observing
+he answered more negligently than usual to what he said,
+Rushbrook turned his eyes quickly upon him, and cried,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, are you not well?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; perfectly well, I thank you, Rushbrook,&rdquo; and he
+leaned back against the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought, Sir,&rdquo; returned Rushbrook, &ldquo;you spoke
+languidly&mdash;I beg your pardon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have the head-ache a little,&rdquo; answered he:&mdash;then taking
+off his hat, brushed the powder from it, and as he put it on
+again, fetched a most heavy sigh; which no sooner had
+escaped him, than, to drown its sound, he said briskly,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And so you tell me you have had good sport to-day?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, my Lord, I said but indifferent.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;True, so you did. Bid the man drive faster&mdash;it will be
+dark before we get home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will shoot to-morrow, my Lord?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How does Mr. Sandford do, Sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did not see him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not see Mr. Sandford, My Lord? but he was out
+I suppose&mdash;for they did not expect you at Elmwood House.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, they did not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In such conversation Rushbrook and his uncle continued
+to the end of their journey. Dinner was then immediately
+served, and Lord Elmwood appeared much in his usual
+spirits; at least, not suspecting any cause for their abatement,
+Rushbrook did not observe any alteration.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood went, however, earlier to bed than ordinary,
+or rather to his bed-chamber; for though he retired some
+time before his nephew, when Rushbrook passed his chamber
+door it was open, and he not in bed, but sitting in a musing
+posture, as if he had forgot to shut it.</p>
+
+<p>When Rushbrook&rsquo;s valet came to attend his master, he
+said to him,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose, Sir, you do not know what has happened at
+the Castle?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For heaven&rsquo;s sake what?&rdquo; cried Rushbrook.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord has met Lady Matilda:&rdquo; replied the man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How? Where? What&rsquo;s the consequence?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We don&rsquo;t know yet, Sir; but all the servants suppose
+her Ladyship will not be suffered to remain there any
+longer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They all suppose wrong,&rdquo; returned Rushbrook hastily&mdash;&ldquo;My
+Lord loves her I am certain, and this event may be
+the happy means of his treating her as his child from this
+day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The servant smiled and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, what more do you know?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing more than I have told you, Sir; except that
+his Lordship took no kind of notice of her Ladyship that
+appeared like love.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook was all uneasiness and anxiety to know the
+particulars of what had passed; and now Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s
+inquietude, which he had but slightly noticed before, came
+full to his observation. He was going to ask more questions;
+but he recollected Lady Matilda&rsquo;s misfortunes were too
+sacred, to be talked of thus familiarly by the servants of the
+family;&mdash;besides, it was evident this man thought, and but
+naturally, it might not be for his master&rsquo;s interest the father
+and the daughter should be united; and therefore would
+certainly give to all he said the opposite colouring.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his prudence, however, and his delicacy towards
+Matilda, Rushbrook could not let his valet leave him till he
+had inquired, and learned all the circumstantial account of
+what had happened; except, indeed, the order received by
+Giffard, which being given after Lord Elmwood was in his
+carriage and in concise terms, the domestics who attended
+him (and from whom this man had gained his intelligence)
+were unacquainted with it.</p>
+
+<p>When the servant had left Rushbrook alone, the perturbation
+of his mind was so great, that he was, at length, undetermined
+whether to go to bed, or to rush into his uncle&rsquo;s apartment,
+and at his feet beg for that compassion upon his
+daughter, which he feared he had denied her. But then, to
+what peril would he not expose himself by such a step?
+Nay, he might perhaps even injure her whom he wished to
+serve; for if his uncle was at present unresolved, whether to
+forgive or to resent this disobedience to his commands,
+another&rsquo;s interference might enrage, and precipitate him on
+the latter.</p>
+
+<p>This consideration was so weighty, it resigned Rushbrook
+to the suspense he was compelled to endure till the morning;
+when he flattered himself, that by watching every look and
+motion of Lord Elmwood, his penetration would be able to
+discover the state of his heart, and how he meant to act.</p>
+
+<p>But the morning came, and he found all his prying curiosity
+was of no avail; Lord Elmwood did not drop one word,
+give one look, or use one action that was not customary.</p>
+
+<p>On first seeing him, Rushbrook blushed at the secret with
+which he was entrusted; then, as he gazed on the Earl, contemplated
+the joy he ought to have known in clasping in
+his arms a child like Matilda, whose tenderness, reverence,
+and duty, had deprived her of all sensation at his sight;
+which was in Rushbrook&rsquo;s mind an honour, that rendered
+him superior to what he was before.</p>
+
+<p>They were in the fields all the day as usual; Lord Elmwood
+now cheerful, and complaining no more of the head-ache.
+Yet once being separated from his nephew, Rushbrook crossed
+over a stile into another field, and found him sitting by the
+side of a bank, his gun lying by him, and himself lost in
+thought. He rose on seeing him, and proceeded to the sport
+as before.</p>
+
+<p>At dinner, he said he should not go to Elmwood House
+the next day, as he had appointed, but stay where he was,
+three or four days longer. From these two small occurrences,
+Rushbrook would fain have extracted something by which
+to judge the state of his mind; but upon the test, that was
+impossible&mdash;he had caught him so musing many a time
+before; and as to his prolonging his stay, that might arise
+from the sport&mdash;or, indeed, had any thing more material
+swayed him, who could penetrate whether it was the effect
+of the lenity, or the severity, he had dealt towards his child?
+whether his continuance there was to shun her, or to shun
+the house from whence he had banished her?</p>
+
+<p>The three or four days for their temporary abode being
+passed, they both returned together to Elmwood House.
+Rushbrook thought he saw his uncle&rsquo;s countenance change
+as they entered the avenue, yet he did not appear less in
+spirits; and when Sandford joined them at dinner, the Earl
+went with his usual alacrity to him, and (as was his custom
+after any separation) put out his hand cheerfully to take his.
+Sandford said, &ldquo;How do you do, my Lord?&rdquo; cheerfully in
+return; but put both his hands into his bosom, and walked
+to the other side of the room. Lord Elmwood did not seem
+to observe this affront&mdash;nor was it done as an affront&mdash;it
+was merely what poor Sandford felt; and he felt he could
+<i>not</i> shake hands with him.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook soon learned the news that Matilda was gone,
+and Elmwood House was to him a desert&mdash;he saw there no
+real friend of her&rsquo;s, except poor Sandford, and to him, Rushbrook
+knew himself now, more displeasing than ever; and
+all his overtures of atonement, he, at this time, found more
+and more ineffectual. Matilda was exiled; and her supposed
+triumphant rival was, to Sandford, more odious than he had
+ever been.</p>
+
+<p>In alleviation of their banishment, Miss Woodley, with
+her charge, had not returned to their old retreat; but were
+gone to a farm house, not farther than thirty miles from
+Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s: here Sandford, with little inconvenience,
+visited them; nor did his patron ever take notice of his
+occasional absence; for as he had before given his daughter,
+in some measure, to his charge; so honour, delicacy, and the
+common ties of duty, made him approve, rather than condemn
+his attention to her.</p>
+
+<p>Though Sandford&rsquo;s frequent visits soothed Matilda, they
+could not comfort her; for he had no consolation to bestow
+that was suited to her mind&mdash;her father had given no one
+token of regret for what he had done. He had even inquired
+sternly of Giffard on his returning home,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If Miss Woodley had left the house?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The steward guessing the whole of his meaning, answered,
+&ldquo;Yes, my Lord; and <i>all</i> your commands in that respect
+have been obeyed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He replied, &ldquo;I am satisfied.&rdquo; And, to the grief of the old
+man, appeared really so.</p>
+
+<p>To the farm-house, the place of Matilda&rsquo;s residence, there
+came, besides Sandford, another visitor far less welcome&mdash;Viscount
+Margrave. He had heard with surprise, and still
+greater joy, that Lord Elmwood had once more shut his doors
+against his daughter. In this her discarded state, he no
+longer burthened his lively imagination with the dull thoughts
+of marriage, but once more formed the idea of making her
+his mistress.</p>
+
+<p>Ignorant of a certain decorum which attended all Lord
+Elmwood&rsquo;s actions, he suspected that his child might be in
+want; and an acquaintance with the worst part of her sex
+informed him, that relief from poverty was the sure bargain
+for his success. With these hopes, he again paid Miss Woodley
+and her a visit; but the coldness of the former, and the
+haughtiness of the latter, still kept him at a distance, and
+again made him fear to give one allusion to his purpose: but
+he returned home resolved to write what he durst not speak&mdash;he
+did so&mdash;he offered his services, his purse, his house&mdash;they
+were rejected with contempt, and a stronger prohibition
+than ever given to his visits.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="IV_CHAPTER_III" id="IV_CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood had now allowed Rushbrook a long
+vacation, in respect to his answer upon the subject of
+marriage; and the young man vainly imagined, his intentions
+upon that subject were entirely given up. One morning,
+however, as he was attending him in the library,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Henry,&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;said his uncle, with a pause at the beginning
+of his speech, which indicated that he was going to say
+something of importance, &ldquo;Henry&mdash;&mdash;you have not forgot
+the discourse I had with you a little time previous to your
+illness?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Henry hesitated&mdash;for he wished to have forgotten it&mdash;but
+it was too strongly impressed upon his memory. Lord Elmwood
+resumed,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What! equivocating again, Sir? Do you remember it,
+or do you not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my Lord, I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And are you prepared to give me an answer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook paused again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In our former conversation,&rdquo; continued the Earl, &ldquo;I gave
+you but a week to determine&mdash;there has, I think, elapsed
+since that time, half a year.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;About as much, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then surely you have now made up your mind?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had done that at first, my Lord&mdash;if it had met with
+your concurrence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You wished to lead a bachelor&rsquo;s life, I think you said?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook bowed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Contrary to my will?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, my Lord, I wished to have your approbation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you wished for my approbation of the very opposite
+thing to that I proposed? But I am not surprised&mdash;such is
+the gratitude of the world&mdash;and such is yours.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, if you doubt my gratitude&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me a proof of it, Harry, and I will doubt no longer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Upon every other subject but this, my Lord, Heaven
+is my witness your happiness&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood interrupted him. &ldquo;I understand you&mdash;upon
+every other subject, but the only one, my content
+requires, you are ready to obey me. I thank you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, do not torture me with this suspicion; it is
+so contrary to my deserts, that I cannot bear it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suspicion of your ingratitude!&mdash;you judge too favourably
+of my opinion&mdash;it amounts to certainty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then to convince you, Sir, I am not ungrateful, tell me
+who the Lady is you have chosen for me, and here I give
+you my word, I will sacrifice all my future prospects of
+happiness&mdash;all, for which I would wish to live&mdash;and become
+her husband as soon as you shall appoint.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was spoken with a tone so expressive of despair, that
+Lord Elmwood replied,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And while you obey me, you take care to let me know,
+it will cost you your future peace. This is, I suppose, to
+enhance the merit of the obligation&mdash;but I shall not accept
+your acquiescence on these terms.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then in dispensing with it, I hope for your pardon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you suppose, Rushbrook, I can pardon an offence,
+the sole foundation of which, arises from a spirit of disobedience?&mdash;for
+you have declared to me your affections are
+disengaged. In our last conversation did you not say so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At first I did, my Lord&mdash;but you permitted me to consult
+my heart more closely; and I have since found that
+I was mistaken.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You then own you at first told me a falsehood, and yet
+have all this time, kept me in suspense without confessing it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I waited, my Lord, till you should enquire&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have then, Sir, waited too long;&rdquo; and the fire
+flashed from his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook now found himself in that perilous state, that
+admitted of no medium of resentment, but by such dastardly
+conduct on his part, as would wound both his truth and
+courage; and thus, animated by his danger, he was resolved
+to plunge boldly at once into the depth of his patron&rsquo;s anger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; said he, (but he did not undertake this task
+without sustaining the trembling and convulsion of his whole
+frame) &ldquo;My Lord&mdash;waving for a moment the subject of my
+marriage&mdash;permit me to remind you, that when I was upon
+my sick bed, you promised, that on my recovery, you would
+listen to a petition I should offer to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let me recollect,&rdquo; replied he. &ldquo;Yes&mdash;I do remember
+something of it. But I said nothing to warrant any improper
+petition.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Its impropriety was not named, my Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No matter&mdash;that, you must judge of, and answer for the
+consequences.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I would answer with my life, willingly&mdash;but I own that
+I shrink from your anger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then do not provoke it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have already gone too far to recede&mdash;and you would
+of course demand an explanation, if I attempted to stop
+here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, my Lord, I am bound to speak&mdash;but do not interrupt
+me&mdash;hear me out, before you banish me from your
+presence for ever.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will, Sir,&rdquo; replied he, prepared to hear something that
+would displease him, and yet determined to hear with
+patience to the conclusion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, my Lord,&rdquo;&mdash;(cried Rushbrook, in the greatest
+agitation of mind and body) &ldquo;Your daughter&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The resolution Lord Elmwood had taken (and on which
+he had given his word to his nephew not to interrupt him)
+immediately gave way. The colour rose in his face&mdash;his eye
+darted lightning&mdash;and his hand was lifted up with the
+emotion, that word had created.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You promised to hear me, my Lord!&rdquo; cried Rushbrook,
+&ldquo;and I claim your promise.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He now suddenly overcame his violence of passion, and
+stood silent and resigned to hear him; but with a determined
+look, expressive of the vengeance that should ensue.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lady Matilda,&rdquo; resumed Rushbrook, &ldquo;is an object that
+wrests from me the enjoyment of every blessing your kindness
+bestows. I cannot but feel myself as her adversary&mdash;as one,
+who has supplanted her in your affections&mdash;who supplies her
+place, while she is exiled, a wanderer, and an orphan.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Earl took his eyes from Rushbrook, during this last
+sentence, and cast them on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I feel gratitude towards you, my Lord,&rdquo; continued he,
+&ldquo;gratitude is innate in my heart, and I must also feel it
+towards her, who first introduced me to your protection.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Again the colour flew to Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s face; and again
+he could hardly restrain himself from uttering his indignation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was the mother of Lady Matilda,&rdquo; continued Rushbrook,
+&ldquo;who was this friend to me; nor will I ever think of
+marriage, or any other joyful prospect, while you abandon
+the only child of my beloved patroness, and load me with
+rights, which belong to her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here Rushbrook stopped&mdash;Lord Elmwood was silent too,
+for near half a minute; but still his countenance continued
+fixed, with his unvaried resolves.</p>
+
+<p>After this long pause, the Earl said with composure, but
+with firmness, &ldquo;Have you finished, Mr. Rushbrook?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All that I dare to utter, my Lord; and I fear, I have
+already said too much.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook now trembled more than ever, and looked pale
+as death; for the ardour of speaking being over, he waited
+his sentence, with less constancy of mind than he expected
+he should.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You disapprove my conduct, it seems;&rdquo; said Lord
+Elmwood, &ldquo;and in that, you are but like the rest of the
+world&mdash;and yet, among all my acquaintance, you are the only
+one who has dared to insult me with your opinion. And this
+you have not done inadvertently; but willingly, and deliberately.
+But as it has been my fate to be used ill, and severed
+from all those persons to whom my soul has been most
+attached; with less regret I can part from you, than if this
+were my first trial.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a truth and a pathetic sound in the utterance of
+these words, that struck Rushbrook to the heart&mdash;and he
+beheld himself as a barbarian, who had treated his benevolent
+and only friend, with insufferable liberty; void of respect
+for those corroding sorrows which had imbittered so many
+years of his life, and in open violation of his most peremptory
+commands. He felt that he deserved all he was going to
+suffer, and he fell upon his knees; not so much to deprecate
+the doom he saw impending, as thus humbly to acknowledge,
+it was his due.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood, irritated by this posture, as a sign of the
+presumptuous hope that he might be forgiven, suffered now
+his anger to burst all bounds; and raising his voice, he
+exclaimed in a rage,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Leave my house, Sir. Leave my house instantly, and
+seek some other home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Just as these words were begun, Sandford opened the
+library door, was witness to them, and to the imploring
+situation of Rushbrook. He stood silent with amazement!</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook arose, and feeling in his mind a presage, that
+he might never from that hour, behold his benefactor more;
+as he bowed in token of obedience to his commands, a shower
+of tears covered his face; but Lord Elmwood, unmoved,
+fixed his eyes upon him, which pursued him with enraged
+looks to the end of the room. Here he had to pass Sandford;
+who, for the first time in his life, took hold of him by the
+hand, and said to Lord Elmwood, &ldquo;My Lord, what&rsquo;s the
+matter?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That ungrateful villain,&rdquo; cried he, &ldquo;has dared to insult
+me.&mdash;Leave my house this moment, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook made an effort to go, but Sandford still held
+his hand; and meekly said to Lord Elmwood,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is but a boy, my Lord, and do not give him the
+punishment of a man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook now snatched his hand from Sandford&rsquo;s, and
+threw it with himself upon his neck; where he indeed
+sobbed like a boy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are both in league,&rdquo; exclaimed Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you suspect me of partiality to Mr. Rushbrook?&rdquo; said
+Sandford, advancing nearer to the Earl.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook had now gained the point of remaining in the
+room; but the hope that privilege inspired (while he still
+harboured all the just apprehensions for his fate) gave birth,
+perhaps, to a more exquisite sensation of pain, than despair
+would have done. He stood silent&mdash;confounded&mdash;hoping
+that he was forgiven&mdash;fearing that he was not.</p>
+
+<p>As Sandford approached still nearer to Lord Elmwood, he
+continued, &ldquo;No, my Lord, I know you do not suspect me,
+of partiality to Mr. Rushbrook&mdash;has any part of my behaviour
+ever discovered it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You now then only interfere to provoke me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If that were the case,&rdquo; returned Sandford, &ldquo;there have
+been occasions, when I might have done it more effectually&mdash;when
+my own heart-strings were breaking, because I would
+not provoke, or add to what you suffered.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am obliged to you, Mr. Sandford:&rdquo; he returned, mildly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And if, my Lord, I have proved any merit in a late forbearance,
+reward me for it now; and take this young man
+from the depth of despair in which I see he is sunk, and say
+you pardon him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood made no answer&mdash;and Rushbrook, drawing
+strong inferences of hope from his silence, lifted up his eyes
+from the ground, and ventured to look in his face: he found
+it composed to what it had been, but still strongly marked
+with agitation. He cast his eyes away again, in confusion.</p>
+
+<p>On which his uncle said to him&mdash;&ldquo;I shall postpone executing
+your obedience to my late orders, till you think fit once
+more to provoke them&mdash;and then, not even Sandford, shall
+dare to plead your excuse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook bowed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go, leave the room, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He instantly obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>Then Sandford, turning to Lord Elmwood, shook him by
+the hand, and cried, &ldquo;My Lord, I thank you&mdash;I thank you
+very kindly, my Lord&mdash;I shall now begin to think I have
+some weight with you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You might indeed think so, did you know how much
+I have pardoned.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What was his offence, my Lord?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Such as I would not have forgiven you, or any earthly
+being besides himself&mdash;but while you were speaking in his
+behalf, I recollected there was a gratitude so extraordinary
+in the hazards he ran, that almost made him pardonable.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I guess the subject then,&rdquo; cried Sandford; and yet
+I could not have supposed&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a subject we cannot speak on, Sandford, therefore
+let us drop it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At these words the discourse concluded.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="IV_CHAPTER_IV" id="IV_CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<p>To the relief of Rushbrook, Lord Elmwood that day dined
+from home, and he had not the confusion to see him again
+till the evening. Previous to this, Sandford and he met at
+dinner; but as the attendants were present, nothing passed
+on either side respecting the incident in the morning.
+Rushbrook, from the peril which had so lately threatened
+him, was now in his perfectly cool, and dispassionate senses;
+and notwithstanding the real tenderness which he bore to
+the daughter of his benefactor, he was not insensible to the
+comfort of finding himself, once more in the possession of all
+those enjoyments he had forfeited, and for a moment lost.</p>
+
+<p>As he reflected on this, to Sandford he felt the first tie of
+acknowledgement&mdash;but for his compassion, he knew he should
+have been at that very time of their meeting at dinner, away
+from Elmwood House for ever; and bearing on his mind
+a still more painful recollection, the burthen of his kind
+patron&rsquo;s continual displeasure. Filled with these thoughts,
+all the time of dinner, he could scarce look at his companion,
+without tears of gratitude; and whenever he attempted to
+speak to him, gratitude choaked his utterance.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, on his part, behaved just the same as ever; and
+to show he did not wish to remind Rushbrook of what he had
+done, he was just as uncivil as ever.</p>
+
+<p>Among other things, he said, &ldquo;He did not know Lord
+Elmwood dined from home, for if he had, he should have
+dined in his own apartment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook was still more obliged to him for all this; and
+the weight of obligations with which he was oppressed,
+made him long for an opportunity to relieve himself by
+expressions. As soon, therefore, as the servants were all
+withdrawn, he began:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Sandford, whatever has been your opinion of <i>me</i>,
+I take pride to myself, that in my sentiments towards <i>you</i>,
+I have always distinguished you for that humane, disinterested
+character, you have this day proved.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Humane, and disinterested,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;are
+flattering epithets indeed, for an old man going out of the
+world, and who can have no temptation to be otherwise.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then suffer me to call your actions generous and compassionate,
+for they have saved me&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know, young man,&rdquo; cried Sandford, interrupting him,
+&ldquo;you are glad at what I have done, and that you find a gratification
+in telling me you are; but it is a gratification I will
+not indulge you with&mdash;therefore, say another sentence on
+the subject, and&rdquo; (rising from his seat) &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll leave the room,
+and never come into your company again, whatever your
+uncle may say to it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook saw by the solemnity of his countenance, he
+was serious, and positively assured him he would never thank
+him more: on which Sandford took his seat again, but he
+still frowned, and it was many minutes before he conquered
+his ill humour. As his countenance became less sour, Rushbrook
+fell from some general topics he had eagerly started
+in order to appease him, and said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How hard is it to restrain conversation from the subject
+of our thoughts; and yet amidst our dearest friends, and
+among persons who have the same dispositions and sentiments
+as our own, their minds, too, fixed upon the self-same objects,
+is this constraint practised&mdash;and thus, society, which was
+meant for one of our greatest blessings, becomes insipid, nay,
+often more wearisome than solitude.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think, young man,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;you have made
+pretty free with your speech to-day, and ought not to complain
+of the want of toleration on that score.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do complain;&rdquo; replied Rushbrook, &ldquo;for if toleration
+was more frequent, the favour of obtaining it would be less.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And your pride, I suppose, is above receiving a favour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never from those I esteem; and to convince you of it,
+I wish this moment to request a favour of you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I dare say I shall refuse it. However what is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Permit me to speak to you upon the subject of Lady
+Matilda?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford made no answer, consequently did not forbid
+him&mdash;and he proceeded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For her sake&mdash;as I suppose Lord Elmwood may have
+told you&mdash;I this morning rashly threw myself into the predicament
+from whence you released me&mdash;for her sake, I have
+suffered much&mdash;for her sake I have hazarded a great deal,
+and am still ready to hazard more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But for your own sake, do not,&rdquo; returned Sandford,
+drily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may laugh at these sentiments as romantic, Mr. Sandford,
+but if they are, to me they are nevertheless natural.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But of what service are they to be either to her, or to
+yourself?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To me they are painful, and to her would be but impertinent,
+were she to know them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t inform her of them, so do not trouble yourself
+to caution me against it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was not going&mdash;you know I was not&mdash;but I was going
+to say, that from no one so well as from you, could she be told
+my sentiments, without the danger of receiving offence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what impression do you wish to give her, from her
+becoming acquainted with them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The impression, that she has one sincere friend: that
+upon every occurrence in life, there is a heart so devoted
+to all she feels, that she never can suffer without the sympathy
+of another: or can ever command him, and all his fortunes
+to unite for her welfare, without his ready, his immediate
+compliance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And do you imagine, that any of your professions, or
+any of her necessities, would ever prevail upon her to put
+you to the trial?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, then, are the motives which induce you to wish
+her to be told of this?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook paused.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think,&rdquo; continued Sandford, &ldquo;the intelligence
+will give her any satisfaction?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will it be of any to yourself?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The highest in the world.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And so all you have been urging upon this occasion, is,
+at last, only to please yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You wrong my meaning&mdash;it is her merit which inspires
+me with the desire of being known to her&mdash;it is her sufferings,
+her innocence, her beauty&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford stared&mdash;Rushbrook proceeded: &ldquo;It is her&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, stop where you are,&rdquo; cried Sandford; &ldquo;you are
+arrived at the zenith of perfection in a woman, and to add
+one qualification more, would be an anti-climax.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried Rushbrook with warmth, &ldquo;I loved her,
+before I ever beheld her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Loved her!&rdquo; cried Sandford, with astonishment, &ldquo;You
+are talking of what you did not intend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am, indeed:&rdquo; returned he in confusion, &ldquo;I fell by
+accident on the word love.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And by the same accident stumbled on the word beauty;
+and thus by accident, am I come to the truth of all your
+professions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook knew that he loved; and though his affection
+had sprung from the most laudable motives, yet was he
+ashamed of it, as of a vice&mdash;he rose, he walked about the
+room, and he did not look Sandford in the face for a quarter
+of an hour: Sandford, satisfied that he had judged rightly,
+and yet unwilling to be too hard upon a passion, which he
+readily believed must have had many noble virtues for its
+foundation, now got up and went away, without saying
+a word in censure, though not a word in approbation.</p>
+
+<p>It was in the month of October, and just dark, at the time
+Rushbrook was left alone, yet in the agitation of his mind,
+arising from the subject on which he had been talking, he
+found it impossible to remain in the house, and therefore
+walked into the fields; but there was another instigation,
+more powerful than the necessity of walking&mdash;it was the
+allurement of passing along that path where he had last seen
+Lady Matilda, and where, for the only time, she had condescended
+to speak to him divested of haughtiness; and with
+a gentleness that dwelt upon his memory beyond all her other
+endowments.</p>
+
+<p>Here, he retraced his own steps repeatedly, his whole
+imagination engrossed with her idea, till the sound of her
+father&rsquo;s carriage returning from his visit, roused him from
+the delusion of his trance, to the dread of the confusion and
+embarrassment he should endure, on next meeting him. He
+hoped Sandford might be present, and yet he was now, almost
+as much ashamed of seeing him, as his uncle, whom he had
+so lately offended.</p>
+
+<p>Loath to leave the spot where he was, as to enter the house,
+he remained there, till he considered it would be ill manners,
+in his present humiliated situation, not to show himself at
+the usual supper hour, which was immediately.</p>
+
+<p>As he laid his hand upon the door of the apartment to
+open it, he was sorry to hear by Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s voice, he
+was in the room before him; for there was something much
+more conspicuously distressing, in entering where he already
+was, than had his uncle come in after him. He found himself,
+however, re-assured, by overhearing the Earl laugh and speak
+in a tone expressive of the utmost good humour to Sandford,
+who was with him.</p>
+
+<p>Yet again, he felt all the awkwardness of his own situation;
+but making one courageous effort, opened the door and
+entered. Lord Elmwood had been away half the day, had
+dined abroad, and it was necessary to take some notice of
+his return; Rushbrook, therefore, bowed humbly, and what
+was more to his advantage, he looked humbly. His uncle
+made a slight return to the salutation, but continued the
+recital he had begun to Sandford; then sat down to the
+supper table&mdash;supped&mdash;and passed the whole evening without
+saying a syllable, or even casting a look, in remembrance
+of what had passed in the morning. Or if there was any
+token, that shewed he remembered the circumstance at all,
+it was the putting his glass to his nephew&rsquo;s, when Rushbrook
+called for wine, and drinking at the time he did.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="IV_CHAPTER_V" id="IV_CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<p>The repulse Lord Margrave received, did not diminish
+the ardour of his pursuit; for as he was no longer afraid of
+resentment from the Earl, whatever treatment his daughter
+might receive, he was determined the anger of Lady Matilda,
+or of her female friend, should not impede his pretensions.</p>
+
+<p>Having taken this resolution, he laid the plan of an open
+violation of all right; and determined to bear away that
+prize by force, which no art was likely to procure. He concerted
+with two of his favourite companions, but their advice
+was, &ldquo;One struggle more of fair means.&rdquo; This was totally
+against his inclination; for, he had much rather have
+encountered the piercing cries of a female in the last agonies
+of distress, than the fatigue of her sentimental harangues,
+or elegant reproofs, such as he had the sense to understand,
+but not the capacity to answer.</p>
+
+<p>Stimulated, however, by his friends to one more trial, in
+spite of the formal dismission he had twice received, he intruded
+another visit on Lady Matilda at the Farm. Provoked
+beyond bearing at such unfeeling assurance, Matilda
+refused to come into the room where he was, and Miss Woodley
+alone received him, and expressed her surprise at the little
+attention he had paid to her explicit desire.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; replied the nobleman, &ldquo;to be plain with you,
+I am in love.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do not the least doubt it, my Lord,&rdquo; replied Miss
+Woodley: &ldquo;nor ought you to doubt the truth of what
+I advance, when I assure you, that you have not the smallest
+reason to hope your love will be returned; for Lady Matilda
+is resolved <i>never</i> to listen to your passion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That man,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;is to blame, who can relinquish
+his hopes, upon the mere resolution of a lady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And that lady would be wrong,&rdquo; replied Miss Woodley,
+&ldquo;who should entrust her happiness in the care of a man,
+who can think thus meanly of her and of her sex.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think highly of them all,&rdquo; he replied; &ldquo;and to convince
+you in how high an estimation I hold <i>her</i> in particular, my
+whole fortune is at her command.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your entire absence from this house, my Lord, she would
+consider as a much greater mark of your respect.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A long conversation, as uninteresting as this, ensued: the
+unexpected arrival of Mr. Sandford, put an end to it. He
+started at the sight of Lord Margrave; but the Viscount
+was much more affected at the sight of him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; said Sandford boldly to him, &ldquo;have you
+received any encouragement from Lady Matilda to authorize
+this visit?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;None, upon my honour, Mr. Sandford; but I hope you
+know how to pardon a lover!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A rational one I do&mdash;but you, my Lord, are not of that
+class while you persecute the pretended object of your
+affection.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you call it persecution that I once offered her a share
+of my title and fortune&mdash;and even now, declare my fortune
+is at her disposal?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford was uncertain whether he understood his meaning&mdash;but
+Lord Margrave, provoked at his ill reception,
+felt a triumph in removing his doubts, and proceeded
+thus:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For the discarded daughter of Lord Elmwood, cannot
+expect the same proposals, which I made, while she was
+acknowledged, and under the protection of her father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What proposals then, my Lord?&rdquo; asked Sandford
+hastily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Such,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;as the Duke of Avon made to her
+mother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley quitted the room that instant. But Sandford,
+who never felt resentment but against those in whom
+he saw some virtue, calmly replied,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, the Duke of Avon was a gentleman, a man of
+elegance and breeding; and what have you to offer in
+recompense for your defects in qualities like these?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My wealth,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;opposed to her indigence.&rdquo;
+Sandford smiled, and answered,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you suppose <i>that</i> wealth can be esteemed, which has
+not been able to make you respectable? What is it makes
+wealth valuable? Is it the pleasures of the table? the
+pleasure of living in a fine house? or of wearing fine cloaths?
+These are pleasures, a Lord enjoys, but in common with his
+valet. It is the pleasure of being conspicuous, which makes
+riches desirable; but if we are conspicuous only for our vice
+and folly, had we not better remain in poverty?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are beneath my notice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I trust I shall continue so&mdash;and that your Lordship will
+never again condescend to come where I am.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A man of rank condescends to mix with any society,
+when a pretty woman is the object.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, I have a book here in my pocket, which I am
+eager to read; it is an author who speaks sense and reason&mdash;will
+you pardon the impatience I feel for such company; and
+permit me to call your carriage?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Saying this, he went hastily and beckoned to the coachman;
+the carriage drove up, the door was opened, and Lord
+Margrave, ashamed to be exposed before his attendants, and
+convinced of the inutility of remaining any longer where he
+was, departed.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford was soon joined by the ladies; and the conversation
+falling, of course, upon the nobleman who had just
+taken his leave, Sandford unwarily exclaimed, &ldquo;I wish
+Rushbrook had been here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who?&rdquo; cried Lady Matilda.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do believe,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;that young man
+has some good qualities.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A great many,&rdquo; returned Sandford, mutteringly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Happy young man!&rdquo; cried Matilda: &ldquo;he is beloved
+by all those, whose affection it would be my choice to possess,
+beyond any other blessing this world could bestow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And yet I question, if Rushbrook is happy,&rdquo; said Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He cannot be otherwise,&rdquo; returned Matilda, &ldquo;if he is
+a man of understanding.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He does not want understanding neither,&rdquo; replied
+Sandford; &ldquo;although he has certainly many indiscretions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But which Lord Elmwood, I suppose,&rdquo; said Matilda,
+&ldquo;looks upon with tenderness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not upon all his faults,&rdquo; answered Sandford; &ldquo;for
+I have seen him in very dangerous circumstances with your
+father.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you indeed?&rdquo; cried Matilda: &ldquo;then I pity
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I believe,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, &ldquo;that from his heart,
+he compassionates you. Now, Mr. Sandford,&rdquo; continued she,
+&ldquo;though this is the first time I ever heard you speak in his
+favour, (and I once thought as indifferently of Mr. Rushbrook
+as you can do) yet now I will venture to ask you,
+whether you do not think he wishes Lady Matilda much
+happier than she is?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have heard him say so,&rdquo; answered Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a subject,&rdquo; returned Lady Matilda, &ldquo;which I did
+not imagine you, Mr. Sandford, would have permitted him
+to have mentioned lightly, in your presence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lightly! Do you suppose, my dear, we turned your
+situation into ridicule?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Sir,&mdash;but there is a sort of humiliation in the grief
+to which I am doomed, that ought surely to be treated with
+the highest degree of delicacy by my friends.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know on what point you fix real delicacy; but
+if it consists in sorrow, the young man gives a proof he
+possesses it, for he shed tears when I last heard him mention
+your name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have more cause to weep at the mention of his.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps so.&mdash;But let me tell you, Lady Matilda, that your
+father might have preferred a more unworthy object.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Still had he been to me,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;an object of envy.
+And as I frankly confess my envy of Mr. Rushbrook, I hope
+you will pardon my malice, which is, you know, but a consequent
+crime.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The subject now turned again upon Lord Margrave; and
+all of them being firmly persuaded, this last reception would
+put an end to every further intrusion from him, they treated
+his pretensions, and himself, with the contempt they inspired&mdash;but
+not with the caution that was requisite.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="IV_CHAPTER_VI" id="IV_CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<p>The next morning early, Mr. Sandford returned to Elmwood
+House, but with his spirits depressed, and his heart
+overcharged with sorrow. He had seen Lady Matilda, the
+object of his visit, but he had beheld her considerably altered
+in her looks and in her health; she was become very thin,
+and instead of the vivid bloom that used to adorn her cheeks,
+her whole complexion was of a deadly pale&mdash;her countenance
+no longer expressed hope or fear, but a fixed melancholy&mdash;she
+shed no tears, but was all sadness. He had beheld this,
+and he had heard her insulted by the licentious proposals
+of a nobleman, from whom there was no satisfaction to be
+demanded, because she had no friend to vindicate her honour.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook, who suspected where Sandford was gone, and
+imagined he would return that day, took his morning&rsquo;s ride,
+so as to meet him on the road, at the distance of a few miles
+from the Castle; for, since his perilous situation with Lord
+Elmwood, he was so fully convinced of the general philanthropy
+of Sandford&rsquo;s character, that in spite of his churlish
+manners, he now addressed him, free from that reserve to
+which his rough behaviour had formerly given birth. And
+Sandford, on his part, believing he had formed an illiberal
+opinion of Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s heir, though he took no pains
+to let him know that his opinion was changed, yet resolved
+to make him restitution upon every occasion that offered.</p>
+
+<p>Their mutual greetings when they met, were unceremonious,
+but cordial; and Rushbrook turned his horse and
+rode back with Sandford; yet, intimidated by his respect
+and tenderness for Lady Matilda, rather than by fear of the
+rebuffs of his companion, he had not the courage to name her,
+till the ride was just finished, and they came within a few
+yards of the house&mdash;incited then by the apprehension, he
+might not soon again enjoy so fit an opportunity, he said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pardon me, Mr. Sandford, if I guess where you have
+been, and if my curiosity forces me to inquire for Miss Woodley&rsquo;s
+and Lady Matilda&rsquo;s health?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He named Miss Woodley first, to prolong the time before
+he mentioned Matilda; for though to name her gave him
+extreme pleasure, yet it was a pleasure accompanied by confusion
+and pain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They are both very well,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;at least
+they did not complain they were sick.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They are not in spirits, I suppose?&rdquo; said Rushbrook.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, indeed:&rdquo; replied Sandford, shaking his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No new misfortune has happened, I hope?&rdquo; cried
+Rushbrook; for it was plain to see Sandford&rsquo;s spirits were
+unusually cast down.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing new,&rdquo; returned he, &ldquo;except the insolence of
+a young nobleman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What nobleman?&rdquo; cried Rushbrook.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A lover of Lady Matilda&rsquo;s,&rdquo; replied Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook was petrified. &ldquo;Who? What lover, Mr. Sandford?&mdash;explain?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They were now arrived at the house; and Sandford, without
+making any reply to this question, said to the servant
+who took his horse, &ldquo;She has come a long way this morning;
+take care of her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This interruption was torture to Rushbrook, who kept
+close to his side, in order to obtain a further explanation; but
+Sandford, without attending to him, walked negligently into
+the hall, and before they advanced many steps, they were
+met by Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>All further information was put an end to for the present.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you do, Sandford?&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood with
+extreme kindness; as if he thanked him for the journey
+which, it was likely, he suspected he had been taking.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am indifferently well, my Lord:&rdquo; replied he, with
+a face of deep concern, and a tear in his eye, partly in gratitude
+for his patron&rsquo;s civility, and partly in reproach for his
+cruelty.</p>
+
+<p>It was not now till the evening, that Rushbrook had an
+opportunity of renewing the conversation, which had been
+so barbarously interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening, no longer able to support the suspense into
+which he was thrown; without fear or shame, he followed
+Sandford into his chamber at the time of his retiring, and
+entreated of him, with all the anxiety he suffered, to explain
+his allusion when he talked of a lover, and of insolence to
+Lady Matilda.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, seeing his emotion, was angry with himself that
+he had inadvertently mentioned the subject; and putting on
+an air of surly importance, desired,&mdash;if he had any business
+with him, that he would call in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>Exasperated at so unexpected a reception, and at the pain
+of his disappointment, Rushbrook replied, &ldquo;He treated him
+cruelly, nor would he stir out of his room, till he had received
+a satisfactory answer to his question.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then bring your bed,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;for you must
+pass your whole night here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He found it vain to think of obtaining any intelligence
+by threats, he therefore said in a timid and persuasive
+manner,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you, Mr. Sandford, hear Lady Matilda mention my
+name?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Sandford, a little better reconciled to him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you tell her what I lately declared to you?&rdquo; he
+asked with still more diffidence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Sandford.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is very well, Sir,&rdquo; returned he, vexed to the heart&mdash;yet
+again wishing to sooth him&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You certainly, Mr. Sandford, know what is for the best&mdash;yet
+I entreat you will give me some further account of
+the nobleman you named?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know what is for the best,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;and
+I won&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook bowed, and immediately left the room. He
+went apparently submissive, but the moment he showed this
+submission, he took the resolution of paying a visit himself
+to the farm at which Lady Matilda resided; and of learning,
+either from Miss Woodley, the people of the house, the
+neighbours, or perhaps from Lady Matilda&rsquo;s own lips, the
+secret which the obstinacy of Sandford had with-held.</p>
+
+<p>He saw all the dangers of this undertaking, but none
+appeared so great as the danger of losing her he loved, by
+the influence of a rival&mdash;and though Sandford had named
+&ldquo;insolence,&rdquo; he was in doubt whether what had appeared
+so to him, was so in reality, or would be so considered by
+her.</p>
+
+<p>To prevent the cause of his absence being suspected by
+Lord Elmwood, he immediately called his groom, ordered
+his horse, and giving those servants concerned, a strict charge
+of secrecy, with some frivolous pretence to apologize for his
+not being present at breakfast (resolving to be back by
+dinner) he set off that night, and arrived at an inn about
+a mile from the farm at break of day.</p>
+
+<p>The joy he felt when he found himself so near to the
+beloved object of his journey, made him thank Sandford in
+his heart, for the unkindness which had sent him thither.
+But new difficulties arose, how to accomplish the end for
+which he came; he learned from the people of the inn, that
+a Lord, with a fine equipage, had visited at the farm, but who
+he was, or for what purpose he went, no one could inform
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Dreading to return with his doubts unsatisfied, and yet
+afraid of proceeding to extremities that might be construed
+into presumption, he walked disconsolately (almost distractedly)
+about the fields, looking repeatedly at his watch,
+and wishing the time would stand still, till he was ready to
+go back with his errand compleated.</p>
+
+<p>Every field he passed, brought him nearer to the house
+on which his imagination was fixed; but how, without
+forfeiting every appearance of that respect which he so
+powerfully felt, could he attempt to enter it?&mdash;he saw the
+indecorum, resolved not to be guilty of it, and yet walked on
+till he was within but a small orchard of the door. Could he
+then retreat?&mdash;he wished he could; but he found that he
+had proceeded too far to be any longer master of himself.
+The time was urgent; he must either behold her, and
+venture her displeasure, or by diffidence during one moment,
+give up all his hopes perhaps for ever.</p>
+
+<p>With that same disregard to consequences, which actuated
+him when he dared to supplicate Lord Elmwood in his
+daughter&rsquo;s behalf, he at length went eagerly to the door and
+rapped.</p>
+
+<p>A servant came&mdash;he asked to &ldquo;Speak with Miss Woodley,
+if she was quite alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was shown into an apartment, and Miss Woodley
+entered to him.</p>
+
+<p>She started when she beheld who it was; but as he did not
+see a frown upon her face, he caught hold of her hand, and
+said persuasively,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do not be offended with me. If I mean to offend you,
+may I forfeit my life in atonement.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Poor Miss Woodley, glad in her solitude to see any one
+from Elmwood House, forgot his visit was an offence, till he
+put her in mind of it; she then said, with some reserve,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me the purport of your coming, Sir, and perhaps
+I may have no reason to complain?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was to see Lady Matilda,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;or to hear of
+her health. It was to offer her my services&mdash;it was, Miss
+Woodley, to convince her, if possible, of my esteem.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Had you no other method, Sir?&rdquo; said Miss Woodley,
+with the same reserve.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;None;&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;or with joy I should have embraced
+it; and if you can inform me of any other, tell me
+I beseech you instantly, and I will immediately be gone,
+and pursue your directions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know of no other means, Miss Woodley,&rdquo; he cried.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And yet I cannot commend this,&rdquo; said she.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor do I. Do not imagine because you see me here,
+that I approve my conduct; but reduced to this necessity,
+pity the motives that have urged it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley did pity them; but as she would not own
+that she did, she could think of nothing else to say.</p>
+
+<p>At this instant a bell rung from the chamber above.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is Lady Matilda&rsquo;s bell,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley; &ldquo;she
+is coming to take a short walk. Do you wish to see her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Though it was the first wish of his heart, he paused, and
+said, &ldquo;Will you plead my excuse?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As the flight of stairs was but short, which Matilda had to
+come down, she was in the room with Miss Woodley and
+Mr. Rushbrook, just as that sentence ended.</p>
+
+<p>She had stepped beyond the door of the apartment, when
+perceiving a visitor, she hastily withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook, animated, though trembling at her presence,
+cried, &ldquo;Lady Matilda, do not avoid me, till you know that
+I deserve such a punishment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She immediately saw who it was, and returned back with
+a proper pride, and yet a proper politeness in her manner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon, Sir,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I did not know you;
+I was afraid I intruded upon Miss Woodley and a stranger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You do not then consider me as a stranger, Lady Matilda?
+and that you do not, requires my warmest acknowledgements.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She sat down, as if overcome by ill spirits and ill health.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley now asked Rushbrook to sit&mdash;for till now
+she had not.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Madam,&rdquo; replied he, with confusion, &ldquo;not unless
+Lady Matilda gives me permission.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She smiled, and pointed to a chair&mdash;and all the kindness
+which Rushbrook during his whole life had received from
+Lord Elmwood, never inspired half the gratitude, which
+this one instance of civility from his daughter excited.</p>
+
+<p>He sat down, with the confession of the obligation upon
+every feature of his face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not well, Mr. Rushbrook,&rdquo; said Matilda, languidly;
+&ldquo;and you must excuse any want of etiquette at this house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;While you excuse me, Madam, what can I have to complain
+of?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She appeared absent while he was speaking, and turning
+to Miss Woodley, said, &ldquo;Do you think I had better walk
+to-day?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, my dear,&rdquo; answered Miss Woodley; &ldquo;the ground
+is damp, and the air cold.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are not well, indeed, Lady Matilda,&rdquo; said Rushbrook,
+gazing upon her with the most tender respect.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head; and the tears, without any effort
+either to impel or to restrain them, ran down her face.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook rose from his seat, and with an accent and
+manner the most expressive, said, &ldquo;We are cousins, Lady
+Matilda&mdash;in our infancy we were brought up together&mdash;we
+were beloved by the same mother&mdash;fostered by the same
+father&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried she, interrupting him, with a tone which
+indicated the bitterest anguish.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, do not let me add to your uneasiness,&rdquo; he resumed,
+&ldquo;while I am attempting to alleviate it. Instruct me what
+I can do to show my esteem and respect, rather than permit
+me thus unguided, to rush upon what you may construe into
+insult and arrogance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley went to Matilda, took her hand, then wiped
+the tears from her eyes, while Matilda reclined against her,
+entirely regardless of Rushbrook&rsquo;s presence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I have been in the least instrumental to this sorrow,&rdquo;&mdash;said
+Rushbrook, with a face as much agitated as his mind.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Miss Woodley, in a low voice, &ldquo;you have not&mdash;she
+is often thus.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Matilda, raising her head, &ldquo;I am frequently
+so weak that I cannot resist the smallest incitement to grief.
+But do not make your visit long, Mr. Rushbrook,&rdquo; she continued,
+&ldquo;for I was just then thinking, that should Lord
+Elmwood hear of this attention you have paid me, it might
+be fatal to you.&rdquo; Here she wept again, as bitterly as before.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is no probability of his hearing of it, Madam,&rdquo;
+Rushbrook replied; &ldquo;or if there was, I am persuaded that
+he would not resent it; for yesterday, when I am confident
+he knew that Mr. Sandford had been to see you, he received
+him on his return, with unusual marks of kindness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did he?&rdquo; said she&mdash;and again she lifted up her head;
+her eyes for a moment beaming with hope and joy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is something which we cannot yet define,&rdquo; said
+Rushbrook, &ldquo;that Lord Elmwood struggles with; but when
+time shall have eradicated&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Before he could proceed further, Matilda was once more
+sunk into despondency, and scarce attended to what he was
+saying.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley observing this, said, &ldquo;Mr. Rushbrook, let
+it be a token we shall be glad to see you hereafter, that I now
+use the freedom to beg you will put an end to your visit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You send me away, Madam,&rdquo; returned he, &ldquo;with the
+warmest thanks for the reception you have give me; and
+this last assurance of your kindness, is beyond any other
+favour you could have bestowed. Lady Matilda,&rdquo; added he,
+&ldquo;suffer me to take your hand at parting, and let it be a
+testimony that you acknowledge me for a relation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She put out her hand&mdash;which he knelt to receive, but did
+not raise it to his lips&mdash;he held the boon too sacred&mdash;and
+looking earnestly upon it, as it lay pale and wan in his, he
+breathed one sigh over it, and withdrew.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="IV_CHAPTER_VII" id="IV_CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<p>Sorrowful and affecting as this interview had been,
+Rushbrook, as he rode home, reflected upon it with the most
+inordinate delight; and had he not seen decline of health,
+in the looks and behaviour of Lady Matilda, his felicity had
+been unbounded. Entranced in the happiness of her society,
+the thought of his rival never came once to his mind while
+he was with her; a want of recollection, however, he by no
+means regretted, as her whole appearance contradicted every
+suspicion he could possibly entertain, that she favoured the
+addresses of any man living&mdash;and had he remembered, he
+would not have dared to name the subject.</p>
+
+<p>The time ran so swiftly while he was away, that it was
+beyond the dinner hour at Elmwood House, when he returned.
+Heated, his dress and his hair disordered, he entered the
+dining room just as the dessert was put upon the table.
+He was confounded at his own appearance, and at the falsehoods
+he should be obliged to fabricate in his excuse: there
+was yet, that which engaged his attention, beyond any circumstance
+relating to himself&mdash;the features of Lord Elmwood&mdash;of
+which his daughter&rsquo;s, whom he had just beheld,
+had the most striking resemblance; though her&rsquo;s were
+softened by sorrow, while his were made austere by the self-same
+cause.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where have you been?&rdquo; said his uncle, with a frown.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A hers chase, my Lord&mdash;I beg your pardon&mdash;but a pack
+of dogs I unexpectedly met.&rdquo; For in the hacknied art of
+lying without injury to any one, Rushbrook, to his shame,
+was proficient.</p>
+
+<p>His excuses were received, and the subject ceased.</p>
+
+<p>During his absence that day, Lord Elmwood had called
+Sandford apart, and said to him,&mdash;that as the malevolence
+which he once observed between him and Rushbrook, had,
+he perceived, subsided, he advised him, if he was a well-wisher
+to the young man, to sound his heart, and counsel
+him not to act against the will of his nearest relation and
+friend. &ldquo;I myself am too hasty,&rdquo; continued Lord Elmwood,
+&ldquo;and, unhappily, too much determined upon what
+I have once (though, perhaps, rashly) said, to speak upon
+a topic where it is probable I shall meet with opposition.
+You, Sandford, can reason with moderation. For after all
+that I have done for my nephew, it would be a pity to forsake
+him at last; and yet, that is but too likely, if he provokes me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;I will speak to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yet,&rdquo; added Lord Elmwood, sternly, &ldquo;do not urge what
+you say for my sake, but for his&mdash;I can part from him with
+ease&mdash;but he may then repent, and, you know, repentance
+always comes too late with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, I will exert all the efforts in my power for his
+welfare. But what is the subject on which he has refused
+to comply with your desires?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Matrimony&mdash;have not I told you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a word.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish him to marry, that I may then conclude the
+deeds in respect to my estate,&mdash;and the only child of Sir
+William Winterton (a rich heiress) was the wife I meant to
+propose; but from his indifference to all I have said on
+the occasion, I have not yet mentioned her name to him;
+you may.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will, my Lord, and use all my persuasion to engage his
+obedience; and you shall have, at least, a faithful account
+of what he says.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford the next morning sought an opportunity of being
+alone with Rushbrook&mdash;he then plainly repeated to him
+what Lord Elmwood had said, and saw him listen to it all,
+and heard him answer with the most tranquil resolution,
+&ldquo;That he would do any thing to preserve the friendship
+and patronage of his uncle&mdash;but marry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What can be your reason?&rdquo; asked Sandford&mdash;though
+he guessed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A reason, I cannot give to Lord Elmwood.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then do not give it to me, for I have promised to tell
+him every thing you say to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And every thing I <i>have</i> said?&rdquo; asked Rushbrook hastily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As to what you have said, I don&rsquo;t know whether it has
+made impression enough on my memory, to enable me to
+repeat it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad it has not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And my answer to your uncle, is to be simply, that you
+will not obey him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should hope, Mr. Sandford, that you would express it
+in better terms.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me the terms, and I will be exact.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook struck his forehead, and walked about the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Am I to give him any reason for your disobeying him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I tell you again, that I dare not name the cause.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then why do you submit to a power you are ashamed
+to own?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not ashamed&mdash;I glory in it.&mdash;Are you ashamed of
+your esteem for Lady Matilda?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! if she is the cause of your disobedience, be assured
+I shall not mention it, for I am forbid to name her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And surely, as that is the case, I need not fear to speak
+plainly to you. I love Lady Matilda&mdash;or, perhaps, unacquainted
+with love, what I feel may be only pity&mdash;and if so,
+pity is the most pleasing passion that ever possessed a human
+heart, and I would not change it for all her father&rsquo;s estates.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pity, then, gives rise to very different sensations&mdash;for
+I pity you, and that sensation I would gladly exchange for
+approbation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you really feel compassion for me, and I believe you
+do, contrive some means by your answers to Lord Elmwood
+to pacify him, without involving me in ruin. Hint at my
+affections being engaged, but not to whom; and add, that
+I have given my word, if he will allow me a short time, a year
+or two only, I will, during that period, try to disengage them,
+and use all my power to render myself worthy of the union
+for which he designs me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And this is not only your solemn promise&mdash;but your
+fixed determination?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, why will you search my heart to the bottom, when
+the surface ought to content you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you cannot resolve on what you have proposed, why
+do you ask this time of your uncle? For should he allow it
+you, at the expiration, your disobedience to his commands
+will be less pardonable than it is now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Within a year, Mr. Sandford, who can tell what strange
+events may not occur, to change all our prospects? Even
+my passion may decline.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In that expectation, then&mdash;the failure of which yourself
+must answer for&mdash;I will repeat as much of this discourse as
+shall be proper.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here Rushbrook communicated his having been to see
+Lady Matilda, for which Sandford reproved him, but in less
+rigorous terms than he generally used in his reproofs; and
+Rushbrook, by his entreaties, now gained the intelligence
+who the nobleman was who addressed Matilda, and on what
+views; but was restrained to patience, by Sandford&rsquo;s arguments
+and threats.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the subject of this marriage, Sandford met his
+patron, without having determined exactly what to say, but
+rested on the temper in which he should find him.</p>
+
+<p>At the commencement of the conversation he said, &ldquo;Rushbrook
+begged for time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have given him time, have I not?&rdquo; cried Lord Elmwood:
+&ldquo;What can be the meaning of his thus trifling
+with me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford replied, &ldquo;My Lord, young men are frequently
+romantic in their notions of love, and think it impossible to
+have a sincere affection, where their own inclinations do not
+first point out the choice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If he is in love,&rdquo; answered Lord Elmwood, &ldquo;let him
+take the object, and leave my house and me for ever. Nor
+under this destiny can he have any claim to pity; for genuine
+love will make him happy in banishment, in poverty, or in
+sickness: it makes the poor man happy as the rich, the fool
+blest as the wise.&rdquo; The sincerity with which Lord Elmwood
+had loved, was expressed more than in words, as he said this.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your Lordship is talking,&rdquo; replied Sandford, &ldquo;of the
+passion in its most refined and predominant sense; while
+I may possibly be speaking of a mere phantom, that has led
+this young man astray.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Whatever it be,&rdquo; returned Lord Elmwood, &ldquo;let him and
+his friends weigh the case well, and act for the best&mdash;so shall I.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;His friends, my Lord?&mdash;What friends, or what friend
+has he upon earth but you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then why will he not submit to my advice; or himself
+give me a proper reason why he cannot?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because there may be friendship without familiarity&mdash;and
+so it is between him and you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That cannot be; for I have condescended to talk to him
+in the most familiar terms.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To condescend, my Lord, is <i>not</i> to be familiar.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then come, Sir, let us be on an equal footing through
+you. And now speak out <i>his</i> thoughts freely, and hear mine
+in return.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, then, he begs a respite for a year or two.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On what pretence?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To me, it was preference of a single life&mdash;but I suspect
+it is&mdash;what he imagines to be love&mdash;and for some object
+whom he thinks your Lordship would disapprove.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has not, then, actually confessed this to you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If he has, it was drawn from him by such means, that
+I am not warranted to say it in direct words.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have entered into no contract, no agreement on his
+account with the friends of the lady I have pointed out,&rdquo;
+said Lord Elmwood; &ldquo;nothing beyond implications have
+passed betwixt her family and myself at present; and if the
+person on whom he has fixed his affections, should not be
+in a situation absolutely contrary to my wishes, I may,
+perhaps, confirm his choice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That moment Sandford&rsquo;s courage prompted him to name
+Lady Matilda, but his discretion opposed&mdash;however, in the
+various changes of his countenance from the conflict, it was
+plain to discern that he wished to say more than he dared.</p>
+
+<p>On which Lord Elmwood cried,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Speak on, Sandford&mdash;what are you afraid of?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of you, my Lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He started.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford went on&mdash;&mdash;&ldquo;I know no tie&mdash;no bond&mdash;no
+innocence, that is a protection when you feel resentment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are right,&rdquo; he replied, significantly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then how, my Lord, can you encourage me to <i>speak on</i>,
+when that which I perhaps would say, might offend you to
+hear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To what, and whither are you changing our subject?&rdquo;
+cried Lord Elmwood. &ldquo;But, Sir, if you know my resentful
+and relentless temper, you surely know how to shun it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not, and speak plainly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then dissemble.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I&rsquo;ll not do that&mdash;but I&rsquo;ll be silent.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A new parade of submission. You are more tormenting
+to me than any one I have about me. Constantly on the verge
+of disobeying my commands, that you may recede, and gain
+my good will by your forbearance. But know, Mr. Sandford,
+that I will not suffer this much longer. If you chuse in every
+conversation we have together (though the most remote
+from such a subject) to think of my daughter, you must
+either banish your thoughts, or conceal them&mdash;nor by one
+sign, one item, remind me of her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your daughter did you call her? Can you call yourself
+her father?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do, Sir&mdash;but I was likewise the husband of her mother.
+And, as that husband, I solemnly swear.&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;He was proceeding
+with violence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! my Lord,&rdquo; cried Sandford, interrupting him, with
+his hands clasped in the most fervent supplication&mdash;&ldquo;Oh!
+do not let me draw upon her one oath more of your eternal
+displeasure&mdash;I&rsquo;ll kneel to beg that you will drop the subject.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The inclination he made with his knees bent towards the
+ground, stopped Lord Elmwood instantly. But though it
+broke in upon his words, it did not alter one angry look&mdash;his
+eyes darted, and his lips trembled with, indignation.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, in order to appease him, bowed and offered to
+withdraw, hoping to be recalled. He wished in vain&mdash;Lord
+Elmwood&rsquo;s eyes followed him to the door, expressive of
+rejoicing at his absence.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="IV_CHAPTER_VIII" id="IV_CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<p>The companions and counsellors of Lord Margrave, who
+had so prudently advised gentle methods in the pursuit of
+his passion, while there was left any hope of their success;
+now, convinced there was none, as strenuously commended
+open violence;&mdash;and sheltered under the consideration, that
+their depredations were to be practised upon a defenceless
+woman, who had not one protector, except an old priest,
+the subject of their ridicule;&mdash;assured likewise from the
+influence of Lord Margrave&rsquo;s wealth, that all inferior consequences
+could be overborne, they saw no room for fears on
+any side, and what they wished to execute, with care and
+skill premeditated.</p>
+
+<p>When their scheme was mature for performance, three of
+his chosen companions, and three servants, trained in all the
+villainous exploits of their masters, set off for the habitation
+of poor Matilda, and arrived there about the twilight of the
+evening.</p>
+
+<p>Near four hours after that time (just as the family were
+going to bed) they came up to the doors of the house, and
+rapping violently, gave the alarm of fire, conjuring all the
+inhabitants to make their way out immediately, as they would
+save their lives.</p>
+
+<p>The family consisted of few persons, all of whom ran
+instantly to the doors and opened them; on which two men
+rushed in, and with the plea of saving Lady Matilda from
+the pretended flames, caught her in their arms, and carried
+her off; while all the deceived people of the house, running
+eagerly to save themselves, paid no regard to her, till looking
+for the cause for which they had been terrified, they perceived
+the stratagem, and the fatal consequences.</p>
+
+<p>Amidst the complaints, the sorrow, and the affright of the
+people of the farm, Miss Woodley&rsquo;s sensations wanted a name&mdash;terror
+and anguish give but a faint description of what she
+suffered&mdash;something like the approach of death stole over
+her senses, and she sat like one petrified with horror. She
+had no doubt who was the perpetrator of this wickedness;
+but how was she to follow? how effect a rescue?</p>
+
+<p>The circumstances of this event, as soon as the people had
+time to call up their recollection, were sent to a neighbouring
+magistrate; but little could be hoped from that. Who was
+to swear to the robber? Who, undertake to find him out!
+Miss Woodley thought of Rushbrook, of Sandford, of Lord
+Elmwood&mdash;but what could she hope from the want of power
+in the two former?&mdash;what from the latter, for the want of
+will? Now stupified, and now distracted, she walked about
+the house incessantly, begging for instructions how to act,
+or how to forget her misery.</p>
+
+<p>A tenant of Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s, who occupied a little farm
+near to that where Lady Matilda lived, and who was well
+acquainted with the whole history of her&rsquo;s and her mother&rsquo;s
+misfortunes, was returning from a neighbouring fair, just as
+this inhuman plan was put in execution. He heard the cries
+of a woman in distress, and followed the sound, till he arrived
+at a chaise in waiting, and saw Matilda placed in it, by the
+side of two men, who presented pistols to him, as he offered
+to approach and expostulate.</p>
+
+<p>The farmer, uncertain who this female was, yet went to
+the house she had been taken from (as the nearest) with the
+tale of what he had seen; and there, being informed it was
+Lady Matilda whom he had beheld, this intelligence, joined
+to the powerful effect her screams had on him, made him
+resolve to take horse immediately, and with some friends,
+follow the carriage till they should trace the place to which
+she was conveyed.</p>
+
+<p>The anxiety, the firmness discovered in determining on
+this understanding, somewhat alleviated the agony Miss
+Woodley endured, and she began to hope, timely assistance
+might yet be given to her beloved charge.</p>
+
+<p>The man set out, meaning at all events to attempt her
+release; but before he had proceeded far, the few friends
+that accompanied him, began to reflect on the improbability
+of their success, against a nobleman, surrounded by servants,
+with other attendants likewise, and, perhaps, even countenanced
+by the father of the lady, whom they presumed to
+take from him; or if not, while Lord Elmwood beheld the
+offence with indifference, that indifference gave it a sanction,
+they might in vain oppose. These cool reflections tending
+to their safety, had their weight with the companions of the
+farmer; they all rode back, rejoicing at their second thoughts,
+and left him to pursue his journey and prove his valour by
+himself.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="IV_CHAPTER_IX" id="IV_CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<p>It was not with Sandford, as it had lately been with Rushbrook
+under the displeasure of Lord Elmwood&mdash;to the latter
+he behaved, as soon as their dissension was past, as if it had
+never happened&mdash;but to Sandford it was otherwise&mdash;the
+resentment which he had repressed at the time of the offence,
+lurked in his heart, and dwelt upon his mind for several
+days; during which, he carefully avoided exchanging a
+word with him, and gave every other demonstration of
+his anger.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford, though experienced in the cruelty and ingratitude
+of the world, yet could not without difficulty brook
+this severity, this contumely, from a man, for whose welfare,
+ever since his infancy, he had laboured; and whose happiness
+was more dear to him, in spite of all his faults, than that of
+any other person. Even Lady Matilda was not so dear to
+Sandford as her father&mdash;and he loved her more that she was
+Lord Elmwood&rsquo;s child, than for any other cause.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes the old Priest, incensed beyond bearing, was on
+the point of saying to his patron, &ldquo;How, in my age, dare you
+thus treat the man, whom in his youth you respected and
+revered?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes instead of anger, he felt the tear, he was
+ashamed to own, steal to his eye, and even fall down his
+cheek. Sometimes he left the room half determined to leave
+the house&mdash;but these were all half determinations; for he
+knew him with whom he had to deal too well, not to know
+that he might be provoked into yet greater anger; and that
+should he once rashly quit his house, the doors most probably
+would be shut against him for ever.</p>
+
+<p>In this humiliating state (for even many of the domestics
+could not but observe their Lord&rsquo;s displeasure) Sandford
+passed three days, and was beginning the fourth, when sitting
+with Lord Elmwood and Rushbrook just after breakfast,
+a servant entered, saying, as he opened the door, to somebody
+who followed, &ldquo;You must wait till you have my Lord&rsquo;s
+permission.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This attracted their eyes to the door, and a man meanly
+dressed, walked in, following close to the servant.</p>
+
+<p>The latter turned, and seemed again to desire the person
+to retire, but in vain; he rushed forward regardless of his
+opposer, and in great agitation, cried,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, if you please, I have business with you, provided
+you will chuse to be alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood, struck with the intruder&rsquo;s earnestness,
+bade the servant leave the room; and then said to the
+stranger,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may speak before these gentlemen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The man instantly turned pale, and trembled&mdash;then, to
+prolong the time before he spoke, went to the door to see if
+it was shut&mdash;returned&mdash;yet still trembling, seemed unwilling
+to say his errand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What have you done,&rdquo; cried Lord Elmwood, &ldquo;that you
+are in this terror? What have you done, man?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing, my Lord,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;but I am afraid I am
+going to offend you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, no matter;&rdquo; (he answered carelessly) &ldquo;only go on,
+and let me know your business.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The man&rsquo;s distress increased&mdash;and he cried in a voice of
+grief and affright&mdash;&ldquo;Your child, my Lord!&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook and Sandford started; and looking at Lord
+Elmwood, saw him turn white as death. In a tremulous
+voice he instantly cried,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What of her?&rdquo; and rose from his seat.</p>
+
+<p>Encouraged by the question, and the agitation of him who
+asked it, the poor man gave way to his feelings, and answered
+with every sign of sorrow,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I saw her, my Lord, taken away by force&mdash;two ruffians
+seized and carried her away, while she screamed in vain to
+me for help, and tore her hair in distraction.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Man, what do you mean?&rdquo; cried the Earl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord Margrave,&rdquo; replied the stranger, &ldquo;we have no
+doubt, has formed this plot&mdash;he has for some time past beset
+the house where she lived; and when his visits were refused,
+he threatened this. Besides, one of his servants attended
+the carriage; I saw, and knew him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood listened to the last part of this account
+with seeming composure&mdash;then turning hastily to Rushbrook,
+he said,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where are my pistols, Harry?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford rose from his seat, and forgetting all the anger
+between them, caught hold of the Earl&rsquo;s hand, and cried,
+&ldquo;Will you then prove yourself a father?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood only answered, &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; and left the room.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook followed, and begged with all the earnestness
+he felt, to be permitted to accompany his uncle.</p>
+
+<p>While Sandford shook hands with the farmer a thousand
+times; and he, in his turn, rejoiced, as if he had already seen
+Lady Matilda restored to liberty.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook in vain entreated Lord Elmwood; he laid his
+commands upon him not to go a step from the Castle; while
+the agitation of his own mind, was too great, to observe the
+rigour of this sentence on his nephew.</p>
+
+<p>During the hasty preparations for the Earl&rsquo;s departure,
+Sandford received from Miss Woodley the sad intelligence
+of what had happened; but he returned an answer to recompence
+her for all she had suffered on the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>Within a few hours Lord Elmwood set off, accompanied by
+his guide, the farmer, and other attendants furnished with
+every requisite to ascertain the success of their enterprise&mdash;while
+poor Matilda little thought of a deliverer nigh, much
+less, that her deliverer should prove her father.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="IV_CHAPTER_X" id="IV_CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<p>Lord Margrave, black as this incident of his life must
+make him appear to the reader, still nursed in his conscience
+a reserve of specious virtue, to keep him in peace with himself.
+It was his design to plead, to argue, to implore, nay
+even to threaten, long before he put his threats in force;
+and with this and the following reflection, he reconciled&mdash;as
+most bad men can&mdash;what he had done, not only to the
+laws of humanity, but to the laws of honour.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have stolen a woman certainly;&rdquo; said he to himself,
+&ldquo;but I will make her happier than she was in that humble
+state from which I have taken her. I will even,&rdquo; said he,
+&ldquo;now that she is in my power, win her affections&mdash;and
+when, in fondness, hereafter she hangs upon me, how will
+she thank me for this little trial, through which I shall have
+conducted her to happiness!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thus did he hush his remorse, while he waited impatiently
+at home, in expectation of his prize.</p>
+
+<p>Half expiring with her sufferings, of body as well as of
+mind, about twelve o&rsquo;clock the next night, after she was borne
+away, Matilda arrived; and felt her spirits revive by the
+superior sufferings that awaited her&mdash;for her increasing
+terrors roused her from the death-like weakness, brought on
+by fatigue.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Margrave&rsquo;s house, to which he had gone previous to
+this occasion, was situated in the lonely part of a well-known
+forest, not more than twenty miles distant from London:
+this was an estate he rarely visited; and as he had but few
+servants here, it was a place which he supposed would be
+less the object of suspicion in the present case, than any other
+of his seats. To this, then, Lady Matilda was conveyed&mdash;a
+superb apartment allotted her&mdash;and one of his confidential
+females placed to attend upon her, with all respect, and
+assurances of safety.</p>
+
+<p>Matilda looked in this woman&rsquo;s face, and seeing she bore
+the features of her sex, while her own knowledge reached
+none of those worthless characters of which this person was
+a specimen, she imagined that none of those could look as
+she did, and therefore found consolation in her seeming
+tenderness. She was even prevailed upon (by her promises
+to sit by her side and watch) to throw herself on the bed,
+and suffer sleep for a few minutes&mdash;for sleep to her was
+suffering; her fears giving birth to dreams terrifying as her
+waking thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>More wearied than refreshed with her sleep, she rose at
+break of day, and refusing to admit of the change of an
+article in her dress, she persisted to sit in the torn disordered
+habit in which she had been dragged away; nor would she
+taste a morsel, of all the delicacies that were prepared for her.</p>
+
+<p>Her attendant, for some time observed the most reverential
+awe; but finding this had not the effect of gaining compliance
+with her advice, she varied her manners, and began by
+less submissive means to attempt an influence. She said her
+orders were to be obedient, while she herself was obeyed&mdash;at
+least in circumstances so material as the lady&rsquo;s health, of
+which she had the charge as a physician, and expected equal
+compliance from her patient&mdash;food and fresh apparel she
+prescribed as the only means to prevent death; and even
+threatened her invalid with something worse, a visit from
+Lord Margrave, if she continued obstinate.</p>
+
+<p>Now loathing her for the deception she had practised,
+more, than had she received her thus at first, Matilda hid
+her eyes from the sight of her; and when she was obliged
+to look, she shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>This female at length thought it her duty to wait upon her
+worthy employer, and inform him the young lady in her
+trust would certainly die, unless there were means employed
+to oblige her to take some nourishment.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Margrave, glad of an opportunity that might apologize
+for his intrusion upon Lady Matilda, went with eagerness
+to her apartment, and throwing himself at her feet,
+conjured her if she would save his life, as well as her own,
+to submit to be consoled.</p>
+
+<p>The extreme disgust and horror his presence inspired,
+caused Matilda for a moment to forget all her want of power,
+her want of health, her weakness; and rising from the place
+where she sat, she cried, with her voice elevated,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Leave me, my Lord, or I&rsquo;ll die in spite of all your care;
+I&rsquo;ll instantly expire with grief, if you do not leave me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Accustomed to the tears and reproaches of the sex&mdash;though
+not of those like her&mdash;he treated with contempt these
+menaces of anger, and seizing her hand, carried it to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>Enraged, and overwhelmed with sorrow at the affront, she
+cried, (forgetting every other friend she had,) &ldquo;Oh! my dear
+Miss Woodley, why are you not here to protect me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; returned Lord Margrave, stifling a fit of laughter,
+&ldquo;I should think the old Priest would be as good a champion
+as the lady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The remembrance of Sandford, with all his kindness, now
+rushed so forcibly on Matilda&rsquo;s mind, that she shed a shower
+of tears, on thinking how much he felt, and would continue
+to feel, for her situation. Once she thought on Rushbrook,
+and thought even <i>he</i> would be sorry for her. Of her father
+she did not think&mdash;she dared not&mdash;one single moment that
+thought intruded, but she hurried it away&mdash;it was too bitter.</p>
+
+<p>It was now again quite night; and near to that hour when
+she came first to the house. Lord Margrave, though at some
+distance from her, remained still in her apartment, while her
+female companion had stolen away. His insensibility to her
+lamentations&mdash;the agitated looks he sometimes cast upon
+her&mdash;her weak and defenceless state, all conspired to fill her
+mind with horror.</p>
+
+<p>He saw her apprehensions in her distracted face, disheveled
+hair, and the whole of her forlorn appearance&mdash;yet, notwithstanding
+his former resolutions, he could not resist the desire
+of fulfilling all her dreadful expectations.</p>
+
+<p>He once again approached her, and again was going to
+seize her hand; when the report of a pistol, and a confused
+noise of persons assembling towards the apartment prevented
+him.</p>
+
+<p>He started&mdash;but looked more surprised than alarmed&mdash;her
+alarm was augmented; for she supposed this tumult was
+some experiment to intimidate her into submission. She
+wrung her hands, and lifted up her eyes to Heaven, in the
+last agony of despair, when one of Lord Margrave&rsquo;s servants
+entered hastily and announced,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord Elmwood!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That moment her father entered&mdash;and with all the unrestrained
+fondness of a parent, folded her in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>Her extreme, her excess of joy on such a meeting, and
+from such anguish rescued, was, in part, repressed by his
+awful presence. The apprehensions to which she had been
+accustomed, kept her timid and doubtful&mdash;she feared to
+speak, or clasp him in return for his embrace, but falling on
+her knees, clung round his legs, and bathed his feet with her
+tears.&mdash;&mdash;These were the happiest moments that she had
+ever known&mdash;perhaps, the happiest <i>he</i> had ever known.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Margrave, on whom Lord Elmwood had not even cast
+a look, now left the room; but as he quitted it, called out,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord Elmwood, if you have any demands on me,&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The Earl interrupted him, &ldquo;Would you make me an
+executioner? The law shall be your only antagonist.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Matilda, quite exhausted, yet upheld by the sudden
+transport she had felt, was led by her father out of this
+wretched dwelling&mdash;more despicable than the beggar&rsquo;s hovel.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="IV_CHAPTER_XI" id="IV_CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;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.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She could only turn to him with a look of love and duty;
+her lips could not utter a sentence.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning she found her father by the side of her
+bed. He inquired &ldquo;If she was in health sufficient to pursue
+her journey, or if she would remain where she was?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I <i>am</i> able to go with you,&rdquo; she answered instantly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;perhaps you ought to stay here till
+you are better?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am better,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;and ready to go with you.&rdquo;&mdash;&mdash;Half
+afraid that he meant to send her from him.</p>
+
+<p>He perceived her fears, and replied, &ldquo;Nay, if you stay, so
+shall I&mdash;and when I go, I shall take you along with me to my
+house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To Elmwood House?&rdquo; she asked eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, to my house in town, where I intend to be all the
+winter, and where we shall live together.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She turned her face on the pillow to conceal tears of joy,
+but her sobs revealed them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;this kiss is a token you have nothing
+to fear.&rdquo; And he kissed her affectionately. &ldquo;I shall send
+for Miss Woodley too immediately,&rdquo; continued he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! I shall be overjoyed to see her, my Lord&mdash;and to
+see Mr. Sandford&mdash;and even Mr. Rushbrook.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know <i>him</i>?&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she replied, &ldquo;I have seen him two or three times.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;but assuming a grave
+countenance, he commanded her to desist from exhausting
+her spirits; and, after a few powerful struggles, she obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>Before the morning was over, she experienced the extreme
+joy of sitting by her father&rsquo;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.</p>
+
+<p>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&mdash;never did her imagination comprehend,
+that the human heart could feel happiness true and genuine
+as hers!</p>
+
+<p>On arriving at the house, there was no abatement of her
+felicity: all was respect and duty on the part of the domestics&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="IV_CHAPTER_XII" id="IV_CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<p>Rushbrook was detained at Elmwood House during all
+this time, more from the persuasions, nay prayers, of Sandford,
+than the commands of Lord Elmwood. He had, but
+for Sandford, followed his uncle, and exposed himself to his
+anger, sooner than have endured the most piercing inquietude,
+which he was doomed to suffer, till the news
+arrived of Lady Matilda&rsquo;s safety. He indeed had little else
+to fear from the known firm, courageous character of her
+father, and the expedition with which he undertook his
+journey; but lovers&rsquo; fears are like those of women, obstinate,
+and no argument could persuade either him or Miss Woodley
+(who had now ventured to come to Elmwood House) but
+that Matilda&rsquo;s peace of mind might be for ever destroyed,
+before she was set at liberty.</p>
+
+<p>The summons from Lord Elmwood for their coming to
+town, was received by each of this party with delight; but
+the impatience to obey it, was in Rushbrook so violent, it
+was painful to himself, and extremely troublesome to Sandford;
+who wished, from his regard to Lady Matilda, rather
+to delay, than hurry their journey.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are to blame,&rdquo; said he to him and Miss Woodley,
+&ldquo;to wish by your arrival, to divide with Lord Elmwood
+that tender bond, which ties the good who confer obligations,
+to the object of their benevolence. At present there
+is no one with him to share in the care and protection of
+his daughter, and he is under the necessity of discharging
+that duty himself; this habit may become so powerful, that
+he <i>cannot</i> throw it off, even if his former resolutions should
+urge him to it. While we remain here, therefore, Lady
+Matilda is safe with her father; but it would not surprise
+me, if on our arrival (especially if we are precipitate) he
+should place her again with Miss Woodley at a distance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To this forcible conjecture, they submitted for a few days,
+and then most gladly set out for town.</p>
+
+<p>On their arrival, they were met, even at the street-door,
+by Lady Matilda; and with an expression of joy, they did not
+suppose her features could have worn. She embraced Miss
+Woodley! hung upon Sandford! and to Mr. Rushbrook,
+who from his conscious love only bowed at an humble
+distance, she held out her hand with every look and gesture
+of the tenderest esteem.</p>
+
+<p>When Lord Elmwood joined them, he welcomed them
+all sincerely; but Sandford the most, with whom he had not
+spoken for many days before he left the country, for his
+allusion to the wretched situation of his daughter.&mdash;And
+Sandford (with his fellow-travellers) now saw him treat that
+daughter with an easy, a natural fondness, as if she had lived
+with him from her infancy. He appeared, however, at times,
+under the apprehension, that the propensity of man to
+jealousy, might give Rushbrook a pang at this dangerous
+rival in his love and fortune&mdash;for though Lord Elmwood
+remembered well the hazard he had once ventured to befriend
+Matilda, yet the present unlimited reconciliation was
+something so unlooked for, it might be a trial too much for his
+generosity, to remain wholly disinterested on the event.
+Slight as was this suspicion, it did Rushbrook injustice. He
+loved Lady Matilda too sincerely, he loved her father&rsquo;s
+happiness, and her mother&rsquo;s memory too faithfully, not to
+be rejoiced at all he witnessed; nor could the secret hope
+that whispered him, &ldquo;Their blessings might one day be
+mutual,&rdquo; increase the pleasure he found, in beholding
+Matilda happy.</p>
+
+<p>Unexpected affairs, in which Lord Elmwood had been for
+some time engaged, had diverted his attention for awhile
+from the marriage of his nephew; nor did he at this time
+find his disposition sufficiently severe, to exact from the young
+man a compliance with his wishes, at so cruel an alternative
+as that of being for ever discarded. He felt his mind, by the
+late incident, too much softened for such harshness; he yet
+wished for the alliance he had proposed; for he was more
+consistent in his character than to suffer the tenderness his
+daughter&rsquo;s peril had awakened, to derange those plans which
+he had long projected. Never even now, for a moment did
+he indulge&mdash;for perhaps it would have been an indulgence&mdash;the
+idea of replacing her exactly in the rights of her birth, to
+the disappointment of all his nephew&rsquo;s expectations.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, milder at this crisis in his temper than he had been
+for years before, and knowing he could be no longer irritated
+upon the subject of his daughter, he once more resolved to
+trust himself in a conference with Rushbrook on the subject
+of marriage; meaning at the same time to mention Matilda
+as an opponent from whom he had nothing to fear. But for
+some time before Rushbrook was called to this private
+audience, he had, by his unwearied attention, endeavoured
+to impress upon Matilda&rsquo;s mind, the softest sentiments in
+his favour. He succeeded&mdash;but not as he wished. She loved
+him as her friend, her cousin, her foster-brother, but not as
+a lover. The idea of love never once came to her thoughts;
+and she would sport with Rushbrook like the most harmless
+child, while he, all impassioned, could with difficulty resist
+telling her, what she made him suffer.</p>
+
+<p>At the meeting between him and Lord Elmwood, to which
+he was called for his final answer on that subject which had
+once nearly proved so fatal to him; after a thousand fears,
+much confusion and embarrassment, he at length frankly
+confessed his &ldquo;Heart was engaged, and had been so, long
+before his uncle offered to direct his choice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood desired to know, &ldquo;On whom he had
+placed his affections.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I dare not tell you, my Lord,&rdquo; returned he, infinitely
+confused; &ldquo;but Mr. Sandford can witness their sincerity
+and how long they have been fixed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fixed!&rdquo; cried the Earl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Immoveably fixed, my Lord; and yet the object is as
+unconscious of my love to this moment, as you yourself have
+been; and I swear ever shall be so, without your permission.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Name the object,&rdquo; said Lord Elmwood, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Lord, I dare not.&mdash;The last time I named her to you,
+you threatened to abandon me for my arrogance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood started.&mdash;&mdash;&ldquo;My daughter! Would you
+marry her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But with your approbation, my Lord; and that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Before he could proceed a word further, his uncle left the
+room hastily&mdash;and left Rushbrook all terror for his approaching
+fate.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood went immediately into the apartment
+where Sandford, Miss Woodley, and Matilda, were sitting,
+and cried with an angry voice, and with his countenance
+disordered,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Rushbrook has offended me beyond forgiveness.&mdash;Go,
+Sandford, to the library, where he is, and tell him this
+instant to quit my house, and never dare to return.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Woodley lifted up her hands and sighed.</p>
+
+<p>Sandford rose slowly from his seat to execute the office.</p>
+
+<p>While Lady Matilda, who was arranging her music books
+upon the instrument, stopped from her employment suddenly,
+with her face bathed in tears.</p>
+
+<p>A general silence ensued, till Lord Elmwood, resuming
+his angry tone, cried, &ldquo;Did you hear me, Mr. Sandford?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sandford now, without a word in reply, made for the door&mdash;but
+there Matilda impeded him, and throwing her arms
+about his neck, cried,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Mr. Sandford, do not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How!&rdquo; exclaimed her father.</p>
+
+<p>She saw the impending frown, and rushing towards him,
+took his hand fearfully, and knelt at his feet. &ldquo;Mr. Rushbrook
+is my relation,&rdquo; she cried in a pathetic voice, &ldquo;my
+companion, my friend&mdash;before you loved me he was anxious
+for my happiness, and often visited me to lament with, and
+console me. I cannot see him turned out of your house
+without feeling for <i>him</i>, what he once felt for <i>me</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Elmwood turned aside to conceal his sensations&mdash;then
+raising her from the floor, he said, &ldquo;Do you know
+what he has asked of me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered she in the utmost ignorance, and with
+the utmost innocence painted on her face; &ldquo;but whatever
+it is, my Lord, though you do not grant it, yet pardon him
+for asking.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps <i>you</i> would grant him what he has requested?&rdquo;
+said her father.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Most willingly&mdash;was it in my gift.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is,&rdquo; replied he. &ldquo;Go to him in the library, and hear
+what he has to say; for on your will his fate shall depend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Like lightning she flew out of the room; while even the
+grave Sandford smiled at the idea of their meeting.</p>
+
+<p>Rushbrook, with his fears all verified by the manner in
+which his uncle had left him, sat with his head reclined
+against a bookcase, and every limb extended with the despair
+that had seized him.</p>
+
+<p>Matilda nimbly opened the door and cried, &ldquo;Mr. Rushbrook,
+I am come to comfort you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That you have always done,&rdquo; said he, rising in rapture to
+receive her, even in the midst of all his sadness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it you want?&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;What have you asked
+of my father that he has denied you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have asked for that,&rdquo; replied he, &ldquo;which is dearer to
+me than my life.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Be satisfied then,&rdquo; returned she, &ldquo;for you shall have it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Matilda! it is not in your power to bestow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But he has told me it <i>shall</i> be in my power; and has
+desired me to give, or to refuse it you, at my own pleasure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O Heavens!&rdquo; cried Rushbrook in transport, &ldquo;Has he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has indeed&mdash;before Mr. Sandford and Miss Woodley.
+Now tell me what you petitioned for?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I asked him,&rdquo; cried Rushbrook, trembling, &ldquo;for a wife.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Her hand, which had just then taken hold of his, in the
+warmth of her wish to serve him, now dropped down as with
+the stroke of death&mdash;her face lost its colour&mdash;and she leaned
+against the desk by which they were standing, without
+uttering a word.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What means this change?&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;Do you not wish
+me happy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she exclaimed: &ldquo;Heaven is my witness. But it
+gives me concern to think we must part.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then let us be joined,&rdquo; cried he, falling at her feet, &ldquo;till
+death alone can part us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>All the sensibility&mdash;the reserve&mdash;the pride, with which she
+was so amply possessed, returned to her that moment. She
+started and cried, &ldquo;Could Lord Elmwood know for what he
+sent me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He did,&rdquo; replied Rushbrook&mdash;&ldquo;I boldly told him of my
+presumptuous love, and he has given to you alone, the power
+over my happiness or misery. Oh! do not doom me to the
+latter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Whether the heart of Matilda, such as it has been described,
+<i>could</i> sentence him to misery, the reader is left to surmise&mdash;and
+if he supposes that it could <i>not</i>, he has every reason to
+suppose that their wedded life, was&mdash;a life of happiness.</p>
+
+<p>He has beheld the pernicious effects of an <i>improper education</i>
+in the destiny which attended the unthinking Miss
+Milner.&mdash;On the opposite side, what may not be hoped from
+that school of prudence&mdash;though of adversity&mdash;in which
+Matilda was bred?</p>
+
+<p>And Mr. Milner, Matilda&rsquo;s grandfather, had better have
+given his <i>fortune</i> to a distant branch of his family&mdash;as Matilda&rsquo;s
+father once meant to do&mdash;so that he had given to his daughter</p>
+
+<h4>A PROPER EDUCATION.</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h4><a name="Plays" id="Plays"></a><span class="smcap">Plays</span> written by <span class="smcap">Mrs. Inchbald</span>, and published<br />
+by G. G. and J. <span class="smcap">Robinson</span>, Paternoster Row.</h4>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<p class="center">
+<span class="g">LOVERS&rsquo; VOWS;</span><br />
+<br />
+A Play in five Acts, from the German of<br />
+<span class="smcap">Kotzebue</span>.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="g">WIVES AS THEY WERE, AND MAIDS<br />
+AS THEY ARE.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="g">EVERY ONE HAS HIS FAULT.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="g">I&rsquo;LL TELL YOU WHAT,</span><br />
+Comedies in five Acts.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="g">SUCH THINGS ARE,</span><br />
+A Play in five Acts.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="g">THE MARRIED MAN,</span><br />
+A Comedy, Price 1s. 6d. each.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="g">THE CHILD OF NATURE.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="g">APPEARANCE IS AGAINST THEM.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="g">THE WIDOW&rsquo;S VOW.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="g">THE MIDNIGHT HOUR,</span><br />
+A Comedy.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="g">THE WEDDING DAY,</span><br />
+Price One Shilling each.<br />
+<br />
+<span class="g">NATURE AND ART,</span><br />
+The Second Edition, in Two Volumes, Price<br />
+7s. sewed.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SIMPLE STORY ***</div>
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #22002 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22002)
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Simple Story, by Mrs. Inchbald
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Simple Story
+
+Author: Mrs. Inchbald
+
+Editor: G. L. Strachey
+
+Release Date: July 5, 2007 [EBook #22002]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SIMPLE STORY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Marcia Brooks, and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced
+from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
+Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD
+
+WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
+
+G. L. STRACHEY
+
+LONDON
+HENRY FROWDE
+1908
+
+OXFORD: HORACE HART
+PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+PREFACE
+
+VOLUME I
+I-CHAPTER I             5
+I-CHAPTER II            8
+I-CHAPTER III          13
+I-CHAPTER IV           14
+I-CHAPTER V            17
+I-CHAPTER VI           22
+I-CHAPTER VII          25
+I-CHAPTER VIII         31
+I-CHAPTER IX           34
+I-CHAPTER X            38
+I-CHAPTER XI           42
+I-CHAPTER XII          47
+I-CHAPTER XIII         53
+I-CHAPTER XIV          57
+I-CHAPTER XV           63
+I-CHAPTER XVI          69
+I-CHAPTER XVII         78
+
+VOLUME II
+II-CHAPTER I           85
+II-CHAPTER II          90
+II-CHAPTER III         94
+II-CHAPTER IV         102
+II-CHAPTER V          112
+II-CHAPTER VI         117
+II-CHAPTER VII        121
+II-CHAPTER VIII       131
+II-CHAPTER IX         138
+II-CHAPTER X          146
+II-CHAPTER XI         153
+II-CHAPTER XII        164
+
+VOLUME III
+III-CHAPTER I         173
+III-CHAPTER II        177
+III-CHAPTER III       179
+III-CHAPTER IV        187
+III-CHAPTER V         188
+III-CHAPTER VI        194
+III-CHAPTER VII       201
+III-CHAPTER VIII      204
+III-CHAPTER IX        205
+III-CHAPTER X         214
+III-CHAPTER XI        218
+III-CHAPTER XII       227
+III-CHAPTER XIII      233
+III-CHAPTER XIV       244
+
+VOLUME IV
+IV-CHAPTER I          247
+IV-CHAPTER II         250
+IV-CHAPTER III        255
+IV-CHAPTER IV         261
+IV-CHAPTER V          266
+IV-CHAPTER VI         270
+IV-CHAPTER VII        277
+IV-CHAPTER VIII       283
+IV-CHAPTER IX         285
+IV-CHAPTER X          288
+IV-CHAPTER XI         291
+IV-CHAPTER XII        293
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+_A Simple Story_ is one of those books which, for some reason or other,
+have failed to come down to us, as they deserved, along the current of
+time, but have drifted into a literary backwater where only the
+professional critic or the curious discoverer can find them out. "The
+iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy;" and nowhere more
+blindly than in the republic of letters. If we were to inquire how it
+has happened that the true value of Mrs. Inchbald's achievement has
+passed out of general recognition, perhaps the answer to our question
+would be found to lie in the extreme difficulty with which the mass of
+readers detect and appreciate mere quality in literature. Their judgment
+is swayed by a hundred side-considerations which have nothing to do with
+art, but happen easily to impress the imagination, or to fit in with the
+fashion of the hour. The reputation of Mrs. Inchbald's contemporary,
+Fanny Burney, is a case in point. Every one has heard of Fanny Burney's
+novels, and _Evelina_ is still widely read. Yet it is impossible to
+doubt that, so far as quality alone is concerned, _Evelina_ deserves to
+be ranked considerably below _A Simple Story._ But its writer was the
+familiar friend of the greatest spirits of her age; she was the author
+of one of the best of diaries; and her work was immediately and
+immensely popular. Thus it has happened that the name of Fanny Burney
+has maintained its place upon the roll of English novelists, while that
+of Mrs. Inchbald is forgotten.
+
+But the obscurity of Mrs. Inchbald's career has not, of course, been the
+only reason for the neglect of her work. The merits of _A Simple Story_
+are of a kind peculiarly calculated to escape the notice of a
+generation of readers brought up on the fiction of the nineteenth
+century. That fiction, infinitely various as it is, possesses at least
+one characteristic common to the whole of it--a breadth of outlook upon
+life, which can be paralleled by no other body of literature in the
+world save that of the Elizabethans. But the comprehensiveness of view
+shared by Dickens and Tolstoy, by Balzac and George Eliot, finds no
+place in Mrs. Inchbald's work. Compared with _A Simple Story_ even the
+narrow canvases of Jane Austen seem spacious pictures of diversified
+life. Mrs. Inchbald's novel is not concerned with the world at large, or
+with any section of society, hardly even with the family; its subject is
+a group of two or three individuals whose interaction forms the whole
+business of the book. There is no local colour in it, no complexity of
+detail nor violence of contrast; the atmosphere is vague and neutral,
+the action passes among ill-defined sitting-rooms, and the most poignant
+scene in the story takes place upon a staircase which has never been
+described. Thus the reader of modern novels is inevitably struck, in _A
+Simple Story_, by a sense of emptiness and thinness, which may well
+blind him to high intrinsic merits. The spirit of the eighteenth century
+is certainly present in the book, but it is the eighteenth century of
+France rather than of England. Mrs. Inchbald no doubt owed much to
+Richardson; her view of life is the indoor sentimental view of the great
+author of _Clarissa_; but her treatment of it has very little in common
+with his method of microscopic analysis and vast accumulation. If she
+belongs to any school, it is among the followers of the French classical
+tradition that she must be placed. _A Simple Story_ is, in its small
+way, a descendant of the Tragedies of Racine; and Miss Milner may claim
+relationship with Madame de Clèves.
+
+Besides her narrowness of vision, Mrs. Inchbald possesses another
+quality, no less characteristic of her French predecessors, and no less
+rare among the novelists of England. She is essentially a stylist--a
+writer whose whole conception of her art is dominated by stylistic
+intention. Her style, it is true, is on the whole poor; it is often
+heavy and pompous, sometimes clumsy and indistinct; compared with the
+style of such a master as Thackeray it sinks at once into
+insignificance. But the interest of her style does not lie in its
+intrinsic merit so much as in the use to which she puts it. Thackeray's
+style is mere ornament, existing independently of what he has to say;
+Mrs. Inchbald's is part and parcel of her matter. The result is that
+when, in moments of inspiration, she rises to the height of her
+opportunity, when, mastering her material, she invests her expression
+with the whole intensity of her feeling and her thought, then she
+achieves effects of the rarest beauty--effects of a kind for which one
+may search through Thackeray in vain. The most triumphant of these
+passages is the scene on the staircase of Elmwood House--a passage which
+would be spoilt by quotation and which no one who has ever read it could
+forget. But the same quality is to be found throughout her work. "Oh,
+Miss Woodley!" exclaims Miss Milner, forced at last to confess to her
+friend what she feels towards Dorriforth, "I love him with all the
+passion of a mistress, and with all the tenderness of a wife." No young
+lady, even in the eighteenth century, ever gave utterance to such a
+sentence as that. It is the sentence, not of a speaker, but of a writer;
+and yet, for that very reason, it is delightful, and comes to us charged
+with a curious sense of emotion, which is none the less real for its
+elaboration. In _Nature and Art_, Mrs. Inchbald's second novel, the
+climax of the story is told in a series of short paragraphs, which, for
+bitterness and concentration of style, are almost reminiscent of
+Stendhal:
+
+     The jury consulted for a few minutes. The verdict was "Guilty".
+
+     She heard it with composure.
+
+     But when William placed the fatal velvet on his head and rose to
+     pronounce sentence, she started with a kind of convulsive motion,
+     retreated a step or two back, and, lifting up her hands with a
+     scream, exclaimed--
+
+     "Oh, not from _you!_"
+
+     The piercing shriek which accompanied these words prevented their
+     being heard by part of the audience; and those who heard them
+     thought little of their meaning, more than that they expressed
+     her fear of dying.
+
+     Serene and dignified, as if no such exclamation had been uttered,
+     William delivered the fatal speech, ending with "Dead, dead,
+     dead".
+
+     She fainted as he closed the period, and was carried back to
+     prison in a swoon; while he adjourned the court to go to dinner.
+
+Here, no doubt, there is a touch of melodrama; but it is the melodrama
+of a rhetorician, and, in that fine "She heard it with composure",
+genius has brushed aside the forced and the obvious, to express, with
+supreme directness, the anguish of a soul.
+
+For, in spite of Mrs. Inchbald's artificialities, in spite of her lack
+of that kind of realistic description which seems to modern readers the
+very blood and breath of a good story, she has the power of doing what,
+after all, only a very few indeed of her fellow craftsmen have ever been
+able to do--she can bring into her pages the living pressure of a human
+passion, she can invest, if not with realism, with something greater
+than realism--with the sense of reality itself--the pains, the triumphs,
+and the agitations of the human heart. "The heart," to use the
+old-fashioned phrase--there is Mrs. Inchbald's empire, there is the
+sphere of her glory and her command. Outside of it, her powers are weak
+and fluctuating. She has no firm grasp of the masculine elements in
+character: she wishes to draw a rough man, Sandford, and she draws a
+rude one; she tries her hand at a hero, Rushbrook, and she turns out a
+prig. Her humour is not faulty, but it is exceedingly slight. What an
+immortal figure the dim Mrs. Horton would have become in the hands of
+Jane Austen! In _Nature and Art_, her attempts at social satire are
+superficial and overstrained. But weaknesses of this kind--and it would
+be easy to prolong the list--are what every reader of the following pages
+will notice without difficulty, and what no wise one will regard. "Il ne
+faut point juger des hommes par ce qu'ils ignorent, mais par ce qu'ils
+savent;" and Mrs. Inchbald's knowledge was as profound as it was
+limited. Her Miss Milner is an original and brilliant creation, compact
+of charm and life. She is a flirt, and a flirt not only adorable, but
+worthy of adoration. Did Mrs. Inchbald take the suggestion of a heroine
+with imperfections from the little masterpiece which, on more sides than
+one, closely touches her's--Manon Lescaut? Perhaps; and yet, if this was
+so, the borrowing was of the slightest, for it is only in the fact that
+she _is_ imperfect that Miss Milner bears to Manon any resemblance at
+all. In every other respect, the English heroine is the precise contrary
+of the French one: she is a creature of fiery will, of high bearing, of
+noble disposition; and her shortcomings are born, not of weakness, but
+of excess of strength. Mrs. Inchbald has taken this character, she has
+thrown it under the influence of a violent and absorbing passion, and,
+upon that theme, she has written her delicate, sympathetic, and
+artificial book.
+
+As one reads it, one cannot but feel that it is, if not directly and
+circumstantially, at least in essence, autobiographical. One finds
+oneself speculating over the author, wondering what was her history, and
+how much of it was Miss Milner's. Unfortunately the greater part of what
+we should most like to know of Mrs. Inchbald's life has vanished beyond
+recovery. She wrote her Memoirs, and she burnt them; and who can tell
+whether even there we should have found a self-revelation? Confessions
+are sometimes curiously discreet, and, in the case of Mrs. Inchbald, we
+may be sure that it is only what was indiscreet that would really be
+worth the hearing. Yet her life is not devoid of interest. A brief
+sketch of it may be welcome to her readers.
+
+Elizabeth Inchbald was born on the 15th of October, 1753, at
+Standingfield, near Bury St. Edmunds in Suffolk;[1] one of the numerous
+offspring of John and Mary Simpson. The Simpsons, who were Roman
+Catholics, held a moderate farm in Standingfield, and ranked among the
+gentry of the neighbourhood. In Elizabeth's eighth year, her father
+died; but the family continued at the farm, the elder daughters marrying
+and settling in London, while Elizabeth grew up into a beautiful and
+charming girl. One misfortune, however, interfered with her happiness--a
+defect of utterance which during her early years rendered her speech so
+indistinct as to be unintelligible to strangers. She devoted herself to
+reading and to dreams of the great world. At thirteen, she declared she
+would rather die than live longer without seeing the world; she longed
+to go to London; she longed to go upon the stage. When, in 1770, one of
+her brothers became an actor at Norwich, she wrote secretly to his
+manager, Mr. Griffith, begging for an engagement. Mr. Griffith was
+encouraging, and, though no definite steps were taken, she was
+sufficiently charmed with him to write out his name at length in her
+diary, with the inscription "Each dear letter of thy name is harmony."
+Was Mr. Griffith the hero of the company as well as its manager? That,
+at any rate, was clearly Miss Simpson's opinion; but she soon had other
+distractions. In the following year she paid a visit to her married
+sisters in London, where she met another actor, Mr. Inchbald, who seems
+immediately to have fallen in love with her, and to have proposed. She
+remained cool. "In spite of your eloquent pen," she wrote to him, with a
+touch of that sharp and almost bitter sense that was always hers,
+"matrimony still appears to me with less charms than terrors: the bliss
+arising from it, I doubt not, is superior to any other--but best not to
+be ventured for (in my opinion), till some little time have proved the
+emptiness of all other; which it seldom fails to do." Nevertheless, the
+correspondence continued, and, early in 1772, some entries in her diary
+give a glimpse of her state of mind:--
+
+     _Jan. 22._ Saw Mr. Griffith's picture.
+
+     _Jan. 28._ Stole it.
+
+     _Jan. 29._ Rather disappointed at not receiving a letter from Mr.
+     Inchbald.
+
+A few months later she did the great deed of her life: she stepped
+secretly into the Norwich coach, and went to London. The days that
+followed were full of hazard and adventure, but the details of them are
+uncertain. She was a girl of eighteen, absolutely alone, and
+astonishingly attractive--"tall," we are told, "slender, straight, of the
+purest complexion, and most beautiful features; her hair of a golden
+auburn, her eyes full at once of spirit and sweetness;" and it was only
+to be expected that, in such circumstances, romance and daring would
+soon give place to discomfort and alarm. She attempted in vain to obtain
+a theatrical engagement; she found herself, more than once, obliged to
+shift her lodging; and at last, after ten days of trepidation, she was
+reduced to apply for help to her married sisters. This put an end to her
+difficulties, but, in spite of her efforts to avoid notice, her beauty
+had already attracted attention, and she had received a letter from a
+stranger, with whom she immediately entered into correspondence. She had
+all the boldness of innocence, and, in addition, a force of character
+which brought her safely through the risks she ran. While she was still
+in her solitary lodging, a theatrical manager, named Dodd, attempted to
+use his position as a cover for seduction. She had several interviews
+with him alone, and the story goes that, in the last, she snatched up a
+basin of hot water and dashed it in his face. But she was not to go
+unprotected for long; for within two months of her arrival in London she
+had married Mr. Inchbald.
+
+The next twelve years of Mrs. Inchbald's life were passed amid the rough
+and tumble of the eighteenth-century stage. Her husband was thirty-seven
+when she married him, a Roman Catholic like herself, and an actor who
+depended for his living upon ill-paid and uncertain provincial
+engagements. Mrs. Inchbald conquered her infirmity of speech and threw
+herself into her husband's profession. She accompanied him to Bristol,
+to Scotland, to Liverpool, to Birmingham, appearing in a great variety
+of rôles, but never with any very conspicuous success. The record of
+these journeys throws an interesting light upon the conditions of the
+provincial companies of those days. Mrs. Inchbald and her companions
+would set out to walk from one Scotch town to another; they would think
+themselves lucky if they could climb on to a passing cart, to arrive at
+last, drenched with rain perhaps, at some wretched hostelry. But this
+kind of barbarism did not stand in the way of an almost childish gaiety.
+In Yorkshire, we find the Inchbalds, the Siddonses, and Kemble retiring
+to the moors, in the intervals of business, to play blindman's buff or
+puss in the corner. Such were the pastimes of Mrs. Siddons before the
+days of her fame. No doubt this kind of lightheartedness was the best
+antidote to the experience of being "saluted with volleys of potatoes
+and broken bottles", as the Siddonses were by the citizens of Liverpool,
+for having ventured to appear on their stage without having ever played
+before the King. On this occasion, the audience, according to a letter
+from Kemble to Mrs. Inchbald, "extinguished all the lights round the
+house; then jumped upon the stage; brushed every lamp out with their
+hats; took back their money; left the theatre, and determined themselves
+to repeat this till they have another company." These adventures were
+diversified by a journey to Paris, undertaken in the hope that Mr.
+Inchbald, who found himself without engagements, might pick up a
+livelihood as a painter of miniatures. The scheme came to nothing, and
+the Inchbalds eventually went to Hull, where they returned to their old
+profession. Here, in 1779, suddenly and somewhat mysteriously, Mr.
+Inchbald died. To his widow the week that followed was one of "grief,
+horror, and almost despair"; but soon, with her old pertinacity, she was
+back at her work, settling at last in London, and becoming a member of
+the Covent Garden company. Here, for the next five years, she earned for
+herself a meagre living, until, quite unexpectedly, deliverance came. In
+her moments of leisure she had been trying her hand upon dramatic
+composition; she had written some farces, and, in 1784, one of them, _A
+Mogul Tale_, was accepted, acted, and obtained a great success. This was
+the turning-point of her career. She followed up her farce with a series
+of plays, either original or adapted, which, almost without exception,
+were well received, so that she was soon able to retire from the stage
+with a comfortable competence. She had succeeded in life; she was happy,
+respected, free.
+
+Mrs. Inchbald's plays are so bad that it is difficult to believe that
+they brought her a fortune. But no doubt it was their faults that made
+them popular--their sentimentalities, their melodramatic absurdities,
+their strangely false and high-pitched moral tone. They are written in
+a jargon which resembles, if it resembles anything, an execrable prose
+translation from very flat French verse. "Ah, Manuel!" exclaims one of
+her heroines, "I am now amply punished by the Marquis for all my cruelty
+to Duke Cordunna--he to whom my father in my infancy betrothed me, and to
+whom I willingly pledged my faith, hoping to wed; till Romono, the
+Marquis of Romono, came from the field of glory, and with superior
+claims of person as of fame, seized on my heart by force, and perforce
+made me feel I had never loved till then." Which is the more
+surprising--that actors could be found to utter such speeches, or that
+audiences could be collected to applaud them? Perhaps, for us, the most
+memorable fact about Mrs. Inchbald's dramatic work is that one of her
+adaptations (from the German of Kotzebue) was no other than that
+_Lovers' Vows_ which, as every one knows, was rehearsed so brilliantly
+at Ecclesford, the seat of the Right Hon. Lord Ravenshaw, in Cornwall,
+and which, after all, was _not_ performed at Sir Thomas Bertram's. But
+that is an interest _sub specie aeternitatis_; and, from the temporal
+point of view, Mrs. Inchbald's plays must be regarded merely as
+means--means towards her own enfranchisement, and that condition of
+things which made possible _A Simple Story._ That novel had been
+sketched as early as 1777; but it was not completely written until 1790,
+and not published until the following year. A second edition was printed
+immediately, and several more followed; the present reprint is taken
+from the fourth, published in 1799--but with the addition of the
+characteristic preface, which, after the second edition, was dropped.
+The four small volumes of these early editions, with their large type,
+their ample spacing, their charming flavour of antiquity, delicacy, and
+rest--may be met with often enough in secluded corners of secondhand
+bookshops, or on some neglected shelf in the library of a country
+house. For their own generation, they represented a distinguished title
+to fame. Mrs. Inchbald--to use the expression of her biographer--"was
+ascertained to be one of the greatest ornaments of her sex." She was
+painted by Lawrence, she was eulogized by Miss Edgeworth, she was
+complimented by Madame de Stael herself. She had, indeed, won for
+herself a position which can hardly be paralleled among the women of the
+eighteenth century--a position of independence and honour, based upon
+talent, and upon talent alone. In 1796 she published _Nature and Art_,
+and ten years later appeared her last work--a series of biographical and
+critical notices prefixed to a large collection of acting plays. During
+the greater part of the intervening period she lived in lodgings in
+Leicester Square--or "Leicester Fields" as the place was still often
+called--in a house opposite that of Sir Joshua Reynolds. The oeconomy
+which she had learnt in her early days she continued to practise;
+dressing with extraordinary plainness, and often going without a fire in
+winter; so that she was able, through her self-sacrifice, to keep from
+want a large band of poor relatives and friends. The society she mixed
+with was various, but, for the most part, obscure. There were occasional
+visits from the now triumphant Mrs. Siddons; there were incessant
+propositions--but alas! they were equivocal--from Sir Charles Bunbury;
+for the rest, she passed her life among actor-managers and humble
+playwrights and unremembered medical men. One of her friends was William
+Godwin, who described her to Mrs. Shelley as a "piquante mixture between
+a lady and a milkmaid", and who, it is said, suggested part of the plot
+of _A Simple Story._ But she quarreled with him when he married Mary
+Wollstonecraft, after whose death she wrote to him thus--"With the most
+sincere sympathy in all you have suffered--with the most perfect
+forgiveness of all you have said to me, there must nevertheless be an
+end to our acquaintance _for ever._ I respect your prejudices, but I
+also respect my own." Far more intimate were her relations with Dr.
+Gisborne--a mysterious figure, with whom, in some tragic manner that we
+can only just discern, was enacted her final romance. His name--often in
+company with that of another physician, Dr. Warren, for whom, too, she
+had a passionate affection--occurs frequently among her papers; and her
+diary for December 17, 1794, has this entry:--"Dr. Gisborne drank tea
+here, and staid very late: he talked seriously of marrying--but not
+_me_." Many years later, one September, she amused herself by making out
+a list of all the Septembers since her marriage, with brief notes as to
+her state of mind during each. The list has fortunately survived, and
+some of the later entries are as follows:--
+
+     1791. London; after my novel, Simple Story ... very happy.
+
+     1792. London; in Leicester Square ... cheerful, content, and
+     sometimes rather happy....
+
+     1794. Extremely happy, but for poor Debby's death.
+
+     1795. My brother George's death, and an intimate acquaintance
+     with Dr. Gisborne--not happy....
+
+     1797. After an alteration in my teeth, and the death of Dr.
+     Warren--yet far from unhappy.
+
+     1798. Happy, but for suspicion amounting almost to certainty of a
+     rapid appearance of age in my face....
+
+     1802. After feeling wholly indifferent about Dr. Gisborne--very
+     happy but for ill health, ill looks, &c.
+
+     1803. After quitting Leicester Square probably for ever--after
+     caring scarce at all or thinking of Dr. Gisborne ... very
+     happy....
+
+     1806.... After the death of Dr. Gisborne, too, often very
+     unhappy, yet mostly cheerful, and on my return to London nearly
+     happy.
+
+The record, with all its quaintness, produces a curious impression of
+stoicism--of a certain grim acceptance of the facts of life. It would
+have been a pleasure, certainly, but an alarming pleasure, to have known
+Mrs. Inchbald.
+
+In the early years of the century, she gradually withdrew from London,
+establishing herself in suburban boarding-houses, often among sisters of
+charity, and devoting her days to the practice of her religion. In her
+early and middle life she had been an indifferent Catholic: "Sunday.
+Rose late, dressed, and read in the Bible about David, &c."--this is one
+of the very few references in her diary to anything approaching a
+religious observance during many years. But, in her old age, her views
+changed; her devotions increased with her retirement; and her retirement
+was at last complete. She died, in an obscure Kensington boarding-house,
+on August 1, 1821. She was buried in Kensington churchyard. But, if her
+ghost lingers anywhere, it is not in Kensington: it is in the heart of
+the London that she had always loved. Yet, even there, how much now
+would she find to recognize? Mrs. Inchbald's world has passed away from
+us for ever; and, as we walk there to-day amid the press of the living,
+it is hard to believe that she too was familiar with Leicester Square.
+
+G. L. STRACHEY.
+
+[1] The following account is based upon the _Memoirs of Mrs. Inchbald,
+including her familiar correspondence with the most distinguished
+persons of her time_, edited by James Boaden, Esq.--a discursive, vague,
+and not unamusing book.
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+SIMPLE STORY,
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES,
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+VOL. I.
+
+_THE FOURTH EDITION._
+
+LONDON:
+
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,
+PATERNOSTER ROW.
+
+1799.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+It is said, _a book should be read with the same spirit with which it
+has been written._ In that case, fatal must be the reception of this--for
+the writer frankly avows, that during the time she has been writing it,
+she has suffered every quality and degree of weariness and lassitude,
+into which no other employment could have betrayed her.
+
+It has been the destiny of the writer of this Story to be occupied
+throughout her life, in what has the least suited either her inclination
+or capacity--with an invincible impediment in her speech, it was her lot
+for thirteen years to gain a subsistence by public speaking--and, with
+the utmost detestation to the fatigue of inventing, a constitution
+suffering under a sedentary life, and an education confined to the
+narrow boundaries prescribed her sex, it has been her fate to devote a
+tedious seven years to the unremitting labour of literary
+productions--whilst a taste for authors of the first rank has been an
+additional punishment, forbidding her one moment of those self-approving
+reflections, which are assuredly due to the industrious. But, alas! in
+the exercise of the arts, industry scarce bears the name of merit. What
+then is to be substituted in the place of genius? GOOD FORTUNE. And if
+these volumes should be attended by the good fortune that has
+accompanied her other writings, to that divinity, and that alone, she
+shall attribute their success.
+
+Yet, there is a _first cause_ still, to whom I cannot here forbear to
+mention my obligations.
+
+The Muses, I trust, will pardon me, that to them I do not feel myself
+obliged--for, in justice to their heavenly inspirations, I believe they
+have never yet favoured me with one visitation; but sent in their
+disguise NECESSITY, who, being the mother of Invention, gave me all
+mine--while FORTUNE kindly smiled, and was accessory to the cheat.
+
+But this important secret I long wished, and endeavoured to conceal; yet
+one unlucky moment candidly, though unwittingly, divulged it--I frankly
+owned, "That Fortune having chased away Necessity, there remained no
+other incitement to stimulate me to a labour I abhorred." It happened to
+be in the power of the person to whom I confided this secret, to send
+NECESSITY once more. Once more, then, bowing to its empire, I submit to
+the task it enjoins.
+
+This case has something similar to a theatrical anecdote told (I think)
+by Colly Cibber:
+
+"A performer of a very mean salary, played the Apothecary in Romeo and
+Juliet so exactly to the satisfaction of the audience, that this little
+part, independent of the other characters, drew immense houses whenever
+the play was performed. The manager in consequence, thought it but
+justice to advance the actor's salary; on which the poor man (who, like
+the character he represented, had been half starved before) began to
+live so comfortably, he became too plump for the part; and being of no
+importance in any thing else, the manager of course now wholly
+discharged him--and thus, actually reducing him to the want of a piece of
+bread, in a short time he became a proper figure for the part again."
+
+Welcome, then, thou all-powerful principle, NECESSITY! THOU, who art the
+instigator of so many bad authors and actors--THOU, who from my infancy
+seldom hast forsaken me, still abide with me. I will not complain of any
+hardship thy commands require, so thou dost not urge my pen to
+prostitution. In all thy rigour, oh! do not force my toil to libels--or
+what is equally pernicious--panegyric on the unworthy!
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Dorriforth, bred at St. Omer's in all the scholastic rigour of that
+college, was, by education, and the solemn vows of his order, a Roman
+Catholic priest--but nicely discriminating between the philosophical and
+the superstitious part of that character, and adopting the former only,
+he possessed qualities not unworthy the first professors of
+Christianity. Every virtue which it was his vocation to preach, it was
+his care to practise; nor was he in the class of those of the religious,
+who, by secluding themselves from the world, fly the merit they might
+have in reforming mankind. He refused to shelter himself from the
+temptations of the layman by the walls of a cloister, but sought for,
+and found that shelter in the centre of London, where he dwelt, in his
+own prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance.
+
+He was about thirty, and had lived in the metropolis near five years,
+when a gentleman above his own age, but with whom he had from his youth
+contracted a most sincere friendship, died, and left him the sole
+guardian of his daughter, who was then eighteen.
+
+The deceased Mr. Milner, on his approaching dissolution, perfectly
+sensible of his state, thus reasoned with himself before he made the
+nomination:--"I have formed no intimate friendship during my whole life,
+except one--I can be said to know the heart of no man, except the heart
+of Dorriforth. After knowing his, I never sought acquaintance with
+another--I did not wish to lessen the exalted estimation of human nature
+which he had inspired. In this moment of trembling apprehension for
+every thought which darts across my mind, and more for every action
+which I must soon be called to answer for; all worldly views here thrown
+aside, I act as if that tribunal, before which I every moment expect to
+appear, were now sitting in judgment upon my purpose. The care of an
+only child is the great charge that in this tremendous crisis I have to
+execute. These earthly affections that bind me to her by custom,
+sympathy, or what I fondly call parental love, would direct me to study
+her present happiness, and leave her to the care of those whom she
+thinks her dearest friends; but they are friends only in the sunshine of
+fortune; in the cold nipping frost of disappointment, sickness, or
+connubial strife, they will forsake the house of care, although the very
+house which they may have themselves built."
+
+Here the excruciating anguish of the father, overcame that of the dying
+man.
+
+"In the moment of desertion," continued he, "which I now picture to
+myself, where will my child find comfort? That heavenly aid which
+religion gives, and which now, amidst these agonizing tortures, cheers
+with humbler hope my afflicted soul; that, she will be denied."
+
+It is in this place proper to remark, that Mr. Milner was a member of
+the church of Rome, but on his marriage with a lady of Protestant
+tenets, they mutually agreed their sons should be educated in the
+religious opinion of their father, and their daughters in that of their
+mother. One child only was the result of their union, the child whose
+future welfare now occupied the anxious thoughts of her expiring father.
+From him the care of her education had been with-held, as he kept
+inviolate his promise to her departed mother on the article of religion,
+and therefore consigned his daughter to a boarding-school for
+Protestants, whence she returned with merely such ideas of religion as
+ladies of fashion at her age mostly imbibe. Her little heart employed in
+all the endless pursuits of personal accomplishments, had left her mind
+without one ornament, except such as nature gave; and even they were not
+wholly preserved from the ravages made by its rival, _Art._
+
+While her father was in health he beheld, with extreme delight, his
+accomplished daughter, without one fault which taste or elegance could
+have imputed to her; nor ever enquired what might be her other
+failings. But, cast on a bed of sickness, and upon the point of leaving
+her to her fate, those failings at once rushed on his thought--and all
+the pride, the fond enjoyment he had taken in beholding her open the
+ball, or delight her hearers with her wit, escaped his remembrance; or,
+not escaping it, were lamented with a sigh of compassion, or a
+contemptuous frown, at such frivolous qualifications.
+
+"Something essential," said he to himself, "must be considered--something
+to prepare her for an hour like this. Can I then leave her to the charge
+of those who themselves never remember such an hour will come?
+Dorriforth is the only person I know, who, uniting the moral virtues to
+those of religion, and pious faith to native honour, will protect,
+without controlling, instruct, without tyrannizing, comfort, without
+flattering; and, perhaps in time, make good by choice, rather than by
+constraint, the dear object of his dying friend's sole care."
+
+Dorriforth, who came post from London to visit Mr. Milner in his
+illness, received a few moments before his death all his injunctions,
+and promised to fulfil them. But, in this last token of his friend's
+esteem, he still was restrained from all authority to direct his ward in
+one religious opinion, contrary to those her mother had professed, and
+in which she herself had been educated.
+
+"Never perplex her mind with an idea that may disturb, but cannot
+reform"--were his latest words; and Dorriforth's reply gave him entire
+satisfaction.
+
+Miss Milner was not with her father at this affecting period--some
+delicately nervous friend, with whom she was on a visit at Bath, thought
+proper to conceal from her not only the danger of his death, but even
+his indisposition, lest it might alarm a mind she thought too
+susceptible. This refined tenderness gave poor Miss Milner the almost
+insupportable agony of hearing that her father was no more, even before
+she was told he was not in health. In the bitterest anguish she flew to
+pay her last duty to his remains, and performed it with the truest
+filial love, while Dorriforth, upon important business, was obliged to
+return to town.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Dorriforth returned to London heavily afflicted for the loss of his
+friend; and yet, perhaps, with his thoughts more engaged upon the trust
+which that friend had reposed in him. He knew the life Miss Milner had
+been accustomed to lead; he dreaded the repulses his admonitions might
+possibly meet; and feared he had undertaken a task he was too weak to
+execute--the protection of a young woman of fashion.
+
+Mr. Dorriforth was nearly related to one of our first Catholic Peers;
+his income was by no means confined, but approaching to affluence; yet
+such was his attention to those in poverty, and the moderation of his
+own desires, that he lived in all the careful plainness of oeconomy. His
+habitation was in the house of a Mrs. Horton, an elderly gentlewoman,
+who had a maiden niece residing with her, not many years younger than
+herself. But although Miss Woodley was thirty-five, and in person
+exceedingly plain, yet she possessed such an extreme cheerfulness of
+temper, and such an inexhaustible fund of good nature, that she escaped
+not only the ridicule, but even the appellation of an old maid.
+
+In this house Dorriforth had lived before the death of Mr. Horton; nor
+upon that event had he thought it necessary, notwithstanding his
+religious vow of celibacy, to fly the roof of two such innocent females
+as Mrs. Horton and her niece. On their part, they regarded him with all
+that respect and reverence which the most religious flock shews to its
+pastor; and his friendly society they not only esteemed a spiritual, but
+a temporal advantage, as the liberal stipend he allowed for his
+apartments and board, enabled them to continue in the large and
+commodious house which they had occupied during the life of Mr. Horton.
+
+Here, upon Mr. Dorriforth's return from his journey, preparations were
+made for the reception of his ward; her father having made it his
+request that she might, for a time at least, reside in the same house
+with her guardian, receive the same visits, and cultivate the
+acquaintance of his companions and friends.
+
+When the will of her father was made known to Miss Milner, she
+submitted, without the least reluctance, to all he had required. Her
+mind, at that time impressed with the most poignant sorrow for his loss,
+made no distinction of happiness that was to come; and the day was
+appointed, with her silent acquiescence, when she was to arrive in
+London, and there take up her abode, with all the retinue of a rich
+heiress.
+
+Mrs. Horton was delighted with the addition this acquisition to her
+family was likely to make to her annual income, and style of living. The
+good-natured Miss Woodley was overjoyed at the expectation of their new
+guest, yet she herself could not tell why--but the reason was, that her
+kind heart wanted a more ample field for its benevolence; and now her
+thoughts were all pleasingly employed how she should render, not only
+the lady herself, but even all her attendants, happy in their new
+situation.
+
+The reflections of Dorriforth were less agreeably engaged--Cares, doubts,
+fears, possessed his mind--and so forcibly possessed it, that upon every
+occasion which offered, he would inquisitively endeavour to gain
+intelligence of his ward's disposition before he saw her; for he was, as
+yet, a stranger not only to the real propensities of her mind, but even
+to her person; a constant round of visits having prevented his meeting
+her at her father's, the very few times he had been at his house, since
+her final return from school. The first person whose opinion he, with
+all proper reserve, asked concerning Miss Milner, was Lady Evans, the
+widow of a Baronet, who frequently visited at Mrs. Horton's.
+
+But that the reader may be interested in what Dorriforth says and does,
+it is necessary to give some description of his person and manners. His
+figure was tall and elegant, but his face, except a pair of dark bright
+eyes, a set of white teeth, and a graceful fall in his clerical curls of
+brown hair, had not one feature to excite admiration--yet such a gleam of
+sensibility was diffused over each, that many people mistook his face
+for handsome, and all were more or less attracted by it--in a word, the
+charm, that is here meant to be described, is a _countenance_--on _his_
+you read the feelings of his heart--saw all its inmost workings--the
+quick pulses that beat with hope and fear, or the gentle ones that moved
+in a more equal course of patience and resignation. On this countenance
+his thoughts were pourtrayed; and as his mind was enriched with every
+virtue that could make it valuable, so was his face adorned with every
+expression of those virtues--and they not only gave a lustre to his
+aspect, but added a harmonious sound to all he uttered; it was
+persuasive, it was perfect eloquence; whilst in his looks you beheld his
+thoughts moving with his lips, and ever coinciding with what he said.
+
+With one of those interesting looks which revealed the anxiety of his
+heart, and yet with that graceful restraint of all gesticulation, for
+which he was remarkable, even in his most anxious concerns, he addressed
+Lady Evans, who had called on Mrs. Horton to hear and to request the
+news of the day: "Your Ladyship was at Bath last spring--you know the
+young lady to whom I have the honour of being appointed guardian.
+Pray,"--
+
+He was earnestly intent upon asking a question, but was prevented by the
+person interrogated.
+
+"Dear Mr. Dorriforth, do not ask me any thing about Miss Milner--when I
+saw her she was very young: though indeed that is but three months ago,
+and she can't be much older now."
+
+"She is eighteen," answered Dorriforth, colouring with regret at the
+doubts which this lady had increased, but not inspired.
+
+"And she is very beautiful, that I can assure you," said Lady Evans.
+
+"Which I call no qualification," said Dorriforth, rising from his chair
+in evident uneasiness.
+
+"But where there is nothing else, let me tell you, beauty is something."
+
+"Much worse than nothing, in my opinion," returned Dorriforth.
+
+"But now, Mr. Dorriforth, do not from what I have said, frighten
+yourself, and imagine your ward worse than she really is--all I know of
+her, is merely, that she's young, idle, indiscreet, and giddy, with half
+a dozen lovers in her suite; some coxcombs, others men of gallantry,
+some single, and others married."
+
+Dorriforth started. "For the first time of my life," cried he with a
+manly sorrow, "I wish I had never known her father."
+
+"Nay," said Mrs. Horton, who expected every thing to happen just as she
+wished, (for neither an excellent education, the best company, or long
+experience had been able to cultivate or brighten this good lady's
+understanding,) "Nay," said she, "I am sure, Mr. Dorriforth, you will
+soon convert her from all her evil ways."
+
+"Dear me," returned Lady Evans, "I am sure I never meant to hint at any
+thing evil--and for what I have said, I will give you up my authors if
+you please; for they were not observations of my own; all I do is to
+mention them again."
+
+The good-natured Miss Woodley, who sat working at the window, an humble,
+but an attentive listener to this discourse, ventured here to say
+exactly six words: "Then don't mention them any more."
+
+"Let us change the subject," said Dorriforth.
+
+"With all my heart," cried Lady Evans; "and I am sure it will be to the
+young lady's advantage."
+
+"Is Miss Milner tall or short?" asked Mrs. Horton, still wishing for
+farther information.
+
+"Oh, tall enough of all conscience," returned she; "I tell you again
+that no fault can be found with her person."
+
+"But if her mind is defective"--exclaimed Dorriforth, with a sigh----
+
+"That may be improved as well as the person," cried Miss Woodley.
+
+"No, my dear," returned Lady Evans, "I never heard of a pad to make
+straight an ill-shapen disposition."
+
+"Oh, yes," answered Miss Woodley, "good company, good books, experience,
+and the misfortunes of others, may have more power to form the mind to
+virtue, than"----
+
+Miss Woodley was not permitted to proceed, for Lady Evans rising hastily
+from her seat, cried, "I must be gone--I have an hundred people waiting
+for me at home--besides, were I inclined to hear a sermon, I should
+desire Mr. Dorriforth to preach, and not you."
+
+Just then Mrs. Hillgrave was announced. "And here is Mrs. Hillgrave,"
+continued she--"I believe, Mrs. Hillgrave, you know Miss Milner, don't
+you? The young lady who has lately lost her father."
+
+Mrs. Hillgrave was the wife of a merchant who had met with severe
+losses: as soon as the name of Miss Milner was uttered, she lifted up
+her hands, and the tears started in her eyes.
+
+"There!" cried Lady Evans, "I desire you will give your opinion of her,
+and I am sorry I cannot stay to hear it." Saying this, she curtsied and
+took her leave.
+
+When Mrs. Hillgrave had been seated a few minutes, Mrs. Horton, who
+loved information equally with the most inquisitive of her sex, asked
+the new visitor--"If she might be permitted to know, why, at the mention
+of Miss Milner, she had seemed so much affected?"
+
+This question exciting the fears of Dorriforth, he turned anxiously
+round, attentive to the reply.
+
+"Miss Milner," answered she, "has been my benefactress and the best I
+ever had." As she spoke, she took out her handkerchief and wiped away
+the tears that ran down her face.
+
+"How so?" cried Dorriforth eagerly, with his own eyes moistened with
+joy, nearly as much as her's were with gratitude.
+
+"My husband, at the commencement of his distresses," replied Mrs.
+Hillgrave, "owed a sum of money to her father, and from repeated
+provocations, Mr. Milner was determined to seize upon all our
+effects--his daughter, however, by her intercessions, procured us time,
+in order to discharge the debt; and when she found _that_ time was
+insufficient, and her father no longer to be dissuaded from his
+intention, she secretly sold some of her most valuable ornaments to
+satisfy his demand, and screen us from its consequences."
+
+Dorriforth, pleased at this recital, took Mrs. Hillgrave by the hand,
+and told her, "she should never want a friend."
+
+"Is Miss Milner tall, or short?" again asked Mrs. Horton, fearing, from
+the sudden pause which had ensued, the subject should be dropped.
+
+"I don't know," answered Mrs. Hillgrave.
+
+"Is she handsome, or ugly?"
+
+"I really can't tell."
+
+"It is very strange you should not take notice!"
+
+"I did take notice, but I cannot depend upon my own judgment--to me she
+appeared beautiful as an angel; but perhaps I was deceived by the
+beauties of her disposition."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+This gentlewoman's visit inspired Mr. Dorriforth with some confidence in
+the principles and character of his ward. The day arrived on which she
+was to leave her late father's seat, and fix her abode at Mrs. Horton's;
+and her guardian, accompanied by Miss Woodley, went in his carriage to
+meet her, and waited at an inn on the road for her reception.
+
+After many a sigh paid to the memory of her father, Miss Milner, upon
+the tenth of November, arrived at the place, half-way on her journey to
+town, where Dorriforth and Miss Woodley were expecting her. Besides
+attendants, she had with her a gentleman and lady, distant relations of
+her mother's, who thought it but a proper testimony of their civility to
+attend her part of the way, but who so much envied her guardian the
+trust Mr. Milner had reposed in him, that as soon as they had delivered
+her safe into his care, they returned.
+
+When the carriage, which brought Miss Milner, stopped at the inn gate,
+and her name was announced to Dorriforth, he turned pale--something like
+a foreboding of disaster trembled at his heart, and consequently spread
+a gloom over all his face. Miss Woodley was even obliged to rouse him
+from the dejection into which he was cast, or he would have sunk beneath
+it: she was obliged also to be the first to welcome his lovely
+charge.--Lovely beyond description.
+
+But the natural vivacity, the gaiety which report had given to Miss
+Milner, were softened by her recent sorrow to a meek sadness--and that
+haughty display of charms, imputed to her manners, was changed to a
+pensive demeanor. The instant Dorriforth was introduced to her by Miss
+Woodley as her "Guardian, and her deceased father's most beloved
+friend," she burst into tears, knelt down to him for a moment, and
+promised ever to obey him as her father. He had his handkerchief to his
+face at the time, or she would have beheld the agitation--the remotest
+sensations of his heart.
+
+This affecting introduction being over, after some minutes passed in
+general conversation, the carriages were again ordered; and, bidding
+farewell to the relations who had accompanied her, Miss Milner, her
+guardian, and Miss Woodley departed for town; the two ladies in Miss
+Milner's carriage, and Dorriforth in that in which he came.
+
+Miss Woodley, as they rode along, made no attempts to ingratiate herself
+with Miss Milner; though, perhaps, such an honour might constitute one
+of her first wishes--she behaved to her but as she constantly behaved to
+every other human creature--that, was sufficient to gain the esteem of a
+person possessed of an understanding equal to Miss Milner's--she had
+penetration to discover Miss Woodley's unaffected worth, and was soon
+induced to reward it with the warmest friendship.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+After a night's rest in London, less violently impressed with the loss
+of her father, reconciled, if not already attached to her new
+acquaintance, her thoughts pleasingly occupied with the reflection that
+she was in that gay metropolis--a wild and rapturous picture of which her
+active fancy had often formed--Miss Milner waked from a peaceful and
+refreshing sleep, with much of that vivacity, and with all those airy
+charms, which for a while had yielded their transcendent power to the
+weaker influence of her filial sorrow.
+
+Beautiful as she had appeared to Miss Woodley and to Dorriforth on the
+preceding day, when she joined them this morning at breakfast,
+re-possessed of her lively elegance and dignified simplicity, they gazed
+at her, and at each other alternately, with astonishment!--and Mrs.
+Horton, as she sat at the head of her tea-table, felt herself but as a
+menial servant: such command has beauty if united with sense and virtue.
+In Miss Milner it was so united. Yet let not our over-scrupulous readers
+be misled, and extend their idea of her virtue so as to magnify it
+beyond that which frail mortals commonly possess; nor must they cavil,
+if, on a nearer view, they find it less--but let them consider, that if
+she had more faults than generally belong to others, she had likewise
+more temptations.
+
+From her infancy she had been indulged in all her wishes to the extreme
+of folly, and started habitually at the unpleasant voice of control. She
+was beautiful; she had been too frequently told the high value of that
+beauty, and thought every moment passed in wasteful idleness during
+which she was not gaining some new conquest. She had a quick
+sensibility, which too frequently discovered itself in the immediate
+resentment of injuries or neglect. She had, besides, acquired the
+dangerous character of a wit; but to which she had no real pretensions,
+although the most discerning critic, hearing her converse, might fall
+into this mistake. Her replies had all the effect of repartee, not
+because she possessed those qualities which can properly be called wit,
+but that what she said was delivered with an energy, an instantaneous
+and powerful conception of the sentiment, joined with a real or a
+well-counterfeited simplicity, a quick turn of the eye, and an arch
+smile. Her words were but the words of others, and, like those of
+others, put into common sentences; but the delivery made them pass for
+wit, as grace in an ill-proportioned figure will often make it pass for
+symmetry.
+
+And now--leaving description--the reader must form a judgment of her by
+her actions; by all the round of great or trivial circumstances that
+shall be related.
+
+At breakfast, which had just begun at the commencement of this chapter,
+the conversation was lively on the part of Miss Milner, wise on the part
+of Dorriforth, good on the part of Miss Woodley, and an endeavour at all
+three on the part of Mrs. Horton. The discourse at length drew from Mr.
+Dorriforth this observation:
+
+"You have a greater resemblance of your father, Miss Milner, than I
+imagined you had from report: I did not expect to find you so like him."
+
+"Nor did I, Mr. Dorriforth, expect to find you any thing like what you
+are."
+
+"No?--pray what did you expect to find me?"
+
+"I expected to find you an elderly man, and a plain man."
+
+This was spoken in an artless manner, but in a tone which obviously
+declared she thought her guardian young and handsome. He replied, but
+not without some little embarrassment, "A plain man you shall find me in
+all my actions."
+
+"Then your actions are to contradict your appearance."
+
+For in what she said, Miss Milner had the quality peculiar to wits, of
+hazarding the thought that first occurs, which thought, is generally
+truth. On this, he paid her a compliment in return.
+
+"You, Miss Milner, I should suppose, must be a very bad judge of what is
+plain, and what is not."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Because I am sure you will readily own you do not think yourself
+handsome; and allowing that, you instantly want judgment."
+
+"And I would rather want judgment than beauty," she replied, "and so I
+give up the one for the other."
+
+With a serious face, as if proposing a very serious question, Dorriforth
+continued, "And you really believe you are not handsome?"
+
+"I should, if I consulted my own opinion, believe that I was not; but in
+some respects I am like Roman Catholics; I don't believe upon my own
+understanding, but from what other people tell me."
+
+"And let this convince you," replied Dorriforth, "that what we teach is
+truth; for you find you would be deceived did you not trust to persons
+who know better than yourself. But, my dear Miss Milner, we will talk
+upon some other topic, and never resume this again--we differ in opinion,
+I dare say, on one subject only, and this difference I hope will never
+extend itself to any other. Therefore, let not religion be named between
+us; for as I have resolved never to persecute you, in pity be grateful,
+and do not persecute me."
+
+Miss Milner looked with surprise that any thing so lightly said, should
+be so seriously received. The kind Miss Woodley ejaculated a short
+prayer to herself, that heaven would forgive her young friend the
+involuntary sin of religious ignorance--while Mrs. Horton, unperceived,
+as she imagined, made the sign of the cross upon her forehead as a guard
+against the infectious taint of heretical opinions. This pious ceremony
+Miss Milner by chance observed, and now shewed such an evident
+propensity to burst into a fit of laughter, that the good lady of the
+house could no longer contain her resentment, but exclaimed, "God
+forgive you," with a severity so different from the idea which the words
+conveyed, that the object of her anger was, on this, obliged freely to
+indulge that impulse which she had in vain been struggling to suppress;
+and no longer suffering under the agony of restraint, she gave way to
+her humour, and laughed with a liberty so uncontrolled, that soon left
+her in the room with none but the tender-hearted Miss Woodley a witness
+of her folly.
+
+"My dear Miss Woodley," (then cried Miss Milner, after recovering
+herself) "I am afraid you will not forgive me."
+
+"No, indeed I will not," returned Miss Woodley.
+
+But how unimportant, how weak, how ineffectual are _words_ in
+conversation--looks and manners alone express--for Miss Woodley, with her
+charitable face and mild accents, saying she would not forgive, implied
+only forgiveness--while Mrs. Horton, with her enraged voice and aspect,
+begging heaven to pardon the offender, palpably said, she thought her
+unworthy of all pardon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Six weeks have now elapsed since Miss Milner has been in London
+partaking with delight all its pleasures, while Dorriforth has been
+sighing with apprehension, attending to her with precaution, and praying
+with zealous fervour for her safety. Her own and her guardian's
+acquaintance, and, added to them, the new friendships (to use the
+unmeaning language of the world) which she was continually forming,
+crowded so perpetually to the house, that seldom had Dorriforth even a
+moment left him from her visits or visitors, to warn her of her
+danger:--yet when a moment offered, he caught it eagerly--pressed the
+necessity of "Time not always passed in society; of reflection; of
+reading; of thoughts for a future state; and of virtues acquired to make
+old age supportable." That forcible power of genuine feeling, which
+directs the tongue to eloquence, had its effect while she listened to
+him, and she sometimes put on the looks and gesture of assent--sometimes
+even spoke the language of conviction; but this the first call of
+dissipation would change to ill-timed raillery, or peevish remonstrance,
+at being limited in delights her birth and fortune entitled her to
+enjoy.
+
+Among the many visitors who attended at her levees, and followed her
+wherever she went, there was one who seemed, even when absent from her,
+to share her thoughts. This was Lord Frederick Lawnly, the younger son
+of a Duke, and the avowed favourite of all the most discerning women of
+taste.
+
+He was not more than twenty-three; animated, elegant, extremely
+handsome, and possessed of every accomplishment that would captivate a
+heart less susceptible of love than Miss Milner's was supposed to be.
+With these allurements, no wonder if she took pleasure in his company--no
+wonder if she took pride in having it known that he was among the number
+of her devoted admirers. Dorriforth beheld this growing intimacy with
+alternate pain and pleasure--he wished to see Miss Milner married, to see
+his charge in the protection of another, rather than of himself; yet
+under the care of a young nobleman, immersed in all the vices of the
+town, without one moral excellence, but such as might result eventually
+from the influence of the moment--under such care he trembled for her
+happiness--yet trembled more lest her heart should be purloined without
+even the authority of matrimonial views.
+
+With sentiments like these, Dorriforth could never disguise his
+uneasiness at the sight of Lord Frederick, nor could the latter help
+discerning the suspicion of the guardian, and consequently each was
+embarrassed in the presence of the other. Miss Milner observed, but
+observed with indifference, the sensations of both--there was but one
+passion which then held a place in her bosom, and that was vanity;
+vanity defined into all the species of pride, vain-glory,
+self-approbation--an inordinate desire of admiration, and an immoderate
+enjoyment of the art of pleasing, for her own individual happiness, and
+not for the happiness of others. Still had she a heart inclined, and
+oftentimes affected by tendencies less unworthy; but those approaches to
+what was estimable, were in their first impulse too frequently met and
+intercepted by some darling folly.
+
+Miss Woodley (who could easily discover a virtue, although of the most
+diminutive kind, and scarce through the magnifying glass of calumny
+could ever perceive a fault) was Miss Milner's inseparable companion at
+home, and her zealous advocate with Dorriforth, whenever, during her
+absence, she became the subject of discourse. He listened with hope to
+the praises of her friend, but saw with despair how little they were
+merited. Sometimes he struggled to subdue his anger, but oftener strove
+to suppress tears of pity for her hapless state.
+
+By this time all her acquaintance had given Lord Frederick to her as a
+lover; the servants whispered it, and some of the public prints had even
+fixed the day of marriage;--but as no explanation had taken place on his
+part, Dorriforth's uneasiness was increased, and he seriously told his
+ward, he thought it would be indispensably prudent in her to entreat
+Lord Frederick to discontinue his visits. She smiled with ridicule at
+the caution, but finding it repeated, and in a manner that indicated
+authority, she promised not only to make, but to enforce the request.
+The next time he came she did so, assuring him it was by her guardian's
+desire; "Who, from motives of delicacy, had permitted her to solicit as
+a favour, what he could himself make a demand." Lord Frederick reddened
+with anger--he loved Miss Milner; but he doubted whether, from the
+frequent proofs he had experienced of his own inconstancy, he should
+continue to love--and this interference of her guardian threatened an
+explanation or a dismission, before he became thoroughly acquainted with
+his own heart.--Alarmed, confounded, and provoked, he replied,
+
+"By heaven, I believe Mr. Dorriforth loves you himself, and it is
+jealousy that makes him treat me in this manner."
+
+"For shame, my Lord!" cried Miss Woodley, who was present, and who
+trembled with horror at the sacrilegious idea.
+
+"Nay, shame to him if he is not in love"--answered his Lordship, "for who
+but a savage could behold beauty like her's without owning its power?"
+
+"Habit," replied Miss Milner, "is every thing--Mr. Dorriforth sees and
+converses with beauty, but from habit he does not fall in love; as you,
+my Lord, from habit, so often do."
+
+"Then you believe that love is not in my nature?"
+
+"No more of it, my Lord, than habit could very soon extinguish."
+
+"But I would not have it extinguished--I would rather it should mount to
+a flame, for I think it a crime to be insensible of the divine blessings
+love can bestow."
+
+"Then you indulge the passion to avoid a sin?--this very motive deters
+Mr. Dorriforth from that indulgence."
+
+"It ought to deter him, for the sake of his oaths--but monastick vows,
+like those of marriage, were made to be broken--and surely when your
+guardian looks at you, his wishes"----
+
+"Are never less pure," she replied eagerly, "than those which dwell in
+the bosom of my _celestial_ guardian."
+
+At that instant Dorriforth entered the room. The colour had mounted into
+Miss Milner's face from the warmth with which she had delivered her
+opinion, and his accidental entrance at the very moment this praise had
+been conferred upon him in his absence, heightened the blush to a deep
+glow on every feature--confusion and earnestness caused even her lips to
+tremble and her whole frame to shake.
+
+"What's the matter?" cried Dorriforth, looking with concern on her
+discomposure.
+
+"A compliment paid by herself to you, Sir," replied Lord Frederick, "has
+affected your ward in the manner you have seen."
+
+"As if she blushed at the untruth," said Dorriforth.
+
+"Nay, that is unkind," cried Miss Woodley; "for if you had been here"----
+
+"--I would not have said what I did," replied Miss Milner, "but left him
+to vindicate himself."
+
+"Is it possible that I can want any vindication? Who would think it
+worth their while to slander so unimportant a person as I am?"
+
+"The man who has the charge of Miss Milner," replied Lord Frederick,
+"derives a consequence from her."
+
+"No ill consequence, I hope, my Lord?" said Dorriforth, with a firmness
+in his voice, and with an eye so fixed, that his antagonist hesitated
+for a moment in want of a reply--and Miss Milner softly whispering to
+him, as her guardian turned his head, to avoid an argument, he bowed
+acquiescence. And then, as if in compliment to her, he changed the
+subject;--with an air of ridicule he cried,
+
+"I wish, Mr. Dorriforth, you would give me absolution of all my sins,
+for I confess they are many, and manifold."
+
+"Hold, my Lord," exclaimed Dorriforth, "do not confess before the
+ladies, lest, in order to excite their compassion, you should be tempted
+to accuse yourself of sins you have never yet committed."
+
+At this Miss Milner laughed, seemingly so well pleased, that Lord
+Frederick, with a sarcastic sneer, repeated,
+
+          "From Abelard it came,
+    And Eloisa still must love the name."
+
+Whether from an inattention to the quotation, or from a consciousness it
+was wholly inapplicable, Dorriforth heard it without one emotion of
+shame or of anger--while Miss Milner seemed shocked at the implication;
+her pleasantry was immediately suppressed, and she threw open the sash
+and held her head out at the window, to conceal the embarrassment these
+lines had occasioned.
+
+The Earl of Elmwood was at that juncture announced--a Catholic nobleman,
+just come of age, and on the eve of marriage. His visit was to his
+cousin, Mr. Dorriforth, but as all ceremonious visits were alike
+received by Dorriforth, Miss Milner, and Mrs. Horton's family, in one
+common apartment, Lord Elmwood was ushered into this, and of course
+directed the conversation to a different subject.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+With an anxious desire that the affection, or acquaintance, between Lord
+Frederick and Miss Milner might be finally dissolved, her guardian
+received with infinite satisfaction, overtures of marriage from Sir
+Edward Ashton. Sir Edward was not young or handsome; old or ugly; but
+immensely rich, and possessed of qualities that made him worthy of the
+happiness to which he aspired. He was the man whom Dorriforth would have
+chosen before any other for the husband of his ward, and his wishes made
+him sometimes hope, against his cooler judgment, that Sir Edward would
+not be rejected--he was resolved, at all events, to try the force of his
+own power in the strongest recommendation of him.
+
+Notwithstanding that dissimilarity of opinion which, in almost every
+instance, subsisted between Miss Milner and her guardian, there was in
+general the most punctilious observance of good manners from each
+towards the other--on the part of Dorriforth more especially; for his
+politeness would sometimes appear even like the result of a system which
+he had marked out for himself, as the only means to keep his ward
+restrained within the same limitations. Whenever he addressed her there
+was an unusual reserve upon his countenance, and more than usual
+gentleness in the tone of his voice; this appeared the effect of
+sentiments which her birth and situation inspired, joined to a studied
+mode of respect, best calculated to enforce the same from her. The
+wished-for consequence was produced--for though there was an instinctive
+rectitude in the understanding of Miss Milner that would have taught
+her, without other instruction, what manners to observe towards her
+deputed father; yet, from some volatile thought, or some quick sense of
+feeling, which she had not been accustomed to subdue, she was
+perpetually on the verge of treating him with levity; but he would
+immediately recall her recollection by a reserve too awful, and a
+gentleness too sacred for her to violate. The distinction which both
+required, was thus, by his skilful management alone, preserved.
+
+One morning he took an opportunity, before her and Miss Woodley, to
+introduce and press the subject of Sir Edward Ashton's hopes. He first
+spoke warmly in his praise, then plainly said that he believed she
+possessed the power of making so deserving a man happy to the summit of
+his wishes. A laugh of ridicule was the only answer; but a sudden frown
+from Dorriforth having put an end to it, he resumed his usual
+politeness, and said,
+
+"I wish you would shew a better taste, than thus pointedly to disapprove
+of Sir Edward."
+
+"How, Mr. Dorriforth, can you expect me to give proofs of a good taste,
+when Sir Edward, whom you consider with such high esteem, has given so
+bad an example of his, in approving me?"
+
+Dorriforth wished not to flatter her by a compliment she seemed to have
+sought for, and for a moment hesitated what answer to make.
+
+"Reply, Sir, to that question," she said.
+
+"Why then, Madam," returned he, "it is my opinion, that supposing what
+your humility has advanced be just, yet Sir Edward will not suffer by
+the suggestion; for in cases where the heart is so immediately
+concerned, as I believe Sir Edward's to be, taste, or rather reason, has
+no power to act."
+
+"You are in the right, Mr. Dorriforth; this is a proper justification of
+Sir Edward--and when I fall in love, I beg that you will make the same
+excuse for me."
+
+"Then," said he earnestly, "before your heart is in that state which I
+have described, exert your reason."
+
+"I shall," answered she, "and not consent to marry a man whom I could
+never love."
+
+"Unless your heart is already given away, Miss Milner, what can make you
+speak with such a degree of certainty?"
+
+He thought on Lord Frederick when he said this, and he riveted his eyes
+upon her as if to penetrate her sentiments, and yet trembled for what he
+should find there. She blushed, and her looks would have confirmed her
+guilty, if the unembarrassed and free tone of her voice, more than her
+words, had not preserved her from that sentence.
+
+"No," she replied, "my heart is not given away; and yet I can venture to
+declare, Sir Edward will never possess an atom of it."
+
+"I am sorry, for both your sakes, that these are your sentiments," he
+replied. "But as your heart is still your own," (and he seemed rejoiced
+to find it was) "permit me to warn you how you part with a thing so
+precious--the dangers, the sorrows you hazard in bestowing it, are
+greater than you may be aware of. The heart once gone, our thoughts, our
+actions, are no more our own, than that is." He seemed _forcing_ himself
+to utter all this, and yet broke off as if he could have said much more,
+if the extreme delicacy of the subject had not prevented him.
+
+When he left the room, and she heard the door shut after him, she said,
+with an inquisitive thoughtfulness, "What can make good people so
+skilled in all the weaknesses of the bad? Mr. Dorriforth, with all those
+prudent admonitions, appears rather like a man who has passed his life
+in the gay world, experienced all its dangerous allurements, all its
+repentant sorrows; than like one who has lived his whole time secluded
+in a monastery, or in his own study. Then he speaks with such exquisite
+sensibility on the subject of love, that he commends the very thing
+which he attempts to depreciate. I do not think my Lord Frederick would
+make the passion appear in more pleasing colours by painting its
+delights, than Mr. Dorriforth could in describing its sorrows--and if he
+talks to me frequently in this manner, I shall certainly take pity on
+Lord Frederick, for the sake of his adversary's eloquence."
+
+Miss Woodley, who heard the conclusion of this speech with the tenderest
+concern, cried, "Alas! you then think seriously of Lord Frederick!"
+
+"Suppose I do, wherefore that _alas!_ Miss Woodley?"
+
+"Because I fear you will never be happy with him."
+
+"That is plainly telling me he will not be happy with me."
+
+"I do not know--I cannot speak of marriage from experience," answered
+Miss Woodley, "but I think I can guess what it is."
+
+"Nor can I speak of love from experience," replied Miss Milner, "but I
+think I can guess what it is."
+
+"But do not fall in love, my dear," (cried Miss Woodley, with her
+accustomed simplicity of heart, as if she had been asking a favour that
+depended upon the will of the person entreated,) "pray do not fall in
+love without the approbation of your guardian."
+
+Her young friend smiled at the inefficacious prayer, but promised to do
+all she could to oblige her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Sir Edward, not wholly discouraged by the denial with which Dorriforth
+had, with delicacy, acquainted him, still hoped for a kind reception,
+and was so often at the house of Mrs. Horton, that Lord Frederick's
+jealousy was excited, and the tortures he suffered in consequence,
+convinced him, beyond a doubt, of the sincerity of his affection. Every
+time he beheld the object of his passion, (for he still continued his
+visits, though not so frequently as heretofore) he pleaded his cause
+with such ardour, that Miss Woodley, who was sometimes present, and ever
+compassionate, could not resist wishing him success. He now
+unequivocally offered marriage, and entreated that he might lay his
+proposals before Mr. Dorriforth, but this was positively forbidden.
+
+Her reluctance he imputed, however, more to the known partiality of her
+guardian for the addresses of Sir Edward, than to any motive which
+depended upon herself; and to Mr. Dorriforth he conceived a greater
+dislike than ever; believing that through his interposition, in spite of
+his ward's attachment, he might yet be deprived of her. But Miss Milner
+declared both to him and to her friend, that love had, at present,
+gained no influence over her mind. Yet did the watchful Miss Woodley
+oftentimes hear a sigh escape from her unknown to herself, till she was
+reminded of it, and then a sudden blush would instantly overspread her
+face. This seeming struggle with her passion, endeared her more than
+ever to Miss Woodley, and she would even risk the displeasure of
+Dorriforth by her compliance with every new pursuit that might amuse the
+time, which else her friend passed in heaviness of heart.
+
+Balls, plays, incessant company, at length roused her guardian from that
+mildness with which he had been accustomed to treat her. Night after
+night his sleep had been disturbed by fears for her when abroad; morning
+after morning it had been broken by the clamour of her return. He
+therefore gravely said to her one forenoon as he met her accidentally
+upon the staircase,
+
+"I hope, Miss Milner, you pass this evening at home?"
+
+Unprepared for the sudden question, she blushed and replied,
+"Yes."--Though she knew she was engaged to a brilliant assembly, for
+which her milliner had been consulted a whole week.
+
+She, however, flattered herself that what she had said might be excused
+as a mistake, the lapse of memory, or some other trifling fault, when he
+should know the truth. The truth was earlier divulged than she
+expected--for just as dinner was removed, her footman delivered a message
+to her from her milliner concerning a new dress for the evening--the
+_present evening_ particularly marked. Her guardian looked astonished.
+
+"I thought, Miss Milner, you gave me your word that you would pass this
+evening at home?"
+
+"I mistook--for I had before given my word that I should pass it abroad."
+
+"Indeed!" cried he.
+
+"Yes, indeed; and I believe it is right that I should keep my first
+promise; is it not?"
+
+"The promise you gave me then, you do not think of any consequence?"
+
+"Yes, certainly, if you do."
+
+"I do."
+
+"And mean, perhaps, to make it of more consequence than it deserves, by
+being offended."
+
+"Whether or not, I _am_ offended--you shall find I am." And he looked so.
+
+She caught his piercing eyes--her's were immediately cast
+down; and she trembled--either with shame or with resentment.
+
+Mrs. Horton rose from her seat--moved the decanters and fruit round the
+table--stirred the fire--and came back to her seat again, before another
+word was uttered. Nor had this good woman's officious labours taken the
+least from the awkwardness of the silence, which, as soon as the bustle
+she had made was over, returned in its full force.
+
+At last, Miss Milner rising with alacrity, was preparing to go out of
+the room, when Dorriforth raised his voice, and in a tone of authority
+said,
+
+"Miss Milner, you shall not leave the house this evening."
+
+"Sir!" she exclaimed with a kind of doubt of what she had heard--a
+surprise, which fixed her hand on the door she had half opened, but
+which now she shewed herself irresolute whether to open wide in
+defiance, or to shut submissively. Before she could resolve, he rose
+from his chair, and said, with a force and warmth she had never heard
+him use before,
+
+"I command you to stay at home this evening." And he walked immediately
+out of the apartment by another door.
+
+Her hand fell motionless from that which she held--she appeared
+motionless herself--till Mrs. Horton, "Beseeching her not to be uneasy at
+the treatment she had received," made her tears flow as if her heart was
+breaking.
+
+Miss Woodley would have said something to comfort her, but she had
+caught the infection, and could not utter a word. It was not from any
+real cause of grief that she wept; but there was a magnetic quality in
+tears, which always attracted her's.
+
+Mrs. Horton secretly enjoyed this scene, though the real well meaning of
+her heart, and ease of her conscience, did not suffer her to think so.
+She, however, declared she had "long prognosticated it would come to
+this;" and she "only thanked heaven it was no worse."
+
+"What could be worse, Madam?" cried Miss Milner; "am not I disappointed
+of the ball?"
+
+"You don't mean to go then?" said Mrs. Horton; "I commend your prudence;
+and I dare say it is more than your guardian gives you credit for."
+
+"Do you think I would go," answered Miss Milner, with an eagerness that
+for a time suppressed her tears, "in contradiction to his will?"
+
+"It is not the first time, I believe, you have acted contrary to that,
+Miss Milner," replied Mrs. Horton, and affected a tenderness of voice,
+to soften the harshness of her words.
+
+"If you think so, Madam, I see nothing that should prevent me now." And
+she flung out of the room as if she had resolved to disobey him. This
+alarmed poor Miss Woodley.
+
+"My dear aunt," she cried to Mrs. Horton, "follow and prevail upon Miss
+Milner to give up her design; she means to be at the ball in opposition
+to her guardian's will."
+
+"Then," said Mrs. Horton, "I'll not be instrumental in detering her--if
+she does it may be for the best; it may give Mr. Dorriforth a clearer
+knowledge what means are proper to convert her from evil."
+
+"But, my dear Madam, she must be preserved from the evil of
+disobedience; and as you tempted, you will be the most likely to
+dissuade her. But if you will not, I must endeavour."
+
+Miss Woodley was leaving the room to perform this good work, when Mrs.
+Horton, in imitation of the example given her by Dorriforth, cried,
+
+"Niece, I command you not to stir out of this room this evening."
+
+Miss Woodley obediently sat down--and though her thoughts and heart were
+in the chamber of her friend, she never marked by one impertinent word,
+or by one line of her face, the restraint she suffered.
+
+At the usual hour, Mr. Dorriforth and his ward were summoned to tea:--he
+entered with a countenance which evinced the remains of anger; his eye
+gave testimony of his absent thoughts; and though he took up a pamphlet
+affecting to read, it was plain to discern that he scarcely knew he held
+it in his hand.
+
+Mrs. Horton began to make tea with a mind as intent upon something else
+as Dorriforth's--she longed for the event of this misunderstanding; and
+though she wished no ill to Miss Milner, yet with an inclination bent
+upon seeing something new--without the fatigue of going out of her own
+house--she was not over scrupulous what that novelty might be. But for
+fear she should have the imprudence to speak a word upon the subject
+which employed her thoughts, or even to look as if she thought of it at
+all; she pinched her lips close together, and cast her eyes on vacancy,
+lest their significant regards might expose her to detection. And for
+fear any noise should intercept even the sound of what might happen, she
+walked across the room more softly than usual, and more softly touched
+every thing she was obliged to lay her hand on.
+
+Miss Woodley thought it her duty to be mute; and now the gingle of a tea
+spoon was like a deep-toned bell, all was so quiet.
+
+Mrs. Horton, too, in the self-approving reflection that she was not in a
+quarrel or altercation of any kind, felt herself at this moment
+remarkably peaceful and charitable. Miss Woodley did not recollect
+_herself_ so, but was so in reality--in her, peace and charity were
+instinctive virtues, accident could not increase them.
+
+The tea had scarce been made, when a servant came with Miss Milner's
+compliments, and she "did not mean to have any tea." The pamphlet shook
+in Dorriforth's hand while this message was delivered--he believed her to
+be dressing for her evening's entertainment, and now studied in what
+manner he should prevent, or resent her disobedience to his commands. He
+coughed--drank his tea--endeavoured to talk, but found it
+difficult--sometimes read--and in this manner near two hours were passed
+away, when Miss Milner came into the room.--Not dressed for a ball, but
+as she had risen from dinner. Dorriforth read on, and seemed afraid of
+looking up, lest he should see what he could not have pardoned. She
+drew a chair and sat at the table by the side of her delighted friend.
+
+After a few minutes' pause, and some little embarrassment on the part of
+Mrs. Horton, at the disappointment she had to encounter from this
+unexpected dutiful conduct, she asked Miss Milner, "if she would now
+have any tea?" She replied, "No, I thank you, Ma'am," in a voice so
+languid, compared with her usual one, that Dorriforth lifted up his eyes
+from the book; and seeing her in the same dress that she had worn all
+the day, turned them hastily away from her again--not with a look of
+triumph, but of confusion.
+
+Whatever he might have suffered if he had seen her decorated, and
+prepared to bid defiance to his commands, yet even upon that trial, he
+would not have endured half the painful sensations he now for a moment
+felt--he felt himself to blame.
+
+He feared that he had treated her with too much severity--he admired her
+condescension, accused himself for having exacted it--he longed to ask
+her pardon--he did not know how.
+
+A cheerful reply from her, to a question of Miss Woodley's, embarrassed
+him still more--he wished that she had been sullen, he then would have
+had a temptation, or pretence, to have been sullen too.
+
+With all these sentiments crowding fast upon his heart, he still read,
+or seemed to read, as if he took no notice of what was passing; till a
+servant came into the room and asked Miss Milner at what time she should
+want the carriage? to which she replied, "I don't go out to-night."
+Dorriforth then laid the book out of his hand, and by the time the
+servant had left the room, thus began:
+
+"Miss Milner, I give you, I fear, some unkind proofs of my regard. It is
+often the ungrateful task of a friend to be troublesome--sometimes
+unmannerly. Forgive the duties of my office, and believe that no one is
+half so much concerned if it robs you of any degree of happiness, as I
+myself am."
+
+What he said, he looked with so much sincerity, that had she been
+burning with rage at his late behaviour, she must have forgiven him,
+for the regret which he so forcibly exprest. She was going to reply, but
+found she could not, without accompanying her words with tears,
+therefore, after the first attempt, she desisted.
+
+On this he rose from his chair, and going to her, said, "Once more shew
+your submission by obeying me a second time to-day. Keep your
+appointment, and be assured that I shall issue my commands with more
+circumspection for the future, as I find how strictly they are complied
+with."
+
+Miss Milner, the gay, the vain, the dissipated, the haughty Miss Milner,
+sunk underneath this kindness, and wept with a gentleness and patience,
+which did not give more surprise than it gave joy to Dorriforth. He was
+charmed to find her disposition so tractable--prophesied to himself the
+future success of his guardianship, and her eternal as well as temporal
+happiness from this specimen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Although Dorriforth was the good man that he has been described, there
+were in his nature shades of evil--there was an obstinacy which he
+himself, and his friends termed firmness of mind; but had not religion
+and some opposite virtues weighed heavily in the balance, it would
+frequently have degenerated into implacable stubbornness.
+
+The child of a sister once beloved, who married a young officer against
+her brother's consent, was at the age of three years left an orphan,
+destitute of all support but from his uncle's generosity: but though
+Dorriforth maintained, he would never see him. Miss Milner, whose heart
+was a receptacle for the unfortunate, no sooner was told the melancholy
+history of Mr. and Mrs. Rushbrook, the parents of the child, than she
+longed to behold the innocent inheritor of her guardian's resentment,
+and took Miss Woodley with her to see the boy. He was at a farm house a
+few miles from town; and his extreme beauty and engaging manners, wanted
+not the sorrows to which he had been born, to give him farther
+recommendation to the kindness of her, who had come to visit him. She
+looked at him with admiration and pity, and having endeared herself to
+him by the most affectionate words and caresses, on her bidding him
+farewell, he cried most pitiously to go along with her. Unused at any
+time to resist temptations, whether to reprehensible, or to laudable
+actions, she yielded to his supplications, and having overcome a few
+scruples of Miss Woodley's, determined to take young Rushbrook to town,
+and present him to his uncle. This idea was no sooner formed than
+executed. By making a present to the nurse, she readily gained her
+consent to part with him for a day or two, and the signs of joy denoted
+by the child on being put into the carriage, repaid her beforehand for
+every reproof she might receive from her guardian, for the liberty she
+had taken.
+
+"Besides," said she to Miss Woodley, who had still her fears, "do you
+not wish his uncle should have a warmer interest in his care than
+duty?--it is duty alone which induces Mr. Dorriforth to provide for him;
+but it is proper that affection should have some share in his
+benevolence--and how, hereafter, will he be so fit an object of the love
+which compassion excites, as he is at present?"
+
+Miss Woodley acquiesced. But before they arrived at their own door it
+came into Miss Milner's remembrance, that there was a grave sternness in
+the manners of her guardian when provoked, the recollection of which
+made her a little apprehensive for what she had done--her friend, who
+knew him better than she did, was more so. They both became silent as
+they approached the street where they lived--for Miss Woodley having once
+represented her fears, and having suppressed them in resignation to Miss
+Milner's better judgment, would not repeat them--and Miss Milner would
+not confess they were now troubling her.
+
+Just, however, as the coach stopped at the door, she had the forecast
+and the humility to say, "We will not tell Mr. Dorriforth the child is
+his nephew, unless he should appear fond, and pleased with him, and then
+I think we may venture without any danger."
+
+This was agreed; and when Dorriforth entered the room just before
+dinner, poor Harry Rushbrook was introduced as the son of a lady who
+frequently visited there. The deception passed--his uncle shook hands
+with him, and at length highly pleased with his engaging manner, and
+applicable replies, took him on his knee, and kissed him with affection.
+Miss Milner could scarce restrain the joy it gave her; but unluckily,
+Dorriforth said soon after to the child, "And now tell me your name."
+
+"Harry Rushbrook," replied he, with force and clearness of voice.
+
+Dorriforth was holding him fondly round the waist as he stood with his
+feet upon his knees; and at this reply he did not _throw_ him from
+him--but he removed his hands, which had supported him, so suddenly, that
+the child, to prevent falling on the floor, threw himself about his
+uncle's neck. Miss Milner and Miss Woodley turned aside to conceal their
+tears. "I had like to have been down," cried Harry, fearing no other
+danger. But his uncle took hold of each hand which had twined around
+him, and placed him immediately on the ground. The dinner being that
+instant served, he gave no greater marks of his resentment than calling
+for his hat, and walking instantly out of the house.
+
+Miss Milner cried for anger; yet she did not shew less kindness to the
+object of this vexatious circumstance: she held him in her arms while
+she sat at table, and repeatedly said to him, (though he had not the
+sense to thank her) "That she would always be his friend."
+
+The first emotions of resentment against Dorriforth being passed, she
+returned with her little charge to the farm house, before it was likely
+his uncle should come back; another instance of obedience, which Miss
+Woodley was impatient her guardian should know; she therefore enquired
+where he was, and sent him a note for the sole purpose of acquainting
+him with it, offering at the same time an apology for what had happened.
+He returned in the evening seemingly reconciled, nor was a word
+mentioned of the incident which had occurred in the former part of the
+day; yet in his countenance remained a perfect remembrance of it,
+without one trait of compassion for his helpless nephew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+There are few things so mortifying to a proud spirit as to suffer by
+immediate comparison--men can hardly bear it, but to women the punishment
+is intolerable; and Miss Milner now laboured under this humiliation to a
+degree which gave her no small inquietude.
+
+Miss Fenton, young, of exquisite beauty, elegant manners, gentle
+disposition, and discreet conduct, was introduced to Miss Milner's
+acquaintance by her guardian, and frequently, sometimes inadvertently,
+held up by him as a pattern for her to follow--for when he did not say
+this in direct terms, it was insinuated by the warmth of his panegyric
+on those virtues in which Miss Fenton excelled, and in which his ward
+was obviously deficient. Conscious of her own inferiority in these
+subjects of her guardian's praise, Miss Milner, instead of being
+inspired to emulation, was provoked to envy.
+
+Not to admire Miss Fenton was impossible--to find one fault with her
+person or sentiments was equally impossible--and yet to love her was
+unlikely.
+
+That serenity of mind which kept her features in a continual placid
+form, though enchanting at the first glance, upon a second or third,
+fatigued the sight for want of variety; and to have seen her distorted
+with rage, convulsed with mirth, or in deep dejection, had been to her
+advantage. But her superior soul appeared above those emotions, and
+there was more inducement to worship her as a saint than to love her as
+a woman. Yet Dorriforth, whose heart was not formed (at least not
+educated) for love, regarding her in the light of friendship only,
+beheld her as the most perfect model for her sex. Lord Frederick on
+first seeing her was struck with her beauty, and Miss Milner apprehended
+she had introduced a rival; but he had not seen her three times, before
+he called her "The most insufferable of Heaven's creatures," and vowed
+there was more charming variation in the plain features of Miss
+Woodley.
+
+Miss Milner had a heart affectionate to her own sex, even where she saw
+them in possession of superior charms; but whether from the spirit of
+contradiction, from feeling herself more than ordinarily offended by her
+guardian's praise of this lady, or that there was a reserve in Miss
+Fenton that did not accord with her own frank and ingenuous disposition,
+so as to engage her esteem, certain it is that she took infinite
+satisfaction in hearing her beauty and virtues depreciated or turned
+into ridicule, particularly if Mr. Dorriforth was present. This was
+painful to him upon many accounts; perhaps an anxiety for his ward's
+conduct was not among the least; and whenever the circumstance occurred,
+he could with difficulty restrain his anger. Miss Fenton was not only a
+person whose amiable qualities he admired, but she was soon to be allied
+to him by her marriage with his nearest relation, Lord Elmwood, a young
+nobleman whom he sincerely loved.
+
+Lord Elmwood had discovered all that beauty in Miss Fenton which every
+common observer could not but see. The charms of her mind and of her
+fortune had been pointed out by his tutor; and the utility of the
+marriage, in perfect submission to his precepts, he never permitted
+himself to question.
+
+This preceptor held with a magisterial power the government of his
+pupil's passions; nay, governed them so entirely, that no one could
+perceive (nor did the young Lord himself know) that he had any.
+
+This rigid monitor and friend was a Mr. Sandford, bred a Jesuit in the
+same college at which Dorriforth had since been educated, but before his
+time the order was compelled to take another name. Sandford had been the
+tutor of Dorriforth as well as of his cousin, Lord Elmwood, and by this
+double tie seemed now entailed upon the family. As a Jesuit, he was
+consequently a man of learning; possessed of steadiness to accomplish
+the end of any design once meditated, and of sagacity to direct the
+conduct of men more powerful, but less ingenious, than himself. The
+young Earl, accustomed in his infancy to fear him as his master, in his
+youthful manhood received every new indulgence with gratitude, and at
+length loved him as a father--nor had Dorriforth as yet shaken off
+similar sensations.
+
+Mr. Sandford perfectly knew how to influence the sentiments and
+sensations of all human kind, but yet he had the forbearance not to
+"draw all hearts towards him." There were some whose hatred he thought
+not unworthy of his pious labours; and in that pursuit he was more rapid
+in his success than even in procuring esteem. It was an enterprise in
+which he succeeded with Miss Milner even beyond his most sanguine wish.
+
+She had been educated at an English boarding school, and had no idea of
+the superior and subordinate state of characters in a foreign
+seminary--besides, as a woman, she was privileged to say any thing she
+pleased; and as a beautiful woman, she had a right to expect that
+whatever she pleased to say, should be admired.
+
+Sandford knew the hearts of women, as well as those of men, though he
+had passed little of his time in their society--he saw Miss Milner's
+heart at the first view of her person; and beholding in that little
+circumference a weight of folly that he wished to eradicate, he began to
+toil in the vineyard, eagerly courting her detestation of him, in the
+hope he could also make her abominate herself. In the mortifications of
+slight he was expert; and being a man of talents, whom all companies,
+especially her friends, respected, he did not begin by wasting that
+reverence so highly valued upon ineffectual remonstrances, of which he
+could foresee the reception, but wakened her attention by his neglect of
+her. He spoke of her in her presence as of an indifferent person,
+sometimes forgetting even to name her when the subject required it; then
+would ask her pardon, and say that he "Really did not recollect her,"
+with such seeming sorrow for his fault, that she could not think the
+offence intended, and of course felt the affront more acutely.
+
+While, with every other person she was the principle, the cause upon
+whom a whole party depended for conversation, cards, musick, or dancing,
+with Mr. Sandford she found that she was of no importance. Sometimes she
+tried to consider this disregard of her as merely the effect of
+ill-breeding; but he was not an ill-bred man: he was a gentleman by
+birth, and one who had kept the best company--a man of sense and
+learning. "And such a man slights me without knowing it," she said--for
+she had not dived so deeply into the powers of simulation, as to suspect
+that such careless manners were the result of art.
+
+This behaviour of Mr. Sandford had its desired effect--it humbled her in
+her own opinion more than a thousand sermons would have done preached on
+the vanity of youth and beauty. She felt an inward shame at the
+insignificance of these qualities that she never knew before, and would
+have been cured of all her pride, had she not possessed a degree of
+spirit beyond the generality of her sex--such a degree as even Mr.
+Sandford, with all his penetration, did not expect. She determined to
+resent his treatment; and, entering the lists as his declared enemy,
+give to the world a reason why he did not acknowledge her sovereignty,
+as well as the rest of her devoted subjects.
+
+She now commenced hostilities against all his arguments, his learning,
+and his favourite axioms; and by a happy talent of ridicule, in want of
+other weapons for this warfare, she threw in the way of the holy Father
+as great trials of his patience, as any that his order could have
+substituted in penance. Many things he bore like a martyr--at others, his
+fortitude would forsake him, and he would call on her guardian, his
+former pupil, to interpose with his authority: she would then declare
+that she only had acted thus "to try the good man's temper, and that if
+he had combated with his fretfulness a few moments longer, she would
+have acknowledged his claim to canonization; but that having yielded to
+the sallies of his anger, he must now go through numerous other
+probations."
+
+If Miss Fenton was admired by Dorriforth, by Sandford she was
+adored--and, instead of placing her as an example to Miss Milner, he
+spoke of her as of one endowed beyond Miss Milner's power of imitation.
+Often, with a shake of his head and a sigh, would he say,
+
+"No; I am not so hard upon you as your guardian: I only desire you to
+love Miss Fenton; to resemble her, I believe, is above your ability."
+
+This was too much to bear composedly--and poor Miss Woodley, who was
+generally a witness of these controversies, felt a degree of sorrow at
+every sentence which like the foregoing chagrined and distressed her
+friend. Yet as she suffered too for Mr. Sandford, the joy of her
+friend's reply was abated by the uneasiness it gave to _him._ But Mrs.
+Horton felt for none but the right reverend priest; and often did she
+feel so violently interested in his cause, that she could not refrain
+giving an answer herself in his behalf--thus doing the duty of
+an adversary with all the zeal of an advocate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Mr. Sandford finding his friend Dorriforth frequently perplexed in the
+management of his ward, and he himself thinking her incorrigible, gave
+his counsel, that a suitable match should be immediately sought out for
+her, and the care of so dangerous a person given into other hands.
+Dorriforth acknowledged the propriety of this advice, but lamented the
+difficulty of pleasing his ward as to the quality of her lover; for she
+had refused, besides Sir Edward Ashton, many others of equal
+pretensions. "Depend upon it then," cried Sandford, "that her affections
+are engaged; and it is proper that you should know to whom." Dorriforth
+thought he did know, and mentioned Lord Frederick; but said that he had
+no farther authority for the supposition than what his observation had
+given him, for that every explanation both upon his and her side had
+been evaded. "Take her then," cried Sandford, "into the country, and if
+Lord Frederick should not follow, there is an end of your suspicions."
+
+"I shall not easily prevail upon Miss Milner to leave town," replied he,
+"while it is in the highest fashion."
+
+"You can but try," returned Sandford; "and if you should not succeed
+now, at least fix the time you mean to go during the autumn, and be firm
+to your determination."
+
+"But in the autumn," replied Dorriforth, "Lord Frederick will of course
+be in the country; and as his uncle's estate is near our residence, he
+will not then so evidently follow her, as he would if I could induce her
+to go now."
+
+It was agreed the attempt should be made. Instead of receiving this
+abrupt proposal with uneasiness, Miss Milner, to the surprise of all
+present, immediately consented; and gave her guardian an opportunity of
+saying several of the kindest and politest things upon her ready
+compliance.
+
+"A token of approbation from you, Mr. Dorriforth," returned she, "I
+always considered with high estimation--but your commendations are now
+become infinitely superior in value by their scarcity; for I do not
+believe that since Miss Fenton and Mr. Sandford came to town, I have
+received one testimony of your esteem."
+
+Had these words been uttered with pleasantry, they might have passed
+without observation; but at the conclusion of the period, resentment
+flew to Miss Milner's face, and she darted a piercing look at Mr.
+Sandford, which more pointedly expressed that she was angry with him,
+than if she had spoken volumes in her usual strain of raillery.
+Dorriforth was confused--but the concern which she had so plainly evinced
+for his good opinion throughout all that she had been saying, silenced
+any rebuke he might else have given her, for this unwarrantable charge
+against his friend. Mrs. Horton was shocked at the irreverent manner in
+which Mr. Sandford was treated--and Miss Woodley turned to him with a
+benevolent smile upon her face, hoping to set him an example of the
+manner in which he should receive the reproach. Her good wishes did not
+succeed--yet he was perfectly unruffled, and replied with coolness,
+
+"The air of the country has affected the lady already--but it is a
+comfortable thing," continued he, "that in the variety of humours to
+which some women are exposed, they cannot be uniform even in deceit."
+
+"Deceit!" cried Miss Milner, "in what am I deceitful? did I ever pretend
+that I had an esteem for you?"
+
+"That would not have been deceit, Madam, but merely good manners."
+
+"I never, Mr. Sandford, sacrificed truth to politeness."
+
+"Except when the country has been proposed, and you thought it
+politeness to appear satisfied."
+
+"And I _was_ satisfied, till I recollected that you might probably be of
+the party--then, every grove was changed into a wilderness, every rivulet
+into a stagnated pool, and every singing bird into a croaking raven."
+
+"A very poetical description," returned he calmly. "But, Miss Milner,
+you need not have had any apprehensions of _my_ company in the country,
+for I understand the seat to which your guardian means to go, belongs to
+you; and you may depend upon it, Madam, that I shall never enter a house
+in which you are the mistress."
+
+"Nor any house, I am certain, Mr. Sandford, but in which you are
+yourself the master."
+
+"What do you mean, Madam? (and for the first time he elevated his
+voice,) am I the master here?"
+
+"Your servants," replied she, looking at the company, "will not tell you
+so; but I do."
+
+"You condescend, Mr. Sandford," cried Mrs. Horton, "in talking so much
+to a young heedless woman; but I know you do it for her good."
+
+"Well, Miss Milner," cried Dorriforth, (and the most cutting thing he
+could say,) "since I find my proposal of the country has put you out of
+humour, I shall mention it no more."
+
+With all that quantity of resentment, anger, or rage, which sometimes
+boiled in the veins of Miss Milner, she was yet never wanting in that
+respect towards her guardian, which with-held her from ever uttering one
+angry sentence, directed immediately to him; and a severe word of his,
+instead of exasperating, was sure to subdue her. This was the case at
+present--his words wounded her to the heart, but she had not the asperity
+to reply to them as she thought they merited, and she burst into tears.
+Dorriforth, instead of being concerned, as he usually was at seeing her
+uneasy, appeared on the present occasion provoked. He thought her
+weeping was a new reproach to his friend Mr. Sandford, and that to
+suffer himself to be moved by it, would be a tacit condemnation of his
+friend's conduct. She understood his thoughts, and getting the better
+of her tears, apologised for her weakness; adding,
+
+"She could never bear with indifference an unjust accusation."
+
+"To prove that mine was unjust, Madam," replied Dorriforth; "be prepared
+to quit London, without any marks of regret, in a few days."
+
+She bowed assent; the necessary preparations were agreed upon; and while
+with apparent satisfaction she adjusted the plan of her journey, (like
+those who behave well, not so much to please themselves as to vex their
+enemies,) she secretly triumphed in the mortification she hoped that Mr.
+Sandford would receive from her obedient behaviour.
+
+The news of this intended journey was of course soon made public. There
+is a secret charm in being pitied, when the misfortune is but ideal; and
+Miss Milner found infinite gratification in being told, "That her's was
+a cruel case, and that it was unjust and barbarous to force so much
+beauty into concealment while London was filled with her admirers; who,
+like her, would languish in consequence of her solitude." These things,
+and a thousand such, a thousand times repeated, she still listened to
+with pleasure; yet preserved the constancy not to shrink from her
+resolution of submitting.
+
+Those involuntary sighs, however, that Miss Woodley had long ago
+observed, became still more frequent; and a tear half starting in her
+eye was an additional subject of her friend's observation. Yet though
+Miss Milner at those times was softened into melancholy, she by no means
+appeared unhappy. Her friend was acquainted with love only by name; yet
+she was confirmed from these increased symptoms, in what she before only
+suspected, that _love_ must be the foundation of her care. "Her senses
+have been captivated by the person and accomplishments of Lord
+Frederick," said Miss Woodley to herself, "but her understanding compels
+her to see his faults, and reproaches her passion.--And, oh!" cried she,
+"could her guardian and Mr. Sandford know of this conflict, how much
+would they have to admire; how little to condemn!"
+
+With such friendly thoughts, and with the purest intentions, Miss
+Woodley did not fail to give both gentlemen reason to believe, a
+contention of this nature was the actual state of Miss Milner's mind.
+Dorriforth was affected at the description, and Sandford urged more than
+ever the necessity of leaving town. In a few days they departed; Mrs.
+Horton, Miss Woodley, Miss Milner, and Mr. Dorriforth, accompanied by
+Miss Fenton, whom Miss Milner, knowing it to be the wish of her
+guardian, invited, for three months before her marriage, to her country
+seat. Elmwood House, or rather Castle, the seat of Lord Elmwood, was
+only a few miles distant from this residence, and he was expected to
+pass great part of the summer there, with his tutor, Mr. Sandford.
+
+In the neighbourhood was also (as it has been already said) an estate
+belonging to an uncle of Lord Frederick's, and most of the party
+suspected they should soon see him on a visit there. To that expectation
+they in great measure attributed Miss Milner's visible content.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+With this party Miss Milner arrived at her country house, and for near
+six weeks, all around was the picture of tranquillity; her satisfaction
+was as evident as every other person's; and all severe admonition being
+at this time unnecessary, either to exhort her to her duty, or to warn
+her against her folly, she was even in perfect good humour with Miss
+Fenton, and added friendship to hospitality.
+
+Mr. Sandford, who came with Lord Elmwood to the neighbouring seat, about
+a week after the arrival of Miss Milner at her's, was so scrupulously
+exact in the observance of his word, "_Never to enter a house of Miss
+Milner's,_" that he would not even call upon his friend Dorriforth
+there--but in their walks, and at Lord Elmwood's, the two parties would
+occasionally join, and of course Sandford and she at those times met--yet
+so distant was the reserve on either side, that not a single word upon
+any occasion was ever exchanged between them.
+
+Miss Milner did not like Mr. Sandford; yet as there was no cause of
+inveterate rancour, admiring him too as a man who meant well, and being
+besides of a most forgiving temper, she frequently felt concerned that
+he did not speak to her, although it had been to find fault as usual--and
+one morning as they were all, after a long ramble, drawing towards her
+house, where Lord Elmwood was invited to dine, she could not restrain
+dropping a tear at seeing Sandford turn back and wish them a "Good day."
+
+But though she had the generosity to forgive an affront, she had not the
+humility to make a concession; and she foresaw that nothing less than
+some very humble atonement on her part would prevail upon the haughty
+priest to be reconciled. Dorriforth saw her concern upon this last
+trifling occasion with a secret pleasure, and an admiration that she had
+never before excited. She once insinuated to him to be a mediator
+between them; but before any accommodation could take place, the peace
+and composure of their abode were disturbed by the arrival of Sir Edward
+Ashton at Lord Elmwood's, where it appeared as if he had been invited in
+order to pursue his matrimonial plan.
+
+At a dinner given by Lord Elmwood, Sir Edward was announced as an
+unexpected visitor; Miss Milner did not suppose him such, and she turned
+pale when his name was uttered. Dorriforth fixed his eyes upon her with
+some tokens of compassion, while Sandford seemed to exult, and by his
+repeated "Welcomes" to the Baronet, gave proofs how much he was rejoiced
+to see him. All the declining enmity of Miss Milner was renewed at this
+behaviour, and suspecting Sandford as the instigator of the visit, she
+could not overcome her displeasure, but gave way to it in a manner she
+thought the most mortifying. Sir Edward, in the course of conversation,
+enquired "What neighbours were in the country;" and she, with an
+appearance of high satisfaction, named Lord Frederick Lawnly as being
+hourly expected at his uncle's. The colour spread over Sir Edward's
+face--Dorriforth was confounded--and Mr. Sandford looked enraged.
+
+"Did Lord Frederick tell _you_ he should be down?" Sandford asked of
+Dorriforth.
+
+To which he replied, "No."
+
+"But I hope, Mr. Sandford, you will permit _me_ to know?" said Miss
+Milner. For as she now meant to torment him by what she said, she no
+longer constrained herself to silence--and as he harboured the same kind
+intention towards her, he had no longer any objection to make a reply,
+and therefore answered,
+
+"No, madam, if it depended upon my permission, you should _not_ know."
+
+"Not _any thing_, Sir, I dare say; you would keep me in utter
+ignorance."
+
+"I would."
+
+"From a self-interested motive, Mr. Sandford--that I might have a greater
+respect for you."
+
+Some of the company laughed--Mrs. Horton coughed--Miss Woodley
+blushed--Lord Elmwood sneered--Dorriforth frowned--and Miss Fenton looked
+just as she did before.
+
+The conversation was changed as soon as possible, and early in the
+evening the party from Milner Lodge returned home.
+
+Miss Milner had scarce left her dressing room, where she had been taking
+off some part of her dress, when Dorriforth's servant came to acquaint
+her that his master was alone in his study, and begged to speak with
+her. She felt herself tremble--she immediately experienced a
+consciousness that she had not acted properly at Lord Elmwood's; for she
+felt a presentiment that her guardian was going to upbraid her, and her
+heart whispered that he had never yet reproached her without a cause.
+
+Miss Woodley just then entered her apartment, and she found herself so
+much a coward, as to propose that she should go with her, and aid her
+with a word or two occasionally in her excuse.
+
+"What you, my dear," returned Miss Woodley, "who not three hours ago had
+the courage to vindicate your own cause before a whole company, of whom
+many were your adversaries; do _you_ want an advocate before your
+guardian alone, who has ever treated you with tenderness?"
+
+"It is that very tenderness which frightens me; which intimidates, and
+strikes me dumb. Is it possible I can return impertinence to the
+language and manners which Mr. Dorriforth uses? and as I am debarred
+from that resource, what can I do but stand before him like a guilty
+creature, acknowledging my faults."
+
+She again entreated her friend to go with her; but on a positive
+refusal, from the impropriety of such an intrusion, she was obliged at
+length to go by herself.
+
+How much does the difference of exterior circumstances influence not
+only the manners, but even the persons of some people! Miss Milner in
+Lord Elmwood's drawing room, surrounded by listeners, by admirers, (for
+even her enemies could not look at her without admiration) animated with
+approbation and applause--and Miss Milner, with no giddy observer to give
+her actions a false éclat, destitute of all but her own understanding,
+(which secretly condemns her) upon the point of receiving censure from
+her guardian and friend, are two different beings. Though still
+beautiful beyond description, she does not look even in person the same.
+In the last-mentioned situation, she was shorter in stature than in the
+former--she was paler--she was thinner--and a very different contour
+presided over her whole air, and all her features.
+
+When she arrived at the door of the study, she opened it with a
+trepidation she could hardly account for, and entered to Dorriforth the
+altered woman she has been represented. His heart had taken the most
+decided part against her, and his face had assumed the most severe
+aspect of reproach; but her appearance gave an instantaneous change to
+his whole mind, and countenance.
+
+She halted, as if she feared to approach--he hesitated, as if he knew not
+how to speak. Instead of the anger with which he was prepared to begin,
+his voice involuntarily softened, and without knowing what he said, he
+began,
+
+"My dear Miss Milner."--
+
+She expected he was angry, and in her confusion his gentleness was lost
+upon her. She imagined that what he said might be censure, and she
+continued to tremble, though he repeatedly assured her, that he meant
+only to advise, not upbraid her.
+
+"For as to all those little disputes between Mr. Sandford and you," said
+he, "I should be partial if I blamed you more than him--indeed, when you
+take the liberty to condemn him, his character makes the freedom appear
+in a more serious light than when he complains of you--and yet, if he
+provokes your retorts, he alone must answer for them; nor will I
+undertake to decide betwixt you. But I have a question to ask you, and
+to which I require a serious and unequivocal answer. Do you expect Lord
+Frederick in the country?"
+
+Without hesitation she replied, "I do."
+
+"One more question I have to ask, madam, and to which I expect a reply
+equally unreserved. Is Lord Frederick the man you approve for your
+husband?"
+
+Upon this close interrogation she discovered an embarrassment, beyond
+any she had ever yet betrayed, and faintly replied,
+
+"No, he is not."
+
+"Your words tell me one thing," answered Dorriforth, "but your looks
+declare another--which am I to believe?"
+
+"Which you please," was her answer, while she discovered an insulted
+dignity, that astonished, without convincing him.
+
+"But then why encourage him to follow you hither, Miss Milner?"
+
+"Why commit a thousand follies (she replied in tears) every hour of my
+life?"
+
+"You then promote the hopes of Lord Frederick without one serious
+intention of completing them? This is a conduct against which it is my
+duty to guard you, and you shall no longer deceive either him or
+yourself. The moment he arrives, it is my resolution that you refuse to
+see him, or consent to become his wife."
+
+In answer to the alternative thus offered, she appeared averse to both
+propositions; and yet came to no explanation why; but left her guardian
+at the end of the conference as much at a loss to decide upon her true
+sentiments, as he was before he had thus seriously requested he might be
+informed of them; but having stedfastly taken the resolution which he
+had just communicated, he found that resolution a certain relief to his
+mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Sir Edward Ashton, though not invited by Miss Milner, yet frequently did
+himself the honour to visit her at her house; sometimes he accompanied
+Lord Elmwood, at other times he came to see Dorriforth alone, who
+generally introduced him to the ladies. But Sir Edward was either so
+unwilling to give pain to the object of his love, or so intimidated by
+her frowns, that he seldom addressed her with a single word, except the
+usual compliments at entering, and retiring. This apprehension of
+offending, without one hope of pleasing, had the most awkward effect
+upon the manners of the worthy Baronet; and his endeavours to insinuate
+himself into the affections of the woman he loved, merely by not giving
+her offence either in speaking to her or looking at her, formed a
+character so whimsical, that it frequently forced a smile from Miss
+Milner, though his very name had often power to throw a gloom over her
+face: she looked upon him as the cause of her being hurried to the
+election of a lover, before her own mind could well direct her where to
+fix. Besides, his pursuit was troublesome, while it was no triumph to
+her vanity, which by the addresses of Lord Frederick, was in the highest
+manner gratified.
+
+His Lordship now arrives in the country, and calls one morning at Miss
+Milner's; her guardian sees his carriage coming up the avenue, and gives
+orders to the servants, to say their lady is not at home, but that Mr.
+Dorriforth is: Lord Frederick leaves his compliments and goes away.
+
+The ladies all observed his carriage and servants. Miss Milner flew to
+her glass, adjusted her dress, and in her looks expressed every sign of
+palpitation--but in vain she keeps her eye fixed upon the door of the
+apartment; no Lord Frederick appears.
+
+After some minutes of expectation, the door opens and her guardian comes
+in;--she was disappointed; he perceived that she was, and he looked at
+her with a most serious face;--she immediately called to mind the
+assurance he had given her, "That her acquaintance with Lord Frederick
+in its then improper state should not continue," and between chagrin and
+confusion, she was at a loss how to behave.
+
+Though the ladies were all present, Dorriforth said, without the
+smallest reserve, "Perhaps, Miss Milner, you may think I have taken an
+unwarrantable liberty, in giving orders to your servants to deny you to
+Lord Frederick; but until his Lordship and I have had a private
+conference, or you condescend to declare your sentiments more fully in
+regard to his visits, I think it my duty to put an end to them."
+
+"You will always perform your duty, Mr. Dorriforth, I have no doubt,
+whether I concur or not."
+
+"Yet believe me, madam, I should perform it more cheerfully, if I could
+hope that it was sanctioned by your inclinations."
+
+"I am not mistress of my inclinations, Sir, or they should conform to
+yours."
+
+"Place them under my direction, and I will answer for it they will."
+
+A servant came in--"Lord Frederick is returned, Sir, and says he should
+be glad to see you."
+
+"Shew him into the study," cried Dorriforth hastily, and rising from his
+chair, left the room.
+
+"I hope they won't quarrel," said Mrs. Horton, meaning, that she thought
+they would.
+
+"I am sorry to see you so uneasy, Miss Milner," said Miss Fenton, with
+perfect unconcern.
+
+As the badness of the weather had prevented their usual morning's
+exercise, the ladies were employed at their needles till the dinner bell
+called them away. "Do you think Lord Frederick is gone?" then whispered
+Miss Milner to Miss Woodley.--"I think not," she replied.--"Go ask of the
+servants, dear creature." And Miss Woodley went out of the room. She
+soon returned and said, apart, "He is now getting into his chariot; I
+saw him pass in violent haste through the hall; he seemed to fly."
+
+"Ladies, the dinner is waiting," cried Mrs. Horton, and they repaired to
+the dining room, where Dorriforth soon after came, and engrossed their
+whole attention by his disturbed looks, and unusual silence. Before
+dinner was over, he was, however, more himself, but still he appeared
+thoughtful and dissatisfied. At the time of their evening walk he
+excused himself from accompanying them, and they saw him in a distant
+field with Mr. Sandford in earnest conversation; for Sandford and he
+often stopped on one spot for a quarter of an hour, as if the interest
+of the subject had so engaged them, they stood still without knowing it.
+Lord Elmwood, who had joined the ladies, walked home with them;
+Dorriforth entered soon after, in a much less gloomy humour than when he
+went out, and told his relation, that he and the ladies would dine with
+him the next day if he was disengaged; and it was agreed they should.
+
+Still Dorriforth was in some perturbation, but the immediate cause was
+concealed till the day following, when, about an hour before the
+company's departure from the Castle, Miss Milner and Miss Woodley were
+desired, by a servant, to walk into a separate apartment, in which they
+found Mr. Dorriforth with Mr. Sandford waiting for them. Her guardian
+made an apology to Miss Milner for the form, the ceremony, of which he
+was going to make use; but he trusted, the extreme weight which
+oppressed his mind, lest he should mistake the real sentiments of a
+person whose happiness depended upon his correct knowledge of them,
+would plead his excuse.
+
+"I know, Miss Milner," continued he, "the world in general allows to
+unmarried women great latitude in disguising their mind with respect to
+the man they love. I too, am willing to pardon any little dissimulation
+that is but consistent with a modesty that becomes every woman upon the
+subject of marriage. But here, to what point I may limit, or you may
+extend, this kind of venial deceit, may so widely differ, that it is not
+impossible for me to remain unacquainted with your sentiments, even
+after you have revealed them to me. Under this consideration, I wish
+once more to hear your thoughts in regard to matrimony, and to hear them
+before one of your own sex, that I may form an opinion by her
+constructions."
+
+To all this serious oration, Miss Milner made no other reply than by
+turning to Mr. Sandford, and asking, "If he was the person of her own
+sex, to whose judgment her guardian was to submit his own?"
+
+"Madam," cried Sandford angrily, "you are come hither upon serious
+business."
+
+"Any business must be serious to me, Mr. Sandford, in which you are
+concerned; and if you had called it _sorrowful_, the epithet would have
+suited as well."
+
+"Miss Milner," said her guardian, "I did not bring you here to contend
+with Mr. Sandford."
+
+"Then why, Sir, bring him hither? for where he and I are, there must be
+contention."
+
+"I brought him hither, Madam, or I should rather say, brought you to
+this house, merely that he might be present on this occasion, and with
+his discernment relieve me from a suspicion, that my own judgment is
+neither able to suppress nor to confirm."
+
+"Are there any more witnesses you may wish to call in, Sir, to remove
+your doubts of my veracity? if there are, pray send for them before you
+begin your interrogations."
+
+He shook his head--she continued.
+
+"The whole world is welcome to hear what I say, and every different
+person is welcome to judge me differently."
+
+"Dear Miss Milner,"--cried Miss Woodley, with a tone of reproach for the
+vehemence with which she had spoken.
+
+"Perhaps, Miss Milner," said Dorriforth, "you will not now reply to
+those questions I was going to put?"
+
+"Did I ever refuse, Sir," returned she with a self-approving air, "to
+comply with any request that you have seriously made? Have I ever
+refused obedience to your commands whenever you thought proper to lay
+them upon me? If not, you have no right to suppose that I will do so
+now."
+
+He was going to reply, when Mr. Sandford sullenly interrupted him, and
+making towards the door, cried, "When you come to the point for which
+you brought me here, send for me again."
+
+"Stay now," said Dorriforth. "And Miss Milner," continued he, "I not
+only entreat, but command you to tell me--have you given your word, or
+your affections to Lord Frederick Lawnly?"
+
+The colour spread over her face, and she replied--"I thought confessions
+were always to be in secret; however, as I am not a member of your
+church, I submit to the persecution of a heretic, and I answer--Lord
+Frederick has neither my word, nor any share in my affections."
+
+Sandford, Dorriforth, and Miss Woodley looked at each other with a
+degree of surprise that for some time kept them silent. At length
+Dorriforth said, "And it is your firm intention never to become his
+wife?"
+
+To which she answered--"At present it is."
+
+"At present! do you suspect you shall change your sentiments?"
+
+"Women sometimes do."
+
+"But before that change can take place, your acquaintance will be at an
+end: for it is that which I shall next insist upon, and to which you can
+have no objection."
+
+She replied, "I had rather it should continue."
+
+"On what account?" cried Dorriforth.
+
+"Because it entertains me."
+
+"For shame, for shame!" returned he; "it endangers your character and
+your happiness. Yet again, do not suffer me to interfere, if the
+breaking with Lord Frederick can militate against your felicity."
+
+"By no means," she answered; "Lord Frederick makes part of my amusement,
+but could never constitute my felicity."
+
+"Miss Woodley," said Dorriforth, "do you comprehend your friend in the
+same literal and unequivocal sense that I do?"
+
+"Certainly I do, Sir."
+
+"And pray, Miss Woodley," said he, "were those the sentiments which you
+have always entertained?"
+
+Miss Woodley hesitated--he continued. "Or has this conversation altered
+them?"
+
+She hesitated again, then answered--"This conversation has altered
+them."
+
+"And yet you confide in it!" cried Sandford, looking at her with
+contempt.
+
+"Certainly I do," replied Miss Woodley.
+
+"Do not you then, Mr. Sandford?" asked Dorriforth.
+
+"I would advise you to act as if I did," replied Sandford.
+
+"Then, Miss Milner," said Dorriforth, "you see Lord Frederick no
+more--and I hope I have your permission to apprize him of this
+arrangement."
+
+"You have, Sir," she replied with a completely unembarrassed countenance
+and voice.
+
+Her friend looked at her as if to discover some lurking wish, adverse to
+all these protestations, but she could not discern one. Sandford too
+fixed his penetrating eyes upon her, as if he would look through her
+soul, but finding it perfectly composed, he cried out,
+
+"Why then not write his dismission herself, and save you, Mr.
+Dorriforth, the trouble of any farther contest with him?"
+
+"Indeed, Miss Milner," said Dorriforth, "that would oblige me; for it is
+with great reluctance that I meet him upon this subject--he was extremely
+impatient and importunate when he was last with me--he took advantage of
+my ecclesiastical situation to treat me with a levity and ill breeding,
+that I could ill have suffered upon any other consideration than a
+compliance with my duty."
+
+"Dictate what you please, Mr. Dorriforth, and I will write it," said
+she, with a warmth like the most unaffected inclination. "And while you,
+Sir," she continued, "are so indulgent as not to distress me with the
+importunities of any gentleman to whom I am averse, I think myself
+equally bound to rid you of the impertinence of every one to whom you
+may have objection."
+
+"But," answered he, "rest assured I have no material objection to my
+Lord Frederick, except from that dilemma, in which your acquaintance
+with him has involved us all; and I should conceive the same against any
+other man, where the same circumstance occurred. As you have now,
+however, freely and politely consented to the manner in which it has
+been proposed that you shall break with him, I will not trouble you a
+moment longer upon a subject on which I have so frequently explained my
+wishes, but conclude it by assuring you, that your ready acquiescence
+has given me the sincerest satisfaction."
+
+"I hope, Mr. Sandford," said she, turning to him with a smile, "I have
+given _you_ satisfaction likewise?"
+
+Sandford could not say yes, and was ashamed to say no; he, therefore,
+made answer only by his looks, which were full of suspicion. She,
+notwithstanding, made him a very low courtesy. Her guardian then handed
+her out of the apartment into her coach, which was waiting to take her,
+Miss Woodley, and himself, home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+Notwithstanding the seeming readiness with which Miss Milner had
+resigned all farther acquaintance with Lord Frederick, during the short
+ride home she appeared to have lost great part of her wonted spirits;
+she was thoughtful, and once sighed heavily. Dorriforth began to fear
+that she had not only made a sacrifice of her affections, but of her
+veracity; yet, why she had done so, he could not comprehend.
+
+As the carriage moved slowly through a lane between Elmwood Castle and
+her own house, on casting her eyes out of the window, Miss Milner's
+countenance was brightened in an instant, and that instant Lord
+Frederick, on horse-back, was at the coach door, and the coachman
+stopped.
+
+"Oh, Miss Milner," cried he, (with a voice and manner that could give
+little suspicion of the truth of what he said) "I am overjoyed at the
+happiness of seeing you, even though it is but an accidental meeting."
+
+She was evidently glad to see _him_; but the earnestness with which he
+spoke, put her upon her guard not to express the like, and she said, in
+a cool constrained manner, she "Was glad to see his Lordship."
+
+The reserve with which she spoke, gave Lord Frederick immediate
+suspicion who was in the coach with her, and turning his head quickly,
+he met the stern eye of Dorriforth; upon which, without the smallest
+salutation, he turned from him again abruptly and rudely. Miss Milner
+was confused, and Miss Woodley in torture, at this palpable affront, to
+which Dorriforth alone appeared indifferent.
+
+"Go on," said Miss Milner to the footman, "desire the coachman to drive
+on."
+
+"No," cried Lord Frederick, "not till you have told me when I shall see
+you again."
+
+"I will write you word, my Lord," replied she, something alarmed. "You
+shall have a letter immediately after I get home."
+
+As if he guessed what its contents were to be, he cried out with warmth,
+"Take care, then, Madam, how you treat me in that letter--and you, Mr.
+Dorriforth," turning to him, "do you take care what it contains; for if
+it is dictated by you, to you I shall send the answer."
+
+Dorriforth, without making any reply, or casting a look at him, put his
+head out of the window on the opposite side, and called, in a very angry
+tone, to the coachman, "How dare you not drive on, when your Lady orders
+you?"
+
+The sound of Dorriforth's voice in anger, was to the servants so
+unusual, that it acted like electricity upon the man, and he drove on at
+the instant with such rapidity, that Lord Frederick was in a moment left
+many yards behind. As soon, however, as he recovered from the surprise
+into which this sudden command had thrown him, he rode with speed after
+the carriage, and followed it, till it arrived at the door of Miss
+Milner's house; there, giving himself up to the rage of love, or to rage
+against Dorriforth for the contempt he had shewn to him, he leaped from
+his horse when Miss Milner stepped from her carriage, and seizing her
+hand, entreated her "Not to desert him, in compliance with the
+injunctions of monkish hypocrisy."
+
+Dorriforth heard this, standing silently by, with a manly scorn upon his
+countenance.
+
+Miss Milner struggled to loose her hand, saying, "Excuse me from
+replying to you now, my Lord."
+
+In return, he lifted her hand eagerly to his lips, and began to devour
+it with kisses; when Dorriforth, with an instantaneous impulse, rushed
+forward, and struck him a violent blow in the face. Under the force of
+this assault, and the astonishment it excited, Lord Frederick staggered,
+and letting fall the hand of Miss Milner, her guardian immediately laid
+hold of it, and led her into the house.
+
+She was terrified beyond description; and with extreme difficulty Mr.
+Dorriforth conveyed her to her own chamber, without taking her in his
+arms. When, by the assistance of her maid, he had placed her upon a
+sofa--covered with shame and confusion for what he had done, he fell upon
+his knees before her, and earnestly "Entreated her forgiveness for the
+indelicacy he had been guilty of in her presence." And that he had
+alarmed her, and had forgot the respect which he thought sacredly her
+due, seemed the only circumstance which then dwelt upon his thoughts.
+
+She felt the indecorum of the posture he had condescended to take, and
+was shocked. To see her guardian at her feet, struck her with a sense of
+impropriety, as if she had seen a parent there. All agitation and
+emotion, she implored him to rise, and, with a thousand protestations,
+declared, "That she thought the rashness of the action was the highest
+proof of his regard for her."
+
+Miss Woodley now entered; her care being ever employed upon the
+unfortunate, Lord Frederick had been the object of it: she had waited by
+his side, and, with every good purpose, had preached patience to him,
+while he was smarting under the pain, but more under the shame, of his
+chastisement. At first, his fury threatened a retort upon the servants
+around him (and who refused his entrance into the house) of the
+punishment he had received. But, in the certainty of an _amende
+honorable_, which must hereafter be made, he overcame the many
+temptations which the moment offered, and re-mounting his horse rode
+away from the scene of his disgrace.
+
+No sooner had Miss Woodley entered the room, and Dorriforth had resigned
+to her the care of his ward, than he flew to the spot where he had left
+Lord Frederick, negligent of what might be the event if he still
+remained there. After enquiring, and being told that he was gone,
+Dorriforth returned to his own apartment; and with a bosom torn by more
+excruciating sensations than those which he had given to his adversary.
+
+The reflection that struck him first with remorse, as he shut the door
+upon himself, was:--"I have departed from my character--from the sacred
+character, and the dignity of my profession and sentiments--I have
+departed from myself. I am no longer the philosopher, but the ruffian--I
+have treated with an unpardonable insult a young nobleman, whose only
+offence was love, and a fond desire to insinuate himself into the favour
+of his mistress. I must atone for this outrage in whatever manner he may
+choose; and the law of honour and of justice (though in this one
+instance contrary to the law of religion) enjoins, that if he demands my
+life in satisfaction for his wounded feelings, it is his due. Alas! that
+I could have laid it down this morning, unsullied with a cause for which
+it will make but inadequate atonement."
+
+His next reproach was--"I have offended and filled with horror, a
+beautiful young woman, whom it was my duty to have protected from those
+brutal manners, to which I myself have exposed her."
+
+Again--"I have drawn upon myself the just upbraidings of my faithful
+preceptor and friend; of the man in whose judgment it was my delight to
+be approved--above all, I have drawn upon myself the stings of my
+conscience."
+
+"Where shall I pass this sleepless night?" cried he, walking repeatedly
+across his chamber; "Can I go to the ladies? I am unworthy of their
+society. Shall I go and repose my disturbed mind on Sandford? I am
+ashamed to tell him the cause of my uneasiness. Shall I go to Lord
+Frederick, and humbling myself before him, beg his forgiveness? He would
+spurn me for a coward. No"----(and he lifted up his eyes to Heaven) "Thou
+all great, all wise and omnipotent Being, Thou whom I have most
+offended, it is to Thee alone that I have recourse in this hour of
+tribulation, and from Thee alone I solicit comfort. And the confidence
+in which I now address myself to Thee, encouraged by that long
+intercourse which religion has effected, repays me amply in this one
+moment, for the many years of my past life devoted with my best, though
+imperfect, efforts to thy service."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Although Miss Milner had not foreseen any fatal event resulting from the
+indignity offered to Lord Frederick, yet she passed a night very
+different from those to which she had been accustomed. No sooner was she
+falling into a sleep, than a thousand vague, but distressing, ideas
+darted across her imagination. Her heart would sometimes whisper to her
+when she was half asleep, "Lord Frederick is banished from you for
+ever." She shakes off the uneasiness this idea brings along with it--she
+then starts, and sees the blow still aimed at him by Dorriforth. No
+sooner has she driven away this painful image, than she is again
+awakened by beholding her guardian at her feet sueing for pardon. She
+sighs, she trembles, and is chilled with terror.
+
+Relieved by tears, towards the morning she sinks into a slumber, but
+waking, finds the same images crowding all together upon her mind: she
+is doubtful to which to give the preference--one, however, rushes the
+foremost, and continues so. She knows not the fatal consequence of
+ruminating, nor why she dwells upon that, more than upon all the rest,
+but it will give place to none.
+
+She rises languid and disordered, and at breakfast, adds fresh pain to
+Dorriforth by her altered appearance.
+
+He had scarce left the room, when an officer waited upon him with a
+challenge from Lord Frederick. To the message delivered by this
+gentleman, he replied,
+
+"Sir, as a clergyman, more especially of the church of Rome, I know not
+whether I am not exempt from answering a demand of this kind; but not
+having had forbearance to avoid an offence, I will not claim an
+exemption that would only indemnify me from making reparation."
+
+"You will then, Sir, meet Lord Frederick at the appointed hour?" said
+the officer.
+
+"I will, Sir; and my immediate care shall be to find a gentleman who
+will accompany me."
+
+The officer withdrew, and when Dorriforth was again alone, he was going
+once more to reflect, but he durst not. Since yesterday, reflection, for
+the first time, was become painful to him; and even as he rode the short
+way to Lord Elmwood's immediately after, he found his own thoughts were
+so insufferable, that he was obliged to enter into conversation with his
+servant. Solitude, that formerly charmed him, would, at those moments,
+have been worse than death.
+
+At Lord Elmwood's, he met Sandford in the hall, and the sight of him was
+no longer welcome--he knew how different the principles which he had just
+adopted were to those of that reverend friend, and without his
+complaining, or even suspecting what had happened, his presence was a
+sufficient reproach. He passed him as hastily as he could, and enquiring
+for Lord Elmwood, disclosed to him his errand. It was to ask him to be
+his second;--the young Earl started, and wished to consult his tutor, but
+that, his kinsman strictly forbade; and having urged his reasons with
+arguments, which at least _he_ could not refute, he was at length
+prevailed upon to promise that he would accompany him to the field,
+which was at the distance only of a few miles, and the parties were to
+be there at seven on the same evening.
+
+As soon as his business with Lord Elmwood was settled, Dorriforth
+returned home, to make preparations for the event which might ensue from
+this meeting. He wrote letters to several of his friends, and one to his
+ward, in writing which, he could with difficulty preserve the usual
+firmness of his mind. Sandford going into Lord Elmwood's library soon
+after his relation had left him, expressed his surprise at finding he
+was gone; upon which that nobleman having answered a few questions, and
+given a few significant hints that he was entrusted with a secret,
+frankly confessed, what he had promised to conceal.
+
+Sandford, as much as a holy man could be, was enraged at Dorriforth for
+the cause of the challenge, but was still more enraged at his wickedness
+in accepting it. He applauded his pupil's virtue in making the
+discovery, and congratulated himself that he should be the instrument
+of saving not only his friend's life, but of preventing the scandal of
+his being engaged in a duel.
+
+In the ardour of his designs, he went immediately to Miss
+Milner's--entered that house which he had so long refused to enter, and
+at a time when he was upon aggravated bad terms with its owner.
+
+He asked for Dorriforth, went hastily into his apartment, and poured
+upon him a torrent of rebukes. Dorriforth bore all he said with the
+patience of a devotee, but with the firmness of a man. He owned his
+fault, but no eloquence could make him recall the promise he had given
+to repair the injury. Unshaken by the arguments, persuasions, and
+menaces of Sandford, he gave an additional proof of that inflexibility
+for which he had been long distinguished--and after a dispute of two
+hours, they parted, neither of them the better for what either had
+advanced, but Dorriforth something the worse; his conscience gave
+testimony to Sandford's opinion, "that he was bound by ties more sacred
+than worldly honour." But while he owned, he would not yield to the
+duty.
+
+Sandford left him, determined, however, that Lord Elmwood should not be
+accessory in his guilt, and this he declared; upon which Dorriforth took
+the resolution of seeking another second.
+
+In passing through the house on his return home, Sandford met, by
+accident, Mrs. Horton, Miss Milner, and the other two ladies returning
+from a saunter in the garden. Surprised at the sight of Mr. Sandford in
+her house, Miss Milner would not express that surprise, but going up to
+him with all the friendly benevolence which in general played about her
+heart, she took hold of one of his hands, and pressed it with a kindness
+which told him more forcibly that he was welcome, than if she had made
+the most elaborate speech to convince him of it. He, however, seemed
+little touched with her behaviour, and as an excuse for breaking his
+word, cried,
+
+"I beg your pardon, madam, but I was brought hither in my anxiety to
+prevent murder."
+
+"Murder!" exclaimed all the ladies.
+
+"Yes," answered he, addressing himself to Miss Fenton, "your betrothed
+husband is a party concerned; he is going to be second to Mr.
+Dorriforth, who means this very evening to be killed by my Lord
+Frederick, or to kill him, in addition to the blow that he gave him last
+night."
+
+Mrs. Horton exclaimed, "if Mr. Dorriforth dies, he dies a martyr."
+
+Miss Woodley cried with fervour, "Heaven forbid!"
+
+Miss Fenton cried, "dear me!"
+
+While Miss Milner, without uttering one word, sunk speechless on the
+floor.
+
+They lifted her up and brought her to the door which entered into the
+garden. She soon recovered; for the tumult of her mind would not suffer
+her to remain inactive, and she was rouzed, in spite of her weakness, to
+endeavour to ward off the impending disaster. In vain, however, she
+attempted to walk to her guardian's apartment--she sunk as before, and
+was taken to a settee, while Miss Woodley was dispatched to bring him to
+her.
+
+Informed of the cause of her indisposition, he followed Miss Woodley
+with a tender anxiety for her health, and with grief and confusion that
+he had so carelessly endangered it. On his entering the room Sandford
+beheld the inquietude of his mind, and cried, "Here is your _Guardian_,"
+with a cruel emphasis on the word.
+
+He was too much engaged by the sufferings of his ward to reply to
+Sandford. He placed himself on the settee by her, and with the utmost
+tenderness, reverence, and pity, entreated her not to be concerned at an
+accident in which he, and he alone, had been to blame; but which he had
+no doubt would be accommodated in the most amicable manner.
+
+"I have one favour to require of you, Mr. Dorriforth," said she, "and
+that is, your promise, your solemn promise, which I know is ever sacred,
+that you will not meet my Lord Frederick."
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"Oh, Madam," cried Sandford, "he is grown a libertine now, and I would
+not believe his word, if he were to give it you."
+
+"Then, Sir," returned Dorriforth angrily, "you _may_ believe my word,
+for I will keep that which I gave to _you._ I will give Lord Frederick
+all the restitution in my power. But my dear Miss Milner, let not this
+alarm you; we may not find it convenient to meet this many a day; and
+most probably some fortunate explanation may prevent our meeting at all.
+If not, reckon but among the many duels that are fought, how few are
+fatal: and even in that case, how small would be the loss to society,
+if----" He was proceeding.
+
+"I should ever deplore the loss!" cried Miss Milner; "on such an
+occasion, I could not survive the death of either."
+
+"For my part," he replied, "I look upon my life as much forfeited to my
+Lord Frederick, to whom I have given a high offence, as it might in
+other instances have been forfeited to the offended laws of the land.
+Honour, is the law of the polite part of the land; we know it; and when
+we transgress against it knowingly, we justly incur our punishment.
+However, Miss Milner, this affair will not be settled immediately, and I
+have no doubt, but that all will be as you could wish. Do you think I
+should appear thus easy," added he with a smile, "if I were going to be
+shot at by my Lord Frederick?"
+
+"Very well!" cried Sandford, with a look that evinced he was better
+informed.
+
+"You will stay within then, all this day?" said Miss Milner.
+
+"I am engaged to dinner," he replied; "it is unlucky--I am sorry for
+it--but I'll be at home early in the evening."
+
+"Stained with human blood," cried Sandford, "or yourself a corpse."
+
+The ladies lifted up their hands!--Miss Milner rose from her seat, and
+threw herself at her guardian's feet.
+
+"You kneeled to me last night, I now kneel to you," (she cried) "kneel,
+never desiring to rise again, if you persist in your intention. I am
+weak, I am volatile, I am indiscreet, but I have a heart from which
+some impressions can never--oh! never, be erased."
+
+He endeavoured to raise her, she persisted to kneel--and here the
+affright, the terror, the anguish, she endured, discovered to her, her
+own sentiments--which, till that moment, she had doubted--and she
+continued,
+
+"I no longer pretend to conceal my passion--I love Lord Frederick
+Lawnly."
+
+Her guardian started.
+
+"Yes, to my shame I love him:" (cried she, all emotion) "I meant to have
+struggled with the weakness, because I supposed it would be displeasing
+to you--but apprehension for his safety has taken away every power of
+restraint, and I beseech you to spare his life."
+
+"This is exactly what I thought," cried Sandford, with an air of
+triumph.
+
+"Good heaven!" cried Miss Woodley.
+
+"But it is very natural," said Mrs. Horton.
+
+"I own," said Dorriforth, (struck with amaze, and now taking her from
+his feet with a force that she could not resist) "I own, Miss Milner, I
+am greatly affected and wounded at this contradiction in your
+character."--
+
+"But did not I say so?" cried Sandford, interrupting him.
+
+"However," continued he, "you may take my word, though you have deceived
+me in your's, that Lord Frederick's life is secure. For your sake, I
+would not endanger it for the universe. But let this be a warning to
+you"----
+
+He was proceeding with the most austere looks, and pointed language,
+when observing the shame, and the self-reproach that agitated her mind,
+he divested himself in great measure of his resentment, and said,
+mildly,
+
+"Let this be a warning to you, how you deal in future with the friends
+who wish you well. You have hurried me into a mistake that might have
+cost me my life, or the life of the man you love; and thus exposed _you_
+to misery, more bitter than death."
+
+"I am not worthy of your friendship, Mr. Dorriforth," said she, sobbing
+with grief, "and from this moment forsake me."
+
+"No, Madam, not in the moment you first discover to me, how I can make
+you happy."
+
+The conversation appearing now to become of a nature in which the rest
+of the company could have no share whatever, they were all, except Mr.
+Sandford, retiring; when Miss Milner called Miss Woodley back, saying,
+"Stay you with me; I was never so unfit to be left without your
+friendship."
+
+"Perhaps at present you can dispense with mine?" said Dorriforth. She
+made no answer. He then, once more assured her Lord Frederick's life was
+safe, and was quitting the room--but when he recollected in what
+humiliation he had left her, turning towards her as he opened the door,
+he added,
+
+"And be assured, Madam, that my esteem for you, shall be _the same as
+ever._"
+
+Sandford, as he followed him, bowed, and repeated the same words--"And,
+Madam, be assured that my esteem for you, shall be the same as ever."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+This taunting reproof from Sandford made little impression upon Miss
+Milner, whose thoughts were all fixed on a subject of much more
+importance than the opinion which he entertained of her. She threw her
+arms about her friend the moment they were left alone, and asked, with
+anxiety, "What she thought of her behaviour?" Miss Woodley, who could
+not approve of the duplicity she had betrayed, still wished to reconcile
+her as much as possible to her own conduct, and replied, she "Highly
+commended the frankness with which she had, at last, acknowledged her
+sentiments."
+
+"Frankness!" cried Miss Milner, starting. "Frankness, my dear Miss
+Woodley! What you have just now heard me say, is all a falsehood."
+
+"How, Miss Milner!"
+
+"Oh, Miss Woodley," returned she, sobbing upon her bosom, "pity the
+agonies of my heart, my heart, by nature sincere, when such are the
+fatal propensities it cherishes, that I must submit to the grossest
+falsehoods rather than reveal the truth."
+
+"What can you mean?" cried Miss Woodley, with the strongest amazement in
+her face.
+
+"Do you suppose I love Lord Frederick? Do you suppose I _can_ love him?
+Oh fly, and prevent my guardian from telling him such an untruth."
+
+"What can you mean?" repeated Miss Woodley; "I protest you terrify me."
+For this inconsistency in the behaviour of Miss Milner, appeared as if
+her senses had been deranged.
+
+"Fly," she resumed, "and prevent the inevitable ill consequence which
+will ensue, if Lord Frederick should be told this falsehood. It will
+involve us all in greater disquiet than we suffer at present."
+
+"Then what has influenced you, my dear Miss Milner?"
+
+"That which impels all my actions--an unsurmountable instinct--a fatality,
+that will for ever render me the most miserable of human beings; and yet
+you, even you, my dear Miss Woodley, will not pity me."
+
+Miss Woodley pressed her closely in her arms, and vowed, "That while she
+was unhappy, from whatever cause, she still would pity her."
+
+"Go to Mr. Dorriforth then, and prevent him from imposing upon Lord
+Frederick."
+
+"But that imposition is the only means of preventing the duel," replied
+Miss Woodley. "The moment I have told him that your affection was but
+counterfeited, he will no longer refuse accepting the challenge."
+
+"Then at all events I am undone," exclaimed Miss Milner, "for the duel
+is horrible, even beyond every thing else."
+
+"How so?" returned Miss Woodley, "since you have declared you do not
+care for Lord Frederick?"
+
+"But are you so blind," returned Miss Milner with a degree of madness in
+her looks, "as to believe I do not care for Mr. Dorriforth? Oh! Miss
+Woodley! I love him with all the passion of a mistress, and with all the
+tenderness of a wife."
+
+Miss Woodley at this sentence sat down--it was on a chair that was close
+to her--her feet could not have taken her to any other. She trembled--she
+was white as ashes, and deprived of speech. Miss Milner, taking her by
+the hand, said,
+
+"I know what you feel--I know what you think of me--and how much you hate
+and despise me. But Heaven is witness to all my struggles--nor would I,
+even to myself, acknowledge the shameless prepossession, till forced by
+a sense of his danger"----
+
+"Silence," cried Miss Woodley, struck with horror.
+
+"And even now," resumed Miss Milner, "have I not concealed it from all
+but you, by plunging myself into a new difficulty, from which I know not
+how I shall be extricated? And do I entertain a hope? No, Miss Woodley,
+nor ever will. But suffer me to own my folly to you--to entreat your
+soothing friendship to free me from my weakness. And, oh! give me your
+advice, to deliver me from the difficulties which surround me."
+
+Miss Woodley was still pale, and still silent.
+
+Education, is called second nature; in the strict (but not enlarged)
+education of Miss Woodley, it was more powerful than the first--and the
+violation of oaths, persons, or things consecrated to Heaven, was, in
+her opinion, if not the most enormous, yet among the most terrific in
+the catalogue of crimes.
+
+Miss Milner had lived so long in a family who had imbibed those
+opinions, that she was convinced of their existence; nay, her own reason
+told her that solemn vows of every kind, ought to be sacred; and the
+more she respected her guardian's understanding, the less did she call
+in question his religious tenets--in esteeming him, she esteemed all his
+notions; and among the rest, venerated those of his religion. Yet that
+passion, which had unhappily taken possession of her whole soul, would
+not have been inspired, had there not subsisted an early difference, in
+their systems of divine faith. Had she been early taught what were the
+sacred functions of a Roman ecclesiastic, though all her esteem, all her
+admiration, had been attracted by the qualities and accomplishments of
+her guardian, yet education, would have given such a prohibition to her
+love, that she would have been precluded from it, as by that barrier
+which divides a sister from a brother.
+
+This, unfortunately, was not the case; and Miss Milner loved Dorriforth
+without one conscious check to tell her she was wrong, except that which
+convinced her--her love would be avoided by him with detestation, and
+with horror.
+
+Miss Woodley, something recovered from her first surprise, and
+sufferings--for never did her susceptible mind suffer so
+exquisitely--amidst all her grief and abhorrence, felt that pity was
+still predominant--and reconciled to the faults of Miss Milner by her
+misery, she once more looked at her with friendship, and asked, "What
+she could do to render her less unhappy?"
+
+"Make me forget," replied Miss Milner, "every moment of my life since I
+first saw you--that moment was teeming with a weight of cares, under
+which I must labour till my death."
+
+"And even in death," replied Miss Woodley, "do not hope to shake them
+off. If unrepented in this world"----
+
+She was proceeding--but the anxiety her friend endured, would not suffer
+her to be free from the apprehension, that, notwithstanding the positive
+assurance of her guardian, if he and Lord Frederick should meet, the
+duel might still take place; she therefore rang the bell and enquired if
+Mr. Dorriforth was still at home?--the answer was--"He had rode out. You
+remember," said Miss Woodley, "he told you he should dine from home."
+This did not, however, dismiss her fears, and she dispatched two
+servants different ways in pursuit of him, acquainting them with her
+suspicions, and charging them to prevent the duel. Sandford had also
+taken his precautions; but though he knew the time, he did not know the
+exact place of their appointment, for that Lord Elmwood had forgot to
+enquire.
+
+The excessive alarm which Miss Milner discovered upon this occasion, was
+imputed by the servants, and by others who were witnesses of it, to her
+affection for Lord Frederick; while none but Miss Woodley knew, or had
+the most distant suspicion of the real cause.
+
+Mrs. Horton and Miss Fenton, who were sitting together expatiating on
+the duplicity of their own sex in the instance just before them, had,
+notwithstanding the interest of the discourse, a longing desire to break
+it off; for they were impatient to see this poor frail being whom they
+were loading with their censure. They longed to see if she would have
+the confidence to look them in the face: them, to whom she had so often
+protested, that she had not the smallest attachment to Lord Frederick,
+but from motives of vanity.
+
+These ladies heard with infinite satisfaction that dinner had been
+served, but met Miss Milner at the table with a less degree of pleasure
+than they had expected; for her mind was so totally abstracted from any
+consideration of _them_, that they could not discern a single blush, or
+confused glance, which their presence occasioned. No, she had before
+them divulged nothing of which she was ashamed; she was only ashamed
+that what she had said was not true. In the bosom of Miss Woodley alone
+was that secret entrusted which could call a blush into her face, and
+before her, she _did_ feel confusion--before the gentle friend, to whom
+she had till this time communicated all her faults without
+embarrassment, she now cast down her eyes in shame.
+
+Soon after the dinner was removed, Lord Elmwood entered; and that
+gallant young nobleman declared--"Mr. Sandford had used him ill, in not
+permitting him to accompany his relation; for he feared that Mr.
+Dorriforth would now throw himself upon the sword of Lord Frederick,
+without a single friend near to defend him." A rebuke from the eye of
+Miss Woodley, which from this day had a command over Miss Milner,
+restrained her from expressing the affright she suffered from this
+intimation. Miss Fenton replied, "As to that, my Lord, I see no reason
+why Mr. Dorriforth and Lord Frederick should not now be friends."
+"Certainly," said Mrs. Horton; "for as soon as my Lord Frederick is made
+acquainted with Miss Milner's confession, all differences must be
+reconciled."
+
+"What confession?" asked Lord Elmwood.
+
+Miss Milner, to avoid hearing a repetition of that which gave her pain
+even to recollect, rose in order to retire into her own apartment, but
+was obliged to sit down again, till she received the assistance of Lord
+Elmwood and her friend, who led her into her dressing room. She reclined
+upon a sofa there, and though left alone with that friend, a silence
+followed of half an hour; nor when the conversation began, was the name
+of Dorriforth once uttered--they were grown cool and considerate since
+the discovery, and both were equally fearful of naming him.
+
+The vanity of the world, the folly of riches, the charms of retirement,
+and such topics engaged their discourse, but not their thoughts, for
+near two hours; and the first time the word Dorriforth was spoken, was
+by a servant, who with alacrity opened the dressing room door, without
+previously rapping, and cried, "Madam, Mr. Dorriforth."
+
+Dorriforth immediately came in, and went eagerly to Miss Milner. Miss
+Woodley beheld the glow of joy and of guilt upon her face, and did not
+rise to give him her seat, as was her custom, when she was sitting by
+his ward and he came to her with intelligence. He therefore stood while
+he repeated all that had happened in his interview with Lord Frederick.
+
+But with her gladness to see her guardian safe, she had forgot to
+enquire of the safety of his antagonist; of the man whom she had
+pretended to love so passionately--even smiles of rapture were upon her
+face, though Dorriforth might be returned from putting him to death.
+This incongruity of behaviour Miss Woodley observed, and was
+confounded--but Dorriforth, in whose thoughts a suspicion either of her
+love for him, or indifference for Lord Frederick, had no place, easily
+reconciled this inconsistency, and said,
+
+"You see by my countenance that all is well, and therefore you smile on
+me before I tell you what has passed."
+
+This brought her to the recollection of her conduct, and now with looks
+ill constrained, she attempted the expression of an alarm she did not
+feel.
+
+"Nay, I assure you Lord Frederick is safe," he resumed, "and the
+disgrace of his blow washed entirely away, by a few drops of blood from
+this arm." And he laid his hand upon his left arm, which rested in his
+waistcoat as a kind of sling.
+
+She cast her eyes there, and seeing where the ball had entered the coat
+sleeve, she gave an involuntary scream, and sunk upon the sofa. Instead
+of that affectionate sympathy which Miss Woodley used to exert upon her
+slightest illness or affliction, she now addressed her in an unpitying
+tone, and said, "Miss Milner, you have heard Lord Frederick is safe, you
+have therefore nothing to alarm you." Nor did she run to hold a smelling
+bottle, or to raise her head. Her guardian seeing her near fainting, and
+without any assistance from her friend, was going himself to give it;
+but on this, Miss Woodley interfered, and having taken her head upon her
+arm, assured him, "It was a weakness to which Miss Milner was
+accustomed: that she would ring for her maid, who knew how to relieve
+her instantly with a few drops." Satisfied with this, Dorriforth left
+the room; and a surgeon being come to examine his wound, he retired into
+his own chamber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+The power delegated by the confidential to those entrusted with their
+secrets, Miss Woodley was the last person on earth to abuse--but she was
+also the last, who, by an accommodating complacency, would participate
+in the guilt of her friend--and there was no guilt, except that of
+murder, which she thought equal to the crime in question, if it was ever
+perpetrated. Adultery, reason would perhaps have informed her, was a
+more pernicious evil to society; but to a religious mind, what sound is
+so horrible as _sacrilege?_ Of vows made to God or to man, the former
+must weigh the heaviest. Moreover, the sin of infidelity in the married
+state, is not a little softened to common understandings, by its
+frequency; whereas, of religious vows broken by a devotee she had never
+heard; unless where the offence had been followed by such examples of
+divine vengeance, such miraculous punishments in this world, (as well as
+eternal punishment in the other) as served to exaggerate the
+wickedness.
+
+She, who could, and who did pardon Miss Milner, was the person who saw
+her passion in the severest light, and resolved upon every method,
+however harsh, to root it from her heart--nor did she fear success,
+resting on the certain assurance, that however deep her love might be
+fixed, it would never be returned. Yet this confidence did not prevent
+her taking every precaution, lest Dorriforth should come to the
+knowledge of it. She would not have his composed mind disturbed with
+such a thought--his steadfast principles so much as shaken by the
+imagination--nor overwhelm him with those self-reproaches which his fatal
+attraction, unpremeditated as it was, would still have drawn upon him.
+
+With this plan of concealment, in which the natural modesty of Miss
+Milner acquiesced, there was but one effort for which this unhappy ward
+was not prepared; and that was an entire separation from her guardian.
+She had, from the first, cherished her passion without the most remote
+prospect of a return--she was prepared to see Dorriforth, without ever
+seeing him more nearly connected to her than as her guardian and friend;
+but not to see him at all--for _that_, she was not prepared.
+
+But Miss Woodley reflected upon the inevitable necessity of this measure
+before she made the proposal; and then made it with a firmness that
+might have done honour to the inflexibility of Dorriforth himself.
+
+During the few days that intervened between her open confession of a
+passion for Lord Frederick and this proposed plan of separation, the
+most intricate incoherence appeared in the character of Miss Milner--and
+in order to evade a marriage with him, and conceal, at the same time,
+the shameful propensity which lurked in her breast, she was once even on
+the point of declaring a passion for Sir Edward Ashton.
+
+In the duel which had taken place between Lord Frederick and Dorriforth,
+the latter had received the fire of his antagonist, but positively
+refused to return it; by which he had kept his promise not to endanger
+his Lordship's life, and had reconciled Sandford, in great measure, to
+his behaviour--and Sandford now (his resolution once broken) no longer
+refused entering Miss Milner's house, but came whenever it was
+convenient, though he yet avoided the mistress of it as much as
+possible; or showed by every word and look, when she was present, that
+she was still less in his favour than she had ever been.
+
+He visited Dorriforth on the evening of his engagement with Lord
+Frederick, and the next morning breakfasted with him in his own chamber;
+nor did Miss Milner see her guardian after his first return from that
+engagement before the following noon. She enquired, however, of his
+servant how he did, and was rejoiced to hear that his wound was but
+slight--yet this enquiry she durst not make before Miss Woodley.
+
+When Dorriforth made his appearance the next day, it was evident that he
+had thrown from his heart a load of cares; and though they had left a
+languor upon his face, content was in his voice, in his manners, in
+every word and action. Far from seeming to retain any resentment against
+his ward, for the danger into which her imprudence had led him, he
+appeared rather to pity her indiscretion, and to wish to soothe the
+perturbation which the recollection of her own conduct had evidently
+raised in her mind. His endeavours were successful--she was soothed every
+time he spoke to her; and had not the watchful eye of Miss Woodley stood
+guard over her inclinations, she had plainly discovered, that she was
+enraptured with the joy of seeing him again himself, after the danger to
+which he had been exposed.
+
+These emotions, which she laboured to subdue, passed, however, the
+bounds of her ineffectual resistance, when at the time of retiring after
+dinner, he said to her in a low voice, but such as it was meant the
+company should hear, "Do me the favour, Miss Milner, to call at my study
+some time in the evening; I have to speak with you upon business."
+
+She answered, "I will, Sir." And her eyes swam with delight, in
+expectation of the interview.
+
+Let not the reader, nevertheless, imagine, there was in that ardent
+expectation, one idea which the most spotless mind, in love, might not
+have indulged without reproach. Sincere love (at least among the
+delicate of the female sex) is often gratified by that degree of
+enjoyment, or rather forbearance, which would be torture in the pursuit
+of any other passion. Real, delicate, and restrained love, such as Miss
+Milner's, was indulged in the sight of the object only; and having
+bounded her wishes by her hopes, the height of her happiness was limited
+to a conversation, in which no other but themselves took a part.
+
+Miss Woodley was one of those who heard the appointment, but the only
+one who conceived with what sensation it was received.
+
+While the ladies remained in the same room with Dorriforth, Miss Milner
+thought of little, except of him. As soon as they withdrew into another
+apartment, she remembered Miss Woodley; and turning her head suddenly,
+saw her friend's face imprinted with suspicion and displeasure: this at
+first was painful to her--but recollecting that in a couple of hours she
+was to meet her guardian alone--to speak to him, and hear him speak to
+her only--every other thought was absorbed in that one, and she
+considered with indifference, the uneasiness, or the anger of her
+friend.
+
+Miss Milner, to do justice to her heart, did not wish to beguile
+Dorriforth into the snares of love: could any supernatural power have
+endowed her with the means, and at the same time have shewn to her the
+ills that must arise from such an effect of her charms, she had
+assuredly virtue enough to have declined the conquest; but without
+enquiring what she proposed, she never saw him, without previously
+endeavouring to look more attractive, than she would have desired,
+before any other person. And now, without listening to the thousand
+exhortations that spoke in every feature of Miss Woodley, she flew to a
+looking-glass, to adjust her dress in a manner that she thought most
+enchanting.
+
+Time stole away, and the time of going to her guardian arrived. In his
+presence, unsupported by the presence of any other, every grace that she
+had practised, every look that she had borrowed to set off her charms,
+were annihilated; and she became a native beauty, with the artless
+arguments of reason only for her aid. Awed thus by his power, from
+every thing but what she really was, she never was perhaps half so
+bewitching, as in those timid, respectful, and embarrassed moments she
+passed alone with him. He caught at those times her respect, her
+diffidence, nay, even her embarrassment; and never would one word of
+anger pass on either side.
+
+On the present occasion, he first expressed the high satisfaction that
+she had given him, by at length revealing to him the real state of her
+mind.
+
+"And when I take every thing into consideration, Miss Milner," added he,
+"I rejoice that your sentiments happen to be such as you have owned.
+For, although my Lord Frederick is not the very man I could have wished
+for your perfect happiness; yet, in the state of human perfection and
+human happiness, you might have fixed your affections with perhaps less
+propriety; and still, where my unwillingness to thwart your inclinations
+might not have permitted me to contend with them."
+
+Not a word of reply did this demand; or if it had, not a word could she
+have given.
+
+"And now, Madam, the reason of my desire to speak with you--is, to know
+the means you think most proper to pursue, in order to acquaint Lord
+Frederick, that notwithstanding this late repulse, there are hopes of
+your partiality in his favour."
+
+"Defer the explanation," she replied eagerly.
+
+"I beg your pardon--it cannot be. Besides, how can you indulge a
+disposition thus unpitying? Even so ardently did I desire to render the
+man who loves you happy, that though he came armed against my life, had
+I not reflected, that previous to our engagement it would appear like
+fear, and the means of bartering for his forgiveness, I should have
+revealed your sentiments the moment I had seen him. When the engagement
+was over, I was too impatient to acquaint you with his safety, to think
+then on gratifying him. And indeed, the delicacy of the declaration,
+after the many denials which you have no doubt given him, should be
+considered. I therefore consult your opinion upon the manner in which it
+shall be made."
+
+"Mr. Dorriforth, can you allow nothing to the moments of surprise, and
+that pity, which the fate impending inspired? and which might urge me to
+express myself of Lord Frederick, in a manner my cooler thoughts will
+not warrant?"
+
+"There was nothing in your expressions, my dear Miss Milner, the least
+equivocal--if you were off your guard when you pleaded for Lord
+Frederick, as I believe you were, you said more sincerely what you
+thought; and no discreet, or rather indiscreet attempts to retract, can
+make me change these sentiments."
+
+"I am very sorry," she replied, confused and trembling.
+
+"Why sorry? Come give me commission to reveal your partiality. I'll not
+be too hard upon you--a hint from me will do. Hope is ever apt to
+interpret the slightest words to its own use, and a lover's hope is
+beyond all others, sanguine."
+
+"I never gave Lord Frederick hope."
+
+"But you never plunged him into despair."
+
+"His pursuit intimates that I never have, but he has no other proof."
+
+"However light and frivolous you have been upon frivolous subjects, yet
+I must own, Miss Milner, that I did expect when a case of this
+importance came seriously before you, you would have discovered a proper
+stability in your behaviour."
+
+"I do, Sir; and it was only when I was affected with a weakness, which
+arose from accident, that I have betrayed inconsistency."
+
+"You then assert again, that you have no affection for my Lord
+Frederick?"
+
+"Not enough to become his wife."
+
+"You are alarmed at marriage, and I do not wonder you should be so; it
+shews a prudent foresight which does you honour--but, my dear, are there
+no dangers in a single state? If I may judge, Miss Milner, there are
+many more to a young lady of your accomplishments, than if you were
+under the protection of a husband."
+
+"My father, Mr. Dorriforth, thought your protection sufficient."
+
+"But that protection was rather to direct your choice, than to be the
+cause of your not choosing at all. Give me leave to point out an
+observation which, perhaps, I have too frequently made before, but upon
+this occasion I must intrude it once again. Miss Fenton is its
+object--her fortune is inferior to your's, her personal attractions are
+less"----
+
+Here the powerful glow of joy, and of gratitude, for an opinion so
+negligently, and yet so sincerely expressed, flew to Miss Milner's face,
+neck, and even to her hands and fingers; the blood mounted to every part
+of her skin that was visible, for not a fibre but felt the secret
+transport, that Dorriforth thought her more beautiful than the beautiful
+Miss Fenton.
+
+If he observed her blushes, he was unsuspicious of the cause, and went
+on.
+
+"There is, besides, in the temper of Miss Fenton, a sedateness that
+might with less hazard ensure her safety in an unmarried life; and yet
+she very properly thinks it her duty, as she does not mean to seclude
+herself by any vows to the contrary, to become a wife--and in obedience
+to the counsel of her friends, will be married within a very few weeks."
+
+"Miss Fenton may marry from obedience, I never will."
+
+"You mean to say, that love shall alone induce you."
+
+"I do."
+
+"If you would point out a subject upon which I am the least able to
+reason, and on which my sentiments, such as they are, are formed only
+from theory, (and even there, more cautioned than instructed) it is the
+subject of love. And yet, even that little which I know, tells me,
+without a doubt, that what you said yesterday, pleading for Lord
+Frederick's life, was the result of the most violent and tender love."
+
+"The _little you know_ then, Mr. Dorriforth, has deceived you; had you
+_known more_, you would have judged otherwise."
+
+"I submit to the merit of your reply; but without allowing me a judge at
+all, I will appeal to those who were present with me."
+
+"Are Mrs. Horton and Mr. Sandford to be the connoisseurs?"
+
+"No; I'll appeal to Miss Fenton and Miss Woodley."
+
+"And yet, I believe," replied she with a smile, "I believe theory must
+only be the judge even there."
+
+"Then from all you have said, Madam, on this occasion, I am to conclude
+that you still refuse to marry Lord Frederick?"
+
+"You are."
+
+"And you submit never to see him again?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"All you then said to me, yesterday, was false?"
+
+"I was not mistress of myself at the time."
+
+"Therefore it was truth!--for shame, for shame!"
+
+At that moment the door opened, and Mr. Sandford walked in--he started
+back on seeing Miss Milner, and was going away; but Dorriforth called to
+him to stay, and said with warmth,
+
+"Tell me, Mr. Sandford, by what power, by what persuasion, I can prevail
+upon Miss Milner to confide in me as her friend; to lay her heart open,
+and credit mine when I declare to her, that I have no view in all the
+advice I give to her, but her immediate welfare."
+
+"Mr. Dorriforth, you know my opinion of that lady," replied Sandford;
+"it has been formed ever since my first acquaintance with her, and it
+continues the same."
+
+"But instruct me how I am to inspire her with confidence," returned
+Dorriforth; "how I am to impress her with a sense of that, which is for
+her advantage?"
+
+"You can work no miracles," replied Sandford, "you are not holy enough."
+
+"And yet my ward," answered Dorriforth, "appears to be acquainted with
+that mystery; for what but the force of a miracle can induce her to
+contradict to-day, what before you, and several other witnesses, she
+positively acknowledged yesterday?"
+
+"Do you call that miraculous?" cried Sandford; "the miracle had been if
+she had _not_ done so--for did she not yesterday contradict what she
+acknowledged the day before? and will she not to-morrow disavow what
+she says to-day?"
+
+"I wish that she may--" replied Dorriforth mildly, for he saw the tears
+flowing down her face at the rough and severe manner in which Sandford
+had spoken, and he began to feel for her uneasiness.
+
+"I beg pardon," cried Sandford, "for speaking so rudely to the mistress
+of the house--I have no business here, I know; but where _you_ are, Mr.
+Dorriforth, unless I am turned out, I shall always think it my duty to
+come."
+
+Miss Milner curtsied, as much as to say, he was welcome to come. He
+continued,
+
+"I was to blame, that upon a nice punctilio, I left you so long without
+my visits, and without my counsel; in that time, you have run the hazard
+of being murdered, and what is worse, of being excommunicated; for had
+you been so rash as to have returned your opponent's fire, not all my
+interest at Rome would have obtained remission of the punishment."
+
+Miss Milner, through all her tears, could not now restrain her laughter.
+On which he resumed;
+
+"And here do I venture, like a missionary among savages--but if I can
+only save you from their scalping knives--from the miseries which that
+lady is preparing for you, I am rewarded."
+
+Sandford spoke this with great fervour, and the offence of her love
+never appeared to her in so tremendous a point of view, as when thus,
+unknowingly, alluded to by him.
+
+"_The miseries that lady is preparing for you_," hung upon her ears like
+the notes of a raven, and sounded equally ominous. The words "_murder_"
+and "_excommunication_" he had likewise uttered; all the fatal effects
+of sacrilegious love. Frightful superstitions struck her to the heart,
+and she could scarcely prevent falling down under their oppression.
+
+Dorriforth beheld the difficulty she had in sustaining herself, and with
+the utmost tenderness went towards her, and supporting her, said, "I beg
+your pardon--I invited you hither with a far different intention than
+your uneasiness, and be assured----"
+
+Sandford was beginning to speak, when Dorriforth resumed,--"Hold, Mr.
+Sandford, the lady is under my protection, and I know not whether it is
+not requisite that you should apologize to her, and to me, for what you
+have already said."
+
+"You asked my opinion, or I had not given it you--would you have me, like
+_her_, speak what I do not think?"
+
+"Say no more, Sir," cried Dorriforth--and leading her kindly to the door,
+as if to defend her from his malice, told her, "He would take another
+opportunity of renewing the subject."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+When Dorriforth was alone with Sandford, he explained to him what before
+he had only hinted; and this learned Jesuit frankly confessed, "That the
+mind of woman was far above, or rather beneath, his comprehension." It
+was so, indeed--for with all his penetration, and few even of that school
+had more, he had not yet penetrated into the recesses of Miss Milner's
+heart.
+
+Miss Woodley, to whom she repeated all that had passed between herself,
+her guardian, and Sandford, took this moment, in the agitation of her
+spirits, to alarm her still more by prophetic insinuations; and at
+length represented to her here, for the first time, the necessity, "That
+Mr. Dorriforth and she no longer should remain under the same roof."
+This was like the stroke of sudden death to Miss Milner, and clinging to
+life, she endeavoured to avert the blow by prayers, and by promises. Her
+friend loved her too sincerely to be prevailed upon.
+
+"But in what manner can I accomplish the separation?" cried she, "for
+till I marry we are obliged, by my father's request, to live in the same
+house."
+
+"Miss Milner," answered Miss Woodley, "much as I respect the will of a
+dying man, I regard your and Mr. Dorriforth's present and eternal
+happiness much more; and it is my resolution that you _shall part._ If
+_you_ will not contrive the means, that duty falls on me, and without
+any invention I see the measure at once."
+
+"What is it?" cried Miss Milner eagerly.
+
+"I will reveal to Mr. Dorriforth, without hesitation, the real state of
+your heart; which your present inconsistency of conduct will but too
+readily confirm."
+
+"You would not plunge me into so much shame, into so much anguish!"
+cried she, distractedly.
+
+"No," replied Miss Woodley, "not for the world, if you will separate
+from him by any mode of your own--but that you _shall_ separate is my
+determination; and in spite of all your sufferings, this shall be the
+expedient, unless you instantly agree to some other."
+
+"Good Heaven, Miss Woodley! is this your friendship?"
+
+"Yes--and the truest friendship I have to bestow. Think what a task I
+undertake for your sake and his, when I condemn myself to explain to him
+your weakness. What astonishment! what confusion! what remorse, do I
+foresee painted upon his face! I hear him call you by the harshest
+names, and behold him fly from your sight for ever, as an object of his
+detestation."
+
+"Oh spare the dreadful picture.--Fly from my sight for ever! Detest my
+name! Oh! my dear Miss Woodley, let but his friendship for me still
+remain, and I will consent to any thing. You may command me. I will go
+away from him directly--but let us part in friendship--Oh! without the
+friendship of Mr. Dorriforth, life would be a heavy burthen indeed."
+
+Miss Woodley immediately began to contrive schemes for their separation;
+and, with all her invention alive on the subject, the following was the
+only natural one that she could form.
+
+Miss Milner, in a letter to her distant relation at Bath, was to
+complain of the melancholy of a country life, which she was to say her
+guardian imposed upon her; and she was to entreat the lady to send a
+pressing invitation that she would pass a month or two at her house;
+this invitation was to be laid before Dorriforth for his approbation,
+and the two ladies were to enforce it, by expressing their earnest
+wishes for his consent. This plan having been properly regulated, the
+necessary letter was sent to Bath, and Miss Woodley waited with
+patience, but with a watchful guard upon the conduct of her friend, till
+the answer should arrive.
+
+During this interim a tender and complaining epistle from Lord Frederick
+was delivered to Miss Milner; to which, as he received no answer, he
+prevailed upon his uncle, with whom he resided, to wait upon her, and
+obtain a verbal reply; for he still flattered himself, that fear of her
+guardian's anger, or perhaps his interception of the letter which he had
+sent, was the sole cause of her apparent indifference.
+
+The old gentleman was introduced both to Miss Milner and to Mr.
+Dorriforth, but received from each an answer so explicit, that left his
+nephew no longer in doubt but that all farther pursuit was vain.
+
+Sir Edward Ashton about this time also submitted to a formal dismission;
+and had the mortification to reflect, that he was bestowing upon the
+object of his affections, the tenderest proof of his regard, by
+absenting himself entirely from her society.
+
+Upon this serious and certain conclusion to the hopes of Lord Frederick,
+Dorriforth was more astonished than ever at the conduct of his ward. He
+had once thought her behaviour in this respect was ambiguous, but since
+her confession of a passion for that nobleman, he had no doubt but in
+the end she would become his wife. He lamented to find himself mistaken,
+and thought it proper now to condemn her caprice, not merely in words,
+but in the general tenor of his behaviour. He consequently became more
+reserved, and more austere than he had been since his first acquaintance
+with her; for his manners, not from design, but imperceptibly to
+himself, had been softened since he became her guardian, by that tender
+respect which he had uniformly paid to the object of his protection.
+
+Notwithstanding the severity he now assumed, his ward, in the prospect
+of parting from him, grew melancholy; Miss Woodley's love to her friend
+rendered her little otherwise; and Dorriforth's peculiar gravity,
+frequently rigour, could not but make their whole party less cheerful
+than it had been. Lord Elmwood too, at this time was lying dangerously
+ill of a fever; Miss Fenton of course was as much in sorrow as her
+nature would permit her to be, and both Sandford and Dorriforth in
+extreme concern upon his Lordship's account.
+
+In this posture of affairs, the letter of invitation arrives from Lady
+Luneham at Bath; it was shewn to Dorriforth; and to prove to his ward
+that he is so much offended, as no longer to feel that excessive
+interest in her concerns which he once felt, he gives an opinion on the
+subject with indifference--he desires "Miss Milner will do what she
+herself thinks proper." Miss Woodley instantly accepts this permission,
+writes back, and appoints the day upon which her friend means to set off
+for the visit.
+
+Miss Milner is wounded at the heart by the cold and unkind manners of
+her guardian, but dares not take one step to retrieve his opinion.
+Alone, or to her friend, she sighs and weeps: he discovers her sorrow,
+and is doubtful whether the departure of Lord Frederick from that part
+of the country is not the cause.
+
+When the time she was to set out for Bath was only two days off, the
+behaviour of Dorriforth took, by degrees, its usual form, if not a
+greater share of polite and tender attention than ever. It was the first
+time he had parted from Miss Milner since he became her guardian, and he
+felt upon the occasion, a reluctance. He had been angry with her, he had
+shewn her that he was, and he now began to wish that he had not. She is
+not happy, (he considered within himself) every word and action declares
+she is not; I may have been too severe, and added perhaps to her
+uneasiness. "At least we will part on good terms," said he--"Indeed, my
+regard for her is such, I cannot part otherwise."
+
+She soon discerned his returning kindness, and it was a gentle tie that
+would have fastened her to that spot for ever, but for the firm
+resistance of Miss Woodley.
+
+"What will the absence of a few months effect?" said she, pleading her
+own cause; "At the end of a few months at farthest, he will expect me
+back, and where then will be the merit of this separation?"
+
+"In that time," replied Miss Woodley, "we may find some method to make
+it longer." To this she listened with a kind of despair, but uttered,
+she "Was resigned,"--and she prepared for her departure.
+
+Dorriforth was all anxiety that every circumstance of her journey should
+be commodious; he was eager she should be happy; and he was eager she
+should see that he entirely forgave her. He would have gone part of the
+way with her, but for the extreme illness of Lord Elmwood, in whose
+chamber he passed most of the day, and slept in Elmwood House every
+night.
+
+On the morning of her journey, when Dorriforth gave his hand and
+conducted Miss Milner to the carriage, all the way he led her she could
+not restrain her tears; which increased, as he parted from her, to
+convulsive sobs. He was affected by her grief; and though he had
+previously bid her farewell, he drew her gently on one side, and said,
+with the tenderest concern,
+
+"My dear Miss Milner, we part friends?--I hope we do?--On my side, depend
+upon it, that I regret nothing so much at our separation, as having ever
+given you a moment's pain."
+
+"I believe so," was all she could utter, for she hastened from him, lest
+his discerning eye should discover the cause of the weakness which thus
+overcame her. But her apprehensions were groundless; the rectitude of
+his own heart was a bar to the suspicion of her's. He once more kindly
+bade her adieu, and the carriage drove away.
+
+Miss Fenton and Miss Woodley accompanied her part of the journey, about
+thirty miles, where they were met by Sir Harry and Lady Luneham. Here
+was a parting nearly as affecting as that between her and her guardian.
+Miss Woodley, who for several weeks had treated her friend with a
+rigidness she herself hardly supposed was in her nature, now bewailed
+that she had done so; implored her forgiveness; promised to correspond
+with her punctually, and to omit no opportunity of giving her every
+consolation short of cherishing her fatal passion--but in that, and that
+only, was the heart of Miss Milner to be consoled.
+
+END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+SIMPLE STORY,
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES,
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+VOL. II.
+
+_THE FOURTH EDITION._
+
+LONDON:
+
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON, PATERNOSTER ROW.
+
+1799.
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+When Miss Milner arrived at Bath, she thought it the most altered place
+she had ever seen--she was mistaken--it was herself that was changed.
+
+The walks were melancholy, the company insipid, the ball-room
+fatiguing--for, she had left behind all that could charm or please her.
+
+Though she found herself much less happy than when she was at Bath
+before, yet she felt, that she would not, even to enjoy all that past
+happiness, be again reduced to the being she was at that period. Thus
+does the lover consider the extinction of his passion with the same
+horror as the libertine looks upon annihilation; the one would rather
+live hereafter, though in all the tortures described as constituting his
+future state, than cease to exist; so, there are no tortures which a
+lover would not suffer, rather than cease to love.
+
+In the wide prospect of sadness before her, Miss Milner's fancy caught
+hold of the only comfort which presented itself; and this, faint as it
+was, in the total absence of every other, her imagination painted to her
+as excessive. The comfort was a letter from Miss Woodley--a letter, in
+which the subject of her love would most assuredly be mentioned, and in
+whatever terms, it would still be the means of delight.
+
+A letter arrived--she devoured it with her eyes. The post mark denoting
+from whence it came, the name of "Milner Lodge" written on the top, were
+all sources of pleasure--and she read slowly every line it contained, to
+procrastinate the pleasing expectation she enjoyed, till she should
+arrive at the name of Dorriforth. At last, her impatient eye caught the
+word, three lines beyond the place she was reading--irresistibly, she
+skipped over those lines, and fixed on the point to which she was
+attracted.
+
+Miss Woodley was cautious in her indulgence; she made the slightest
+mention of Dorriforth; saying only, "He was extremely concerned, and
+even dejected, at the little hope there was of his cousin, Lord
+Elmwood's, recovery." Short and trivial as this passage was, it was
+still more important to Miss Milner than any other in the letter--she
+read it again and again, considered, and reflected upon it. Dejected,
+thought she, what does that word exactly mean?--did I ever see Mr.
+Dorriforth dejected?--how, I wonder, does he look in that state? Thus did
+she muse, while the cause of his dejection, though a most serious one,
+and pathetically described by Miss Woodley, scarce arrested her
+attention once. She ran over with haste the account of Lord Elmwood's
+state of health; she certainly pitied him while she thought of him, but
+she did not think of him long. To die, was a hard fate for a young
+nobleman just in possession of his immense fortune, and on the eve of
+marriage with a beautiful young woman; but Miss Milner thought that an
+abode in Heaven might be still better than all this, and she had no
+doubt but his Lordship would go thither. The forlorn state of Miss
+Fenton ought to have been a subject for compassion, but she knew that
+lady had resignation to bear any lot with patience, and that a trial of
+her fortitude might be more flattering to her vanity than to be Countess
+of Elmwood: in a word, she saw no one's misfortunes equal to her own,
+because she saw no one so little able to bear misfortune.
+
+She replied to Miss Woodley's letter, and dwelt very long on that
+subject which her friend had passed over lightly; this was another
+indulgence; and this epistolary intercourse was now the only enjoyment
+she possessed. From Bath she paid several visits with Lady Luneham--all
+were alike tedious and melancholy.
+
+But her guardian wrote to her, and though it was on a topic of sorrow,
+the letter gave her joy--the sentiments it expressed were merely
+common-place, yet she valued them as the dearest effusions of friendship
+and affection; and her hands trembled, and her heart beat with rapture
+while she wrote the answer, though she knew it would not be received by
+him with one emotion like those which she experienced. In her second
+letter to Miss Woodley, she prayed like a person insane to be taken home
+from confinement, and like a lunatic protested, in sensible language,
+she "Had no disorder." But her friend replied, "That very declaration
+proves its violence." And she assured her, nothing less than placing her
+affections elsewhere, should induce her to believe but that she was
+incurable.
+
+The third letter from Milner Lodge brought the news of Lord Elmwood's
+death. Miss Woodley was exceedingly affected by this event, and said
+little else on any other subject. Miss Milner was shocked when she read
+the words "He is dead", and instantly thought,
+
+"How transient are all sublunary things! Within a few years _I_ shall be
+dead--and how happy will it then be, if I have resisted every temptation
+to the alluring pleasures of this life!" The happiness of a peaceful
+death occupied her contemplation for near an hour; but at length, every
+virtuous and pious sentiment this meditation inspired, served but to
+remind her of the many sentences she had heard from her guardian's lips
+upon the same subject--her thoughts were again fixed on him, and she
+could think of nothing besides.
+
+In a short time after this, her health became impaired from the
+indisposition of her mind; she languished, and was once in imminent
+danger. During a slight delirium of her fever, Miss Woodley's name and
+her guardian's were incessantly repeated; Lady Luneham sent them
+immediate word of this, and they both hastened to Bath, and arrived
+there just as the violence and danger of her disorder had ceased. As
+soon as she became perfectly recollected, her first care, knowing the
+frailty of her heart, was to enquire what she had uttered while
+delirious. Miss Woodley, who was by her bedside, begged her not to be
+alarmed on that account, and assured her she knew, from all her
+attendants, that she had only spoken with a friendly remembrance (as was
+really the case) of those persons who were dear to her.
+
+She wished to know whether her guardian was come to see her, but she
+had not the courage to ask before her friend; and she in her turn was
+afraid by the too sudden mention of his name, to discompose her. Her
+maid, however, after some little time, entered the chamber, and
+whispered Miss Woodley. Miss Milner asked inquisitively "What she said?"
+
+The maid replied softly, "Lord Elmwood, Madam, wishes to come and see
+you for a few moments, if you will allow him."
+
+At this reply Miss Milner stared wildly.
+
+"I thought," said she, "I thought Lord Elmwood had been dead--are my
+senses disordered still?"
+
+"No, my dear," answered Miss Woodley, "it is the present Lord Elmwood
+who wishes to see you; he whom you left ill when you came hither, _is_
+dead."
+
+"And who is the present Lord Elmwood?" she asked.
+
+Miss Woodley, after a short hesitation, replied--"Your guardian."
+
+"And so he is," cried Miss Milner; "he is the next heir--I had forgot.
+But is it possible that he is here?"
+
+"Yes--" returned Miss Woodley with a grave voice and manner, to moderate
+that glow of satisfaction which for a moment sparkled even in her
+languid eye, and blushed over her pallid countenance. "Yes--as he heard
+you were ill, he thought it right to come and see you."
+
+"He is very good," she answered, and the tear started in her eyes.
+
+"Would you please to see his Lordship?" asked her maid.
+
+"Not yet, not yet," she replied; "let me recollect myself first." And
+she looked with a timid doubt upon her friend, to ask if it was proper.
+
+Miss Woodley could hardly support this humble reference to her judgment,
+from the wan face of the poor invalid, and taking her by the hand,
+whispered, "You shall do what you please." In a few minutes Lord Elmwood
+was introduced.
+
+To those who sincerely love, every change of situation or circumstances
+in the object beloved, appears an advantage. So, the acquisition of a
+title and estate was, in Miss Milner's eye, an inestimable advantage to
+her guardian; not on account of their real value; but that any change,
+instead of diminishing her passion, would have served only to increase
+it--even a change to the utmost poverty.
+
+When he entered--the sight of him seemed to be too much for her, and
+after the first glance she turned her head away. The sound of his voice
+encouraged her to look once more--and then she riveted her eyes upon him.
+
+"It is impossible, my dear Miss Milner," he gently whispered, "to say,
+what joy I feel that your disorder has subsided."
+
+But though it was impossible to say, it was possible to _look_ what he
+felt, and his looks expressed his feelings. In the zeal of those
+sensations, he laid hold of her hand, and held it between his--this he
+did not himself know--but she did.
+
+"You have prayed for me, my Lord, I make no doubt?" said she, and
+smiled, as if thanking him for those prayers.
+
+"Fervently, ardently!" returned he; and the fervency with which he had
+prayed spoke in every feature.
+
+"But I am a protestant, you know, and if I had died such, do you believe
+I should have gone to Heaven?"
+
+"Most assuredly, that would not have prevented you."
+
+"But Mr. Sandford does not think so."
+
+"He must; for he means to go there himself."
+
+To keep her guardian with her, Miss Milner seemed inclined to converse;
+but her solicitous friend gave Lord Elmwood a look, which implied that
+it might be injurious to her, and he retired.
+
+They had only one more interview before he left the place; at which Miss
+Milner was capable of sitting up--he was with her, however, but a very
+short time, some necessary concerns relative to his late kinsman's
+affairs, calling him in haste to London. Miss Woodley continued with her
+friend till she saw her entirely reinstated in her health: during which
+time her guardian was frequently the subject of their private
+conversation; and upon those occasions Miss Milner has sometimes brought
+Miss Woodley to acknowledge, "That could Mr. Dorriforth have possibly
+foreseen the early death of the last Lord Elmwood, it had been more for
+the honour of his religion (as that ancient title would now after him
+become extinct), if he had preferred marriage vows to those of
+celibacy."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+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?"
+
+"Yes," answered Mr. Fleetmond, "but there are no _religious_ vows, from
+which the sovereign Pontiff at Rome cannot grant a dispensation, as
+those commandments which are made by the church, the church has always
+the power to revoke; and when it is for the general good of religion,
+his Holiness thinks it incumbent on him, to publish his bull, and remit
+all penalties for their non-observance; and certainly it is for the
+honour of the Catholics, that this Earldom should continue in a Catholic
+family. In short, I'll venture to lay a wager, my Lord Elmwood is
+married within a year."
+
+Miss Milner, who listened with attention, feared she was in a dream, or
+deceived by the pretended knowledge of Mr. Fleetmond, who might know
+nothing--yet all that he had said was very probable; and he was himself a
+Roman Catholic, so that he must be well informed on the subject upon
+which he spoke. If she had heard the direst news that ever sounded in
+the ears of the most susceptible of mortals, the agitation of her mind
+and person could not have been stronger--she felt, while every word was
+speaking, a chill through all her veins--a pleasure too exquisite, not to
+bear along with it the sensation of exquisite pain; of which she was so
+sensible, that for a few moments it made her wish that she had not heard
+the intelligence; though, very soon after, she would not but have heard
+it for the world.
+
+As soon as she had recovered from her first astonishment and joy, she
+wrote to Miss Woodley an exact account of what she had heard, and
+received this answer:
+
+"I am sorry any body should have given you this piece of information,
+because it was a task, in executing which, I had promised myself extreme
+satisfaction--but from the fear that your health was not yet strong
+enough to support, without some danger, the burthen of hopes which I
+knew would, upon this occasion, press upon you, I deferred my
+communication and it has been anticipated. Yet, as you seem in doubt as
+to the reality of what you have been told, perhaps this confirmation of
+it may fall very little short of the first news; especially when it is
+enforced by my request, that you will come to us, as soon as you can
+with propriety leave Lady Luneham.
+
+"Come, my dear Miss Milner, and find in your once rigid monitor a
+faithful confidante. I will no longer threaten to disclose a secret you
+have trusted me with, but leave it to the wisdom, or sensibility of
+_his_ heart, (who is now to penetrate into the hearts of our sex, in
+search of one that may beat in unison with his own) to find it out. I no
+longer condemn, but congratulate you on your passion; and will assist
+you with all my advice and my earnest wishes, that it may obtain a
+return."
+
+This letter was another of those excruciating pleasures, that almost
+reduced Miss Milner to the grave. Her appetite forsook her; and she
+vainly endeavoured, for several nights, to close her eyes. She thought
+so much upon the prospect of accomplishing her wishes, that she could
+admit no other idea; nor even invent one probable excuse for leaving
+Lady Luneham before the appointed time, which was then at the distance
+of two months. She wrote to Miss Woodley to beg her contrivance, to
+reproach her for keeping the secret so long from her, and to thank her
+for having revealed it in so kind a manner at last. She begged also to
+be acquainted how Mr. Dorriforth (for still she called him by that name)
+spoke and thought of this sudden change in his destiny.
+
+Miss Woodley's reply was a summons for her to town upon some pretended
+business, which she avoided explaining, but which entirely silenced Lady
+Luneham's entreaties for her stay.
+
+To her question concerning Lord Elmwood she answered, "It is a subject
+on which he seldom speaks--he appears just the same he ever did, nor
+could you by any part of his conduct, conceive that any such change had
+taken place." Miss Milner exclaimed to herself, "I am glad he is not
+altered--if his words, looks, or manners, were any thing different from
+what they formerly were, I should not like him so well." And just the
+reverse would have been the case, had Miss Woodley sent her word he was
+changed. The day for her leaving Bath was fixed; she expected it with
+rapture, but before its arrival, sunk under the care of expectation; and
+when it came, was so much indisposed, as to be obliged to defer her
+journey for a week.
+
+At length she found herself in London--in the house of her guardian--and
+that guardian no longer bound to a single life, but _enjoined_ to marry.
+He appeared in her eyes, as in Miss Woodley's, the same as ever; or
+perhaps more endearing than ever, as it was the first time she had
+beheld him with hope. Mr. Sandford did _not_ appear the same; yet he was
+in reality as surly and as disrespectful in his behaviour to her as
+usual; but she did not observe, or she did not feel his morose temper as
+heretofore--he seemed amiable, mild, and gentle; at least this was the
+happy medium through which her self-complacent mind began to see him;
+for good humour, like the jaundice, makes every one of its own
+complexion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Lord Elmwood was preparing to go abroad, for the purpose of receiving in
+form, the dispensation from his vows; it was, however, a subject he
+seemed carefully to avoid speaking upon; and when by any accident he was
+obliged to mention it, it was without any marks either of satisfaction
+or concern.
+
+Miss Milner's pride began to be alarmed. While he was Mr. Dorriforth,
+and confined to a single life, his indifference to her charms was rather
+an honourable than a reproachful trait in his character, and in reality,
+she admired him for the insensibility. But on the eve of being at
+liberty, and on the eve of making his choice, she was offended _that_
+choice was not immediately fixed upon her. She had been accustomed to
+receive the devotion of every man who saw her, and not to obtain it of
+the man from whom, of all others, she most wished it, was cruelly
+humiliating. She complained to Miss Woodley, who advised her to have
+patience; but that was one of the virtues in which she was the least
+practised.
+
+Encouraged, nevertheless, by her friend in the commendable desire of
+gaining the affections of him, who possessed all her own, she, however,
+left no means unattempted for the conquest--but she began with too great
+a certainty of success, not to be sensible of the deepest mortification
+in the disappointment--nay, she anticipated a disappointment, as she had
+before anticipated her success; by turns feeling the keenest emotions
+from hope and from despair.
+
+As these passions alternately governed her, she was alternately in
+spirits or dejected; in good or in ill humour; and the vicissitudes of
+her prospect at length gave to her behaviour an air of caprice, which
+not all her follies had till now produced. This was not the way to
+secure the affections of Lord Elmwood; she knew it was not; and before
+him she was under some restriction. Sandford observed this, and without
+reserve, added to the list of her other failings, hypocrisy. It was
+plain to see that Mr. Sandford esteemed her less and less every day; and
+as he was the person who most influenced the opinion of her guardian,
+he became to her, very soon, an object not merely of dislike, but of
+abhorrence.
+
+These mutual sentiments were discoverable in every word and action,
+while they were in each other's company; but still in his absence, Miss
+Milner's good nature, and total freedom from malice, never suffered her
+to utter a sentence injurious to his interest. Sandford's charity did
+not extend thus far; and speaking of her with severity one evening while
+she was at the opera, "His meaning," as he said, "but to caution her
+guardian against her faults," Lord Elmwood replied,
+
+"There is one fault, however, Mr. Sandford, I cannot lay to her charge."
+
+"And what is that, my Lord?" cried Sandford, eagerly, "What is that one
+fault, which Miss Milner has not?"
+
+"I never," replied Lord Elmwood, "heard Miss Milner, in your absence,
+utter a syllable to your disadvantage."
+
+"She dares not, my Lord, because she is in fear of you and she knows you
+would not suffer it."
+
+"She then," answered his Lordship, "pays me a much higher compliment
+than you do; for you freely censure _her_, and yet imagine I _will_
+suffer it."
+
+"My Lord," replied Sandford, "I am undeceived now, and shall never take
+that liberty again."
+
+As Lord Elmwood always treated Sandford with the utmost respect, he
+began to fear he had been deficient upon this occasion; and the
+disposition which had induced him to take his ward's part, was likely,
+in the end, to prove unfavourable to her; for perceiving Sandford was
+offended at what had passed, as the only means of retribution, he began
+himself to lament her volatile and captious propensities; in which
+lamentation, Sandford, now forgetting his affront, joined with the
+heartiest concurrence, adding,
+
+"You, Sir, having now other cares to employ your thoughts, ought to
+insist upon her marrying, or retiring into the country."
+
+She returned home just as this conversation was finished, and Sandford,
+the moment she entered, rang for his candle to retire. Miss Woodley,
+who had been at the opera with Miss Milner, cried,
+
+"Bless me, Mr. Sandford, are you not well, you are going to leave us so
+early?"
+
+He replied, "No, I have a pain in my head."
+
+Miss Milner, who never listened to complaints without sympathy, rose
+immediately from her seat, saying,
+
+"I think I never heard you, Mr. Sandford, complain of indisposition
+before. Will you accept of my specific for the head-ache? Indeed it is a
+certain relief--I'll fetch it instantly."
+
+She went hastily out of the room, and returned with a bottle, which, she
+assured him, "Was a present from Lady Luneham, and would certainly cure
+him." And she pressed it upon him with such an anxious earnestness, that
+with all his churlishness he could not refuse taking it.
+
+This was but a common-place civility, such as is paid by one enemy to
+another every day; but the _manner_ was the material part. The
+unaffected concern, the attention, the good will, she demonstrated in
+this little incident, was that which made it remarkable, and immediately
+took from Lord Elmwood the displeasure to which he had been just before
+provoked, or rather transformed it into a degree of admiration. Even
+Sandford was not insensible to her behaviour, and in return, when he
+left the room, "Wished her a good night."
+
+To her and Miss Woodley, who had not been witnesses of the preceding
+conversation, what she had done appeared of no merit; but to the mind of
+Lord Elmwood, the merit was infinite; and upon the departure of
+Sandford, he began to be unusually cheerful. He first pleasantly
+reproached the ladies for not offering him a place in their box at the
+opera.
+
+"Would you have gone, my Lord?" asked Miss Milner, highly delighted.
+
+"Certainly," returned he, "had you invited me."
+
+"Then from this day I give you a general invitation; nor shall any other
+company be admitted but those whom you approve."
+
+"I am very much obliged to you," said he.
+
+"And you," continued she, "who have been accustomed only to
+church-music, will be more than any one, enchanted with hearing the
+softer music of love."
+
+"What ravishing pleasures you are preparing for me!" returned he--"I know
+not whether my weak senses will be able to support them!"
+
+She had her eyes upon him when he spoke this, and she discovered in his,
+that were fixed upon her, a sensibility unexpected--a kind of fascination
+which enticed her to look on, while her eyelids fell involuntarily
+before its mighty force, and a thousand blushes crowded over her face.
+He was struck with these sudden signals; hastily recalled his former
+countenance, and stopped the conversation.
+
+Miss Woodley, who had been a silent observer for some time, now thought
+a word or two from her would be acceptable rather than troublesome.
+
+"And pray, my Lord," said she, "when do you go to France?"
+
+"To Italy you mean;--I shall not go at all," said he. "My superiors are
+very indulgent, for they dispense with all my duties. I ought, and I
+meant, to have gone abroad; but as a variety of concerns require my
+presence in England, every necessary ceremony has taken place here."
+
+"Then your Lordship is no longer in orders?" said Miss Woodley.
+
+"No; they have been resigned these five days."
+
+"My Lord, I give you joy," said Miss Milner.
+
+He thanked her, but added with a sigh, "If I have given up content in
+search of joy, I shall perhaps be a loser by the venture." Soon after
+this, he wished them a good night, and retired.
+
+Happy as Miss Milner found herself in his company, she saw him leave the
+room with infinite satisfaction, because her heart was impatient to give
+a loose to its hopes on the bosom of Miss Woodley. She bade Mrs. Horton
+immediately good night; and, in her friend's apartment, gave way to all
+the language of passion, warmed with the confidence of meeting its
+return. She described the sentiments she had read in Lord Elmwood's
+looks; and though Miss Woodley had beheld them too, Miss Milner's fancy
+heightened the expression of every glance, till her construction became,
+by degrees, so extremely favourable to her own wishes, that had not her
+friend been present, and known in what measure to estimate those
+symptoms, she must infallibly have thought, by the joy to which they
+gave birth, that he had openly avowed a passion for her.
+
+Miss Woodley, therefore, thought it her duty to allay these ecstasies,
+and represented to her, she might be deceived in her hopes--or even
+supposing his wishes inclined towards her, there were yet great
+obstacles between them.--"Would not Sandford, who directed his every
+thought and purpose, be consulted upon this? and if he was, upon what,
+but the most romantic affection on the part of Lord Elmwood, had Miss
+Milner to depend? and his Lordship was not a man to be suspected of
+submitting to the excess of any passion." Thus did Miss Woodley argue,
+lest her friend should be misled by her wishes; yet, in her own mind,
+she scarce harboured a doubt that any thing would thwart them. The
+succeeding circumstance proved she was mistaken.
+
+Another gentleman of family and fortune made overtures to Miss Milner;
+and her guardian, so far from having his thoughts inclined towards her
+on his own account, pleaded this lover's cause even with more zeal than
+he had pleaded for Sir Edward and Lord Frederick; thus at once
+destroying all those plans of happiness which poor Miss Milner had
+formed.
+
+In consequence, her melancholy humour was now predominant; she confined
+herself at home, and yet, by her own order, was denied to all her
+visitors. Whether this arose from pure melancholy, or the still
+lingering hope of making her conquest, by that sedateness of manners
+which she knew her guardian admired, she herself perhaps did not
+perfectly know. Be that as it may, Lord Elmwood could not but observe
+this change, and one morning thought fit to mention, and to applaud it.
+
+Miss Woodley and she were at work together when he came into the room;
+and after sitting several minutes, and talking upon indifferent
+subjects, to which his ward replied with a dejection in her voice and
+manner--he said,
+
+"Perhaps I am wrong, Miss Milner, but I have observed that you are
+lately more thoughtful than usual."
+
+She blushed, as she always did when the subject was herself. He
+continued, "Your health appears perfectly restored, and yet I have
+observed you take no delight in your former amusements."
+
+"Are you sorry for that, my Lord?"
+
+"No, I am extremely glad; and I was going to congratulate you upon the
+change. But give me leave to enquire, to what lucky accident we may
+attribute this alteration?"
+
+"Your Lordship then thinks all my commendable deeds arise from accident,
+and that I have no virtues of my own."
+
+"Pardon me, I think you have many." This he spoke emphatically; and her
+blushes increased.
+
+He resumed--"How can I doubt of a lady's virtues, when her countenance
+gives me such evident proofs of them? Believe me, Miss Milner, that in
+the midst of your gayest follies, while you thus continue to blush, I
+shall reverence your internal sensations."
+
+"Oh! my Lord, did you know some of them, I am afraid you would think
+them unpardonable."
+
+This was so much to the purpose, that Miss Woodley found herself
+alarmed--but without reason--Miss Milner loved too sincerely to reveal it
+to the object. He answered,
+
+"And did you know some of mine, you might think them _equally_
+unpardonable."
+
+She turned pale, and could no longer guide her needle--in the fond
+transport of her heart she imagined that his love for her, was among the
+sensations to which he alluded. She was too much embarrassed to reply,
+and he continued,
+
+"We have all much to pardon in one another: and I know not whether the
+officious person who forces, even his good advice, is not as blameable
+as the obstinate one, who will not listen to it. And now, having made a
+preface to excuse you, should you once more refuse mine, I shall venture
+to give it."
+
+"My Lord, I have never yet refused to follow your advice, but where my
+own peace of mind was so nearly concerned, as to have made me culpable,
+had I complied."
+
+"Well, Madam, I submit to your determinations; and shall never again
+oppose your inclination to remain single."
+
+This sentence, as it excluded the idea of soliciting for himself, gave
+her the utmost pain; and her eye glanced at him, full of reproach. He
+did not observe it, but went on.
+
+"While you continue unmarried, it seems to have been your father's
+intention that you should continue under my immediate care; but as I
+mean for the future to reside chiefly in the country--answer me candidly,
+do you think you could be happy there, for at least three parts of the
+year?"
+
+After a short hesitation, she replied, "I have no objection."
+
+"I am glad to hear it," he returned eagerly, "for it is my earnest
+desire to have you with me--your welfare is dear to me as my own; and
+were we apart, continual apprehensions would prey upon my mind."
+
+The tear started in her eye, at the earnestness that accompanied these
+words; he saw it, and to soften her still more with the sense of his
+esteem for her, he increased his earnestness while he said,
+
+"If you will take the resolution to quit London for the time I mention,
+there shall be no means omitted to make the country all you can wish--I
+shall insist upon Miss Woodley's company for both our sakes; and it will
+not only be _my_ study to form such a society as you may approve, but I
+am certain it will be likewise the study of Lady Elmwood----"
+
+He was going on, but as if a poniard had thrust her to the heart, she
+writhed under this unexpected stroke.
+
+He saw her countenance change--he looked at her steadfastly.
+
+It was not a common change from joy to sorrow, from content to
+uneasiness, which Miss Milner discovered--she felt, and she expressed
+anguish--Lord Elmwood was alarmed and shocked. She did not weep, but she
+called Miss Woodley to come to her, with a voice that indicated a degree
+of agony.
+
+"My Lord," (cried Miss Woodley, seeing his consternation and trembling
+lest he should guess the secret,) "My Lord, Miss Milner has again
+deceived you--you must not take her from London--it is that, and that
+alone, which is the cause of her uneasiness."
+
+He seemed more amazed still--and still more shocked at her duplicity than
+at her torture. "Good Heaven!" exclaimed he, "How am I to accomplish her
+wishes? What am I to do? How can I judge, if she will not confide in me,
+but thus for ever deceive me?"
+
+She leaned, pale as death, on the shoulder of Miss Woodley, her eye
+fixed with apparent insensibility to all that was said, while he
+continued,
+
+"Heaven is my witness, if I knew--If I could conceive the means how to
+make her happy, I would sacrifice my own happiness to hers."
+
+"My Lord," said Miss Woodley with a smile, "perhaps I may call upon you
+hereafter to fulfil your word."
+
+He was totally ignorant what she meant, nor had he leisure, from the
+confusion of his thoughts, to reflect upon her meaning; he nevertheless
+replied, with warmth, "Do. You shall find I'll perform it.--Do. I will
+faithfully perform it."
+
+Though Miss Milner was conscious this declaration could not, in
+delicacy, be ever adduced against him; yet the fervent and solemn manner
+in which he made it, cheered her spirits; and as persons enjoy the
+reflection of having in their possession some valuable gem, though they
+are determined never to use it, so she upon this, was comforted and grew
+better. She now lifted up her head, and leaned it on her hand, as she
+sat by the side of a table--still she did not speak, but seemed overcome
+with sorrow. As her situation became, however, less alarming, her
+guardian's pity and affright began to take the colour of resentment; and
+though he did not say so, he was, and looked, highly offended.
+
+At this juncture Mr. Sandford entered. On beholding the present party,
+it required not his sagacity to see at the first view, that they were
+all uneasy; but instead of the sympathy this might have excited in some
+dispositions, Mr. Sandford, after casting a look at each of them,
+appeared in high spirits.
+
+"You seem unhappy, my Lord," said he, with a smile.
+
+"You do _not_--Mr. Sandford," Lord Elmwood replied.
+
+"No, my Lord, nor would I, were I in your situation. What should make a
+man of sense out of temper but a worthy object!" And he looked at Miss
+Milner.
+
+"There are no objects unworthy our care:" replied Lord Elmwood.
+
+"But there are objects on whom all care is fruitless, your Lordship will
+allow."
+
+"I never yet despaired of any one, Mr. Sandford."
+
+"And yet there are persons, of whom it is presumption to entertain
+hopes." And he looked again at Miss Milner.
+
+"Does your head ache, Miss Milner?" asked her friend, seeing her hold it
+with her hand.
+
+"Very much," returned she.
+
+"Mr. Sandford," said Miss Woodley, "did you use all those drops Miss
+Milner gave you for a pain in the head?"
+
+"Yes:" answered he, "I did." But the question at that moment somewhat
+embarrassed him.
+
+"And I hope you found benefit from them:" said Miss Milner, with great
+kindness, as she rose from her seat, and walked slowly out of the room.
+
+Though Miss Woodley followed her, so that Mr. Sandford was left alone
+with Lord Elmwood, and might have continued his unkind insinuations
+without one restraint, yet his lips were closed for the present. He
+looked down on the carpet--twitched himself upon his chair--and began to
+talk of the weather.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+When the first transports of despair were past, Miss Milner suffered
+herself to be once more in hope. She found there were no other means to
+support her life; and to her comfort, her friend was much less severe on
+the present occasion than she expected. No engagement between mortals
+was, in Miss Woodley's opinion, binding like that entered into with
+heaven; and whatever vows Lord Elmwood had possibly made to another, she
+justly supposed that no woman's love for him equalled Miss Milner's--it
+was prior to all others too; that established her claim to contend at
+least for success; and in a contention, what rival would not fall before
+her?
+
+It was not difficult to guess who this rival was; or if they were a
+little time in suspence, Miss Woodley soon arrived at the certainty, by
+inquiring of Mr. Sandford; who, unsuspecting why she asked, readily
+informed her the intended Lady Elmwood was no other than Miss Fenton;
+and that their marriage would be solemnized as soon as the mourning for
+the late Lord Elmwood was over. This last intelligence made Miss Woodley
+shudder--she repeated it, however, to Miss Milner, word for word.
+
+"Happy! happy woman!" exclaimed Miss Milner of Miss Fenton; "she has
+received the first fond impulse of his heart, and has had the
+transcendent happiness of teaching him to love!"
+
+"By no means," returned Miss Woodley, finding no other suggestion likely
+to comfort her; "do not suppose that his marriage is the result of
+love--it is no more than a duty, a necessary arrangement, and this you
+may plainly see by the wife on whom he has fixed. Miss Fenton was
+thought a proper match for his cousin, and that same propriety has
+transferred her to him."
+
+It was easy to convince Miss Milner that all her friend said was truth,
+for she wished it so. "And oh!" she exclaimed, "could I but stimulate
+passion, against the cold influence of propriety;--Do you think, my dear
+Miss Woodley," (and she looked with such begging eyes, it was impossible
+not to answer as she wished,) "do you think it would be unjust to Miss
+Fenton, were I to inspire her destined husband with a passion which she
+may not have inspired, and which I believe _she_ cannot feel?"
+
+Miss Woodley paused a minute, and then answered, "No:"--but there was a
+hesitation in her manner of delivery--she _did_ say, "No:" but she looked
+as if she was afraid she ought to have said "Yes." Miss Milner, however,
+did not give her time to recall the word, or to alter its meaning by
+adding others to it, but ran on eagerly, and declared, "As that was her
+opinion, she would abide by it, and do all she could to supplant her
+rival." In order, nevertheless, to justify this determination, and
+satisfy the conscience of Miss Woodley, they both concluded that Miss
+Fenton's heart was not engaged in the intended marriage, and
+consequently that she was indifferent whether it ever took place or not.
+
+Since the death of the late Earl, she had not been in town; nor had the
+present Earl been near the place where she resided, since the week in
+which her lover died; of course, nothing similar to love could have been
+declared at so early a period; and if it had been made known at a later,
+it must only have been by letter, or by the deputation of Mr. Sandford,
+who they knew had been once in the country to visit her; but how little
+he was qualified to enforce a tender passion, was a comfortable
+reflection.
+
+Revived by these conjectures, of which some were true, and others false;
+the very next day a gloom overspread their bright prospects, on Mr.
+Sandford's saying, as he entered the breakfast-room,
+
+"Miss Fenton, ladies, desired me to present her compliments."
+
+"Is she in town?" asked Mrs. Horton.
+
+"She came yesterday morning," returned Sandford, "and is at her
+brother's, in Ormond-street; my Lord and I supped there last night, and
+that made us so late home."
+
+Lord Elmwood entered soon after, and bowing to his ward, confirmed what
+had been said, by telling her, that "Miss Fenton had charged him with
+her kindest respects."
+
+"How does poor Miss Fenton look?" Mrs. Horton asked Lord Elmwood.
+
+To which question Sandford replied, "Beautiful--she looks beautifully."
+
+"She has got over her uneasiness, I suppose then?" said Mrs. Horton--not
+dreaming that she was asking the questions before her new lover.
+
+"Uneasy!" replied Sandford, "uneasy at any trial this world can send?
+That would be highly unworthy of her."
+
+"But sometimes women do fret at such things:" replied Mrs. Horton,
+innocently.
+
+Lord Elmwood asked Miss Milner--"If she meant to ride, this delightful
+day?"
+
+While she was hesitating--
+
+"There are different kinds of women," (said Sandford, directing his
+discourse to Mrs. Horton;) "there is as much difference between some
+women, as between good and evil spirits."
+
+Lord Elmwood asked Miss Milner again--If she took an airing?
+
+She replied, "No."
+
+"And beauty," continued Sandford, "when endowed upon spirits that are
+evil, is a mark of their greater, their more extreme wickedness. Lucifer
+was the most beautiful of all the angels in Paradise"--
+
+"How do you know?" said Miss Milner.
+
+"But the beauty of Lucifer," (continued Sandford, in perfect neglect and
+contempt of her question,) "was an aggravation of his guilt; because it
+shewed a double share of ingratitude to the Divine Creator of that
+beauty."
+
+"Now you talk of angels," said Miss Milner, "I wish I had wings; and I
+should like to fly through the park this morning."
+
+"You would be taken for an angel in good earnest," said Lord Elmwood.
+
+Sandford was angry at this little compliment, and cried, "I should think
+the serpent's skin would be much more characteristic."
+
+"My Lord," cried she, "does not Mr. Sandford use me ill?" Vext with
+other things, she felt herself extremely hurt at this, and made the
+appeal almost in tears.
+
+"Indeed, I think he does." And he looked at Sandford as if he was
+displeased.
+
+This was a triumph so agreeable to her, that she immediately pardoned
+the offence; but the offender did not so easily pardon her.
+
+"Good morning, ladies," said Lord Elmwood, rising to go away.
+
+"My Lord," said Miss Woodley, "you promised Miss Milner to accompany her
+one evening to the opera; this is opera night."
+
+"Will you go, my Lord?" asked Miss Milner, in a voice so soft, that he
+seemed as if he wished, but could not resist it.
+
+"I am to dine at Mr. Fenton's to-day," he replied; "and if he and his
+sister will go, and you will allow them part of your box, I will promise
+to come."
+
+This was a condition by no means acceptable to her; but as she felt a
+desire to see him in company of his intended bride, (for she fancied she
+could perceive his secret sentiments, could she once see them together)
+she answered not ungraciously, "Yes, my compliments to Mr. and Miss
+Fenton, and I hope they will favour me with their company."
+
+"Then, Madam, if they come, you may expect me--else not." He bowed and
+left the room.
+
+All the day was passed in anxious expectation by Miss Milner, what would
+be the event of the evening: for upon her penetration that evening all
+her future prospects she thought depended. If she saw by his looks, by
+his words, or assiduities, that he loved Miss Fenton, she flattered
+herself she would never think of him again with hope; but if she
+observed him treat her with inattention or indifference, she would
+cherish, from that moment, the fondest expectations. Against that short
+evening her toilet was consulted the whole day: the alternate hope and
+fear which fluttered in her heart, gave a more than usual brilliancy to
+her eyes, and more than usual bloom to her complection. But vain was her
+beauty; vain all her care to decorate that beauty; vain her many looks
+to her box-door in hopes to see it open--Lord Elmwood never came.
+
+The music was discord--every thing she saw was disgusting--in a word, she
+was miserable.
+
+She longed impatiently for the curtain to drop, because she was uneasy
+where she was--yet she asked herself, "Shall I be less unhappy at home?
+Yes; at home I shall see Lord Elmwood, and that will be happiness. But
+he will behold me with neglect, and that will be misery! Ungrateful man!
+I will no longer think of him." Yet could she have thought of him,
+without joining in the same idea Miss Fenton, her anguish had been
+supportable; but while she painted them as lovers, the tortures of the
+rack are but a few degrees more painful than those which she endured.
+
+There are but few persons who ever felt the real passion of jealousy,
+because few have felt the real passion of love; but with those who have
+experienced them both, jealousy not only affects the mind, but every
+fibre of their frame; and Miss Milner's every limb felt agonizing
+torment, when Miss Fenton, courted and beloved by Lord Elmwood, was
+present to her imagination.
+
+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?"
+
+"If I had, I certainly should have come," returned he, "but I only said
+so conditionally."
+
+"That I am a witness to," cried Sandford, "for I was present at the
+time, and he said it should depend upon Miss Fenton."
+
+"And she, with her gloomy disposition," said Miss Milner, "chose to sit
+at home."
+
+"Gloomy disposition!" repeated Sandford: "She has a great share of
+sprightliness--and I think I never saw her in better spirits than she was
+this evening, my Lord."
+
+Lord Elmwood did not speak.
+
+"Bless me, Mr. Sandford," cried Miss Milner, "I meant no reflection
+upon Miss Fenton's disposition; I only meant to censure her taste for
+staying at home."
+
+"I think," replied Mr. Sandford, "a much heavier censure should be
+passed upon those who prefer rambling abroad."
+
+"But I hope, ladies, my not coming," said Lord Elmwood, "was no
+inconvenience to you; for you had still, I see, a gentleman with you."
+
+"Oh! yes, two gentlemen:" answered the son of Lady Evans, a lad from
+school, whom Miss Milner had taken along with her.
+
+"What two?" asked Lord Elmwood.
+
+Neither Miss Milner nor Miss Woodley answered.
+
+"You know, Madam," said young Evans, "that handsome gentleman who handed
+you into your carriage, and you called my Lord."
+
+"Oh! he means Lord Frederick Lawnly:" said Miss Milner carelessly, but a
+blush of shame spread over her face.
+
+"And did he hand you into your coach?" asked Lord Elmwood earnestly.
+
+"By mere accident, my Lord," Miss Woodley replied, "for the crowd was so
+great----"
+
+"I think, my Lord," said Sandford, "it was very lucky that you were
+_not_ there."
+
+"Had Lord Elmwood been with us, we should not have had occasion for the
+assistance of any other," said Miss Milner.
+
+"Lord Elmwood has been with you, Madam," returned Sandford, "very
+frequently, and yet--"
+
+"Mr. Sandford," said Lord Elmwood, interrupting him, "it is near
+bed-time, your conversation keeps the ladies from retiring."
+
+"Your Lordship's does not," said Miss Milner, "for you say nothing."
+
+"Because, Madam, I am afraid to offend."
+
+"But do not you also hope to please? and without risking the one, it is
+impossible to arrive at the other."
+
+"I think, at present, the risk would be too hazardous, and so I wish you
+a good night." And he went out of the room somewhat abruptly.
+
+"Lord Elmwood," said Miss Milner, "is very grave--he does not look like a
+man who has been passing the evening with the woman he loves."
+
+"Perhaps he is melancholy at parting from her," said Miss Woodley.
+
+"More likely offended," said Sandford, "at the manner in which that lady
+has spoken of her."
+
+"Who, I? I protest I said nothing----"
+
+"Nothing! Did not you say that she was gloomy?"
+
+"Nothing but what I thought--I was going to add, Mr. Sandford."
+
+"When you think unjustly, you should not express your thoughts."
+
+"Then, perhaps, I should never speak."
+
+"And it were better you did not, if what you say is to give pain. Do you
+know, Madam, that my Lord is going to be married to Miss Fenton?"
+
+"Yes," answered Miss Milner.
+
+"Do you know that he loves her?"
+
+"No," answered Miss Milner.
+
+"How! do you suppose he does not?"
+
+"I suppose that he does, yet I don't know it."
+
+"Then if you suppose that he does, how can you have the imprudence to
+find fault with her before him?"
+
+"I did not. To call her gloomy, was, I knew, to commend her both to him
+and to you, who admire such tempers."
+
+"Whatever her temper is, _every one_ admires it; and so far from its
+being what you have described, she has great vivacity; vivacity which
+comes from the heart."
+
+"No, if it _came_ from thence, I should admire it too; but, if she has
+any, it rests there, and no one is the better for it."
+
+"Pshaw!" said Miss Woodley, "it is time for us to retire; you and Mr.
+Sandford must finish your dispute in the morning."
+
+"Dispute, Madam!" said Sandford, "I never disputed with any one beneath
+a doctor of divinity in my life. I was only cautioning your friend not
+to make light of those virtues which it would do her honour to possess.
+Miss Fenton is a most amiable young woman, and worthy of just such a
+husband as my Lord Elmwood will make her."
+
+"I am sure," said Miss Woodley, "Miss Milner thinks so--she has a high
+opinion of Miss Fenton--she was at present only jesting."
+
+"But, Madam, a jest is a very pernicious thing, when delivered with a
+malignant sneer. I have known a jest destroy a lady's reputation--I have
+known a jest give one person a distaste for another--I have known a jest
+break off a marriage."
+
+"But I suppose there is no apprehension of that in the present case?"
+said Miss Woodley--wishing he might answer in the affirmative.
+
+"Not that I can foresee. No, Heaven forbid," he replied, "for I look
+upon them to be formed for each other--their dispositions, their
+pursuits, their inclinations the same. Their passions for each other
+just the same--pure--white as snow."
+
+"And I dare say, not warmer," replied Miss Milner.
+
+He looked provoked beyond measure.
+
+"My dear," cried Miss Woodley, "how can you talk thus? I believe in my
+heart you are only envious, because my Lord Elmwood has not offered
+himself to you."
+
+"To her!" said Sandford, affecting an air of the utmost surprise; "to
+her! Do you think he received a dispensation from his vows, to become
+the husband of a coquette--a----."--He was going on.
+
+"Nay, Mr. Sandford," cried Miss Milner, "I believe, after all, my worst
+crime, in your eyes, is that of being a heretic."
+
+"By no means--it is the only circumstance that can apologize for your
+faults; and if you had not that excuse, there would be none for you."
+
+"Then, at present, there _is_ an excuse--I thank you, Mr. Sandford--this
+is the kindest thing you ever said to me. But I am vext to see that you
+are sorry you have said it."
+
+"Angry at your being a heretic!" he resumed--"Indeed I should be much
+more concerned to see you a disgrace to our religion."
+
+Miss Milner had not been in a good humour the whole evening--she had been
+provoked several times to the full extent of her patience: but this
+harsh sentence hurried her beyond all bounds, and she arose from her
+seat in the most violent agitation, exclaiming, "What have I done to be
+thus treated?"
+
+Though Mr. Sandford was not a man easily intimidated, he was upon this
+occasion evidently alarmed; and stared about him with so violent an
+expression of surprise, that it partook, in some degree, of fear. Miss
+Woodley clasped her friend in her arms, and cried with the tenderest
+affection and pity, "My dear Miss Milner, be composed."
+
+Miss Milner sat down, and was so for a minute; but her dead silence was
+almost as alarming to Sandford as her rage had been; and he did not
+perfectly recover himself till he saw tears pouring down her face. He
+then heaved a sigh of content that all had thus ended; but in his heart
+resolved never to forget the ridiculous affright into which he had been
+thrown. He stole out of the room without uttering a syllable--but as he
+never retired to rest before he had repeated a long form of evening
+prayer, when this evening he came to that part which supplicates "Grace
+for the wicked," he mentioned Miss Milner's name with the most fervent
+devotion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Of the many restless nights that Miss Milner passed, this was not one.
+It is true, she had a weight of care upon her heart, even heavier than
+usual, but the burden had overcome her strength: wearied out with hopes,
+with fears, and, at the end, with disappointment and rage, she sunk at
+once into a deep slumber. But the more forgetfulness had then prevailed,
+the more powerful was the force of remembrance when she awoke. At first,
+so sound her sleep had been, that she had a difficulty in calling to
+mind why she was unhappy; but that she _was_ unhappy she well
+recollected--when the cause came to her memory, she would have slept
+again--but it was impossible.
+
+Though her rest had been sound, it had not been refreshing--she was far
+from well, and sent word of her indisposition, as an apology for not
+being present at breakfast. Lord Elmwood looked concerned when the
+message was delivered--Mr. Sandford shook his head.
+
+"Miss Milner's health is not good!" said Mrs. Horton a few minutes
+after.
+
+Lord Elmwood laid down the newspaper to attend to her.
+
+"To me, there is something very extraordinary about her!" continued Mrs.
+Horton, finding she had caught his Lordship's attention.
+
+"So there is to me!" added Sandford, with a sarcastic sneer.
+
+"And so there is to me!" said Miss Woodley, with a serious face and a
+heartfelt sigh.
+
+Lord Elmwood gazed by turns at each, as each delivered their
+sentiments--and when they were all silent, he looked bewildered, not
+knowing what judgment to form from any of these sentences.
+
+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."
+
+"Oh! my Lord," cried Miss Woodley, with a most forcible accent, "_You_
+are the last person on earth she would pardon me for entrusting."
+
+"Why so?" said he, warmly. "But that is the way--the person who is our
+friend we distrust--where a common interest is concerned, we are ashamed
+of drawing on a common danger--afraid of advice, though that advice is to
+save us.----Miss Woodley," said he, changing his voice with excess of
+earnestness, "do you not believe, that I would do anything to make Miss
+Milner happy?"
+
+"Any thing in honour, my Lord."
+
+"She can desire nothing farther," he replied in agitation. "Are her
+desires so unwarrantable, that I cannot grant them?"
+
+Miss Woodley again did not speak--and he continued----
+
+"Great as my friendship is, there are certainly bounds to it--bounds that
+shall save her in spite of herself:"--and he raised his voice.
+
+"In the disposal of themselves," resumed he, with a less vehement tone,
+"that great, that terrific disposal in marriage, (at which I have always
+looked with fear and dismay) there is no accounting for the rashness of
+a woman's choice, or sometimes for the depravity of her taste. But in
+such a case, Miss Milner's election of a husband shall not direct mine.
+If she does not know how to estimate her own value, I do. Independent of
+her fortune, she has beauty to captivate the heart of any man; and with
+all her follies, she has a frankness in her manner, an unaffected wisdom
+in her thoughts, a vivacity in her conversation, and withal, a softness
+in her demeanour, that might alone engage the affections of a man of the
+nicest sentiments, and the strongest understanding. I will not see all
+these qualities and accomplishments debased. It is my office to protect
+her from the consequences of a degrading choice, and I will."
+
+"My Lord, Miss Milner's taste is not a depraved one; it is but too
+refined."
+
+"What can you mean by that, Miss Woodley? You talk mysteriously. Is she
+not afraid that I will thwart her inclinations?"
+
+"She is sure that you will, my Lord."
+
+"Then must the person be unworthy of her."
+
+Miss Woodley rose from her seat--she clasped her hands--every look and
+every gesture proved her alternate resolution and irresolution of
+proceeding. Lord Elmwood's attention was arrested before; but now it was
+fixed to a degree which her extraordinary manner only could occasion.
+
+"My Lord," said she, with a tremulous voice, "promise me, declare to me,
+nay, swear to me, that it shall ever remain a secret in your own breast,
+and I will reveal to you, on whom she has placed her affections."
+
+This preparation made Lord Elmwood tremble, and he ran over instantly in
+his mind all the persons he could recollect, in order to arrive at the
+knowledge by thought, quicker than by words. It was in vain he tried;
+and he once more turned his inquiring eyes upon Miss Woodley. He saw her
+silent and covered with confusion. Again he searched his own thoughts;
+nor ineffectually as before. At the first glance, the object was
+presented, and he beheld--_himself._
+
+The rapid emotion of varying passions, which immediately darted over his
+features, informed Miss Woodley that her secret was discovered--she hid
+her face, while the tears that fell down to her bosom, confirmed the
+truth of his suggestion, beyond what oaths could have done. A short
+interval of silence followed, during which, she suffered tortures for
+the manner in which he would next address her--two seconds gave her this
+reply:
+
+"For God's sake take care what you are doing--you are destroying my
+prospects of futurity--you are making this world too dear to me."
+
+Her drooping head was then lifted up, and she caught the eye of
+Dorriforth; she saw it beam expectation, amazement, joy, ardour, and
+love.----Nay, there was a fire, a vehemence in the quick fascinating rays
+it sent forth, she never before had seen--it filled her with alarm--she
+wished him to love Miss Milner, but to love her with moderation. Miss
+Woodley was too little versed in the subject, to know, this would have
+been not to love at all; at least, not to the extent of breaking
+through engagements, and all the various obstacles that still militated
+against their union.
+
+Lord Elmwood was sensible of the embarrassment his presence gave Miss
+Woodley, and understood the reproaches which she seemed to vent upon
+herself in silence. To relieve her from both, he laid his hand with
+force upon his heart, and said, "Do you believe me?"
+
+"I do, my Lord," she answered, trembling.
+
+"I will make no unjust use of what I know," he replied with firmness.
+
+"I believe you, my Lord."
+
+"But for what my passions now dictate," continued he, "I will not
+answer. They are confused--they are triumphant at present. I have never
+yet, however, been vanquished by them; and even upon this occasion, my
+reason shall combat them to the last--and my reason shall fail me, before
+I do wrong."
+
+He was going to leave the room--she followed him, and cried, "But, my
+Lord, how shall I see again the unhappy object of my treachery?"
+
+"See her," replied he, "as one to whom you meant no injury, and to whom
+you have done none."
+
+"But she would account it an injury."
+
+"We are not judges of what belongs to ourselves," he replied--"I am
+transported at the tidings you have revealed, and yet, perhaps, I had
+better never have heard them."
+
+Miss Woodley was going to say something farther, but as if incapable of
+attending to her, he hastened out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Miss Woodley stood for some time to consider which way she was to go.
+The first person she met, would enquire why she had been weeping? and if
+Miss Milner was to ask the question, in what words could she tell, or in
+what manner deny the truth? To avoid her was her first caution, and she
+took the only method; she had a hackney-coach ordered, rode several
+miles out of town, and returned to dinner with so little remains of her
+swoln eyes, that complaining of the head-ache was a sufficient excuse
+for them.
+
+Miss Milner was enough recovered to be present at dinner, though she
+scarce tasted a morsel. Lord Elmwood did not dine at home, at which Miss
+Woodley rejoiced, but at which Mr. Sandford appeared highly
+disappointed. He asked the servants several times, what he said when he
+went out? They replied, "Nothing more than that he should not be at home
+to dinner."
+
+"I can't imagine where he dines?" said Sandford.
+
+"Bless me, Mr. Sandford, can't you guess?" (cried Mrs. Horton, who by
+this time was made acquainted with his intended marriage) "He dines with
+Miss Fenton to be sure."
+
+"No," replied Sandford, "he is not there; I came from thence just now,
+and they had not seen him all day." Poor Miss Milner, on this, ate
+something; for where we hope for nothing, we receive small indulgencies
+with joy.
+
+Notwithstanding the anxiety and trouble under which Miss Woodley had
+laboured all the morning, her heart for many weeks had not felt so light
+as it did this day at dinner. The confidence that she reposed in the
+promises of Lord Elmwood--the firm reliance she had upon his delicacy and
+his justice--the unabated kindness with which her friend received her,
+while she knew that no one suspicious thought had taken harbour in her
+bosom--and the conscious integrity of her own intentions, though she
+might have been misled by her judgment, all comforted her with the hope,
+she had done nothing she ought to wish recalled. But although she felt
+thus tranquil, in respect to what she had divulged, yet she was a good
+deal embarrassed with the dread of next seeing Lord Elmwood.
+
+Miss Milner, not having spirits to go abroad, passed the evening at
+home. She read part of a new opera, played upon her guitar, mused,
+sighed, occasionally talked with Miss Woodley, and so passed the tedious
+hours till near ten, when Mrs. Horton asked Mr. Sandford to play a game
+at piquet, and on his excusing himself, Miss Milner offered in his
+stead, and was gladly accepted. They had just begun to play when Lord
+Elmwood came into the room--Miss Milner's countenance immediately
+brightened, and though she was in a negligent morning dress, and looked
+paler than usual, she did not look less beautiful. Miss Woodley was
+leaning on the back of her chair to observe the game, and Mr. Sandford
+sat reading one of the Fathers at the other side of the fire place. Lord
+Elmwood, as he advanced to the table, bowed, not having seen the ladies
+since the morning, or Miss Milner that day: they returned the salute,
+and he was going up to Miss Milner, (as if to enquire of her health)
+when Mr. Sandford, laying down his book, said,
+
+"My Lord, where have you been all day?"
+
+"I have been very busy," replied he, and walking from the card-table,
+went up to him.
+
+Miss Milner played one card for another.
+
+"You have been at Mr. Fenton's this evening, I suppose?" said Sandford.
+
+"No; not at all to-day."
+
+"How came that about, my Lord?"
+
+Miss Milner played the ace of diamonds instead of the king of hearts.
+
+"I shall call to-morrow," answered Lord Elmwood; and then walking with a
+very ceremonious air up to Miss Milner, said, "He hoped she was
+perfectly recovered."
+
+Mrs. Horton begged her "To mind what she was about." She replied, "I am
+much better, Sir."
+
+He then returned to Sandford again; but never, during all this time, did
+his eye once encounter Miss Woodley's; and she, with equal care, avoided
+his.
+
+Some cold dishes were now brought up for supper--Miss Milner lost her
+deal, and the game ended.
+
+As they were arranging themselves at the supper-table, "Do, Miss
+Milner," said Mrs. Horton, "have something warm for your supper; a
+chicken boiled, or something of that kind; you have eat nothing to-day."
+
+With feelings of humanity, and apparently no other sensation--but never
+did he feel his philanthropy so forcible--Lord Elmwood said, "Let me beg
+of you, Miss Milner, to have something provided for you."
+
+The earnestness and emphasis with which these few words were
+pronounced, were more flattering than the finest turned compliment would
+have been; her gratitude was expressed in blushes, and by assuring him
+she was now "So well, as to sup on the dishes before her." She spoke,
+however, and had not made the trial; for the moment she carried a morsel
+to her lips, she laid it on her plate again, and turned paler, from the
+vain endeavour to force her appetite. Lord Elmwood had always been
+attentive to her; but now he watched her as he would a child; and when
+he saw by her struggles that she could not eat, he took her plate from
+her; gave her something else; and all with a care and watchfulness in
+his looks, as if he had been a tender-hearted boy, and she his darling
+bird, the loss of which would embitter all the joy of his holidays.
+
+This attention had something in it so tender, so officious, and yet so
+sincere, that it brought the tears into Miss Woodley's eyes, attracted
+the notice of Mr. Sandford, and the observation of Mrs. Horton; while
+the heart of Miss Milner overflowed with a gratitude, that gave place to
+no sentiment except her love.
+
+To relieve the anxiety which her guardian expressed, she endeavoured to
+appear cheerful, and that anxiety, at length, really made her so. He now
+pressed her to take one glass of wine with such solicitude, that he
+seemed to say a thousand things besides. Sandford still made his
+observations, and being unused to conceal his thoughts before the
+present company, he said bluntly,
+
+"Miss Fenton was indisposed the other night, my Lord, and you did not
+seem half thus anxious about her."
+
+Had Sandford laid all Lord Elmwood's estate at Miss Milner's feet, or
+presented her with that eternal bloom which adorns the face of a
+goddess, he would have done less to endear himself to her, than by this
+one sentence--she looked at him with a most benign countenance, and felt
+affliction that she had ever offended him.
+
+"Miss Fenton," Lord Elmwood replied, "has a brother with her: her health
+and happiness are in _his_ care--Miss Milner's are in mine."
+
+"Mr. Sandford," said Miss Milner, "I am afraid that I behaved uncivilly
+to you last night--will you accept of an atonement?"
+
+"No, Madam," returned he, "I accept no expiation without amendment."
+
+"Well, then," said she, smiling, "suppose I promise never to offend you
+again, what then?"
+
+"Why, then, you'll break your promise."
+
+"Do not promise him," said Lord Elmwood, "for he means to provoke you to
+it."
+
+In the like conversation the evening passed, and Miss Milner retired to
+rest in far better spirits than her morning's prospect had given her the
+least pretence to hope. Miss Woodley, too, had cause to be well pleased;
+but her pleasure was in great measure eclipsed by the reflection, that
+there was such a person as Miss Fenton--she wished she had been equally
+acquainted with her's as with Miss Milner's heart, and she would then
+have acted without injustice to either; but Miss Fenton had of late
+shunned their society, and even in their company was of a temper too
+reserved ever to discover her mind; Miss Woodley was obliged, therefore,
+to act to the best of her own judgment only, and leave all events to
+Providence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Within a few days, in the house of Lord Elmwood, every thing, and every
+person, wore a new face. He, was the professed lover of Miss Milner--she,
+the happiest of human beings--Miss Woodley partaking in the joy--Mr.
+Sandford lamenting, with the deepest concern, that Miss Fenton had been
+supplanted; and what added poignantly to his concern was, that she had
+been supplanted by Miss Milner. Though a churchman, he bore his
+disappointment with the impatience of one of the laity: he could hardly
+speak to Lord Elmwood; he would not look at Miss Milner, and was
+displeased with every one. It was his intention, when he first became
+acquainted with Lord Elmwood's resolution, to quit his house; and as the
+Earl had, with the utmost degree of inflexibility, resisted all his good
+counsel upon this subject, he resolved, in quitting him, never to be his
+adviser again. But, in preparing to leave his friend, his pupil, his
+patron, and yet him, who, upon most occasions, implicitly obeyed his
+will, the spiritual got the better of the temporal man, and he
+determined to stay, lest in totally abandoning him to the pursuit of his
+own passions, he should make his punishment even greater than his
+offence. "My Lord," said he, "on the stormy sea, upon which you are
+embarked, though you will not shun the rocks that your faithful pilot
+would point out, he will, nevertheless, sail in your company, and lament
+over your watery grave. The more you slight my advice, the more you want
+it; so that, until you command me to leave your house, (as I suppose you
+will soon do, to oblige your Lady) I will continue along with you."
+
+Lord Elmwood liked him sincerely, and was glad that he took this
+resolution; yet as soon as his reason and affections had once told him
+that he ought to break with Miss Fenton, and marry his ward, he became
+so decidedly of this opinion, that Sandford's never had the most trivial
+weight; nor would he even flatter the supposed authority he possessed
+over him, by urging him to remain in his house a single day, contrary to
+his inclinations. Sandford observed, with grief, this firmness; but
+finding it vain to contend, submitted--not, however, with a good grace.
+
+Amidst all the persons affected by this change in Lord Elmwood's
+marriage-designs, Miss Fenton was, perhaps, affected the least--she would
+have been content to have married, she was content to live single. Mr.
+Sandford had been the first who made overtures to her on the part of
+Lord Elmwood, and was the first sent to ask her to dispense with the
+obligation.--She received both of these proposals with the same insipid
+smile of approbation, and the same cold indifference at the heart.
+
+It was a perfect knowledge of this disposition in his intended wife
+which had given to Lord Elmwood's thoughts on matrimony, the idea of
+dreary winter; but the sensibility of Miss Milner had now reversed that
+prospect into perpetual spring; or the dearer variety of spring, summer,
+and autumn.
+
+It was a knowledge also of this torpor in Miss Fenton's nature, from
+which he formed the purpose of breaking with her; for Lord Elmwood
+still retained enough of the sanctity of his former state to have
+yielded up his own happiness, and even that of his beloved ward, rather
+than have plunged one heart into affliction by his perfidy. This, before
+he offered his hand to Miss Milner, he was perfectly convinced would not
+be the case--even Miss Fenton herself assured him, that her thoughts were
+more upon the joys of Heaven than upon those of earth; and as this
+circumstance would, she believed, induce her to retire into a convent,
+she thought it a happy, rather than an unhappy, event. Her brother, on
+whom her fortune devolved if she took this resolution, was exactly of
+her opinion.
+
+Lost in the maze of happiness that surrounded her, Miss Milner
+oftentimes asked her heart, and her heart whispered like a flatterer,
+"Yes;" Are not my charms even more invincible than I ever believed them
+to be? Dorriforth, the grave, the pious, the anchorite Dorriforth, by
+their force, is animated to all the ardour of the most impassioned
+lover--while the proud priest, the austere guardian is humbled, if I but
+frown, into the veriest slave of love. She then asked, "Why did I not
+keep him longer in suspense? He could not have loved me more, I believe:
+but my power over him might have been greater still. I am the happiest
+of women in the affection he has proved to me, but I wonder whether it
+would exist under ill treatment? If it would not, he still does not love
+me as I wish to be loved--if it would, my triumph, my felicity, would be
+enhanced." These thoughts were mere phantoms of the brain, and never, by
+system, put into action; but, repeatedly indulged, they were practised
+by casual occurrences; and the dear-bought experiment of being loved in
+spite of her faults, (a glory proud women ever aspire to) was, at
+present, the ambition of Miss Milner.
+
+Unthinking woman! she did not reflect, that to the searching eye of Lord
+Elmwood, she had faults, with her utmost care to conceal or overcome
+them, sufficient to try all his love, and all his patience. But what
+female is not fond of experiments? To which, how few do not fall a
+sacrifice!
+
+Perfectly secure in the affections of the man she loved, her declining
+health no longer threatened her; her declining spirits returned as
+before; and the suspicions of her guardian being now changed to the
+liberal confidence of a doating lover, she again professed
+all her former follies, all her fashionable levities, and indulged them
+with less restraint than ever.
+
+For a while, blinded by his passion, Lord Elmwood encouraged and admired
+every new proof of her restored happiness; nor till sufferance had
+tempted her beyond her usual bounds, did he remonstrate. But she, who,
+as his ward, had been ever gentle, and (when he strenuously opposed)
+always obedient; became, as a mistress, sometimes haughty, and, to
+opposition, always insolent. He was surprised, but the novelty pleased
+him. And Miss Milner, whom he tenderly loved, could put on no change, or
+appear in no new character that did not, for the time she adopted it,
+seem to become her.
+
+Among the many causes of complaint which she gave him, want of oeconomy,
+in the disposal of her income, was one. Bills and drafts came upon him
+without number, while the account, on her part, of money expended,
+amounted chiefly to articles of dress that she sometimes never wore,
+toys that were out of fashion before they were paid for, and charities
+directed by the force of whim. Another complaint was, as usual, extreme
+late hours, and often company that he did not approve.
+
+She was charmed to see his love struggling with his censure--his
+politeness with his anxiety--and by the light, frivolous, or resentful
+manner in which she treated his admonitions, she triumphed in shewing to
+Miss Woodley, and, more especially to Mr. Sandford, how much she dared
+upon the strength of his affections.
+
+Everything in preparation for their marriage, which was to take place at
+Elmwood House during the summer months, she resolved for the short time
+she had to remain in London to let no occasion pass of tasting all those
+pleasures that were not likely ever to return; but which, though eager
+as she was in their pursuit, she never placed in competition with those
+she hoped would succeed--those more sedate and superior joys, of
+domestic and conjugal happiness. Often, merely to hasten on the tedious
+hours that intervened, she varied and diverted them, with the many
+recreations her intended husband could not approve.
+
+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."
+
+"Do not interrupt me. Whatever your meaning has been, the effect of it
+is what I have described. Now, I will no longer," continued he, "have an
+enemy, such as you have been, to heighten her charms, which are too
+transcendent in their native state. I will hear no more complaints
+against her, but I will watch her closely myself--and if I find her mind
+and heart (such as my suspicions have of late whispered) too frivolous
+for that substantial happiness I look for with an object so beloved,
+depend upon my word--the marriage shall yet be broken off."
+
+"I depend upon your word; it _will_ then,"--replied Sandford eagerly.
+
+"You are unjust, Sir, in saying so before the trial," replied Lord
+Elmwood, "and your injustice shall make me more cautious, lest I follow
+your example."
+
+"But, my Lord----"
+
+"My mind is made up, Mr. Sandford," returned he, interrupting him; "I am
+no longer engaged to Miss Milner than she shall deserve I should be--but,
+in my strict observations upon her conduct, I will take care not to
+wrong her as you have done."
+
+"My Lord, call my observations wrong, when you have reflected upon them
+as a man, and not as a lover--divest yourself of your passion, and meet
+me upon equal ground."
+
+"I will meet no one--I will consult no one--my own judgment shall be the
+judge, and in a few months marry, or--_banish me from her for ever_."
+
+There was something in these last words, in the tone and firmness with
+which they were delivered, that the heart of Sandford rested upon with
+content--they bore the symptoms of a menace that would be executed; and
+he parted from his patron with congratulations upon his wisdom, and with
+giving him the warmest assurances of his firm reliance on his _word._
+
+Lord Elmwood having come to this resolution, was more composed than he
+had been for several days before; while the horror of domestic
+wrangles--a family without subordination--a house without oeconomy--in a
+word, a wife without discretion, had been perpetually present to his
+mind.
+
+Mr. Sandford, although he was a man of understanding, of learning, and a
+complete casuist, yet all the faults he himself committed, were
+entirely--for want of knowing better. He constantly reproved faults in
+others, and he was most assuredly too good a man not to have corrected
+and amended his own, had they been known to him--but they were not. He
+had been for so long a time the superior of all with whom he lived, had
+been so busied with instructing others, that he had not recollected that
+himself wanted instructions--and in such awe did his habitual severity
+keep all about him, that although he had numerous friends, not one told
+him of his failings--except just now Lord Elmwood, but whom, in this
+instance, as a man in love, he would not credit. Was there not then some
+reason for him to suppose he _had_ no faults? his enemies, indeed,
+hinted that he had, but enemies he never harkened to; and thus, with all
+his good sense, wanted the sense to follow the rule, _Believe what your
+enemies say of you, rather than what is said by your friends._ This rule
+attended to, would make a thousand people amiable, who are now the
+reverse; and would have made _him_ a perfectly upright character. For
+could an enemy to whom he would have listened, have whispered to
+Sandford as he left Lord Elmwood, "Cruel, barbarous man! you go away
+with your heart satisfied, nay, even elated, in the prospect that Miss
+Milner's hopes, on which she alone exists, those hopes which keep her
+from the deepest affliction, and cherish her with joy and gladness, will
+all be disappointed. You flatter yourself it is for the sake of your
+friend, Lord Elmwood, that you rejoice, and because he has escaped a
+danger. You wish him well; but there is another cause for your
+exultation which you will not seek to know--it is, that in his safety,
+shall dwell the punishment of his ward. For shame! for shame! forgive
+her faults, as this of yours requires to be forgiven."
+
+Had any one said this to Sandford, whom he would have credited, or had
+his own heart suggested it, he was a man of that rectitude and
+conscientiousness, that he would have returned immediately to Lord
+Elmwood, and have strengthened all his favourable opinions of his
+intended wife--but having no such monitor, he walked on, highly
+contented, and meeting Miss Woodley, said, with an air of triumph,
+
+"Where's your friend? where's Lady Elmwood?"
+
+Miss Woodley smiled, and answered--She was gone with such and such ladies
+to an auction. "But why give her that title already, Mr. Sandford?"
+
+"Because," answered he, "I think she will never have it."
+
+"Bless me, Mr. Sandford," said Miss Woodley, "you shock me!"
+
+"I thought I should," replied he, "and therefore I told it you."
+
+"For Heaven's sake what has happened?"
+
+"Nothing new--her indiscretions only."
+
+"I know she is imprudent," said Miss Woodley--"I can see that her conduct
+is often exceptionable--but then Lord Elmwood surely loves her, and love
+will overlook a great deal."
+
+"He _does_ love her--but he has understanding and resolution. He loved
+his sister too, tenderly loved her, and yet when he had taken the
+resolution, and passed his word that he would never see her again--even
+upon her death-bed he would not retract it--no entreaties could prevail
+upon him. And now, though he maintains, and I dare say loves, her child,
+yet you remember, when you brought him home, that he would not suffer
+him in his sight."
+
+"Poor Miss Milner!" said Miss Woodley, in the most pitying accents.
+
+"Nay," said Sandford, "Lord Elmwood has not _yet_ passed his word, that
+he will never see her more--he has only threatened to do it; but I know
+enough of him to know, that his threats are generally the same as if
+they were executed."
+
+"You are very good," said Miss Woodley, "to acquaint me of this in
+time--I may now warn Miss Milner of it, and she may observe more
+circumspection."
+
+"By no means," cried Sandford, hastily--"What would you warn her for? It
+will do her no good--besides," added he, "I don't know whether Lord
+Elmwood does not expect secrecy on my part; and if he does----"
+
+"But, with all deference to your opinion," said Miss Woodley, (and with
+all deference did she speak) "don't you think, Mr. Sandford, that
+secrecy upon this occasion would be wicked? For consider the anguish
+that it may occasion to my friend; and if, by advising her, we can save
+her from----" She was going on.----
+
+"You may call it wicked, Madam, not to inform her of what I have hinted
+at," cried he; "but I call it a breach of confidence--if it _was_
+divulged to me in confidence----"
+
+He was going to explain; but Miss Milner entered, and put an end to the
+discourse. She had been passing the whole morning at an auction, and had
+laid out near two hundred pounds in different things for which she had
+no one use, but bought them because they were said to be cheap--among the
+rest was a lot of books upon chemistry, and some Latin authors.
+
+"Why, Madam," cried Sandford, looking over the catalogue where her
+purchases were marked by a pencil, "do you know what you have done? You
+can't read a word of these books."
+
+"Can't I, Mr. Sandford? But I assure you that you will be very much
+pleased with them, when you see how elegantly they are bound."
+
+"My dear," said Mrs. Horton, "why have you bought china? You and my Lord
+Elmwood have more now, than you have places to put them in."
+
+"Very true, Mrs. Horton--I forgot that--but then you know I can give these
+away."
+
+Lord Elmwood was in the room at the conclusion of this conversation----he
+shook his head and sighed.
+
+"My Lord," said she, "I have had a very agreeable morning; but I wished
+for you--if you had been with me, I should have bought a great many other
+things; but I did not like to appear unreasonable in your absence."
+
+Sandford fixed his inquisitive eyes upon Lord Elmwood, to observe his
+countenance--he smiled, but appeared thoughtful.
+
+"And, oh! my Lord, I have bought you a present," said she.
+
+"I do not wish for a present, Miss Milner."
+
+"What not from me? Very well."
+
+"If you present me with yourself, it is all that I ask."
+
+Sandford moved upon his chair, as if he sat uneasy.
+
+"Why then, Miss Woodley," said Miss Milner, "_you_ shall have the
+present. But then it won't suit you--it is for a gentleman. I'll keep it
+and give it to my Lord Frederick the first time I meet with him. I saw
+him this morning, and he looked divinely--I longed to speak to him."
+
+Miss Woodley cast, by stealth, an eye of apprehension upon Lord
+Elmwood's face, and trembled at seeing it flushed with resentment.
+
+Sandford stared with both his eyes full upon him: then threw himself
+upright on his chair, and took a pinch of snuff upon the strength of the
+Earl's uneasiness.
+
+A silence ensued.
+
+After a short time--"You all appear melancholy," said Miss Milner: "I
+wish I had not come home yet."
+
+Miss Woodley was in agony--she saw Lord Elmwood's extreme displeasure,
+and dreaded lest he should express it by some words he could not recall,
+or she could not forgive--therefore, whispering to her she had something
+particular to say, she took her out of the room.
+
+The moment she was gone, Mr. Sandford rose nimbly from his seat, rubbed
+his hands, walked briskly across the room, then asked Lord Elmwood in a
+cheerful tone, "Whether he dined at home to-day?"
+
+That which had given Sandford cheerfulness, had so depressed Lord
+Elmwood, that he sat dejected and silent. At length he answered in a
+faint voice, "No, I believe I shall _not_ dine at home."
+
+"Where is your Lordship going to dine?" asked Mrs. Horton; "I thought we
+should have had your company to-day; Miss Milner dines at home, I
+believe."
+
+"I have not yet determined where I shall dine," replied he, taking no
+notice of the conclusion of her speech.
+
+"My Lord, if you mean to go to the hotel, I'll go with you, if you
+please," cried Sandford officiously.
+
+"With all my heart, Sandford--" and they both went out together, before
+Miss Milner returned to the apartment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Miss Woodley, for the first time, disobeyed the will of Mr. Sandford;
+and as soon as Miss Milner and she were alone, repeated all he had
+revealed to her; accompanying the recital, with her usual testimonies of
+sympathy and affection. But had the genius of Sandford presided over
+this discovery, it could not have influenced the mind of Miss Milner to
+receive the intelligence with a temper more exactly the opposite of that
+which it was the intention of the informer to recommend. Instead of
+shuddering at the menace Lord Elmwood had uttered, she said, she "Dared
+him to perform it." "He dares not," repeated she.
+
+"Why dares not?" said Miss Woodley.
+
+"Because he loves me too well--because his own happiness is too dear to
+him."
+
+"I believe he loves you," replied Miss Woodley, "and yet there is a
+doubt if----"
+
+"There shall be no longer a doubt," cried Miss Milner, "I'll put him to
+the proof."
+
+"For shame, my dear! you talk inconsiderately--what can you mean by
+proof?"
+
+"I mean I will do something that no prudent man _ought_ to forgive; and
+yet, with all his vast share of prudence, _he_ shall forgive it, and
+make a sacrifice of just resentment to partial affection."
+
+"But if you should be disappointed, and he should _not_ make the
+sacrifice?" said Miss Woodley.
+
+"Then I have only lost a man who had no regard for me."
+
+"He may have a great regard for you, notwithstanding."
+
+"But for the love I have felt, and do still feel, for my Lord Elmwood, I
+will have something more than a _great regard_ in return."
+
+"You have his love, I am sure."
+
+"But is it such as mine? _I_ could love _him_ if he had a thousand
+faults. And yet," said she, recollecting herself, "and yet, I believe
+his being faultless, was the first cause of my passion."
+
+Thus she talked on--sometimes in anger, sometimes apparently jesting--till
+her servant came to let her know the dinner was served. Upon entering
+the dining-room, and seeing Lord Elmwood's place at table vacant, she
+started back. She was disappointed of the pleasure she expected in
+dining with him; and his sudden absence, so immediately after the
+intelligence that she had received from Miss Woodley, increased her
+uneasiness. She drew her chair, and sat down with an indifference, that
+said she should not eat; and as soon as she was seated, she put her
+fingers sullenly to her lips, nor touched her knife and fork, nor spoke
+a word in reply to any thing that was said to her during the whole
+dinner. Miss Woodley and Mrs. Horton were both too well acquainted with
+the good disposition of her heart, to take offence, or appear to notice
+this behaviour. They dined, and said nothing either to provoke or sooth
+her. Just as the dinner was going to be removed, a loud rap came at the
+door--"Who is that?" said Mrs. Horton. One of the servants went to the
+window, and answered, "My Lord and Mr. Sandford, Madam."
+
+"Come back to dinner as I live," cried Mrs. Horton.
+
+Miss Milner continued her position and said nothing--but at the corners
+of her mouth, which her fingers did not entirely cover, there were
+discoverable, a thousand dimpled graces like small convulsive fibres,
+which a restrained smile upon Lord Elmwood's return, had sent there.
+
+Lord Elmwood and Sandford entered.
+
+"I am glad you are returned, my Lord," said Mrs. Horton, "for Miss
+Milner would not eat a morsel."
+
+"It was only because I had no appetite," returned she, blushing like
+crimson.
+
+"We should not have come back," said Sandford, "but at the place where
+we went to dine, all the rooms were filled with company."
+
+Lord Elmwood put the wing of a fowl on Miss Milner's plate, but without
+previously asking if she chose any; yet she condescended to eat--they
+spoke to each other too in the course of conversation, but it was with a
+reserve that appeared as if they had been quarrelling, and felt so to
+themselves, though no such circumstance had happened.
+
+Two weeks passed away in this kind of distant behaviour on both sides,
+without either of them venturing a direct quarrel, and without either of
+them expressing (except inadvertently) their strong affection for each
+other.
+
+During this time they were once, however, very near becoming the dearest
+friends in expression, as well as in sentiment. This arose from a favour
+that he had granted in compliance with her desire, though that desire
+had not been urged, but merely insinuated; and as it was a favour which
+he had refused to the repeated requests of many of his friends, the
+value of the obligation was heightened.
+
+She and Miss Woodley had taken an airing to see the poor child, young
+Rushbrook. Lord Elmwood inquiring of the ladies how they had passed
+their morning, Miss Milner frankly told him; and added, "What pain it
+gave her to leave the child behind, as he had again cried to come away
+with her."
+
+"Go for him then to-morrow," said Lord Elmwood, "and bring him home."
+
+"Home!" she repeated, with surprise.
+
+"Yes," replied he, "if you desire it, this shall be his home--you shall
+be a mother, and I will, henceforward, be a father to him."
+
+Sandford, who was present, looked unusually sour at this high token of
+regard for Miss Milner; yet, with resentment on his face, he wiped a
+tear of joy from his eye, for the boy's sake--his frown was the force of
+prejudice, his tear the force of nature.
+
+Rushbrook was brought home; and whenever Lord Elmwood wished to shew a
+kindness to Miss Milner, without directing it immediately to her, he
+took his nephew upon his knee, talked to him, and told him, he "Was glad
+they had become acquainted."
+
+In the various, though delicate, struggles for power between Miss Milner
+and her guardian, there was not one person a witness to these incidents,
+who did not suppose, that all would at last end in wedlock--for the most
+common observer perceived, that ardent love was the foundation of every
+discontent, as well as of every joy they experienced. One great
+incident, however, totally reversed the hope of all future
+accommodation.
+
+The fashionable Mrs. G---- gave a masked ball; tickets were presented to
+persons of quality and fashion; among the rest, three were sent to Miss
+Milner. She had never been at a masquerade, and received them with
+ecstasy--the more especially, as the masque being at the house of a woman
+of fashion, she did not conceive there could be any objection to her
+going. She was mistaken--the moment she mentioned it to Lord Elmwood, he
+desired her, somewhat sternly, "Not to think of being there." She was
+vexed at the prohibition, but more at the manner in which it was
+delivered, and boldly said, "That she should certainly go."
+
+She expected a rebuke for this, but what alarmed her much more, he said
+not a word; but looked with a resignation, which foreboded her sorrow
+greater than the severest reproaches would have done. She sat for a
+minute, reflecting how to rouse him from this composure--she first
+thought of attacking him with upbraidings; then she thought of soothing
+him; and at last of laughing at him. This was the most dangerous of all,
+and yet, this she ventured upon.
+
+"I am sure your Lordship," said she, "with all your saintliness, can
+have no objection to my being present at the masquerade, if I go as a
+Nun."
+
+He made no reply.
+
+"That is a habit," continued she, "which covers a multitude of
+faults--and, for that evening, I may have the chance of making a conquest
+even of you--nay, I question not, if under that inviting attire, even the
+pious Mr. Sandford would not ogle me."
+
+"Hush!" said Miss Woodley.
+
+"Why hush?" cried Miss Milner, aloud, though Miss Woodley had spoken in
+a whisper, "I am sure," continued she, "I am only repeating what I have
+read in books about nuns and their confessors."
+
+"Your conduct, Miss Milner," replied Lord Elmwood "gives evident proofs
+of the authors you have read; you may spare yourself the trouble of
+quoting them."
+
+Her pride was hurt at this, beyond bearing; and as she could not, like
+him, govern her anger, it flushed in her face, and almost forced her
+into tears.
+
+"My Lord," said Miss Woodley, (in a tone so soft and peaceful, that it
+should have calmed the resentment of both,) "my Lord, suppose you were
+to accompany Miss Milner? there are tickets for three, and you can then
+have no objection."
+
+Miss Milner's brow was immediately smoothed; and she fetched a sigh, in
+anxious expectation that he would consent.
+
+"I go, Miss Woodley?" he replied, with astonishment, "Do you imagine I
+would play the buffoon at a masquerade?"
+
+Miss Milner's face changed into its former state.
+
+"I have seen grave characters there, my Lord," said Miss Woodley.
+
+"Dear Miss Woodley," cried Miss Milner, "why persuade Lord Elmwood to
+put on a mask, just at the time he has laid it aside?"
+
+His patience was now tempted to its height, and he answered, "If you
+suspect me of inconsistency, Madam, you shall find me changed."
+
+Pleased that she had been able at last to irritate him, she smiled with
+a degree of triumph, and in that humour was going to reply; but before
+she could speak four words, and before she thought of it, he abruptly
+left the room.
+
+She was highly offended at this insult, and declared, "From that moment
+she banished him from her heart for ever." And to prove that she set his
+love and his anger at equal defiance, she immediately ordered her
+carriage, and said, she "Was going to some of her acquaintance, whom she
+knew to have tickets, and with whom she would fix upon the habit she was
+to appear in at the masquerade; for nothing, unless she was locked up,
+should alter the resolution she had formed, of being there." To
+remonstrate at that moment, Miss Woodley knew would be in vain--her coach
+came to the door, and she drove away.
+
+She did not return to dinner, nor till it was late in the evening; Lord
+Elmwood was at home, but he never once mentioned her name.
+
+She came home, after he had retired, in great spirits; and then, for the
+first time, in her whole life, appeared careless what he might think of
+her behaviour:--but her whole thoughts were occupied upon the business
+which had employed the chief of her day; and her dress engrossed all her
+conversation, as soon as Miss Woodley and she were alone. She told her,
+she had been shewn the greatest variety of beautiful and becoming
+dresses she had ever beheld; "and yet," said she, "I have at last fixed
+upon a very plain one; but one I look so well in, that you will hardly
+know me, when I have it on."
+
+"You are seriously then resolved to go," said Miss Woodley, "if you hear
+no more on the subject from your guardian?"
+
+"Whether I do hear or not, Miss Woodley, I am equally resolved to go."
+
+"But you know, my dear, he has desired you not--and you used always to
+obey his commands."
+
+"As my guardian, I certainly did obey him; and I could obey him as a
+husband; but as a lover, I will not."
+
+"Yet that is the way never to have him for a husband."
+
+"As he pleases--for if he will not submit to be my lover, I will not
+submit to be his wife--nor has he the affection that I require in a
+husband."
+
+Thus the old sentiments, repeated again and again, prevented a
+separation till towards morning.
+
+Miss Milner, for that night, dreamed less of her guardian than of the
+masquerade. On the evening of the next day it was to be--she was up
+early, breakfasted in her dressing room, and remained there most of the
+day, busied in a thousand preparations for the night; one of them was,
+to take every particle of powder out of her hair, and have it curled all
+over in falling ringlets. Her next care was, that her dress should
+exactly fit, and display her fine person to the best advantage--it did
+so. Miss Woodley entered as it was trying on, and was all astonishment
+at the elegance of the habit, and its beautiful effect upon her graceful
+person; but, most of all, she was astonished at her venturing on such a
+character--for though it represented the goddess of Chastity, yet from
+the buskins, and the petticoat festooned far above the ancle,
+ it had, on a first glance, the appearance of a female much less
+virtuous. Miss Woodley admired this dress, yet objected to it; but as
+she admired first, her objections after had no weight.
+
+"Where is Lord Elmwood?" said Miss Milner--"he must not see me."
+
+"No, for heaven's sake," cried Miss Woodley, "I would not have him see
+you in such a disguise for the universe."
+
+"And yet," returned the other, with a sigh, "why am I then thus pleased
+with my dress? for I had rather he should admire me than all the world
+besides, and yet he is not to see me in it."
+
+"But he would not admire you so dressed," said Miss Woodley.
+
+"How shall I contrive to avoid him," said Miss Milner, "if in the
+evening he should offer to hand me into my carriage? But I believe he
+will not be in good humour enough for that."
+
+"You had better dress at the house of the ladies with whom you go," said
+Miss Woodley; and this was agreed upon.
+
+At dinner they learnt that Lord Elmwood was to go that evening to
+Windsor, in order to be in readiness for the king's hunt early in the
+morning. This intelligence having dispersed Miss Milner's fears, she
+concluded upon dressing at home.
+
+Lord Elmwood appeared at dinner, in an even, but not in a good temper;
+the subject of the masquerade was never brought up, nor indeed was it
+once in his thoughts; for though he was offended at his ward's behaviour
+on the occasion, and considered that she committed a fault in telling
+him, "She would go," yet he never suspected she meant to do so, not even
+at the time she said it, much less that she would persist, coolly and
+deliberately, in so direct a contradiction to his will. She, for her
+part, flattered herself, that his going to Windsor, was intended in
+order to give her an opportunity of passing the evening as she pleased,
+without his being obliged to know of it, and consequently to complain.
+Miss Woodley, who was willing to hope as she wished, began to be of the
+same opinion; and, without reluctance, dressed herself as a wood-nymph
+to accompany her friend.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+At half after eleven, Miss Milner's chair, and another with Miss
+Woodley, took them from Lord Elmwood's, to call upon the party
+(wood-nymphs and huntresses) who were to accompany them, and make up the
+suit of Diana.
+
+They had not left the house two minutes, when a thundering rap came at
+the door--it was Lord Elmwood in a post chaise. Upon some occasion the
+next day's hunt was deferred: he had been made acquainted with it, and
+came from Windsor at that late hour. After he had informed Mrs. Horton
+and Mr. Sandford, who were sitting together, of the cause of his sudden
+return, and had supper ordered for him, he enquired, "What company had
+just left the house?"
+
+"We have been alone the whole evening, my Lord," replied Mrs. Horton.
+
+"Nay," returned he, "I saw two chairs, with several servants, come out
+of the door as I drove up, but what livery I could not discern."
+
+"We have had no creature here," repeated Mrs. Horton.
+
+"Nor has Miss Milner had visitors?" asked he.
+
+This brought Mrs. Horton to her recollection, and she cried, "Oh! now I
+know;"----and then checked herself, as if she knew too much.
+
+"What do you know, Madam?" said he, sharply.
+
+"Nothing," said Mrs. Horton, "I know nothing--" and she lifted up her
+hands and shook her head.
+
+"So all people say, who know a great deal," cried Sandford, "and I
+suspect that is at present your case."
+
+"Then I know more than I wish, I am sure, Mr. Sandford," returned she,
+shrugging up her shoulders.
+
+Lord Elmwood was all impatience.
+
+"Explain, Madam, explain."
+
+"Dear my Lord," said she, "if your Lordship will recollect, you may just
+have the same knowledge that I have."
+
+"Recollect what?" said he sternly.
+
+"The quarrel you and your ward had about the masquerade."
+
+"What of that? she is not gone there?" he cried.
+
+"I am not sure she is," returned Mrs. Horton; "but if your Lordship saw
+two sedan chairs going out of this house, I cannot but suspect it must
+be Miss Milner and my niece going to the masquerade."
+
+He made no answer, but rang the bell violently. A servant entered. "Send
+Miss Milner's maid hither," said he, "immediately." The man withdrew.
+
+"Nay, my Lord," cried Mrs. Horton, "any of the other servants could tell
+you just as well, whether Miss Milner is at home, or gone out."
+
+"Perhaps not," replied he.
+
+The maid entered.
+
+"Where is your mistress?" said Lord Elmwood.
+
+The woman had received no orders to conceal where the ladies were gone,
+and yet a secret influence which governs the thoughts of all
+waiting-women and chambermaids, whispered to her that she ought not to
+tell the truth.
+
+"Where is your mistress?" repeated he, in a louder voice than before.
+
+"Gone out, my Lord," she replied.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"My Lady did not tell me."
+
+"And don't you know?"
+
+"No, my Lord:" she answered, and without blushing.
+
+"Is this the night of the masquerade?" said he.
+
+"I don't know, my Lord, upon my word; but, I believe, my Lord, it is
+not."
+
+Sandford, as soon as Lord Elmwood had asked the last question, ran
+hastily to the table, at the other side of the room, took something from
+it, and returned to his place again--and when the maid said, "It was not
+the night of the masquerade," he exclaimed, "But it is, my Lord, it
+is--yes, it is," and shewing a newspaper in his hand, pointed to the
+paragraph which contained the information.
+
+"Leave the room," said Lord Elmwood to the woman, "I have done with
+you." She withdrew.
+
+"Yes, yes, here it is," repeated Sandford, with the paper in his
+hand.----He then read the paragraph: "'_The masquerade at the honorable
+Mrs. G----'s this evening_'--This evening, my Lord, you find--'_it is
+expected will be the most brilliant, of any thing of the kind for these
+many years past._'"
+
+"They should not put such things in the papers," said Mrs. Horton, "to
+tempt young women to their ruin." The word ruin grated upon Lord
+Elmwood's ear, and he said to the servant who came to wait on him, while
+he supped, "Take the supper away." He had not attempted either to eat,
+or even to sit down; and he now walked backwards and forwards in the
+room, lost in thought and care.
+
+A little time after, one of Miss Milner's footmen came in upon some
+occasion, and Mr. Sandford said to him, "Pray did you attend your lady
+to the masquerade?"
+
+"Yes, Sir," replied the man.
+
+Lord Elmwood stopped himself short in his walk, and said to the servant,
+"You did?"
+
+"Yes, my Lord," replied he.
+
+He walked again.
+
+"I should like to know what she was dressed in," said Mrs. Horton: and
+turning to the servant, "Do you know what your lady had on?"
+
+"Yes, Madam," replied the man, "she was in men's clothes."
+
+"How!" cried Lord Elmwood.
+
+"You tell a story, to be sure," said Mrs. Horton to the servant.
+
+"No," cried Sandford, "I am sure he does not; for he is an honest good
+young man, and would not tell a lie upon any account--would you, George?"
+
+Lord Elmwood ordered Miss Milner's woman to be again sent up. She came.
+
+"In what dress did your lady go to the masquerade?" asked he, and with a
+look so extremely morose, it seemed to command the answer in a single
+word, and that word to be truth.
+
+A mind, with a spark of sensibility more than this woman possessed,
+could not have equivocated with such an interrogator, but her reply was,
+"She went in her own dress, my Lord."
+
+"Was it a man's or a woman's?" asked he, with a look of the same
+command.
+
+"Ha, ha, my Lord," (half laughing and half crying) "a woman's dress, to
+be sure, my Lord."
+
+On which Sandford cried----
+
+"Call the footman up, and let him confront her."
+
+He was called; but Lord Elmwood, now disgusted at the scene, withdrew to
+the further end of the room, and left Sandford to question them.
+
+With all the authority and consequence of a country magistrate,
+Sandford--his back to the fire, and the witnesses before him, began with
+the footman.
+
+"In what dress do you say, that you saw your lady, when you attended,
+and went along with her, to the masquerade?"
+
+"In men's clothes," replied the man, boldly and firmly as before.
+
+"Bless my soul, George, how can you say such a thing?" cried the woman.
+
+"What dress do _you_ say she went in?" cried Sandford to her.
+
+"In women's clothes, indeed, Sir."
+
+"This is very odd!" said Mrs. Horton.
+
+"Had she on, or had she not on, a coat?" asked Sandford.
+
+"Yes, Sir, a petticoat," replied the woman.
+
+"Do _you_ say she had on a petticoat?" said Sandford to the man.
+
+"I can't answer exactly for that," replied he, "but I know she had boots
+on."
+
+"They were not boots," replied the maid with vehemence--"indeed, Sir,
+(turning to Sandford) they were only half boots."
+
+"My girl," said Sandford kindly to her, "your own evidence convicts your
+mistress--What has a woman to do with _any_ boots?"
+
+Impatient at this mummery, Lord Elmwood rose, ordered the servants out
+of the room, and then, looking at his watch, found it was near one. "At
+what hour am I to expect her home?" said he.
+
+"Perhaps not till three in the morning," answered Mrs. Horton.
+
+"Three! more likely six," cried Sandford.
+
+"I can't wait with patience till that time," answered Lord Elmwood, with
+a most anxious sigh.
+
+"You had better go to bed, my Lord," said Mrs. Horton; "and, by
+sleeping, the time will pass away unperceived."
+
+"If I _could_ sleep, Madam."
+
+"Will you play a game of cards, my Lord?" said Sandford, "for I will not
+leave you till she comes home; and though I am not used to sit up all
+night----"
+
+"All night!" repeated Lord Elmwood; "she dares not stay all night."
+
+"And yet, after going," said Sandford, "in defiance to your commands, I
+should suppose she dared."
+
+"She is in good company, at least, my Lord," said Mrs. Horton.
+
+"She does not know herself what company she is in," replied he.
+
+"How should she," cried Sandford, "where every one hides his face?"
+
+Till five o'clock in the morning, in conversation such as this, the
+hours passed away. Mrs. Horton, indeed, retired to her chamber at two,
+and left the gentlemen to a more serious discourse; but a discourse
+still less advantageous to poor Miss Milner.
+
+She, during this time, was at the scene of pleasure she had painted to
+herself, and all the pleasure it gave her was, that she was sure she
+should never desire to go to a masquerade again. Its crowd and bustle
+fatigued her--its freedom offended her delicacy--and though she perceived
+that she was the first object of admiration in the place, yet there was
+one person still wanting to admire; and the remorse at having
+transgressed his injunctions for so trivial an entertainment, weighed
+upon her spirits, and added to its weariness. She would have come away
+sooner than she did, but she could not, with any degree of good manners,
+leave the company with whom she went; and not till half after four, were
+they prevailed on to return.
+
+Daylight just peeped through the shutters of the room in which Lord
+Elmwood and Sandford were sitting, when the sound of her carriage, and
+the sudden stop it made at the door, caused Lord Elmwood to start from
+his chair. He trembled extremely, and looked pale. Sandford was ashamed
+to seem to notice it, yet he could not help asking him, "To take a glass
+of wine." He took it--and for once, evinced he was reduced so low, as to
+be _glad_ of such a resource.
+
+What passion thus agitated Lord Elmwood at this crisis, it is hard to
+define--perhaps it was indignation at Miss Milner's imprudence, and
+exultation at being on the point of revenge--perhaps it was emotion
+arising from joy, to find that she was safe--perhaps it was perturbation
+at the regret he felt that he must upbraid her--perhaps it was not one
+alone of these sensations, but all of them combined.
+
+She, wearied out with the tedious night's dissipation, and far less
+joyous than melancholy, had fallen asleep as she rode home, and came
+half asleep out of her carriage. "Light me to my bed-chamber instantly,"
+said she to her maid, who waited in the hall to receive her. But one of
+Lord Elmwood's valets went up to her, and answered, "Madam, my Lord
+desires to see you before you retire."
+
+"Your Lord!" she cried, "Is he not out of town?"
+
+"No, Madam, my Lord has been at home ever since you went out; and has
+been sitting up with Mr. Sandford, waiting for you."
+
+She was wide awake immediately. The heaviness was removed from her eyes,
+but fear, grief, and shame, seized upon her heart. She leaned against
+her maid, as if unable to support herself under those feelings, and said
+to Miss Woodley,
+
+"Make my excuse--I cannot see him to-night--I am unfit--indeed I cannot."
+
+Miss Woodley was alarmed at the idea of going to him by herself, and
+thus, perhaps, irritating him still more: she, therefore, said, "He has
+sent for _you_; for heaven's sake, do not disobey him a second time."
+
+"No, dear Madam, don't," cried her woman, "for he is like a lion--he has
+been scolding me."
+
+"Good God!" (exclaimed Miss Milner, and in a tone that seemed prophetic)
+"Then he is not to be my husband, after all."
+
+"Yes," cried Miss Woodley, "if you will only be humble, and appear
+sorry. You know your power over him, and all may yet be well."
+
+She turned her speaking eyes upon her friend, the tears starting from
+them, her lips trembling--"Do I not appear sorry?" she cried.
+
+The bell at that moment rang furiously, and they hastened their steps to
+the door of the apartment where Lord Elmwood was.
+
+"No, this shuddering is only fright," replied Miss Woodley--"Say to him
+you are sorry, and beg his pardon."
+
+"I cannot," said she, "if Mr. Sandford is with him."
+
+The servant opened the door, and she and Miss Woodley went in. Lord
+Elmwood, by this time, was composed, and received her with a slight
+inclination of his head--she bowed to him in return, and said, with some
+marks of humility,
+
+"I suppose, my Lord, I have done wrong."
+
+"You have indeed, Miss Milner," answered he; "but do not suppose, that I
+mean to upbraid you: I am, on the contrary, going to release you from
+any such apprehension _for the future._"
+
+Those last three words he delivered with a countenance so serious and so
+determined, with an accent so firm and so decided, they pierced through
+her heart. Yet she did not weep, or even sigh; but her friend, knowing
+what she felt, exclaimed, "Oh?" as if for her.
+
+She herself strove with her anguish, and replied, (but with a faltering
+voice) "I expected as much, my Lord."
+
+"Then, Madam, you perhaps expect _all_ that I intend?"
+
+"In regard to myself," she replied, "I suppose I do."
+
+"Then," said he, "you may expect that in a few days we shall part."
+
+"I am prepared for it, my Lord," she answered, and, while she said so,
+sunk upon a chair.
+
+"My Lord, what you have to say farther," said Miss Woodley, in tears,
+"defer till the morning--Miss Milner, you see, is not able to bear it
+now."
+
+"I have nothing to _say_ further," replied he coolly--"I have now only to
+act."
+
+"Lord Elmwood," cried Miss Milner, divided between grief and anger, "you
+think to terrify me by your menaces--but I can part with you--heaven knows
+I can--your late behaviour has reconciled me to a separation."
+
+On this he was going out of the room--but Miss Woodley, catching hold of
+him, cried, "Oh! my Lord, do not leave her in this sorrow--pity her
+weakness, and forgive it." She was proceeding; and he seemed as if
+inclined to listen, when Sandford called out in a tone of voice so
+harsh,
+
+"Miss Woodley, what do you mean?"--She gave a start, and desisted.
+
+Lord Elmwood then turned to Sandford, and said, "Nay, Mr. Sandford, you
+need entertain no doubts of me--I have judged, and have deter----"
+
+He was going to say _determined_; but Miss Milner, who dreaded the word,
+interrupted the period, and exclaimed, "Oh! could my poor father know
+the days of sorrow I have experienced since his death, how would he
+repent his fatal choice of a protector!"
+
+This sentence, in which his friend's memory was recalled, with an
+additional allusion to her long and secret love for him, affected Lord
+Elmwood much--he was moved, but ashamed of being so, and as soon as
+possible conquered the propensity to forgive. Yet, for a short interval,
+he did not know whether to go out of the room, or to remain in it;
+whether to speak, or to be silent. At length he turned towards her, and
+said,
+
+"Appeal to your father in some other form--in that (pointing at her
+dress) he will not know you. Reflect upon him, too, in your moments of
+dissipation, and let his idea controul your indiscretions--not merely in
+an hour of contradiction call peevishly upon his name, only to wound the
+dearest friend you have."
+
+There was a degree of truth, and a degree of passionate feeling, in the
+conclusion of this speech, that alarmed Sandford--he caught up one of the
+candles, and, laying hold of his friend's elbow, drew him out of the
+room, crying, "Come, my Lord, come to your bed-chamber--it is very
+late--it is morning--it is time to rise." And by a continual repetition of
+these words, in a very loud voice, drowned whatever Lord Elmwood, or any
+other person might have wished either to have said or to have heard.
+
+In this manner, Lord Elmwood was forced out of the apartment, and the
+evening's entertainment concluded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Two whole days passed in the bitterest suspense on the part of Miss
+Milner, while neither one word or look from Lord Elmwood, denoted the
+most trivial change of the sentiments he had declared, on the night of
+the masquerade. Still those sentiments, or intentions, were not
+explicitly delivered; they were more like intimations, than solemn
+declarations--for though he had said, "He would never reproach her _for
+the future_," and that "She might expect they should part," he had not
+positively said they should; and upon this doubtful meaning of his
+words, she hung with the strongest agitation of hope and of fear.
+
+Miss Woodley seeing the distress of her mind, (much as she endeavoured
+to conceal it) entreated, nay implored of her, to permit her to be a
+mediator; to suffer her to ask for a private interview with Lord
+Elmwood, and if she found him inflexible, to behave with a proper spirit
+in return; but if he appeared not absolutely averse to a reconciliation,
+to offer it in so cautious a manner, that it might take place without
+farther uneasiness on either side. But Miss Milner peremptorily forbade
+this, and acknowledging to her friend every weakness she felt on the
+occasion, yet concluded with solemnly declaring, "That after what had
+passed between her and Lord Elmwood, _he_ must be the first to make a
+concession, before she herself would condescend to be reconciled."
+
+"I believe I know Lord Elmwood's temper," replied Miss Woodley, "and I
+do not think he will be easily induced to beg pardon for a fault which
+he thinks _you_ have committed."
+
+"Then he does not love me."
+
+"Pshaw! Miss Milner, this is the old argument. He may love you too well
+to spoil you--consider that he is your guardian as well as your lover, he
+means also to become your husband; and he is a man of such nice honour,
+that he will not indulge you with any power before marriage, to which he
+does not intend to submit hereafter."
+
+"But tenderness, affection, the politeness due from a lover to his
+mistress demands his submission; and as I now despair of enticing, I
+will oblige him to it--at least I'll make the trial, and know my fate at
+once."
+
+"What do you mean to do?"
+
+"Invite Lord Frederick to the house, and ask my guardian's consent for
+our immediate union; you will then see, what effect that will have upon
+his pride."
+
+"But you will then make it too late for him to be humble. If you
+resolve on this, my dear Miss Milner, you are undone at once--you may
+thus hurry yourself into a marriage with a man you do not love, and the
+misery of your whole future life may be the result. Or, would you force
+Mr. Dorriforth (I mean Lord Elmwood) to another duel with my Lord
+Frederick?"
+
+"No, call him Dorriforth," answered she, with the tears stealing from
+her eyes; "I thank you for calling him so; for by that name alone, is he
+dear to me."
+
+"Nay, Miss Milner, with what rapture did you not receive his love, as
+Lord Elmwood!"
+
+"But under this title he has been barbarous; under the first, he was all
+friendship and tenderness."
+
+Notwithstanding Miss Milner indulged herself in all these soft
+bewailings to her friend--before Lord Elmwood she maintained a degree of
+pride and steadiness, which surprised even him, who perhaps thought less
+of her love for him, than any other person. She now began to fear she
+had gone too far in discovering her affection, and resolved to make
+trial of a contrary method. She determined to retrieve that haughty
+character which had inspired so many of her admirers with passion, and
+take the chance of its effect upon this only one, to whom she ever
+acknowledged a mutual attachment. But although she acted this character
+well--so well, that every one but Miss Woodley thought her in
+earnest--yet, with nice and attentive anxiety, she watched even the
+slightest circumstances that might revive her hopes, or confirm her
+despair. Lord Elmwood's behaviour was calculated only to produce the
+latter--he was cold, polite, and perfectly indifferent. Yet, whatever his
+manners now were, they did not remove from her recollection what they
+had been--she recalled, with delight, the ardour with which he had first
+declared his passion to her, and the thousand proofs he had since given
+of its reality. From the constancy of his disposition, she depended that
+sentiments like these were not totally eradicated; and from the extreme
+desire which Mr. Sandford now, more than ever, discovered of
+depreciating her in his patron's esteem--from the now, more than common
+zeal, which urged him to take Lord Elmwood from her company, whenever
+he had it in his power, she was led to believe, that while his friend
+entertained such strong fears of his relapsing into love, she had reason
+to indulge the strongest hopes that he would.
+
+But the reserve, and even indifference, that she had so well assumed for
+a few days, and which might perhaps have effected her design, she had
+not the patience to persevere in, without calling levity to their aid.
+She visited repeatedly without saying where, or with whom--kept later
+hours than usual--appeared in the highest spirits--sung, laughed, and
+never heaved a sigh--but when she was alone.
+
+Still Lord Elmwood protracted a resolution, that he was determined he
+would never break when taken.
+
+Miss Woodley was excessively uneasy, and with cause; she saw her friend
+was providing herself with a weight of cares, that she would soon find
+infinitely too much for her strength to bear--she would have reasoned
+with her, but all her arguments had long since proved unavailing. She
+wished to speak to Lord Elmwood upon the subject, and (unknown to her)
+plead her excuse; but he apprehended Miss Woodley's intention, and
+evidently shunned her. Mr. Sandford was now the only person to whom she
+could speak of Miss Milner, and the delight he took to expatiate on her
+faults, was more sorrow to her friend, than not to speak of her at all.
+She, therefore, sat a silent spectator, waiting with dread for the time
+when she, who now scorned her advice, would fly to her in vain for
+comfort.
+
+Sandford had, however, said one thing to Miss Woodley, which gave her a
+ray of hope. During their conversation on the subject, (not by way of
+consolation to her, but as a reproach to Lord Elmwood) he one day
+angrily exclaimed, "And yet, notwithstanding all this provocation, he
+has not come to the determination that he will think no more of her--he
+lingers and he hesitates--I never saw him so weak upon any occasion
+before."
+
+This was joyful hearing to Miss Woodley; still, she could not but
+reflect, the longer he was in coming to this determination, the more
+irrevocable it would be, when once taken; and every moment that passed,
+she trembled lest it should be the very moment, in which Lord Elmwood
+should resolve to banish Miss Milner from his heart.
+
+Amongst her unpardonable indiscretions, during this trial upon the
+temper of her guardian, was the frequent mention of many gentlemen, who
+had been her professed admirers, and the mention of them with
+partiality. Teased, if not tortured, by this, Lord Elmwood still behaved
+with a manly evenness of temper, and neither appeared provoked on the
+subject, nor insolently careless. In a single instance, however, this
+calmness was near deserting him.
+
+Entering the drawing-room, one evening, he started, on seeing Lord
+Frederick Lawnly there, in earnest conversation with Miss Milner.
+
+Mrs. Horton and Miss Woodley were both indeed present, and Lord
+Frederick was talking in an audible voice, upon some indifferent
+subjects; but with that impressive manner, in which a man never fails to
+speak to the woman he loves, be the subject what it may. The moment Lord
+Elmwood started, which was the moment he entered, Lord Frederick arose.
+
+"I beg your pardon, my Lord," said Lord Elmwood, "I protest I did not
+know you."
+
+"I ought to entreat your Lordship's pardon," returned Lord Frederick,
+"for this intrusion, which an accident alone has occasioned. Miss Milner
+has been almost overturned by the carelessness of a lady's coachman, in
+whose carriage she was, and therefore suffered me to bring her home in
+mine."
+
+"I hope you are not hurt," said Lord Elmwood to Miss Milner, but his
+voice was so much affected by what he felt that he could scarce
+articulate the words. Not with the apprehension that she was hurt, was
+he thus agitated, for the gaiety of her manners convinced him _that_
+could not be the case, nor did he indeed suppose any accident, of the
+kind mentioned, had occurred; but the circumstance of unexpectedly
+seeing Lord Frederick had taken him off his guard, and being totally
+unprepared, he could not conceal indications of the surprise, and of the
+shock it had given him.
+
+Lord Frederick, who had heard nothing of his intended union with his
+ward, (for it was even kept a secret, at present, from every servant in
+the house) imputed this discomposure to the personal resentment he might
+bear him, in consequence of their duel; for though Lord Elmwood had
+assured the uncle of Lord Frederick, (who once waited upon him on the
+subject of Miss Milner) that all resentment was, on his part, entirely
+at an end; and that he was willing to consent to his ward's marriage
+with his nephew, if she would concur; yet Lord Frederick doubted the
+sincerity of this, and would still have had the delicacy not to have
+entered Lord Elmwood's house, had he not been encouraged by Miss Milner,
+and emboldened by his love. Personal resentment was therefore the
+construction he put upon Lord Elmwood's emotion on entering the room;
+but Miss Milner and Miss Woodley knew his agitation to arise from a far
+different cause.
+
+After his entrance, Lord Frederick did not attempt once to resume his
+seat, but having bowed most respectfully to all present, he took his
+leave; while Miss Milner followed him as far as the door, and repeated
+her thanks for his protection.
+
+Lord Elmwood was hurt beyond measure; but he had a second concern, which
+was, that he had not the power to conceal how much he was affected. He
+trembled--when he attempted to speak, he stammered--he perceived his face
+burning with confusion, and thus one confusion gave birth to another,
+till his state was pitiable.
+
+Miss Milner, with all her assumed gaiety and real insolence, had not,
+however, the insolence to seem as if she observed him; she had only the
+confidence to observe him by stealth. And Mrs. Horton and Miss Woodley,
+having opportunely begun a discourse upon some trivial occurrences, gave
+him time to recover himself by degrees--yet, still it was merely by
+degrees; for the impression which this incident had made, was deep, and
+not easily to be erased. The entrance of Mr. Sandford, who knew nothing
+of what had happened, was however, another relief; for he began a
+conversation with him, which they very soon retired into the library to
+terminate. Miss Milner, taking Miss Woodley with her, went directly to
+her own apartment, and there exclaimed in rapture,
+
+"He is mine--he loves me--and he is mine for ever."
+
+Miss Woodley congratulated her upon believing so, but confessed she
+herself "Had her fears."
+
+"What fears?" cried Miss Milner: "don't you perceive that he loves me?"
+
+"I do," said Miss Woodley, "but that I always believed; and, I think, if
+he loves you now, he has yet the good sense to know that he has reason
+to hate you."
+
+"What has good sense to do with love?" returned Miss Milner--"If a lover
+of mine suffers his understanding to get the better of his affection--"
+
+The same arguments were going to be repeated; but Miss Woodley
+interrupted her, by requiring an explanation of her conduct as to Lord
+Frederick, whom, at least, she was treating with cruelty, if she only
+made use of his affection to stimulate that of Lord Elmwood.
+
+"By no means, my dear Miss Woodley," returned she--"I have, indeed, done
+with my Lord Frederick from this day; and he has certainly given me the
+proof I wanted of Lord Elmwood's love; but then I did not engage him to
+this by the smallest ray of hope. No; do not suspect me of that, while
+my heart was another's: and I assure you, seriously, that it was from
+the circumstance we described he came with me home--yet, I must own, that
+if I had not had this design upon Lord Elmwood's jealousy in idea, I
+would have walked on foot through the streets, rather than have suffered
+his rival's civilities. But he pressed his services so violently, and my
+Lady Evans (in whose coach I was when the accident happened) pressed me
+so violently to accept them, that he cannot expect any farther meaning
+from this acquiescence than my own convenience."
+
+Miss Woodley was going to reply, when she resumed,
+
+"Nay, if you intend to say I have done wrong, still I am not sorry for
+it, when it has given me such convincing proofs of Lord Elmwood's love.
+Did you see him? I am afraid you did not see how he trembled? and that
+manly voice faltered, as mine does sometimes--his proud heart was humbled
+too, as mine is now and then. Oh! Miss Woodley, I have been
+counterfeiting indifference to _him_--I now find that all _his_
+indifference to _me_ has been counterfeit, and that we not only love,
+but love equally."
+
+"Suppose this all as you hope--I yet think it highly necessary that your
+guardian should be informed, seriously informed, it was mere accident
+(for, at present, that plea seems but as a subterfuge) which brought
+Lord Frederick hither."
+
+"No, that will be destroying the work so successfully begun. I will not
+suffer any explanation to take place, but let my Lord Elmwood act just
+as his love shall dictate; and now I have no longer a doubt of its
+excess, instead of stooping to him, I wait in the certain expectation of
+his submission to me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+In vain, for three long days, did Miss Milner wait impatiently for this
+submission; not a sign, not a symptom appeared--nay, Lord Elmwood had,
+since the evening of Lord Frederick's visit, (which, at the time it
+happened, seemed to affect him so exceedingly) become just the same man
+he was before the circumstance occurred; except, indeed, that he was
+less thoughtful, and now and then cheerful; but without any appearance
+that his cheerfulness was affected. Miss Milner was vext--she was
+alarmed--but was ashamed to confess those humiliating sensations, even to
+Miss Woodley--she supported, therefore, when in company, the vivacity she
+had so long assumed; but gave way, when alone, to a still greater degree
+of melancholy than usual. She no longer applauded her scheme of bringing
+Lord Frederick to the house, and trembled, lest, on some pretence, he
+should dare to call again. But as these were feelings which her pride
+would not suffer her to disclose even to her friend, who would have
+condoled with her, their effects were doubly poignant.
+
+Sitting in her dressing-room one forenoon with Miss Woodley, and
+burthened with a load of grief that she blushed to acknowledge, while
+her companion was charged with apprehensions that she too was loath to
+disclose, one of Lord Elmwood's valets tapped gently at the door, and
+delivered a letter to Miss Milner. By the person who brought it, as well
+as by the address, she knew it came from Lord Elmwood, and laid it down
+upon her toilet, as if she was fearful to unfold it.
+
+"What is that?" said Miss Woodley.
+
+"A letter from Lord Elmwood," replied Miss Milner.
+
+"Good Heaven!" exclaimed Miss Woodley.
+
+"Nay," returned she, "it is, I have no doubt, a letter to beg my
+pardon." But her reluctance to open it plainly evinced she did not think
+so.
+
+"Do not read it yet," said Miss Woodley.
+
+"I do not intend it," replied she, trembling extremely.
+
+"Will you dine first?" said Miss Woodley.
+
+"No--for not knowing its contents, I shall not know how to conduct myself
+towards him."
+
+Here a silence followed. Miss Milner took up the letter--looked earnestly
+at the handwriting on the outside--at the seal--inspected into its
+folds--and seemed to wish, by some equivocal method, to guess at the
+contents, without having the courage to come at the certain knowledge of
+them.
+
+Curiosity, at length, got the better of her fears--she opened the letter,
+and, scarce able to hold it while she read, she read the following
+words:--
+
+     "MADAM,
+
+     "While I considered you only as my ward, my friendship for you
+     was unbounded--when I looked upon you as a woman formed to grace
+     a fashionable circle, my admiration equalled my friendship--and
+     when fate permitted me to behold you in the tender light of my
+     betrothed wife, my soaring love left those humbler passions at a
+     distance.
+
+     "That you have still my friendship, my admiration, and even my
+     love, I will not attempt to deceive either myself or you by
+     disavowing; but still, with a firm assurance, I declare, that
+     prudence outweighs them all; and I have not, from henceforward, a
+     wish to be regarded by you, in any other respect than as one 'who
+     wishes you well.' That you ever beheld me in the endearing
+     quality of a destined and an affectionate husband, (such as I
+     would have proved) was a deception upon my hopes: they
+     acknowledge the mistake, and are humbled--but I entreat you to
+     spare their farther trial, and for a single week do not insult me
+     with the open preference of another. In the short space of that
+     period I shall have taken my leave of you--_for ever._
+
+     "I shall visit Italy, and some other parts of the Continent; from
+     whence I propose passing to the West Indies, in order to inspect
+     my possessions there: nor shall I return to England till after a
+     few years' absence; in which time I hope to become once more
+     reconciled to the change of state I am enjoined--a change I now
+     most fervently wish could be entirely dispensed with.
+
+     "The occasion of my remaining here a week longer, is to settle
+     some necessary affairs, among which the principal is, that of
+     delivering to a friend, a man of worth and of tenderness, all
+     those writings which have invested me with the power of my
+     guardianship--he will, the day after my departure, (without one
+     upbraiding word) resign them to you in my name; and even your
+     most respected father, could he behold the resignation, would
+     concur in its propriety.
+
+     "And now, my dear Miss Milner, let not affected resentment,
+     contempt, or levity, oppose that serenity, which, for the week to
+     come, I wish to enjoy. By complying with this request, give me to
+     believe, that, since you have been under my care, you think I
+     have, at least, faithfully discharged some part of my duty. And
+     wherever I have been inadequate to your wishes, attribute my
+     demerits to some infirmity of mind, rather than to a negligence
+     of your happiness. Yet, be the cause what it will, since these
+     faults have existed, I do not attempt to disavow or extenuate
+     them, and I beg your pardon.
+
+     "However time, and a succession of objects, may eradicate more
+     tender sentiments, I am sure _never_ to lose the liveliest
+     anxiety for your welfare--and with all that solicitude, which
+     cannot be described, I entreat for your own sake, for mine--when
+     we shall be far asunder--and for the sake of your dead father's
+     memory, that, _upon every important occasion, you will call your
+     serious judgment to direct you._
+
+     "I am, Madam,
+
+     "Your sincerest friend,
+
+     "ELMWOOD."
+
+After she had read every syllable of this letter, it dropped from her
+hands; but she uttered not a word. There was, however, a paleness in her
+face, a deadness in her eye, and a kind of palsy over her frame, which
+Miss Woodley, who had seen her in every stage of her uneasiness, never
+had seen before.
+
+"I do not want to read the letter," said Miss Woodley; "your looks tell
+me its contents."
+
+"They will then discover to Lord Elmwood," replied she, "what I feel;
+but Heaven forbid--that would sink me even lower than I am."
+
+Scarce able to move, she rose, and looked in her glass, as if to arrange
+her features, and impose upon him: alas! it was of no avail--a serenity
+of mind could alone effect what she desired.
+
+"You must endeavour," said Miss Woodley, "to feel the disposition you
+wish to make appear."
+
+"I will," replied she, "I will feel a proper pride--and a proper scorn of
+this treatment."
+
+And so desirous was she to attain the appearance of these sentiments,
+that she made the strongest efforts to calm her thoughts, in order to
+acquire it.
+
+"I have but a few days to remain with him," she said to herself, "and we
+part for ever--during those few days it is not only my duty to obey his
+commands, or rather comply with his request, but it is also my wish to
+leave upon his mind an impression, which may not add to the ill opinion
+he has formed of me, but, perhaps, serve to diminish it. If, in every
+other instance, my conduct has been blameable, he shall, at least in
+this, acknowledge its merit. The fate I have drawn upon myself, he shall
+find I can be resigned to; and he shall be convinced, that the woman, of
+whose weakness he has had so many fatal proofs, is yet in possession of
+some fortitude--fortitude, to bid him farewell, without discovering one
+affected or one real pang, though her death should be the immediate
+consequence."
+
+Thus she resolved, and thus she acted. The severest judge could not have
+arraigned her conduct, from the day she received Lord Elmwood's letter,
+to the day of his departure. She had, indeed, involuntary weaknesses,
+but none with which she did not struggle, and, in general, her struggles
+were victorious.
+
+The first time she saw him after the receipt of his letter, was on the
+evening of the same day--she had a little concert of amateurs of music,
+and was herself singing and playing when he entered the room: the
+connoisseurs immediately perceived she made a false cadence--but Lord
+Elmwood was no connoisseur in the art, and he did not observe it.
+
+They occasionally spoke to each other through the evening, but the
+subjects were general--and though their manners every time they spoke,
+were perfectly polite, they were not marked with the smallest degree of
+familiarity. To describe his behaviour exactly, it was the same as his
+letter, polite, friendly, composed, and resolved. Some of the company
+staid supper, which prevented the embarrassment that must unavoidably
+have arisen, had the family been by themselves.
+
+The next morning each breakfasted in his separate apartments--more
+company dined with them--in the evening, and at supper, Lord Elmwood was
+from home.
+
+Thus, all passed on as peaceably as he had requested, and Miss Milner
+had not betrayed one particle of frailty; when, the third day at dinner,
+some gentlemen of his acquaintance being at table, one of them said,
+
+"And so, my Lord, you absolutely set off on Tuesday morning?"
+
+This was Friday.
+
+Sandford and he both replied at the same time, "Yes." And Sandford, but
+not Lord Elmwood, looked at Miss Milner when he spoke. Her knife and
+fork gave a sudden spring in her hand, but no other emotion witnessed
+what she felt.
+
+"Aye, Elmwood," cried another gentleman at table, "you'll bring home, I
+am afraid, a foreign wife, and that I shan't forgive."
+
+"It is his errand abroad, I make no doubt," said another visitor.
+
+Before he could return an answer, Sandford cried, "And what objection to
+a foreigner for a wife? do not crowned heads all marry foreigners? and
+who happier in the married state than some kings?"
+
+Lord Elmwood directed his eyes to the side of the table, opposite to
+that where Miss Milner sat.
+
+"Nay," (answered one of the guests, who was a country gentleman) "what
+do you say, ladies--do you think my Lord ought to go out of his own
+nation for a wife?" and he looked at Miss Milner for the reply.
+
+Miss Woodley, uneasy at her friend's being thus forced to give an
+opinion upon so delicate a subject, endeavoured to satisfy the
+gentleman, by answering to the question herself: "Whoever my Lord
+Elmwood marries, Sir," said Miss Woodley, "he, no doubt, will be happy."
+
+"But what say you, Madam?" asked the visitor, still keeping his eyes on
+Miss Milner.
+
+"That whoever Lord Elmwood marries, he _deserves_ to be happy:" returned
+she, with the utmost command of her voice and looks; for Miss Woodley,
+by replying first, had given her time to collect herself.
+
+The colour flew to Lord Elmwood's face, as she delivered this short
+sentence; and Miss Woodley persuaded herself, she saw a tear start in
+his eye.
+
+Miss Milner did not look that way.
+
+In an instant he found means to change the subject, but that of his
+journey still employed the conversation; and what horses, servants, and
+carriages he took with him, was minutely asked, and so accurately
+answered, either by himself or by Mr. Sandford, that Miss Milner,
+although she had known her doom before, till now had received no
+circumstantial account of it--and as circumstances increase or diminish
+all we feel, the hearing these things told, increased the bitterness of
+their truth.
+
+Soon after dinner the ladies retired; and from that time, though Miss
+Milner's behaviour continued the same, yet her looks and her voice were
+totally altered--for the world, she could not have looked cheerfully; for
+the world, she could not have spoken with a sprightly accent; she
+frequently began in one, but not three words could she utter, before her
+tones sunk into dejection. Not only her colour, but her features became
+changed; her eyes lost their brilliancy, her lips seemed to hang without
+the power of motion, her head drooped, and her dress was neglected.
+Conscious of this appearance, and conscious of the cause from whence it
+arose, it was her desire to hide herself from the only object she could
+have wished to have charmed. Accordingly, she sat alone, or with Miss
+Woodley in her own apartment as much as was consistent with that
+civility which her guardian had requested, and which forbade her totally
+absenting herself.
+
+Miss Woodley felt so acutely the torments of her friend, that had not
+her reason told her, that the inflexible mind of Lord Elmwood, was fixed
+beyond her power to shake, she had cast herself at his feet, and
+implored the return of his affection and tenderness, as the only means
+to save his once-beloved ward from an untimely death. But her
+understanding--her knowledge of his firm and immoveable temper; and of
+all his provocations--her knowledge of his word, long since given to
+Sandford, "That if once resolved, he would not recall his
+resolution"--the certainty of the various plans arranged for his travels,
+all convinced her, that by any interference, she would only expose Miss
+Milner's love and delicacy, to a contemptuous rejection.
+
+If the conversation did not every day turn upon the subject of Lord
+Elmwood's departure--a conversation he evidently avoided himself--yet,
+every day, some new preparation for his journey, struck either the ear
+or the eye of Miss Milner--and had she beheld a frightful spectre, she
+could not have shuddered with more horror, than when she unexpectedly
+passed his large trunks in the hall, nailed and corded, ready to be sent
+off to meet him at Venice. At the sight, she flew from the company that
+chanced to be with her, and stole to the first lonely corner of the
+house to conceal her tears--she reclined her head upon her hands, and
+bedewed them with the sudden anguish, that had overcome her. She heard
+a footstep advancing towards the spot where she hoped to have been
+concealed; she lifted up her eyes, and saw Lord Elmwood. Pride, was the
+first emotion his presence inspired--pride, which arose from the humility
+into which she was plunged.
+
+She looked at him earnestly, as if to imply, "What now, my Lord?"
+
+He only answered with a bow, which expressed; "I beg your pardon." And
+immediately withdrew.
+
+Thus each understood the other's language, without either having uttered
+a word.
+
+The just construction she put upon his looks and behaviour upon this
+occasion, kept up her spirits for some little time; and she blessed
+heaven, repeatedly, for the singular favour of shewing to her, clearly,
+by this accident, his negligence of her sorrows, his total indifference.
+
+The next day was the eve of that on which he was to depart--of the day on
+which she was to bid adieu to Dorriforth, to her guardian, to Lord
+Elmwood; to all her hopes at once.
+
+The moment she awoke on Monday morning, the recollection, that this was,
+perhaps, the last day she was ever again to see him, softened all the
+resentment his yesterday's conduct had raised: forgetting his austerity,
+and all she had once termed cruelties, she now only remembered his
+friendship, his tenderness, and his love. She was impatient to see him,
+and promised herself, for this last day, to neglect no one opportunity
+of being with him. For that purpose she did not breakfast in her own
+room, as she had done for several mornings before, but went into the
+breakfast-room, where all the family in general met. She was rejoiced on
+hearing his voice as she opened the door, yet the sound made her tremble
+so much, that she could scarcely totter to the table.
+
+Miss Woodley looked at her as she entered, and was never so shocked at
+seeing her; for never had she yet seen her look so ill. As she
+approached, she made an inclination of her head to Mrs. Horton, then to
+her guardian, as was her custom, when she first saw them in a morning--he
+looked in her face as he bowed in return, then fixed his eyes upon the
+fire-place, rubbed his forehead, and began talking with Mr. Sandford.
+
+Sandford, during breakfast, by accident cast a glance upon Miss Milner;
+his attention was caught by her deadly countenance, and he looked
+earnestly. He then turned to Lord Elmwood to see if he was observing her
+appearance--he was not--and so much were her thoughts engaged on him
+alone, that she did not once perceive Sandford gazing at her.
+
+Mrs. Horton, after a little while observed, "It was a beautiful
+morning."
+
+Lord Elmwood said, "He thought he heard it rain in the night."
+
+Sandford cried, "For his part he slept too well to know." And then
+(unasked) held a plate with biscuits to Miss Milner--it was the first
+civility he had ever in his life offered her; she smiled at the
+whimsicality of the circumstance, but she took one in return for his
+attention. He looked grave beyond his usual gravity, and yet not with
+his usual ill temper. She did not eat what she had so politely taken,
+but laid it down soon after.
+
+Lord Elmwood was the first who rose from breakfast, and he did not
+return to dinner.
+
+At dinner, Mrs. Horton said, "She hoped he would, however, favour them
+with his company at supper."
+
+To which Sandford replied, "No doubt, for you will hardly any of you see
+him in the morning; as we shall be off by six, or soon after."
+
+Sandford was not going abroad with Lord Elmwood, but was to go with him
+as far as Dover.
+
+These words of his--"_Not see Lord Elmwood in the morning_"--[never again
+to see him after this evening,] were like the knell of death to Miss
+Milner. She felt the symptoms of fainting, and eagerly snatched a glass
+of water, which the servant was holding to Sandford, who had called for
+it, and drank it off;--as she returned the glass to the servant, she
+began to apologize to Mr. Sandford for her seeming rudeness, but before
+she could utter what she intended, he said, good-naturedly, "Never
+mind--you are very welcome--I am glad you took it." She looked at him to
+observe, whether he had really spoken kindly, or ironically; but before
+his countenance could satisfy her, her thoughts were called away from
+that trivial matter, and again fixed upon Lord Elmwood.
+
+The moments seemed tedious till he came home to supper, and yet, when
+she reflected how short the remainder of the evening would be after that
+time, she wished to defer the hour of his return for months. At ten
+o'clock he arrived; and at half after ten the family, without any
+visitor, met at supper.
+
+Miss Milner had considered, that the period for her to counterfeit
+appearances, was diminished now to a most contracted one; and she
+rigorously enjoined herself not to shrink from the little which
+remained. The certain end, that would be so soon put to this painful
+deception, encouraged her to struggle through it with redoubled zeal;
+and this was but necessary, as her weakness increased. She therefore
+listened, she talked, and even smiled with the rest of the company, nor
+did _their_ vivacity seem to arise, from a much less compulsive source
+than her own.
+
+It was past twelve, when Lord Elmwood looked at his watch, and rising
+from his chair, went up to Mrs. Horton, and taking her hand, said, "Till
+I see you again, Madam, I sincerely wish you every happiness."
+
+Miss Milner fixed her eyes upon the table before her.
+
+"My Lord," replied Mrs. Horton, "I sincerely wish you health and
+happiness likewise."
+
+He then went to Miss Woodley, and taking her hand, repeated much the
+same, as he had said to Mrs. Horton.
+
+Miss Milner now trembled beyond all power of concealment.
+
+"My Lord," replied Miss Woodley, a good deal affected, "I sincerely hope
+my prayers for your happiness may be heard."
+
+She and Mrs. Horton were both standing as well as Lord Elmwood; but Miss
+Milner kept her seat, till his eye was turned upon her, and he moved
+slowly towards her; she then rose:--every one who was present, attentive
+to what he would now say, and how she would receive what he said, here
+cast their eyes upon them, and listened with impatience. They were all
+disappointed--he did not utter a syllable. Yet he took her hand, and
+held it closely between his. He then bowed most respectfully and left
+her.
+
+No "I wish you well;--I wish you health and happiness." No "Prayers for
+blessings on her." Not even the word "Farewell," escaped his
+lips--perhaps, to have attempted any of these, might have choaked his
+utterance.
+
+She had behaved with fortitude the whole evening, and she continued to
+do so, till the moment he turned away from her. Her eyes then overflowed
+with tears, and in the agony of her mind, not knowing what she did, she
+laid her cold hand upon the person next to her--it happened to be
+Sandford; but not observing it was he, she grasped his hand with
+violence--yet he did not snatch it away, nor look at her with his wonted
+severity. And thus she stood, silent and motionless, while Lord Elmwood,
+now at the door, bowed once more to all the company, and retired.
+
+Sandford had still Miss Milner's hand fixed upon his; and when the door
+was shut after Lord Elmwood, he turned his head to look in her face, and
+turned it with some marks of apprehension for the grief he might find
+there. She strove to overcome that grief, and after a heavy sigh, sat
+down, as if resigned to the fate to which she was decreed.
+
+Instead of following Lord Elmwood, as usual, Sandford poured out a glass
+of wine, and drank it. A general silence ensued for near three minutes.
+At last, turning himself round on his seat, towards Miss Milner, who sat
+like a statue of despair at his side, "Will you breakfast with us
+to-morrow?" said he.
+
+She made no answer.
+
+"We shan't breakfast before half after six," continued he, "I dare say;
+and if you can rise so early--why do."
+
+"Miss Milner," said Miss Woodley, (for she caught eagerly at the hope of
+her passing this night in less unhappiness than she had foreboded) "pray
+rise at that hour to breakfast; Mr. Sandford would not invite you, if he
+thought it would displease Lord Elmwood."
+
+"Not I," replied Sandford, churlishly.
+
+"Then desire her maid to call her:" said Mrs. Horton to Miss Woodley.
+
+"Nay, she will be awake, I have no doubt;" returned her niece.
+
+"No;" replied Miss Milner, "since Lord Elmwood has thought proper to
+take his leave of me, without even speaking a word; by my own design,
+never will I see him again." And her tears burst forth, as if her heart
+burst at the same time.
+
+"Why did not _you_ speak to _him?_" cried Sandford--"Pray did _you_ bid
+_him_ farewell? and I don't see why one is not as much to be blamed, in
+that respect, as the other."
+
+"I was too weak to say I wished him happy," cried Miss Milner; "but,
+Heaven is my witness, I do wish him so from my soul."
+
+"And do you imagine he does not wish you so?" cried Sandford. "You
+should judge him by your own heart; and what you feel for him, imagine
+he feels for you, my dear."
+
+Though "_my dear_" is a trivial phrase, yet from certain people, and
+upon certain occasions, it is a phrase of infinite comfort and
+assurance. Mr. Sandford seldom said "my dear" to any one; to Miss Milner
+never; and upon this occasion, and from him, it was an expression most
+precious.
+
+She turned to him with a look of gratitude; but as she only looked, and
+did not speak, he rose up, and soon after said, with a friendly tone he
+had seldom used in her presence, "I sincerely wish you a good night."
+
+As soon as he was gone, Miss Milner exclaimed, "However my fate may have
+been precipitated by the unkindness of Mr. Sandford, yet, for that
+particle of concern which he has shown for me this night, I will always
+be grateful to him."
+
+"Ay," cried Mrs. Horton, "good Mr. Sandford may show his kindness now,
+without any danger from its consequences. Now Lord Elmwood is going away
+for ever, he is not afraid of your seeing him once again." And she
+thought she praised him by this suggestion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+When Miss Milner retired to her bed-chamber, Miss Woodley went with her,
+nor would leave her the whole night--but in vain did she persuade her to
+rest--she absolutely refused; and declared she would never, from that
+hour, indulge repose. "The part I undertook to perform," cried she, "is
+over--I will now, for my whole life, appear in my own character, and give
+a loose to the anguish I endure."
+
+As daylight showed itself--"And yet I might see him once again," said
+she--"I might see him within these two hours, if I pleased, for Mr.
+Sandford invited me."
+
+"If you think, my dear Miss Milner," said Miss Woodley, "that a second
+parting from Lord Elmwood would but give you a second agony, in the name
+of Heaven do not see him any more--but, if you hope your mind would be
+easier, were you to bid each other adieu in a more direct manner than
+you did last night, let us go down and breakfast with him. I'll go
+before, and prepare him for your reception--you shall not surprise
+him--and I will let him know, it is by Mr. Sandford's invitation you are
+coming."
+
+She listened with a smile to this proposal, yet objected to the
+indelicacy of her wishing to see him, after he had taken his leave--but
+as Miss Woodley perceived that she was inclined to infringe this
+delicacy, of which she had so proper a sense, she easily persuaded her,
+it was impossible for the most suspicious person (and Lord Elmwood was
+far from such a character) to suppose, that the paying him a visit at
+that period of time, could be with the most distant idea of regaining
+his heart, or of altering one resolution he had taken.
+
+But though Miss Milner acquiesced in this opinion, yet she had not the
+courage to form the determination that she would go.
+
+Daylight now no longer peeped, but stared upon them. Miss Milner went to
+the looking-glass, breathed upon her hands and rubbed them on her eyes,
+smoothed her hair and adjusted her dress; yet said, after all, "I dare
+not see him again."
+
+"You may do as you please," said Miss Woodley, "but I will. I that have
+lived for so many years under the same roof with him, and on the most
+friendly terms, and he going away, perhaps for these ten years, perhaps
+for ever, I should think it a disrespect not to see him to the last
+moment of his remaining in the house."
+
+"Then do you go," said Miss Milner, eagerly; "and if he should ask for
+me, I will gladly come, you know; but if he does not ask for me, I will
+not--and pray don't deceive me."
+
+Miss Woodley promised her not to deceive her; and soon after, as they
+heard the servants pass about the house, and the clock had struck six,
+Miss Woodley went to the breakfast room.
+
+She found Lord Elmwood there in his travelling dress, standing pensively
+by the fire-place--and, as he did not dream of seeing her, he started
+when she entered, and, with an appearance of alarm, said, "Dear Miss
+Woodley, what's the matter?" She replied, "Nothing, my Lord; but I could
+not be satisfied without seeing your Lordship once again, while I had it
+in my power."
+
+"I thank you," he returned with a sigh--the heaviest and most intelligent
+sigh she ever heard him condescend to give. She imagined, alas, that he
+looked as if he wished to ask how Miss Milner did, but would not allow
+himself the indulgence. She was half inclined to mention her to him, and
+was debating in her mind whether she should or not, when Mr. Sandford
+came into the room, saying, as he entered,
+
+"For Heaven's sake, my Lord, where did you sleep last night?"
+
+"Why do you ask!" said he.
+
+"Because," replied Sandford, "I went into your bed-chamber just now, and
+I found your bed made. You have not slept there to-night."
+
+"I have slept no where," returned he; "I could not sleep--and having some
+papers to look over, and to set off early, I thought I might as well not
+go to bed at all."
+
+Miss Woodley was pleased at the frank manner in which he made this
+confession, and could not resist the strong impulse to say, "You have
+done just then, my Lord, like Miss Milner, for she has not been in bed
+the whole night."
+
+Miss Woodley spoke this in a negligent manner, and yet, Lord Elmwood
+echoed back the words with solicitude, "Has not Miss Milner been in bed
+the whole night?"
+
+"If she is up, why does not she come and take some coffee?" said
+Sandford, as he began to pour it out.
+
+"If she thought it would be agreeable," returned Miss Woodley, "I dare
+say she would." And she looked at Lord Elmwood while she spoke, though
+she did not absolutely address him; but he made no reply.
+
+"Agreeable!" returned Sandford, angrily--"Has she then a quarrel with any
+body here? or does she suppose any body here bears enmity to _her?_ Is
+she not in peace and charity?"
+
+"Yes," replied Miss Woodley, "that I am sure she is."
+
+"Then bring her hither," cried Sandford, "directly. Would she have the
+wickedness to imagine we are not all friends with her?"
+
+Miss Woodley left the room, and found Miss Milner almost in despair,
+lest she should hear Lord Elmwood's carriage drive off before her
+friend's return.
+
+"Did he send for me?" were the words she uttered as soon as she saw her.
+
+"Mr. Sandford did, in his presence," returned Miss Woodley, "and you may
+go with the utmost decorum, or I would not tell you so."
+
+She required no protestations of this, but readily followed her beloved
+adviser, whose kindness never appeared in so amiable a light as at that
+moment.
+
+On entering the room, through all the dead white of her present
+complection, she blushed to a crimson. Lord Elmwood rose from his seat,
+and brought a chair for her to sit down.
+
+Sandford looked at her inquisitively, sipped his tea, and said, "He
+never made tea to his own liking."
+
+Miss Milner took a cup, but had scarce strength to hold it.
+
+It seemed but a very short time they were at breakfast, when the
+carriage, that was to take Lord Elmwood away, drove to the door. Miss
+Milner started at the sound--so did he--but she had nearly dropped her cup
+and saucer; on which Sandford took them out of her hand, saying,
+
+"Perhaps you had rather have coffee?"
+
+Her lips moved, but he could not hear what she said.
+
+A servant came in, and told Lord Elmwood, "The carriage was at the
+door."
+
+He replied, "Very well." But though he had breakfasted, he did not
+attempt to move.
+
+At last, rising briskly, as if it was necessary to go in haste when he
+did go; he took up his hat, which he had brought with him into the room,
+and was turning to Miss Woodley to take his leave, when Sandford cried,
+"My Lord, you are in a great hurry." And then, as if he wished to give
+poor Miss Milner every moment he could, added, (looking about) "I don't
+know where I have laid my gloves."
+
+Lord Elmwood, after repeating to Miss Woodley his last night's farewell,
+now went up to Miss Milner, and taking one of her hands, again held it
+between his, but still without speaking--while she, unable to suppress
+her tears as heretofore, suffered them to fall in torrents.
+
+"What is all this?" cried Sandford, going up to them in anger.
+
+They neither of them replied, or changed their situation.
+
+"Separate this moment," cried Sandford, "or resolve to be separated only
+by--death."
+
+The commanding and awful manner in which he spoke this sentence, made
+them both turn to him in amazement, and as it were, petrified with the
+sensation his words had caused.
+
+He left them for a moment, and going to a small bookcase in one corner
+of the room, took out of it a book, and returning with it in his hand,
+said,
+
+"Lord Elmwood, do you love this woman?"
+
+"More than my life." He replied, with the most heartfelt accents.
+
+He then turned to Miss Milner--"Can you say the same by him?"
+
+She spread her hands over her eyes, and exclaimed, "Oh, Heavens!"
+
+"I believe you _can_ say so," returned Sandford; "and in the name of
+God, and your own happiness, since this is the state of you both, let me
+put it out of your power to part."
+
+Lord Elmwood gazed at him with wonder! and yet, as if enraptured by the
+sudden change this conduct gave to his prospects.
+
+She, sighed with a kind of trembling ecstasy; while Sandford, with all
+the dignity of his official character, delivered these words----
+
+"My Lord, while I thought my counsel might save you from the worst of
+misfortunes, conjugal strife, I importuned you hourly, and set forth
+your danger in the light it appeared to me. But though old, and a
+priest, I can submit to think I have been in an error; and I now firmly
+believe, it is for the welfare of you both, to become man and wife. My
+Lord, take this woman's marriage vows--you can ask no fairer promises of
+her reform--she can give you none half so sacred, half so binding; and I
+see by her looks that she will mean to keep them. And my dear,"
+continued he, addressing himself to her, "act but under the dominion of
+those vows, to a husband of sense and virtue, like him, and you will be
+all that I, himself, or even Heaven can desire. Now, then, Lord Elmwood,
+this moment give her up for ever, or this moment constrain her by such
+ties from offending you, as she shall not _dare_ to violate."
+
+Lord Elmwood struck his forehead in doubt and agitation; but, still
+holding her hand, he cried, "I cannot part from her." Then feeling this
+reply as equivocal, he fell upon his knees, and cried, "Will you pardon
+my hesitation? and will you, in marriage, show me that tender love you
+have not shown me yet? Will you, in possessing all my affections, bear
+with all my infirmities?"
+
+She raised him from her feet, and by the expression of her countenance,
+by the tears that bathed his hands, gave him confidence.
+
+He turned to Sandford--then placing her by his own side, as the form of
+matrimony requires, gave this for a sign to Sandford that he should
+begin the ceremony. On which, he opened his book, and--married them.
+
+With voice and manners so serious, so solemn and so fervent, he
+performed these rites, that every idea of jest, or even of lightness,
+was absent from the mind of all who were present.
+
+Miss Milner, covered with shame, sunk on the bosom of Miss Woodley.
+
+When the ring was wanting, Lord Elmwood supplied it with one from his
+own hand, but throughout all the rest of the ceremony, appeared lost in
+zealous devotion to Heaven. Yet, no sooner was it finished, than his
+thoughts descended to this world. He embraced his bride with all the
+transport of the fondest, happiest bridegroom, and in raptures called
+her by the endearing name of "wife."
+
+"But still, my Lord," cried Sandford, "you are only married by your own
+church and conscience, not by your wife's, or by the law of the land;
+and let me advise you not to defer that marriage long, lest in the time
+you disagree, and she should refuse to become your legal spouse."
+
+"I think there is danger," returned Lord Elmwood, "and therefore our
+second marriage must take place to-morrow."
+
+To this the ladies objected, and Sandford was to fix their second
+wedding-day, as he had done their first. He, after consideration, gave
+them four days.
+
+Miss Woodley then recollected (for every one else had forgot it) that
+the carriage was still at the door to convey Lord Elmwood far away. It
+was of course dismissed--and one of those great incidents of delight
+which Miss Milner that morning tasted, was to look out of the window,
+and see this very carriage drive from the door unoccupied.
+
+Never was there a more rapid change from despair to happiness--to
+happiness perfect and supreme--than was that, which Miss Milner and Lord
+Elmwood experienced in one single hour.
+
+The few days that intervened between this and their lawful marriage,
+were passed in the delightful care of preparing for that happy day--yet,
+with all its delights inferior to the first, when every unexpected joy
+was doubled by the once expected sorrow.
+
+Nevertheless, on that first wedding-day, that joyful day, which restored
+her lost lover to her hopes again; even on that _very_ day, after the
+sacred ceremony was over, Miss Milner--(with all the fears, the tremors,
+the superstition of her sex)--felt an excruciating shock; when, looking
+on the ring Lord Elmwood had put upon her finger, in haste, when he
+married her, she perceived it was a--mourning ring.
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+SIMPLE STORY,
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES,
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+VOL. III.
+
+_THE FOURTH EDITION._
+
+LONDON:
+
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,
+
+PATERNOSTER ROW.
+
+1799.
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Not any event, throughout life, can arrest the reflection of a
+thoughtful mind more powerfully, or leave so lasting an impression, as
+that of returning to a place after a few years absence, and observing an
+entire alteration, in respect to all the persons who once formed the
+neighbourhood. To find that many, who but a few years before were left
+in their bloom of youth and health, are dead--to find that children left
+at school, are married and have children of their own--that some, who
+were left in riches, are reduced to poverty--that others, who were in
+poverty are become rich--to find, those once renowned for virtue, now
+detested for vice--roving husbands, grown constant--constant husbands,
+become rovers--the firmest friends, changed to the most implacable
+enemies--beauty faded. In a word, every change to demonstrate, that,
+
+     "All is transitory on this side the grave."
+
+Guided by a wish, that the reflecting reader may experience the
+sensation, which an attention to circumstances like these, must excite;
+he is desired to imagine seventeen years elapsed, since he has seen or
+heard of any of those persons who in the foregoing volumes have been
+introduced to his acquaintance--and then, supposing himself at the period
+of those seventeen years, follow the sequel of their history.
+
+To begin with the first female object of this story. The beautiful, the
+beloved Miss Milner--she is no longer beautiful--no longer beloved--no
+longer--tremble while you read it!--no longer--virtuous.
+
+Dorriforth, the pious, the good, the tender Dorriforth, is become a
+hard-hearted tyrant. The compassionate, the feeling, the just Lord
+Elmwood, an example of implacable rigour and injustice.
+
+Miss Woodley is grown old, but less with years than grief.
+
+The boy, Rushbrook, is become a man, and the apparent heir of Lord
+Elmwood's fortune; while his own daughter, his only child by his once
+adored Miss Milner, he refuses ever to see again, in vengeance to her
+mother's crimes.
+
+The least wonderful change, is, the death of Mrs. Horton. Except
+Sandford, who remains much the same as heretofore.
+
+We left Lady Elmwood in the last volume at the summit of human
+happiness; a loving and beloved bride. We begin this volume, and find
+her upon her death-bed.
+
+At thirty-five, her "Course was run"--a course full of perils, of hopes,
+of fears, of joys, and at the end, of sorrows; all exquisite of their
+kind, for exquisite were the feelings of her susceptible heart.
+
+At the commencement of this story, her father is described in the last
+moments of his life, with all his cares fixed upon her, his only
+child--how vain these cares! how vain every precaution that was taken for
+her welfare! She knows, she reflects upon this; and yet, impelled by
+that instinctive power which actuates a parent, Lady Elmwood on _her_
+dying day has no worldly thoughts, but that of the future happiness of
+an only child. To every other prospect in her view, "Thy will be done"
+is her continual exclamation; but where the misery of her daughter
+presents itself, the expiring penitent would there combat the will of
+Heaven.
+
+To detail the progression by which vice gains a predominancy in the
+heart, may be a useful lesson; but it is one so little to the
+satisfaction of most readers, that the degrees of misconduct by which
+Lady Elmwood fell, are not meant to be related here; but instead of
+picturing every occasion of her fall, to come briefly to the events that
+followed.
+
+There are, nevertheless, some articles under the former class, which
+ought not to be entirely omitted.
+
+Lord Elmwood, after four years enjoyment of the most perfect happiness
+that marriage could give, after becoming the father of a beautiful
+daughter, whom he loved with a tenderness almost equal to his love of
+her mother, was under the indispensable necessity of leaving them both
+for a time, in order to rescue from the depredation of his own steward,
+his very large estates in the West Indies. His voyage was tedious; his
+residence there, from various accidents, prolonged from time to time,
+till near three years had at length passed away. Lady Elmwood, at first
+only unhappy, became at last provoked; and giving way to that irritable
+disposition which she had so seldom governed, resolved, in spite of his
+injunctions, to divert the melancholy hours caused by his absence, by
+mixing in the gay circles of London.
+
+Lord Elmwood at this time, and for many months before, had been detained
+abroad by a severe and dangerous illness, which a too cautious fear of
+her uneasiness, had prompted him to conceal; and she received his
+frequent apologies for not returning, with a suspicion and resentment
+they were calculated, but not intended, to inspire.
+
+To violent anger, succeeded a degree of indifference still more
+fatal--Lady Elmwood's heart was not formed for such a state--there, where
+all the tumultuous passions harboured by turns, one among them soon
+found the means to occupy all vacancies: a passion, commencing
+innocently, but terminating in guilt. The dear object of her fondest,
+her truest affections, was away; and those affections, painted the time
+so irksome that was past; so wearisome, that, which was still to come;
+that she flew from the present tedious solitude, to the dangerous
+society of one, whose whole mind depraved by fashionable vices, could
+not repay her for a moment's loss of him, whose absence he supplied. Or,
+if the delirium gave her a moment's recompence, what were her
+sufferings, her remorse, when she was awakened from the fleeting joy, by
+the arrival of her husband? How happy, how transporting would have been
+that arrival a few months before! As it would then have been felicity
+unbounded, it was now--language affords no word that can describe Lady
+Elmwood's sensations, on being told her Lord was arrived, and that
+necessity alone had so long delayed his return.
+
+Guilty, but not hardened in her guilt, her pangs, her shame were the
+more excessive. She fled from the place at his approach; fled from his
+house, never again to return to a habitation where he was the master.
+She did not, however, elope with her paramour, but escaped to shelter
+herself in the most dreary retreat; where she partook of no one comfort
+from society, or from life, but the still unremitting friendship of Miss
+Woodley. Even her infant daughter she left behind, nor would allow
+herself the consolation of her innocent, though reproachful smiles--she
+left her in her father's house, that she might be under his protection;
+parted with her, as she thought, for ever, with all the agonies with
+which mothers part from their infant children: and yet, even a mother
+can scarce conceive how much more sharp those agonies were, on
+beholding--the child sent after her, as the perpetual outcast of its
+father.
+
+Lord Elmwood's love to his wife had been extravagant--the effect of his
+hate was the same. Beholding himself separated from her by a barrier
+never to be removed, he vowed in the deep torments of his revenge, never
+to be reminded of her by one individual object; much less, by one so
+near to her as her child. To bestow upon that child his affections,
+would be, he imagined, still, in some sort, to divide them with the
+mother. Firm in his resolution, the beautiful Matilda, was, at the age
+of six years, sent out of her father's house, and received by her mother
+with all the tenderness, but with all the anguish, of those parents, who
+behold their offspring visited by the punishment due only to their own
+offences.
+
+While this rigid act was executing by Lord Elmwood's agents at his
+command, himself was engaged in an affair of still weightier
+importance--that of life or death:--he determined upon his own death, or
+the death of the man who had wounded his honour and destroyed his
+happiness. A duel with his old antagonist was the result of this
+determination; nor was the Duke of Avon (who before the decease of his
+father and eldest brother, was Lord Frederick Lawnly) averse from giving
+him all the satisfaction he required. For it was no other than he, whose
+passion for Lady Elmwood had still subsisted, and whose address in
+gallantry left no means unattempted for the success of his designs;--no
+other than he, (who, next to Lord Elmwood, had been of all her lovers,
+the most favoured,) to whom Lady Elmwood sacrificed her own and her
+husband's future peace, and thus gave to his vanity a prouder triumph,
+than if she had never bestowed her hand in marriage on another. This
+triumph however was but short--a month only, after the return of Lord
+Elmwood, the Duke was called upon to answer for his conduct, and was
+left where they met, so defaced with scars, as never again to endanger
+the honour of a husband. As Lord Elmwood was inexorable to all
+accommodation, their engagement continued for a long space of time; nor
+could any thing but the assurance that his opponent was slain, have at
+last torn him from the field, though he himself was dangerously wounded.
+
+Yet even during the period of his danger, while for days he lay in the
+continual expectation of his own death, not all the entreaties of his
+dearest, most intimate, and most respected friends, could prevail upon
+him to pronounce forgiveness of his wife, or to suffer them to bring his
+daughter to him, for his last blessing.
+
+Lady Elmwood, who was made acquainted with the minutest circumstance as
+it passed, appeared to wait the news of her husband's decease with
+patience; but upon her brow, and in every lineament of her face was
+marked, that his death was an event she would not for a day survive: and
+she would have left her child an orphan, to have followed Lord Elmwood
+to the tomb. She was prevented the trial; he recovered; and from the
+ample vengeance he had obtained upon the irresistible person of the
+Duke, in a short time seemed to regain his usual tranquillity.
+
+He recovered, but Lady Elmwood fell sick and languished--possessed of
+youth to struggle with her woes, she lingered on, till ten years decline
+brought her to that period, with which the reader is now going to be
+presented.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+In a lonely country on the borders of Scotland, a single house by the
+side of a dreary heath, was the residence of the once gay, volatile Miss
+Milner. In a large gloomy apartment of this solitary habitation (the
+windows of which scarce rendered the light accessible) was laid upon her
+death-bed, the once lovely Lady Elmwood--pale, half suffocated with the
+loss of breath; yet her senses perfectly clear and collected, which
+served but to sharpen the anguish of dying.
+
+In one corner of the room, by the side of an old fashioned stool, kneels
+Miss Woodley, praying most devoutly for her still beloved friend, but in
+vain endeavouring to pray composedly--floods of tears pour down her
+furrowed cheeks, and frequent sobs of sorrow, break through each pious
+ejaculation.
+
+Close by her mother's side, one hand supporting her head, the other
+wiping from her face the cold dew of death, behold Lady Elmwood's
+daughter--Lord Elmwood's daughter too--yet he far away, negligent of what
+either suffers. Lady Elmwood turns to her often and attempts an embrace,
+but her feeble arms forbid, and they fall motionless. The daughter
+perceiving these ineffectual efforts, has her whole face convulsed with
+grief: kisses her mother; holds her to her bosom; and hangs upon her
+neck, as if she wished to cling there, not to be parted even by the
+grave.
+
+On the other side of the bed sits Sandford--his hair grown white--his face
+wrinkled with age--his heart the same as ever.--The reprover, the enemy of
+the vain, the idle, and the wicked; but the friend and comforter of the
+forlorn and miserable.
+
+Upon those features where sarcasm, reproach, and anger dwelt, to
+threaten and alarm the sinner; mildness, tenderness, and pity beamed, to
+support and console the penitent. Compassion changed his language, and
+softened all those harsh tones that used to denounce perdition.
+
+"In the name of God," said he to Lady Elmwood, "of that God, who
+suffered for you, and, suffering, knew and pitied all our weaknesses--By
+him, who has given his word to _take compassion on the sinner's tears_,
+I bid you hope for mercy. By that innocence in which you once lived, be
+comforted--By the sorrows you have known since your degradation, hope,
+that in some measure, you have atoned----By the sincerity that shone upon
+your youthful face when I joined your hands, and those thousand virtues
+you have since given proofs of, trust, that you were not born to die
+_the death of the wicked._"
+
+As he spoke these words of consolation, her trembling hand clasped
+his--her dying eyes darted a ray of brightness--but her failing voice
+endeavoured in vain, to articulate. At length, fixing her looks upon her
+daughter as their last dear object, she was just understood to utter the
+word "Father."
+
+"I understand you," replied Sandford, "and by all that influence I ever
+had over him, by my prayers, my tears," (and they flowed as he spoke) "I
+will implore him to own his child."
+
+She could now only smile in thanks.
+
+"And if I should fail," continued he, "yet while I live, she shall not
+want a friend or protector--all an old man, like me can answer for"----here
+his tears interrupted him.
+
+Lady Elmwood was sufficiently sensible of his words and their import, to
+make a sign as if she wished to embrace him: but finding her life
+leaving her fast, she reserved this last token of love for her
+daughter--with a struggle she lifted herself from her pillow, clung to
+her child--and died in her arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Lord Elmwood was by nature, and more from education, of a serious,
+thinking, and philosophic turn of mind. His religious studies had
+completely taught him to consider this world but as a passage to
+another; to enjoy with gratitude what Heaven in its bounty should
+bestow, and to bear with submission, whatever in its vengeance it might
+inflict. In a greater degree than most people he practised this
+doctrine; and as soon as the shock he received from Lady Elmwood's
+conduct was abated, an entire calmness and resignation ensued; but still
+of that sensible and feeling kind, that could never suffer him to forget
+the happiness he had lost; and it was this sensibility, which urged him
+to fly from its more keen recollection as much as possible--this, he
+alleged as the reason why he would never permit Lady Elmwood, or even
+her child, to be named in his hearing. But this injunction (which all
+his friends, and even the servants in the house who attended his person,
+had received) was, by many people, suspected rather to proceed from his
+resentment, than his tenderness; nor did he deny, that resentment
+co-operated with his prudence: for prudence he called it, not to remind
+himself of happiness he could never taste again, and of ingratitude that
+might impel him to hatred: and prudence he called it, not to form
+another attachment near to his heart, more especially so near as a
+parent's which might again expose him to all the torments of
+ingratitude, from an object whom he affectionately loved.
+
+Upon these principles he formed the unshaken resolution, never to
+acknowledge Lady Matilda as his child--or acknowledging her as such--never
+to see, to hear of, or take one concern whatever in her fate and
+fortune. The death of her mother appeared a favourable time, had he been
+so inclined, to have recalled this declaration which he had solemnly and
+repeatedly made--she was now destitute of the protection of her other
+parent, and it became his duty, at least, to provide her a guardian, if
+he did not chuse to take that tender title upon himself--but to mention
+either the mother or child to Lord Elmwood, was an equal offence, and
+prohibited in the strongest terms to all his friends and household; and
+as he was an excellent good master, a sincere friend, and a most
+generous patron, not one of his acquaintance or dependants, were hardy
+enough to draw upon themselves his certain displeasure, which was always
+violent in the extreme, by even the official intelligence of Lady
+Elmwood's death.
+
+Sandford himself, intimidated through age, or by the austere, and morose
+manners which Lord Elmwood had of late years adopted; Sandford wished,
+if possible, that some other would undertake the dangerous task of
+recalling to his memory there ever was such a person as his wife. He
+advised Miss Woodley to write a proper letter to him on the subject; but
+she reminded him that such a step would be more perilous to her, than to
+any other person, as she was the most destitute being on earth, without
+the benevolence of Lord Elmwood. The death of her aunt, Mrs. Horton,
+had left her solely relying on the bounty of Lady Elmwood, and now her
+death, had left her totally dependant upon the Earl--for Lady Elmwood
+though she had separate effects, had long before her death declared it
+was not her intention to leave a sentence behind her in the form of a
+will. She had no will, she said, but what she would wholly submit to
+Lord Elmwood's; and, if it were even his will, that her child should
+live in poverty, as well as banishment, it should be so. But, perhaps,
+in this implicit submission to him, there was a distant hope, that the
+necessitous situation of his daughter, might plead more forcibly than
+his parental love; and that knowing her bereft of every support but
+through himself, that idea might form some little tie between them, and
+be at least a token of the relationship.
+
+But as Lady Elmwood anxiously wished this principle upon which she
+acted, should be concealed from his suspicion, she included her friend,
+Miss Woodley, in the same fate; and thus, the only persons dear to her,
+she left, but at Lord Elmwood's pleasure, to be preserved from perishing
+in want. Her child was too young to advise her on this subject, her
+friend too disinterested; and at this moment they were both without the
+smallest means of subsistence, except through the justice or compassion
+of Lord Elmwood. Sandford had indeed promised his protection to the
+daughter; but his liberality had no other source than from his patron,
+with whom he still lived as usual, except during part of the winter,
+when the Earl resided in town; he then mostly stole a visit to Lady
+Elmwood.--On this last visit he staid to see her buried.
+
+After some mature deliberations, Sandford was now preparing to go to
+Lord Elmwood at his house in town, and there, to deliver himself the
+news that must sooner or later be told; and he meant also to venture, at
+the same time, to keep the promise he had made to his dying Lady--but the
+news reached his Lordship before Sandford arrived; it was announced in
+the public papers, and by that means first came to his knowledge.
+
+He was breakfasting by himself, when the newspaper that first gave the
+intelligence of Lady Elmwood's death, was laid before him--the paragraph
+contained these words:
+
+"On Wednesday last died, at Dring Park, a village in Northumberland, the
+right honourable Countess Elmwood.--This lady, who has not been heard of
+for many years in the fashionable world, was a rich heiress, and of
+extreme beauty; but although she received overtures from many men of the
+first rank, she preferred her guardian, the present Lord Elmwood (then
+Mr. Dorriforth) to them all--and it is said, their marriage was followed
+by an uncommon share of felicity, till his Lordship going abroad, and
+remaining there some time, the consequences (to a most captivating young
+woman left without a protector) were such as to cause a separation on
+his return. Her Ladyship has left one child by the Earl, a daughter,
+about fifteen."
+
+Lord Elmwood had so much feeling upon reading this, as to lay down the
+paper, and not take it up again for several minutes--nor did he taste his
+chocolate during this interval, but leaned his elbow on the table and
+rested his head upon his hand. He then rose up--walked two or three times
+across the room--sat down again--took up the paper--and read as usual.--Nor
+let the vociferous mourner, or the perpetual weeper, here complain of
+his want of sensibility--but let them remember that Lord Elmwood was a
+man--a man of understanding--of courage--of fortitude--above all, a man of
+the nicest feelings--and who shall say, but that at the time he leaned
+his head upon his hand, and rose to walk away the sense of what he felt,
+he might not feel as much as Lady Elmwood did in her last moments.
+
+Be this as it may, his susceptibility on the occasion was not suspected
+by any one--yet he passed that day the same as usual; the next day too,
+and the day after. On the morning of the fourth, he sent for his steward
+to his study, and after talking of other business, said to him;
+
+"Is it true that Lady Elmwood is dead?"
+
+"It is, my Lord."
+
+His Lordship looked unusually grave, and at this reply, fetched an
+involuntary sigh.
+
+"Mr. Sandford, my lord," continued the steward, "sent me word of the
+news, but left it to my own discretion, whether I would make your
+Lordship acquainted with it or not: I let him know I declined."
+
+"Where is Sandford?" asked Lord Elmwood.
+
+"He was with my Lady," replied the steward.
+
+"When she died?" asked he.
+
+"Yes, my Lord."
+
+"I am glad of it--he will see that every thing she desired is
+done--Sandford is a good man, and would be a friend to every body."
+
+"He is a very good man indeed, my Lord."
+
+There was now a silence.----Mr. Giffard then bowing, said, "Has your
+Lordship any further commands?"
+
+"Write to Sandford," said Lord Elmwood, hesitating as he spoke, "and
+tell him to have every thing performed as she desired. And whoever she
+may have selected for the guardian of her child, has my consent to act
+as such.--Nor in one instance, where I myself am not concerned, shall I
+oppose her will." The tears rushed into his eyes as he said this, and
+caused them to start in the steward's--observing which, he sternly
+resumed,
+
+"Do not suppose from this conversation, that any of those resolutions I
+have long since taken, are, or will be changed--they are the same; and
+shall continue inflexible."
+
+"I understand you, my Lord," replied Mr. Giffard, "your express orders,
+to me, as well as to every other person, remain just the same as
+formerly, never to mention this subject to you again."
+
+"They do, Sir."
+
+"My Lord, I always obeyed you, and hope I always shall."
+
+"I hope so too," he replied in a threatening accent--"Write to Sandford,"
+continued he, "to let him know my pleasure, and that is all you have to
+do."
+
+The steward bowed and withdrew.
+
+But before his letter arrived to Sandford, Sandford arrived in town; and
+Mr. Giffard related, word for word, what had passed between him and his
+Lord. Upon every occasion, and upon every topic, except that of Lady
+Elmwood and her child, Sandford was just as free with Lord Elmwood as
+he had ever been; and as usual (after his interview with the steward)
+went into his apartment without any previous notice. Lord Elmwood shook
+him by the hand, as upon all other meetings; and yet, whether his fear
+suggested it or not, Sandford thought he appeared more cool and reserved
+with him than formerly.
+
+During the whole day, the slightest mention of Lady Elmwood, or of her
+child, was cautiously avoided--and not till the evening, (after Sandford
+had risen to retire, and had wished Lord Elmwood good night) did he dare
+to mention the subject. He then, after taking leave, and going to the
+door--turned back and said, "My Lord,"--
+
+It was easy to guess on what he was preparing to speak--his voice failed,
+the tears began to trickle down his cheeks, he took out his
+handkerchief, and could proceed no farther.
+
+"I thought," said Lord Elmwood, angrily, "I thought I had given my
+orders upon the subject--did not my steward write them to you?"
+
+"He did, my Lord," said Sandford, humbly, "but I was set out before they
+arrived."
+
+"Has he not _told_ you my mind then?" cried he, more angrily still.
+
+"He has;" replied Sandford,--"But"----
+
+"But what, Sir?" cried Lord Elmwood.
+
+"Your Lordship," continued Sandford, "was mistaken in supposing that
+Lady Elmwood left a will, she left none."
+
+"No will? no will at all?" returned he, surprised.
+
+"No, my Lord," answered Sandford, "she wished every thing to be as you
+willed."
+
+"She left me all the trouble, then, you mean?"
+
+"No great trouble, Sir; for there are but two persons whom she has left
+behind her, to hope for your protection."
+
+"And who are those two?" cried he hastily.
+
+"One, my Lord, I need not name--the other is Miss Woodley."
+
+There was a delicacy and humility in the manner in which Sandford
+delivered this reply, that Lord Elmwood could _not_ resent, and he only
+returned,
+
+"Miss Woodley--is she yet living?"
+
+"She is--I left her at the house I came from."
+
+"Well then," answered he, "you must see that my steward provides for
+those two persons. That care I leave to you--and should there be any
+complaints, on you they fall."
+
+Sandford bowed and was going.
+
+"And now," resumed Lord Elmwood, in a more stern voice, "let me never
+hear again on this subject. You have power to act in regard to the
+persons you have mentioned; and upon you their situation, the care, the
+whole management of them depends--but be sure you never let them be named
+before me, from this moment."
+
+"Then," said Sandford, "as this must be the last time they are
+mentioned, I must now take the opportunity to disburden my mind of a
+charge"--
+
+"What charge?" cried Lord Elmwood, morosely interrupting him.
+
+"Though Lady Elmwood, my Lord, left no will behind her, she left a
+request."
+
+"A request!" said he, starting, "If it is for me to see her daughter, I
+tell you now before you ask, that I will not grant it--for by heaven (and
+he spoke and looked most solemnly) though I have no resentment against
+the innocent child, and wish her happy, yet I will never see her. Never,
+for her mother's sake, suffer my heart again to be softened by an object
+I might dote upon. Therefore, Sir, if that is the request, it is already
+answered; my will is fixed."
+
+"The request, my Lord," replied Sandford, (and he took out a pocket-book
+from whence he drew several papers) "is contained in this letter; nor do
+I rightly know what its contents are." And he held it out to him.
+
+"Is it Lady Elmwood's writing?" asked Lord Elmwood, extremely
+discomposed.
+
+"It is, my Lord.--She wrote it a few days before she died, and enjoined
+me to deliver it to you, with my own hands."
+
+"I refuse to read it:" cried he, putting it from him--and trembling while
+he did so.
+
+"She desired me," said Sandford, (still presenting the letter) "to
+conjure you to read it, _for her father's sake._"
+
+Lord Elmwood took it instantly. But as soon as it was in his hand, he
+seemed distressed to know what he should do with it--in what place to go
+and read it--or how to fortify himself against its contents. He appeared
+ashamed too, that he had been so far prevailed upon, and said, by way of
+excuse,
+
+"For Mr. Milner's sake I would do much--nay, any thing, but that to which
+I have just now sworn never to consent. For his sake I have borne a
+great deal--for his sake alone, his daughter died my wife. You know, no
+other motive than respect for him, prevented my divorcing her. Pray (and
+he hesitated) was she buried with him?"
+
+"No, my Lord--she expressed no such desire; and as that was the case, I
+did not think it necessary to carry the corpse so far."
+
+At the word corpse, Lord Elmwood shrunk, and looked shocked beyond
+measure--but recovering himself, said, "I am sorry for it; for he loved
+_her_ sincerely, if she did not love him--and I wish they had been buried
+together."
+
+"It is not then too late," said Sandford, and was going on--but the other
+interrupted him.
+
+"No, no--we will have no disturbing the dead."
+
+"Read her letter then," said Sandford, "and bid her rest in peace."
+
+"If it is in my power," returned he, "to grant what she asks, I will--but
+if her demand is what I apprehend, I cannot, I will not, bid her rest by
+complying. You know my resolution, my disposition, and take care how you
+provoke me. You may do an injury to the very person you are seeking to
+befriend--the very maintenance I mean to allow her daughter I can
+withdraw."
+
+Poor Sandford, all alarmed at this menace, replied with energy, "My
+Lord, unless you begin the subject, I never shall presume to mention it
+again."
+
+"I take you at your word, and in consequence of that, but of that alone,
+we are friends. Good night, Sir."
+
+Sandford bowed with humility, and they went to their separate
+bedchambers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+After Lord Elmwood had retired into his chamber, it was some time before
+he read the letter Sandford had given him. He first walked backwards and
+forwards in the room--he then began to take off some part of his dress,
+but he did it slowly. At length, he dismissed his valet, and sitting
+down, took the letter from his pocket. He looked at the seal, but not at
+the direction; for he seemed to dread seeing Lady Elmwood's handwriting.
+He then laid it on the table, and began again to undress. He did not
+proceed, but taking up the letter quickly, (with a kind of effort in
+making the resolution) broke it open. These were its contents:
+
+     "My Lord,
+
+     "Who writes this letter I well know--I well know also to whom it
+     is addressed--I feel with the most powerful force both our
+     situations; nor should I dare to offer you even this humble
+     petition, but that at the time you receive it, there will be no
+     such person as I am, in existence.
+
+     "For myself, then, all concern will be over--but there is a care
+     that pursues me to the grave, and threatens my want of repose
+     even there.
+
+     "I leave a child--I will not call her mine: that has undone
+     her--I will not call her yours; that will be of no avail--I
+     present her before you as the granddaughter of Mr. Milner. Oh! do
+     not refuse an asylum even in your own house, to the destitute
+     offspring of your friend; the last, and only remaining branch of
+     his family.
+
+     "Receive her into your household, be her condition there ever so
+     abject. I cannot write distinctly what I would--my senses are not
+     impaired, but the powers of expression are. The complaint of the
+     unfortunate child in the scriptures (a lesson I have studied) has
+     made this wish cling so fast to my heart, that without the
+     distant hope of its being fulfilled, death would have more
+     terrors than my weak mind could support.
+
+     "'_I will go to my father; how many servants live in my father's
+     house, and are fed with plenty, while I starve in a foreign
+     land?_'
+
+     "I do not ask a parent's festive rejoicing at her approach--I do
+     not even ask her father to behold her; but let her live under his
+     protection. For her grandfather's sake do not refuse this--to the
+     child of his child, whom he entrusted to your care, do not refuse
+     it.
+
+     "Be her host; I remit the tie of being her parent. Never see
+     her--but let her sometimes live under the same roof with you.
+
+     "It is Miss Milner, your ward, to whom you never refused a
+     request, who supplicates you--not now for your nephew, Rushbrook,
+     but for one so much more dear, that a denial----she dares not
+     suffer her thoughts to glance that way.--She will hope--and in
+     that hope, bids you farewell, with all the love she ever bore
+     you.
+
+     "Farewell Dorriforth--farewell Lord Elmwood--and before you throw
+     this letter from you with contempt or anger, cast your
+     imagination into the grave where I am lying. Reflect upon all the
+     days of my past life--the anxious moments I have known, and what
+     has been their end. Behold _me_, also--in my altered face there
+     is no anxiety--no joy or sorrow--all is over.----My whole frame
+     is motionless--my heart beats no more. Look at my horrid
+     habitation, too,--and ask yourself--whether I am an object of
+     resentment?"
+
+While Lord Elmwood read this letter, it trembled in his hand: he once or
+twice wiped the tears from his eyes as he read, and once laid the letter
+down for a few minutes. At its conclusion, the tears flowed fast down
+his face; but he seemed both ashamed and angry they did, and was going
+to throw the paper upon the fire--he however suddenly checked his hand,
+and putting it hastily into his pocket, went to bed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The next morning, when Lord Elmwood and Sandford met at breakfast, the
+latter was pale with fear for the success of Lady Elmwood's letter--the
+Earl was pale too, but there was besides upon his face, something which
+evidently marked he was displeased. Sandford observed it, and was all
+humbleness, both in his words and looks, in order to soften him.
+
+As soon as the breakfast was removed, Lord Elmwood drew the letter from
+his pocket, and holding it towards Sandford, said,
+
+"That, may be of more value to you, than it is to me, therefore I give
+it you."
+
+Sandford called up a look of surprise, as if he did not know the letter
+again.
+
+"'Tis Lady Elmwood's letter," said Lord Elmwood, "and I return it to you
+for two reasons."
+
+Sandford took it, and putting it up, asked fearfully, "What those two
+reasons were?"
+
+"First," said he, "because I think it is a relick you may like to
+preserve--my second reason is, that you may shew it to her daughter, and
+let her know why, and on what conditions, I grant her mother's request."
+
+"You _do_ then grant it?" cried Sandford joyfully; "I thank you--you are
+kind--you are considerate."
+
+"Be not hasty in your gratitude; you may have cause to recall it."
+
+"I know what you have said;" replied Sandford, "you have said you grant
+Lady Elmwood's request--you cannot recall these words, nor I my
+gratitude."
+
+"Do you know what her request is?" returned he.
+
+"Not exactly, my Lord--I told you before, I did not; but it is no doubt
+something in favour of her child."
+
+"I think not," he replied: "such as it is, however, I grant it: but in
+the strictest sense of the word--no farther--and one neglect of my
+commands, releases me from this promise totally."
+
+"We will take care, Sir, not to disobey them."
+
+"Then listen to what they are, for to you I give the charge of
+delivering them again. Lady Elmwood has petitioned me in the name of her
+father, (a name I reverence) to give his grandchild the sanction of my
+protection. In the literal sense, to suffer that she may reside at one
+of my seats; dispensing at the same time with my ever seeing her."
+
+"And you will comply?"
+
+"I will, till she encroaches on this concession, and dares to hope for a
+greater. I will, while she avoids my sight, or the giving me any
+remembrance of her. But if, whether by design or by accident, I ever see
+or hear from her, that moment, my compliance to her mother's
+supplication ceases, and I abandon her once more."
+
+Sandford sighed. Lord Elmwood continued:
+
+"I am glad her request stopped where it did. I would rather comply with
+her desires than not; and I rejoice they are such as I can grant with
+ease and honour to myself. I am seldom now at Elmwood castle; let her
+daughter go there; the few weeks or months I am down in the summer, she
+may easily in that extensive house avoid me--while she does, she lives in
+security--when she does not--you know my resolution."
+
+Sandford bowed--the Earl resumed:
+
+"Nor can it be a hardship to obey this command--she cannot lament the
+separation from a parent whom she never knew--" Sandford was going
+eagerly to prove the error of that assertion, but he prevented him,
+saying, "In a word--without farther argument--if she obeys me in this, I
+will provide for her as my daughter during my life, and leave her a
+fortune at my death--but if she dares--"
+
+Sandford interrupted the menace prepared for utterance, saying, "and you
+still mean, I suppose, to make Mr. Rushbrook your heir?"
+
+"Have you not heard me say so? And do you imagine I have changed my
+determination? I am not given to alter my resolutions, Mr. Sandford; and
+I thought you knew I was not; besides, will not my title be extinct,
+whoever I make my heir? Could any thing but a son have preserved my
+title?"
+
+"Then it is yet possible----"
+
+"By marrying again, you mean? No--no--I have had enough of marriage--and
+Henry Rushbrook I shall leave my heir. Therefore, Sir----"
+
+"My Lord, I do not presume--"
+
+"Do not, Sandford, and we may still be good friends. But I am not to be
+controlled as formerly; my temper is changed of late; changed to what
+it was originally; till your religious precepts reformed it. You may
+remember, how troublesome it was, to conquer my stubborn disposition in
+my youth; _then_, indeed, you _did_; but in my more advanced age, you
+will find the task too difficult."
+
+Sandford again repeated, "He should not presume--"
+
+To which Lord Elmwood again made answer, "Do not, Sandford;" and added,
+"for I have a sincere regard for you, and should be loath, at these
+years, to quarrel with you seriously."
+
+Sandford turned away his head to conceal his feelings.
+
+"Nay, if we do quarrel," resumed Lord Elmwood, "You know it must be your
+own fault; and as this is a theme the most likely of any, nay, the only
+one on which we can have a difference (such as we cannot forgive) take
+care never from this day to resume it; indeed that of itself, would be
+an offence I could not pardon. I have been clear and explicit in all I
+have said; there can be no fear of mistaking my meaning; therefore, all
+future explanation is unnecessary--nor will I permit a word, or a hint on
+the subject from any one, without shewing my resentment even to the hour
+of my death." He was going out of the room.
+
+"But before we bid adieu to the subject for ever, my Lord--there was
+another person whom I named to you--"
+
+"Do you mean Miss Woodley? Oh, by all means let her live at Elmwood
+House too. On consideration, I have no objection to see Miss Woodley at
+any time--I shall be glad to see her--do not let _her_ be frightened at
+me--to her I shall be the same, that I have always been."
+
+"She is a good woman, my Lord," cried Sandford, pleased.
+
+"You need not tell me that, Mr. Sandford; I know her worth." And he left
+the room.
+
+Sandford, to relieve Miss Woodley and her lovely charge from the
+suspence in which he had left them, prepared to set off for their
+habitation, in order himself to conduct them from thence to Elmwood
+Castle, and appoint some retired part of it for Lady Matilda, against
+the annual visit her father should pay there. But before he left London,
+Giffard, the steward, took an opportunity to wait upon him, and let him
+know, that his Lord had acquainted him with the consent he had given for
+his daughter to be admitted at Elmwood Castle, and upon what
+restrictions: that he had farther uttered the severest threats, should
+these restrictions ever be infringed. Sandford thanked Giffard for his
+friendly information. It served him as a second warning of the
+circumspection that was necessary; and having taken leave of his friend
+and patron, under the pretence that "He could not live in the smoke of
+London," he set out for the North.
+
+It is unnecessary to say with what delight Sandford was received by Miss
+Woodley, and the hapless daughter of Lady Elmwood, even before he told
+his errand. They both loved him sincerely; more especially Lady Matilda,
+whose forlorn state, and innocent sufferings, had ever excited his
+compassion and caused him to treat her with affection, tenderness, and
+respect. She knew, too, how much he had been her mother's friend; for
+that, she also loved him; and for being honoured with the friendship of
+her father, she looked up to him with reverence. For Matilda (with an
+excellent understanding, a sedateness above her years, and early
+accustomed to the most private converse between Lady Elmwood and Miss
+Woodley) was perfectly acquainted with the whole fatal history of her
+mother; and was, by her, taught the respect and admiration of her
+father's virtues which they justly merited.
+
+Notwithstanding the joy of Mr. Sandford's presence, once more to cheer
+their solitary dwelling; no sooner were the first kind greetings over,
+than the dread of what he might have to inform them of, possessed poor
+Matilda and Miss Woodley so powerfully, that all their gladness was
+changed into affright. Their apprehensions were far more forcible than
+their curiosity; they dared not ask a question, and even began to wish
+he would continue silent upon the subject on which they feared to
+listen. For near two hours he was so.----At length, after a short interval
+from speaking, (during which they waited with anxiety for what he might
+next say) he turned to Lady Matilda, and said,
+
+"You don't ask for your father, my dear."
+
+"I did not know it was proper:" she replied, timidly.
+
+"It is always proper," answered Sandford, "for _you_ to think of him,
+though he should never think on you."
+
+She burst into tears, and said that she "_Did_ think of him, but she
+felt an apprehension of mentioning his name"--and she wept bitterly while
+she spoke.
+
+"Do not think I reproved you," said Sandford; "I only told you what was
+right."
+
+"Nay," said Miss Woodley, "she does not weep for that--she fears her
+father has not complied with her mother's request. Perhaps--not even read
+her letter?"
+
+"Yes, he _has_ read it," returned Sandford.
+
+"Oh Heavens!" exclaimed Matilda, clasping her hands together, and the
+tears falling still faster.
+
+"Do not be so much alarmed, my dear," said Miss Woodley; "you know we
+are prepared for the worst; and you know you promised your mother,
+whatever your fate should be, to submit with patience."
+
+"Yes," replied Matilda, "and I am prepared for every thing, but my
+father's refusal to my dear mother."
+
+"Your father has not refused your mother's request," replied Sandford.
+
+She was leaping from her seat in ecstasy.
+
+"But," continued he, "do you know what her request was?"
+
+"Not entirely," replied Matilda, "and since it is granted, I am
+careless. But she told me her letter concerned none but me."
+
+To explain perfectly to Matilda, Lady Elmwood's letter, and that she
+might perfectly understand upon what terms she was admitted into Elmwood
+Castle, Sandford now read the letter to her; and repeated, as nearly as
+he could remember, the whole of the conversation that passed between
+Lord Elmwood and himself; not even sparing, through an erroneous
+delicacy, any of those threats her father had denounced, should she dare
+to transgress the limits he prescribed--nor did he try to soften, in one
+instance, a word he uttered. She listened sometimes with tears,
+sometimes with hope, but always with awe, and with terror, to every
+sentence in which her father was concerned. Once she called him
+cruel--then exclaimed "He was kind;" but at the end of Sandford's
+intelligence, concluded "that she was happy and grateful for the boon
+bestowed." Even her mother had not a more exalted idea of Lord Elmwood's
+worth than his daughter had formed; and this little bounty just
+obtained, would not have been greater in her mother's estimation, than
+it was now in hers. Miss Woodley, too, smiled at the prospect before
+her--she esteemed Lord Elmwood beyond any mortal living--she was proud to
+hear what he had said in her praise, and overjoyed at the prospect of
+being once again in his company; painting at the same time a thousand
+bright hopes, from watching every emotion of his soul, and catching
+every proper occasion to excite or increase his paternal sentiments. Yet
+she had the prudence to conceal those vague hopes from his child, lest a
+disappointment might prove fatal; and assuming a behaviour neither too
+much elated or depressed, she advised that they should hope for the
+best, but yet, as usual, expect and prepare for the worst.----After taking
+measures for quitting their melancholy abode, within the fortnight, they
+all departed for Elmwood Castle--Matilda, Miss Woodley, and even
+Sandford, first visiting Lady Elmwood's grave, and bedewing it with
+their tears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+It was on a dark evening in the month of March, that Lady Matilda,
+accompanied by Sandford and Miss Woodley, arrived at Elmwood Castle, the
+magnificent seat of her father. Sandford chose the evening, rather to
+steal into the house privately, than by any appearance of parade, to
+suffer Lord Elmwood to be reminded of their arrival by the public
+prints, or by any other accident. Nor would he give the neighbours or
+servants reason to suppose, the daughter of their Lord was admitted into
+his house, in any other situation than that, in which she really was
+permitted to be there.
+
+As the porter opened the gates of the avenue to the carriage that
+brought them, Matilda felt an awful, and yet gladsome sensation, which
+no terms can describe. As she entered the door of the house this
+sensation increased--and as she passed along the spacious hall, the
+splendid staircase, and many stately apartments, wonder, with a crowd of
+the tenderest, yet most afflicting sentiments, rushed to her heart. She
+gazed with astonishment!--she reflected with still more.
+
+"And is _my father_ the master of this house?" she cried--"and was my
+mother once the mistress of this castle?" Here tears relieved her from a
+part of that burthen, which was before insupportable.
+
+"Yes," replied Sandford, "and you are the mistress of it now, till your
+father arrives."
+
+"Good God!" exclaimed she, "and will he ever arrive? and shall I live to
+sleep under the same roof with my father?"
+
+"My dear," replied Miss Woodley, "have not you been told so?"
+
+"Yes," said she, "but though I heard it with extreme pleasure, yet the
+idea never so forcibly affected me as at this moment. I now feel, as the
+reality approaches, that to be admitted here, is kindness enough--I do
+not ask for more--I am now convinced, from what this trial makes me feel,
+that to see my father, would occasion emotions I could not survive."
+
+The next morning gave to Matilda, more objects of admiration and wonder,
+as she walked over the extensive gardens, groves, and other pleasure
+grounds belonging to the house. She, who had never been beyond the
+dreary, ruinous places which her deceased mother had made her residence,
+was naturally struck with amazement and delight at the grandeur of a
+seat, which travellers came for miles to see, nor thought their time
+mispent.
+
+There was one object, however, among all she saw, which attracted her
+attention above the rest, and she would stand for hours to look at it.
+This was a whole length portrait of Lord Elmwood, esteemed a very
+capital picture, and a perfect likeness--to this picture she would sigh
+and weep; though when it was first pointed out to her, she shrunk back
+with fear, and it was some time before she dared venture to cast her
+eyes completely upon it. In the features of her father she was proud to
+discern the exact mould in which her own appeared to have been modelled;
+yet Matilda's person, shape, and complexion were so extremely like what
+her mother's once were, that at the first glance she appeared to have a
+still greater resemblance of her, than of her father--but her mind and
+manners were all Lord Elmwood's; softened by the delicacy of her sex,
+the extreme tenderness of her heart, and the melancholy of her
+situation.
+
+She was now in her seventeenth year--of the same age, within a year and a
+few months, of her mother, when she became the ward of Dorriforth. She
+was just three years old when her father went abroad, and remembered
+something of bidding him farewell; but more of taking cherries from his
+hand, as he pulled them from the tree to give to her.
+
+Educated in the school of adversity, and inured to retirement from her
+infancy, she had acquired a taste for all those amusements which a
+recluse life affords. She was fond of walking and riding--was
+accomplished in the arts of music and drawing, by the most careful
+instructions of her mother--and as a scholar, she excelled most of her
+sex, from the pains which Sandford had taken with that part of her
+education, and the superior abilities he possessed for the task.
+
+In devoting certain hours of the day to study with him, others to music,
+riding, and such amusements, Matilda's time never appeared tedious at
+Elmwood Castle, although she received and paid no one visit--for it was
+soon divulged in the neighbourhood, upon what stipulation she resided at
+her father's, and studiously intimated, that the most prudent and
+friendly behaviour of her true friends, would be, to take no notice
+whatever that she lived among them: and as Lord Elmwood's will was a law
+all around, such was the consequence of that will, known, or merely
+supposed.
+
+Neither did Miss Woodley regret the want of visitors, but found herself
+far more satisfied in her present situation, than her most sanguine
+hopes could have formed. She had a companion whom she loved with an
+equal fondness, with which she had loved her deceased mother; and
+frequently, in this charming mansion, where she had so often beheld Lady
+Elmwood, her imagination represented Matilda as her friend risen from
+the grave, in her former youth, health, and exquisite beauty.
+
+In peace, in content, though not in happiness, the days and weeks passed
+away till about the middle of August, when preparations began to be made
+for the arrival of Lord Elmwood. The week in which he was to come was at
+length fixed, and some part of his retinue was arrived before him. When
+this was told Matilda, she started, and looked just as her mother at her
+age had often done, when in spite of her love, she was conscious that
+she had offended him, and was terrified at his approach. Sandford
+observing this, put out his hand, and taking hers, shook it kindly; and
+bade her (but it was not in a cheering tone) "not be afraid." This gave
+her no confidence; and she began, before her father's arrival, to
+seclude herself in the apartments allotted for her during the time of
+his stay; and in the timorous expectation of his coming, her appetite
+declined, and she lost all her colour. Even Miss Woodley, whose spirits
+had been for some time elated with the hopes she had formed, on drawing
+near to the test, found those hopes vanished; and though she endeavoured
+to conceal it, she was full of apprehensions. Sandford, had certainly
+fewer fears than either; yet upon the eve of the day on which his patron
+was to arrive, he was evidently cast down.
+
+Lady Matilda once asked him--"Are you certain, Mr. Sandford, you made no
+mistake in respect to what Lord Elmwood said, when he granted my
+mother's request? Are you sure he _did_ grant it? Was there nothing
+equivocal on which he may ground his displeasure should he be told that
+I am here? Oh do not let me hazard being once again turned out of his
+house! Oh! save me from provoking him perhaps to curse me." And here she
+clasped her hands together with the most fervent petition, in the dread
+of what might happen.
+
+"If you doubt my words or my senses," said Sandford, "call Giffard, and
+let him inform you; the same words were repeated to him as to me."
+
+Though from her reason, Matilda could not doubt of any mistake from Mr.
+Sandford, yet her fears suggested a thousand scruples; and this
+reference to the steward she received with the utmost satisfaction,
+(though she did not think it necessary to apply to him) as it perfectly
+convinced her of the folly of the suspicions she had entertained.
+
+"And yet, Mr. Sandford," said she, "if it is so, why are you less
+cheerful than you were? I cannot help thinking but it must be your
+expectation of Lord Elmwood, which has occasioned this change."
+
+"I don't know," replied Sandford, carelessly, "but I believe I am grown
+afraid of your father. His temper is a great deal altered from what it
+once was--he raises his voice, and uses harsh expressions upon the least
+provocation--his eyes flash lightning, and his face is distorted with
+anger upon the slightest motives--he turns away his old servants at a
+moment's warning, and no concession can make their peace. In a word, I
+am more at my ease when I am away from him--and I really believe," added
+he with a smile, but with a tear at the same time, "I really believe, I
+am more afraid of _him_ in my age, than he was of _me_ when he was a
+boy."
+
+Miss Woodley was present; she and Matilda looked at one another; and
+each of them saw the other turn pale at this description.
+
+The day at length came, on which Lord Elmwood was expected to dinner. It
+would have been a high gratification to his daughter to have gone to the
+topmost window of the house, and have only beheld his carriage enter the
+avenue; but it was a gratification which her fears, her tremor, her
+extreme sensibility would not permit her to enjoy.
+
+Miss Woodley and she, sat down that day to dinner in their retired
+apartments, which were detached from the other part of the house by a
+gallery; and of the door leading to the gallery, they had a key to
+impede any one from passing that way, without first ringing a bell; to
+answer which, was the sole employment of a servant, who was placed there
+during the Earl's residence, lest by any accident he might chance to
+come near that unfrequented part of the house, on which occasion the man
+was to give immediate notice to his Lady.
+
+Matilda and Miss Woodley sat down to dinner, but did not dine. Sandford
+dined as usual, with Lord Elmwood. When tea was brought, Miss Woodley
+asked the servant, who attended, if he had seen his Lord. The man
+answered, "Yes, Madam; and he looks vastly well." Matilda wept with joy
+to hear it.
+
+About nine in the evening, Sandford rang at the bell, and was
+admitted--never had he been so welcome--Matilda hung upon him, as if his
+recent interview with her father, had endeared him to her more than
+ever; and staring anxiously in his face, seemed to enquire of him
+something about Lord Elmwood, and something that should not alarm her.
+
+"Well--how do you find yourself?" said he to her.
+
+"How are you, Mr. Sandford?" she returned, with a sigh.
+
+"Oh! very well," replied he.
+
+"Is my Lord in a good temper?" asked Miss Woodley.
+
+"Yes; very well," replied Sandford, with indifference.
+
+"Did he seem glad to see you?" asked Matilda.
+
+"He shook me by the hand," replied Sandford.
+
+"That was a sign he was glad to see you, was it not?" said Matilda.
+
+"Yes; but he could not do less."
+
+"Nor more:" replied she.
+
+"He looks very well, our servant tells us," said Miss Woodley.
+
+"Extremely well indeed," answered Sandford: "and to tell the truth, I
+never saw him in better spirits."
+
+"That is well--" said Matilda, and sighed a weight of fears from her
+heart.
+
+"Where is he now, Mr. Sandford?"
+
+"Gone to take a walk about his grounds, and I stole here in the mean
+time."
+
+"What was your conversation during dinner?" asked Miss Woodley.
+
+"Horses, hay, farming, and politics."
+
+"Won't you sup with him?"
+
+"I shall see him again before I go to bed."
+
+"And again to-morrow!" cried Matilda, "what happiness!"
+
+"He has visitors to-morrow," said Sandford, "coming for a week or two."
+
+"Thank Heaven," said Miss Woodley, "he will then be diverted from
+thinking on us."
+
+"Do you know," returned Sandford, "it is my firm opinion, that his
+thinking of ye at present, is the cause of his good spirits."
+
+"Oh, Heavens!" cried Matilda, lifting up her hands with rapture.
+
+"Nay, do not mistake me," said Sandford; "I would not have you build a
+foundation for joy upon this surmise; for if he is in spirits that you
+are in this house--so near him--positively under his protection--yet he
+will not allow himself to think it is the cause of his content--and the
+sentiments he has adopted, and which are now become natural to him, will
+remain the same as ever; nay, perhaps with greater force, should he
+suspect his weakness (as he calls it) acting in opposition to them."
+
+"If he does but think of me with tenderness," cried Matilda, "I am
+recompensed."
+
+"And what recompense would his kind thoughts be to you," said Sandford,
+"were he to turn you out to beggary?"
+
+"A great deal--a great deal," she replied.
+
+"But how are you to know he has these kind thoughts, if he gives you no
+proof of them?"
+
+"No, Mr. Sandford; but _supposing_ we could know them without proof."
+
+"But as that is impossible," answered he, "I shall suppose, till proof
+appears, that I have been mistaken in my conjectures."
+
+Matilda looked deeply concerned that the argument should conclude in her
+disappointment; for to have believed herself thought of with tenderness
+by her father, would have alone constituted her happiness.
+
+When the servant came up with something by way of supper, he told Mr.
+Sandford that his Lord was returned from his walk and had enquired for
+him; Sandford immediately bade his companions good night, and left them.
+
+"How strange is this!" cried Matilda, when Miss Woodley and she were
+alone, "My father within a few rooms of me, and yet I am debarred from
+seeing him! Only by walking a few paces I could be at his feet, and
+perhaps receive his blessing!"
+
+"You make me shudder," cried Miss Woodley; "but some spirits less timid
+than mine, might perhaps advise you to the experiment."
+
+"Not for worlds!" returned Matilda, "no counsel could tempt me to such
+temerity--and yet to entertain the thought that it is possible I could do
+this, is a source of infinite comfort."
+
+This conversation lasted till bed time, and later; for they sat up
+beyond their usual hour to indulge it.
+
+Miss Woodley slept little, but Matilda less--she awaked repeatedly during
+the night, and every time sighed to herself, "I sleep in the same house
+with my father! Blessed spirit of my mother, look down and rejoice."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+The next day the whole Castle appeared to Lady Matilda (though she was
+in some degree retired from it) all tumult and bustle, as was usually
+the case while Lord Elmwood was there. She saw from her windows, the
+servants running across the yards and park; horses and carriages driving
+with fury; all the suite of a nobleman; and it sometimes elated, at
+other times depressed her.
+
+These impressions however, and others of fear and anxiety, which her
+father's arrival had excited, by degrees wore off; and after some little
+time, she was in the same tranquil state that she enjoyed before he
+came.
+
+He had visitors, who passed a week or two with him; he paid visits
+himself for several days; and thus the time stole away, till it was
+about four weeks from the time that he had arrived; in which long
+period, Sandford, with all his penetration, could never clearly discover
+whether he had once called to mind that his daughter was living in the
+same house. He had not once named her (that was not extraordinary)
+consequently no one dared name her to him; but he had not even mentioned
+Miss Woodley, of whom he had so lately spoken in the kindest terms, and
+had said, "He should take pleasure in seeing her again." From these
+contradictions in Lord Elmwood's behaviour in respect to her, it was
+Miss Woodley's plan neither to throw herself in his way, nor avoid him.
+She therefore frequently walked about the house while he was in it, not
+indeed entirely without restraint, but at least with the show of
+liberty. This freedom, indulged for some time without peril, became at
+last less cautious; and as no ill consequences had arisen from its
+practice, her scruples gradually ceased.
+
+One morning, however, as she was crossing the large hall, thoughtless of
+danger, a footstep at a distance alarmed her almost without knowing why.
+She stopped for a moment, thinking to return; the steps approached
+quicker, and before she could retreat, she beheld Lord Elmwood at the
+other end of the hall, and perceived that he saw her. It was too late to
+hesitate what was to be done; she could not go back, and had not courage
+to go on; she therefore stood still. Disconcerted, and much affected at
+his sight, (their former intimacy coming to her mind with the many
+years, and many sad occurrences passed, since she last saw him) all her
+intentions, all her meditated plans how to conduct herself on such an
+occasion, gave way to a sudden shock--and to make the meeting yet more
+distressing, her very fright, she knew, would serve to recall more
+powerfully to his mind, the subject she most wished him to forget. The
+steward was with him, and as they came up close by her side, Giffard
+observing him look at her earnestly, said softly, but so as she heard
+him, "My Lord, it is Miss Woodley." Lord Elmwood took off his hat
+instantly--and, with an apparent friendly warmth, laying hold of her
+hand, he said, "Indeed, Miss Woodley, I did not know you--I am very glad
+to see you:" and while he spoke, shook her hand with a cordiality which
+her tender heart could not bear--and never did she feel so hard a
+struggle as to restrain her tears. But the thought of Matilda's fate--the
+idea of awakening in his mind a sentiment that might irritate him
+against his child, wrought more forcibly than every other effort; and
+though she could not reply distinctly, she replied without weeping.
+Whether he saw her embarrassment, and wished to release her from it, or
+was in haste to conceal his own, he left her almost instantly: but not
+till he had entreated she would dine that very day with him and Mr.
+Sandford, who were to dine without other company. She curtsied assent,
+and flew to tell Matilda what had occurred. After listening with anxiety
+and with joy to all she told, Matilda laid hold of that hand which she
+said Lord Elmwood had held, and pressed it to her lips with love and
+reverence.
+
+When Miss Woodley made her appearance at dinner, Sandford, (who had not
+seen her since the invitation, and did not know of it) looked amazed; on
+which Lord Elmwood said, "Do you know, Sandford, I met Miss Woodley this
+morning, and had it not been for Giffard, I should have passed her
+without knowing her--but Miss Woodley, if I am not so much altered but
+that you knew me, I take it unkind you did not speak first." She was
+unable to speak even now--he saw it, and changed the conversation; when
+Sandford eagerly joined in discourse, which relieved him from the pain
+of the former.
+
+As they advanced in their dinner, the embarrassment of Miss Woodley and
+of Mr. Sandford diminished; Lord Elmwood in his turn became, not
+embarrassed, but absent and melancholy. He now and then sighed
+heavily--and called for wine much oftener than he was accustomed.
+
+When Miss Woodley took her leave, he invited her to dine with him and
+Sandford whenever it was convenient to her; he said, besides, many
+things of the same kind, and all with the utmost civility, yet not with
+that warmth with which he had spoken in the morning--into _that_ he had
+been surprised--his coolness was the effect of reflection.
+
+When she came to Lady Matilda, and Sandford had joined them, they talked
+and deliberated on what had passed.
+
+"You acknowledge Mr. Sandford," said Miss Woodley, "that you think my
+presence affected Lord Elmwood, so as to make him much more thoughtful
+than usual; if you imagine these thoughts were upon Lady Elmwood, I
+will never intrude again; but if you suppose that I made him think upon
+his daughter, I cannot go too often."
+
+"I don't see how he can divide those two objects in his mind," replied
+Sandford, "therefore you must e'en visit him on, and take your chance,
+what reflections you may cause--but, be they what they will, time will
+steal away from you that power of affecting him."
+
+She concurred in the opinion, and occasionally she walked into Lord
+Elmwood's apartments, dined, or took her coffee with him, as the
+accident suited; and observed, according to Sandford's prediction, that
+time wore off the impression her visits first made. Lord Elmwood now
+became just the same before her as before others. She easily discerned,
+too, through all that politeness which he assumed--that he was no longer
+the considerate, the forbearing character he formerly was; but haughty,
+impatient, imperious, and more than ever, _implacable._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+When Lord Elmwood had been at his country seat about six weeks, Mr.
+Rushbrook, his nephew, and his adopted child--that friendless boy whom
+poor Lady Elmwood first introduced into his uncle's house, and by her
+kindness preserved there--arrived from his travels, and was received by
+his uncle with all the marks of affection due to the man he thought
+worthy to be his heir. Rushbrook had been a beautiful boy, and was now
+an extremely handsome young man; he had made unusual progress in his
+studies, had completed the tour of Italy and Germany, and returned home
+with the air and address of a perfect man of fashion--there was, besides,
+an elegance and persuasion in his manner almost irresistible. Yet with
+all those accomplishments, when he was introduced to Sandford, and put
+forth his hand to take his, Sandford, with evident reluctance, gave it
+to him; and when Lord Elmwood asked him, in the young man's presence,
+"If he did not think his nephew greatly improved?" He looked at him from
+head to foot, and muttered "He could not say he observed it." The
+colour heightened in Mr. Rushbrook's face upon the occasion, but he was
+too well bred not to be in perfect good humour.
+
+Sandford saw this young man treated, in the house of Lord Elmwood, with
+the same respect and attention as if he had been his son; and it was but
+probable the old priest would make a comparison between the situation of
+him, and of Lady Matilda Elmwood. Before her, it was Sandford's meaning
+to have concealed his thoughts upon the subject, and never to have
+mentioned it but with composure; that was, however, impossible--unused to
+hide his feelings, at the name of Rushbrook, his countenance would
+always change, and a sarcastic sneer, sometimes a frown of resentment,
+would force its way in spite of his resolution. Miss Woodley, too, with
+all her boundless charity and good will, was, upon this occasion,
+induced to limit their excess; and they did not extend so far as to
+reach poor Rushbrook. She even, and in _reality_, did not think him
+handsome or engaging in his manners--she thought his gaiety
+frivolousness, his complaisance affectation, and his good humour
+impertinence. It was impossible to conceal those unfavourable sentiments
+entirely from Matilda; for when the subject arose, as it frequently did,
+Miss Woodley's undisguised heart, and Sandford's undisguised
+countenance, told them instantly. Matilda had the understanding to
+imagine, that she was, perhaps, the object who had thus deformed Mr.
+Rushbrook, and frequently (though he was a stranger to her, and one who
+had caused her many a jealous heart-ache) frequently she would speak in
+his vindication.
+
+"You are very good," said Sandford, one day to her; "you like him,
+because you know your father loves him."
+
+This was a hard sentence for the daughter of Lord Elmwood to hear, to
+whom her father's love would have been more precious than any other
+blessing.--She, however, checked the assault of envy, and kindly replied,
+
+"My mother loved him too, Mr. Sandford."
+
+"Yes," answered Sandford, "he has been a _grateful_ man to your poor
+mother.--She did not suppose when she took him into the house; when she
+intreated your father to take him; and through her caresses and
+officious praises of him, first gave him that power which he now
+possesses over his uncle; she little foresaw, at that time, his
+ingratitude, and its effects."
+
+"Very true," said Miss Woodley, with a heavy sigh.
+
+"What ingratitude?" asked Matilda, "do you suppose Mr. Rushbrook is the
+cause that my father will not see me? Oh do not pay Lord Elmwood's
+motive so ill a compliment."
+
+"I do not say that he is the absolute cause," returned Sandford; "but if
+a parent's heart is void, I would have it remain so, till its lawful
+owner is replaced--usurpers I detest."
+
+"No one can take Lord Elmwood's heart by force," replied his daughter,
+"it must, I believe, be a free gift to the possessor; and as such,
+whoever has it, has a right to it."
+
+In this manner she would plead the young man's excuse--perhaps but to
+hear what could be said in his disfavour, for secretly his name was
+bitter to her--and once she exclaimed in vexation, on Sandford's saying
+Lord Elmwood and Mr. Rushbrook were gone out shooting together,
+
+"All that pleasure is now eclipsed which I used to take in listening to
+the report of my father's gun, for I cannot now distinguish his, from
+his parasite's."
+
+Sandford, (much as he disliked Rushbrook) for this expression which
+comprised her father in the reflection, turned to Matilda in extreme
+anger--but as he saw the colour mount into her face, for what, in the
+strong feelings of her heart had escaped her lips, he did not say a
+word--and by her tears that followed, he rejoiced to see how much she
+reproved _herself._
+
+Miss Woodley, vexed to the heart, and provoked every time she saw Lord
+Elmwood and Rushbrook together, and saw the familiar terms on which this
+young man lived with his benefactor, now made her visits to him very
+seldom. If Lord Elmwood observed this, he did not appear to observe it;
+and though he received her politely when she did pay him a visit, it was
+always very coldly; nor did she suppose if she never went, he would ever
+ask for her. For his daughter's sake, however, she thought it right
+sometimes to shew herself before him; for she knew it must be
+impossible that, with all his apparent indifference, he could ever see
+_her_ without thinking for a moment on his child; and what one fortunate
+thought might some time bring about, was an object much too serious for
+her to overlook. She therefore, after remaining confined to her
+apartments near three weeks, (excepting those anxious walks she and
+Matilda stole, while Lord Elmwood dined, or before he rose in a morning)
+went one forenoon into his apartments, where, as usual, she found him,
+with Mr. Sandford, and Mr. Rushbrook. After she had sat about half an
+hour, conversing with them all, though but very little with the latter,
+Lord Elmwood was called out of the room upon some business; presently
+after, Sandford; and now, by no means pleased with the companion with
+whom she was left, she rose, and was going likewise, when Rushbrook
+fixed his speaking eyes upon her, and cried,
+
+"Miss Woodley, will you pardon me what I am going to say?"
+
+"Certainly, Sir. You can, I am sure, say nothing but what I must
+forgive." But she made this reply with a distance and a reserve, very
+unlike the usual manners of Miss Woodley.
+
+He looked at her earnestly and cried, "Ah! Miss Woodley, you don't
+behave so kindly to me as you used to do!"
+
+"I do not understand you, Sir," she replied very gravely; "Times are
+changed, Mr. Rushbrook, since you were last here--you were then but a
+child."
+
+"Yet I love all those persons now, that I loved then," replied he; "and
+so I shall for ever."
+
+"But you mistake, Mr. Rushbrook; I was not even then so very much the
+object of your affections--there were other ladies you loved better.
+Perhaps you don't remember Lady Elmwood?"
+
+"Don't I," cried he, "Oh!" (clasping his hands and lifting up his eyes
+to heaven) "shall I ever forget her?"
+
+That moment Lord Elmwood opened the door; the conversation of course
+that moment ended; but confusion, at the sudden surprise, was on the
+face of both parties--he saw it, and looked at each of them by turns,
+with a sternness that made poor Miss Woodley ready to faint; while
+Rushbrook, with the most natural and happy laugh that ever was affected,
+cried, "No, don't tell my Lord, pray Miss Woodley." She was more
+confused than before, and Lord Elmwood turning to him, asked what the
+subject was. By this time he had invented one, and, continuing his
+laugh, said, "Miss Woodley, my Lord, will to this day protest that she
+saw my apparition when I was a boy; and she says it is a sign I shall
+die young, and is really much affected at it."
+
+Lord Elmwood turned away before this ridiculous speech was concluded;
+yet so well had it been acted, that he did not for an instant doubt its
+truth.
+
+Miss Woodley felt herself greatly relieved; and yet so little is it in
+the power of those we dislike to do any thing to please us, that from
+this very circumstance, she formed a more unfavourable opinion of Mr.
+Rushbrook than she had done before. She saw in this little incident the
+art of dissimulation, cunning, and duplicity in its most glaring shape;
+and detested the method by which they had each escaped Lord Elmwood's
+suspicion, and perhaps anger, the more, because it was so dexterously
+managed.
+
+Lady Matilda and Sandford were both in their turns informed of this
+trait in Mr. Rushbrook's character; and although Miss Woodley had the
+best of dispositions, and upon every occasion spoke the strictest truth,
+yet in relating this occurrence, she did not speak _all_ the truth; for
+every circumstance that would have told to the young man's advantage,
+_literally_ had slipped her memory.
+
+The twenty-ninth of October arrived; on which a dinner, a ball, and
+supper, was given by Lord Elmwood to all the neighbouring gentry--the
+peasants also dined in the park off a roasted bullock, several casks of
+ale were distributed, and the bells of the village rung. Matilda, who
+heard and saw some part of this festivity from her windows, inquired the
+cause; but even the servant who waited upon her had too much sensibility
+to tell her, and answered, "He did not know." Miss Woodley however, soon
+learned the reason, and groaning with the painful secret, informed her,
+"Mr. Rushbrook on that day was come of age."
+
+"_My_ birth-day was last week," replied Matilda; but not a word beside.
+
+In their retired apartments, this day passed away not only soberly, but
+almost silently; for to speak upon any subject that did not engage their
+thoughts had been difficult, and to speak upon the only one that did,
+had been afflicting.
+
+Just as they were sitting down to dinner their bell gently rung, and in
+walked Sandford.
+
+"Why are you not among the revellers, Mr. Sandford?" cried Miss Woodley,
+with an ironical sneer--(the first her features ever wore)--"Pray, were
+not you invited to dine with the company?"
+
+"Yes," replied Sandford; "but my head ached; and so I had rather come
+and take a bit with you."
+
+Matilda, as if she had seen his heart as he spoke, clung round his neck
+and sobbed on his bosom: he put her peevishly away, crying "Nonsense,
+nonsense--eat your dinner." But he did not eat himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+About a week after this, Lord Elmwood went out two days for a visit;
+consequently Rushbrook was for that time master of the house. The first
+morning he went a shooting, and returning about noon, enquired of
+Sandford, who was sitting in the room, if he had taken up a volume of
+plays left upon the table. "I read no such things," replied Sandford,
+and quitted the room abruptly. Rushbrook then rang for his servant, and
+desired him to look for the book, asking him angrily, "Who had been in
+the apartment? for he was sure he had left it there when he went out."
+The servant withdrew to enquire, and presently returned with the volume
+in his hand, and "Miss Woodley's compliments, she begs your pardon, Sir,
+she did not know the book was yours, and hopes you will excuse the
+liberty she took."
+
+"Miss Woodley!" cried Rushbrook with surprise, "she comes so seldom into
+these apartments, I did not suppose it was her who had it--take it back
+to her instantly, with my respects, and I beg she will keep it."
+
+The man went; but returned with the book again, and laying it on the
+table without speaking, was going away; when Rushbrook, hurt at
+receiving no second message, said, "I am afraid, Sir, you did very wrong
+when you first took this book from Miss Woodley."
+
+"It was not from her I took it, Sir," replied the man, "it was from Lady
+Matilda."
+
+Since he had entered the house, Rushbrook had never before heard the
+name of Lady Matilda, he was shocked--confounded more than ever--and to
+conceal what he felt, instantly ordered the man out of the room.
+
+In the mean time, Miss Woodley and Matilda were talking over this
+trifling occurrence; and frivolous as it was, drew from it strong
+conclusions of Rushbrook's insolence and power. In spite of her pride,
+the daughter of Lord Elmwood even wept at the insult she had received on
+this insignificant occasion; for the volume being merely taken from her
+at Mr. Rushbrook's command, she felt an insult; and the manner in which
+it was done by the servant, might contribute to the offence.
+
+While Miss Woodley and she were upon this conversation, a note came from
+Rushbrook to Miss Woodley, wherein he entreated he might be permitted to
+see her. She sent a verbal answer, "She was engaged." He sent again,
+begging she would name her own time. But sure of a second denial, he
+followed the servant who took the last message, and as Miss Woodley came
+out of her apartment into the gallery to speak to him, Rushbrook
+presented himself, and told the man to retire.
+
+"Mr. Rushbrook," said Miss Woodley, "this intrusion is insupportable;
+and destitute as you may think me of the friendship of Lord Elmwood"----
+
+In the ardour with which Rushbrook was waiting to express himself, he
+interrupted her, and caught hold of her hand.
+
+She immediately snatched it from him, and withdrew into her chamber.
+
+He followed, saying, in a low voice, "Dear Miss Woodley, hear me."
+
+At that juncture Lady Matilda, who was in an inner apartment, came out
+of it into Miss Woodley's. Perceiving a gentleman, she stopped short at
+the door.
+
+Rushbrook cast his eyes upon her, and stood motionless--his lips only
+moved. "Do not depart, Madam," said he, "without hearing my apology for
+being here."
+
+Though Matilda had never seen him since her infancy, there was no
+occasion to tell her who it was that addressed her--his elegant and
+youthful person, joined to the incident which had just occurred,
+convinced her it was Rushbrook: she looked at him with an air of
+surprise, but with still more, of dignity.
+
+"Miss Woodley is severe upon me, Madam," continued he, "she judges me
+unkindly; and I am afraid she will prepossess you with the same
+unfavourable sentiments."
+
+Still Matilda did not speak, but looked at him with the same air of
+dignity.
+
+"If, Lady Matilda," resumed he, "I have offended you, and must quit you
+without pardon, I am more unhappy than I should be with the loss of your
+father's protection--more forlorn, than when an orphan boy, your mother
+first took pity on me."
+
+At this last sentence, Matilda turned her eyes on Miss Woodley, and
+seemed in doubt what reply she was to give.
+
+Rushbrook immediately fell upon his knees--"Oh! Lady Matilda," cried he,
+"if you knew the sensations of my heart, you would not treat me with
+this disdain."
+
+"We can only judge of those sensations, Mr. Rushbrook," said Miss
+Woodley, "by the effect they have upon your conduct; and while you
+insult Lord and Lady Elmwood's daughter by an intrusion like this, and
+then ridicule her abject state by mockeries like these----"
+
+He rose from his knees instantly, and interrupted her, crying, "What can
+I do? What am I to say, to make you change your opinion of me? While
+Lord Elmwood has been at home, I have kept an awful distance; and though
+every moment I breathed was a wish to cast myself at his daughter's
+feet, yet as I feared, Miss Woodley, that you were incensed against me,
+by what means was I to procure an interview but by stratagem or force?
+This accident has given a third method, and I had not strength, I had
+not courage, to let it pass. Lord Elmwood will soon return, and we may
+both of us be hurried to town immediately--then how for a tedious winter
+could I endure the reflexion that I was despised, nay, perhaps
+considered as an object of ingratitude, by the only child of my deceased
+benefactress?"
+
+Matilda replied with all her father's haughtiness, "Depend upon it, Sir,
+if you should ever enter my thoughts, it will only be as an object of
+envy."
+
+"Suffer me then, Madam," said he, "as an earnest that you do not think
+worse of me than I merit, suffer me to be sometimes admitted into your
+presence--."
+
+She would scarce permit him to finish the period, before she replied,
+"This is the last time, Sir, we shall ever meet, depend upon it--unless,
+indeed, Lord Elmwood should delegate to you the controul of me--_his_
+commands I never dispute." And here she burst into tears.
+
+Rushbrook walked towards the window, and did not speak for some
+time--then turning himself to make a reply, both Matilda and Miss Woodley
+were somewhat surprised to see, that he had been shedding tears
+himself.--Having conquered them, he said, "I will not offend you, Madam,
+by remaining one moment longer; and I give you my honour, that, upon no
+pretence whatever, will I presume to intrude here again. Professions, I
+find, have no weight, and only by this obedience to your orders, can I
+give a proof of that respect which you inspire;--and let the agitation I
+now feel, convince you, Lady Matilda, that, with all my seeming good
+fortune, I am not happier than yourself." And so much was he agitated
+while he delivered this, that it was with difficulty he came to the
+conclusion. When he did, he bowed with reverence, as if leaving the
+presence of a deity, and retired.
+
+Matilda immediately entered the chamber she had left, and without
+casting a single look at Miss Woodley by which she might guess of the
+opinion she had formed of Mr. Rushbrook's conduct. The next time they
+met they did not even mention his name; for they were ashamed to own a
+partiality in his favour, and were too just to bring any accusation
+against him.
+
+But Miss Woodley, the day following, communicated the intelligence of
+this visit to Mr. Sandford, who not being present, and a witness of
+those marks of humility and respect which were conspicuous in the
+deportment of Mr. Rushbrook, was highly offended at his presumption, and
+threatened if he ever dared to force his company there again, he would
+acquaint Lord Elmwood with his arrogance, whatever might be the event.
+Miss Woodley, however, assured him, she believed he would have no cause
+for such a complaint, as the young man had made the most solemn promise
+never to commit the like offence; and she thought it her duty to enjoin
+Sandford, till he did repeat it, not to mention the circumstance, even
+to Rushbrook himself.
+
+Matilda could not but feel a regard for her father's heir, in return for
+that which he had so fervently declared for her; yet the more favourable
+her opinion of his mind and manners, the more he became an object of her
+jealousy for the affections of Lord Elmwood, and he was now
+consequently, an object of greater sorrow to her, than when she believed
+him less worthy. These sentiments were reversed on his part towards
+her--no jealousy intervened to bar his admiration and esteem--the beauty
+of her person, and grandeur of her mien, not only confirmed, but
+improved, the exalted idea he had formed of her previous to their
+meeting, and which his affection to both her parents had inspired. The
+next time he saw his benefactor, he began to feel a new esteem and
+regard for him, for his daughter's sake; as he had at first an esteem
+for her, on the foundation of his love for Lord and Lady Elmwood. He
+gazed with wonder at his uncle's insensibility to his own happiness, and
+would gladly have led him to the jewel he cast away, though even his own
+expulsion should be the fatal consequence. Such was the youthful, warm,
+generous, grateful, but unreflecting mind of Rushbrook.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+After this incident, Miss Woodley left her apartments less frequently
+than before--she was afraid, though till now mistrust had been a stranger
+to her heart, she was afraid that duplicity might be concealed under the
+apparent friendship of Rushbrook; it did not indeed appear so from any
+part of his behaviour, but she was apprehensive for the fate of Matilda;
+she disliked him too, and therefore she suspected him. Near three weeks
+she had not now paid a visit to Lord Elmwood, and though to herself
+every visit was a pain, yet as Matilda took a delight in hearing of her
+father, what he said, what he did, what his attention seemed most
+employed on, and a thousand other circumstantial informations, in which
+Sandford would scorn to be half so particular, it was a deprivation to
+her, that Miss Woodley did not go oftener. Now too, the middle of
+November was come, and it was expected her father would soon quit the
+country.
+
+Partly therefore to indulge her hapless companion, and partly because it
+was a duty, Miss Woodley once again paid Lord Elmwood a morning visit,
+and staid dinner. Rushbrook was officiously polite, (for that was the
+epithet she gave his attention in relating it to Lady Matilda) yet she
+owned he had not that forward impertinence she had formerly discovered
+in him, but appeared much more grave and sedate.
+
+"But tell me of my father," said Matilda.
+
+"I was going, my dear--but don't be concerned--don't let it vex you."
+
+"What? what?" cried Matilda, frightened by the preface.
+
+"Why, on my observing that I thought Mr. Rushbrook looked paler than
+usual, and appeared not to be in perfect health, (which was really the
+case) your father expressed the greatest anxiety imaginable; he said he
+could not bear to see him look so ill, begged him, with all the
+tenderness of a parent, to take the advice of a physician, and added a
+thousand other affectionate things."
+
+"I detest Mr. Rushbrook," said Matilda, with her eyes flashing
+indignation.
+
+"Nay, for shame," returned Miss Woodley; "do you suppose I told you
+this, to make you hate him?"
+
+"No, there was no occasion for that," replied Matilda; "my sentiments
+(though I have never before avowed them) were long ago formed; he was
+always an object which added to my unhappiness; but since his daring
+intrusion into my apartments, he has been an object of my hatred."
+
+"But now, perhaps, I may tell you something to please you," cried Miss
+Woodley.
+
+"And what is that?" said Matilda, with indifference; for the first
+intelligence had hurt her spirits too much to suffer her to listen with
+pleasure to anything.
+
+"Mr. Rushbrook," continued Miss Woodley, "replied to your father, that
+his indisposition was but a slight nervous fever, and he would defer a
+physician's advice till he went to London"--on which Lord Elmwood said,
+"And when do you expect to be there?"--he replied, "Within a week or two,
+I suppose, my Lord." But your father answered, "I do not mean to go
+myself till after Christmas." "No indeed, my Lord!" said Mr. Sandford,
+with surprise: "you have not passed your Christmas here these many
+years." "No," returned your father; "but I think I feel myself more
+attached to this house at present, than ever I did in my life."
+
+"You imagine, then, my father thought of me, when he said this?" cried
+Matilda eagerly.
+
+"But I may be mistaken," replied Miss Woodley. "I leave you to judge.
+Though I am sure Mr. Sandford imagined he thought of you, for I saw a
+smile over his whole face immediately."
+
+"Did you, Miss Woodley?"
+
+"Yes; it appeared on every feature except his lips; those he kept fast
+closed, for fear Lord Elmwood should perceive it."
+
+Miss Woodley, with all her minute intelligence, did not however acquaint
+Matilda, that Rushbrook followed her to the window when the Earl was out
+of the room, and Sandford half asleep at the other end of it, and
+inquired respectfully but anxiously for _her_; adding, "It is my
+concern for Lady Matilda which makes me thus indisposed: I suffer more
+than she does; but I am not permitted to tell her so, nor can I hope,
+Miss Woodley, you will." She replied, "You are right, Sir." Nor did she
+reveal this conversation, while not a sentence that passed except that,
+was omitted.
+
+When Christmas arrived, Lord Elmwood had many convivial days at Elmwood
+House, but Matilda was never mentioned by one of his guests, and most
+probably was never thought of. During all those holidays, she was
+unusually melancholy, but sunk into the deepest dejection when she was
+told the day was fixed, on which her father was to return to town. On
+the morning of that day she wept incessantly; and all her consolation
+was, "She would go to the chamber window that was fronting the door
+through which he was to pass to his carriage, and for the first time,
+and most probably for the last time in her life, behold him."
+
+This design was soon forgot in another:--"She would rush boldly into the
+apartment where he was, and at his feet take leave of him for ever--she
+would lay hold of his hands, clasp his knees, provoke him to spurn her,
+which would be joy in comparison to this cruel indifference." In the
+bitterness of her grief, she once called upon her mother, and reproached
+her memory--but the moment she recollected this offence, (which was
+almost instantaneously) she became all mildness and resignation. "What
+have I said?" cried she; "Dear, dear saint, forgive me; and for your
+sake I will bear all with patience--I will not groan, I will not even
+sigh again--this task I set myself to atone for what I have dared to
+utter."
+
+While Lady Matilda laboured under this variety of sensations, Miss
+Woodley was occupied in bewailing and endeavouring to calm her
+sorrows--and Lord Elmwood, with Rushbrook, was ready to set off. The
+Earl, however, loitered, and did not once seem in haste to be gone. When
+at last he got up to depart, Sandford thought he pressed his hand, and
+shook it with more warmth than ever he had done in his life. Encouraged
+by this supposition, Sandford said, "My Lord, won't you condescend to
+take your leave of Miss Woodley?"
+
+"Certainly, Sandford," replied he, and seemed glad of an excuse to sit
+down again.
+
+Impressed with the idea of the state in which she had left his only
+child, Miss Woodley, when she came before Lord Elmwood to bid him
+farewell, was pale, trembling, and in tears. Sandford, notwithstanding
+his patron's apparently kind humour, was shocked at the construction he
+must put upon her appearance, and cried, "What, Miss Woodley, are you
+not recovered of your illness yet?" Lord Elmwood, however, took no
+notice of her looks, but after wishing her her health, walked slowly out
+of the house; turning back frequently and speaking to Sandford, or to
+some other person who was behind him, as if part of his thoughts were
+left behind, and he went with reluctance.
+
+When he had quitted the room where Miss Woodley was, Rushbrook, timid
+before her, as she had been before her benefactor, went up to her, all
+humility, and said, "Miss Woodley, we ought to be friends: our concern,
+our devotion is paid to the same objects, and one common interest should
+teach us to be friendly."
+
+She made no reply.--"Will you permit me to write to you when I am away?"
+said he; "You may wish to hear of Lord Elmwood's health, and of what
+changes may take place in his resolutions.--Will you permit me?" At that
+moment a servant came and said, "Sir, my Lord is in the carriage, and
+waiting for you." He hastened away, and Miss Woodley was relieved from
+the pain of giving him a denial.
+
+No sooner was the chaise, with all its attendants, out of sight, than
+Lady Matilda was conducted by Miss Woodley from her lonely retreat, into
+that part of the house from whence her father had just departed--and she
+visited every spot where he had so long resided, with a pleasing
+curiosity that for a while diverted her grief. In the breakfast and
+dining rooms, she leaned over those seats with a kind of filial piety,
+on which she was told he had been accustomed to sit. And, in the
+library, she took up with filial delight, the pen with which he had been
+writing; and looked with the most curious attention into those books
+that were laid upon his reading desk. But a hat, lying on one of the
+tables, gave her a sensation beyond any other she experienced on this
+occasion--in that trifling article of his dress, she thought she saw
+himself, and held it in her hand with pious reverence.
+
+In the mean time, Lord Elmwood and Rushbrook were proceeding on the
+road, with hearts not less heavy than those which they had left at
+Elmwood House; though neither of them could so well define the cause of
+this oppression, as Matilda could account for the weight which oppressed
+her's.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Young as Lady Matilda was during the life of her mother, neither her
+youth, nor the recluse state in which she lived, had precluded her from
+the notice and solicitations of a nobleman who had professed himself her
+lover. Viscount Margrave had an estate not far distant from the retreat
+Lady Elmwood had chosen; and being devoted to the sports of the country,
+he seldom quitted it for any of those joys which the town offered. He
+was a young man, of a handsome person, and was, what his neighbours
+called, "A man of spirit." He was an excellent fox-hunter, and as
+excellent a companion over his bottle at the end of the chace--he was
+prodigal of his fortune, where his pleasures were concerned, and as
+those pleasures were chiefly social, his sporting companions and his
+mistresses (for these were also of the plural number) partook largely of
+his wealth.
+
+Two months previous to Lady Elmwood's death, Miss Woodley and Lady
+Matilda were taking their usual walk in some fields and lanes near to
+their house, when chance threw Lord Margrave in their way during a
+thunder storm in which they were suddenly caught; and he had the
+satisfaction to convey his new acquaintances to their home in his coach,
+safe from the fury of the elements. Grateful for the service he had
+rendered them, Miss Woodley and her charge, permitted him to enquire
+occasionally after their health, and would sometimes see him. The story
+of Lady Elmwood was known to Lord Margrave, and as he beheld her
+daughter with a passion such as he had been unused to overcome, he
+indulged it with the probable hope, that on the death of the mother Lord
+Elmwood would receive his child, and perhaps accept him as his
+son-in-law. Wedlock was not the plan which Lord Margrave had ever
+proposed to himself for happiness; but the excess of his love on this
+new occasion, subdued all the resolutions he had formed against the
+married state; and not daring to hope for the consummation of his wishes
+by any other means, he suffered himself to look forward to that, as his
+only resource. No sooner was the long expected death of Lady Elmwood
+arrived, than he waited with impatience to hear that Lady Matilda was
+sent for and acknowledged by her father; for he meant to be the first to
+lay before Lord Elmwood his pretensions as a suitor. But those
+pretensions were founded on the vague hopes of a lover only; and Miss
+Woodley, to whom he first declared them, said every thing possible to
+convince him of their fallacy. As to the object of his passion, she was
+not only insensible, but wholly inattentive to all that was said to her
+on the subject. Lady Elmwood died without ever being disturbed with it;
+for her daughter did not even remember his proposals so as to repeat
+them again, and Miss Woodley thought it prudent to conceal from her
+friend, every new incident which might give her cause for new anxieties.
+
+When Sandford and the ladies left the north and came to Elmwood House,
+so much were their thoughts employed with other ideas, that Lord
+Margrave did not occupy a place; and during the whole time they had been
+at their new abode, they had never once heard of him. He had,
+nevertheless, his whole mind fixed upon Lady Matilda, and had placed
+spies in the neighbourhood to inform him of every circumstance relating
+to her situation. Having imbibed an aversion to matrimony, he heard with
+but little regret, that there was no prospect of her ever becoming her
+father's heir, while such an information gave him the hope of obtaining
+her, upon the terms of a mistress.
+
+Lord Elmwood's departure to town forwarded this hope, and flattering
+himself that the humiliating state in which Matilda must feel herself in
+the house of her father might gladly induce her to take shelter under
+any other protection, he boldly advanced as soon as the Earl was gone,
+to make such overture as his wishes and his vanity told him, could not
+be rejected.
+
+Inquiring for Miss Woodley, he easily gained admittance; but at the
+sight of so much modesty and dignity in the person of Matilda, the
+appearance of so much good will, and yet such circumspection in her
+companion; and charmed at the good sense and proper spirit which were
+always apparent in the manners of Sandford, he fell once more into the
+despondency of never becoming to Lady Matilda any thing of more
+importance to his reputation, than a husband.
+
+Even that humble hope was sometimes denied him, while Sandford set forth
+the impropriety of troubling Lord Elmwood on such a subject at present;
+and while the Viscount's penetration, small as it was, discovered in his
+fair one, more to discourage, than to favour his wishes. Plunged,
+however, too deep in his passion to emerge from it in haste, he meant
+still to visit, and wait for a change to happier circumstances, when he
+was peremptorily desired by Mr. Sandford to desist from ever coming
+again.
+
+"And why, Mr. Sandford?" cried he.
+
+"For two reasons, my Lord;--in the first place, your visits might be
+displeasing to Lord Elmwood; in the next place, I know they are so to
+his daughter."
+
+Unaccustomed to be addressed so plainly, particularly in a case where
+his heart was interested, he nevertheless submitted with patience; but
+in his own mind determined how long this patience should continue--no
+longer than it served as the means to prove his obedience, and by that
+artifice, to secure his better reception at some future period.
+
+On his return home, cheered with the huzzas of his jovial companions, he
+began to consult those friends, what scheme was best to be adopted for
+the accomplishment of his desires. Some, boldly advised application to
+the father in defiance to the old priest; but that was the very last
+method his Lordship himself approved, as marriage must inevitably have
+followed Lord Elmwood's consent: besides, though a Peer, Lord Margrave
+was unused to rank with Peers; and even the formality of an interview
+with one of his equals, carried along with it a terror, or at least a
+fatigue, to a rustic Baron. Others of his companions advised seduction;
+but happily the Viscount possessed no arts of this kind, to affect a
+heart joined with such an understanding as Matilda's. There were not
+wanting among his most favourite counsellors some, who painted the
+superior triumph and gratification of force; those assured him there was
+nothing to apprehend under this head, as from the behaviour of Lord
+Elmwood to his child, it was more than probable, he would be utterly
+indifferent as to any violence that might be offered her. This last
+advice seemed inspired by the aid of wine; and no sooner had the wine
+freely circulated, than this was always the expedient, which appeared by
+far the best.
+
+While Lord Margrave alternately cherished his hopes and his fears in the
+country, Rushbrook in town gave way to his fears only. Every day of his
+life made him more acquainted with the firm, unshaken temper of Lord
+Elmwood, and every day whispered more forcibly to him, that pity,
+gratitude, and friendship, strong and affectionate as these passions
+are, were weak and cold to that, which had gained the possession of his
+heart--he doubted, but he did not long doubt, that, which he felt was
+love. "And yet," said he to himself, "it is love of such a kind, as
+arising from causes independent of the object itself can scarce deserve
+that sacred name. Did I not love Lady Matilda before I beheld her?--for
+her mother's sake I loved her--and even for her father's. Should I have
+felt the same affection for her, had she been the child of other
+parents? No. Or should I have felt that sympathetic tenderness which now
+preys upon my health, had not her misfortunes excited it? No." Yet the
+love which is the result of gratitude and pity only, he thought had
+little claim to rank with his; and after the most deliberate and deep
+reflection, he concluded with this decisive opinion--He had loved Lady
+Matilda, in _whatever state_, in _whatever circumstances_; and that the
+tenderness he felt towards her, and the anxiety for her happiness before
+he knew her, extreme as they were, were yet cool and dispassionate
+sensations, compared to those which her person and demeanour had
+incited--and though he acknowledged, that by the preceding sentiments,
+his heart was softened, prepared, and moulded, as it were, to receive
+this last impression, yet the violence of his passion told him that
+genuine love, if not the basis on which it was founded, had been the
+certain consequence. With a strict scrutiny into his heart he sought
+this knowledge, but arrived at it with a regret that amounted to
+despair.
+
+To shield him from despondency, he formed in his mind a thousand
+visions, displaying the joys of his union with Lady Matilda; but her
+father's implacability confounded them all. Lord Elmwood was a man who
+made few resolutions--but those were the effect of deliberation; and as
+he was not the least capricious or inconstant in his temper, they were
+resolutions which no probable event could shake. Love, that produces
+wonders, that seduces and subdues the most determined and rigid spirits,
+had in two instances overcome the inflexibility of Lord Elmwood; he
+married Lady Elmwood contrary to his determination, because he loved;
+and for the sake of this beloved object, he had, contrary to his
+resolution, taken under his immediate care young Rushbrook; but the
+magic which once enchanted away this spirit of immutability was no
+more--Lady Elmwood was no more, and the charm was broken.
+
+As Miss Woodley was deprived of the opportunity of desiring Rushbrook
+not to write, when he asked her the permission, he passed one whole
+morning, in the gratification of forming and writing a letter to her,
+which he thought might possibly be shewn to Matilda. As he dared not
+touch upon any of those circumstances in which he was the most
+interested, this, joined to the respect he wished to pay the lady to
+whom he wrote, limited his letter to about twenty lines; yet the
+studious manner with which these lines were dictated, the hope that they
+might, and the fear that they might not, be seen and regarded by Lady
+Matilda, rendered the task an anxiety so pleasing, that he could have
+wished it might have lasted for a year; and in this tendency to magnify
+trifles, was discoverable, the never-failing symptom of ardent love.
+
+A reply to this formal address, was a reward he wished for with
+impatience, but he wished in vain; and in the midst of his chagrin at
+the disappointment, a sorrow, little thought of, occurred, and gave him
+a perturbation of mind he had never before experienced. Lord Elmwood
+proposed a wife to him; and in a way so assured of his acquiescence,
+that if Rushbrook's life had depended upon his daring to dispute his
+benefactor's will, he would not have had the courage to have done so.
+There was, however, in his reply, and his embarrassment, something which
+his uncle distinguished from a free concurrence; and looking stedfastly
+at him, he said, in that stern manner which he now almost invariably
+adopted,
+
+"You have no engagements, I suppose! Have made no previous promises!"
+
+"None on earth, my Lord," replied Rushbrook candidly.
+
+"Nor have you disposed of your heart?"
+
+"No, my Lord," replied he; but not candidly--nor with any appearance of
+candour: for though he spoke hastily, it was rather like a man
+frightened than assured. He hurried to tell the falsehood he thought
+himself obliged to tell, that the pain and shame might be over; but
+there he was deceived--the lie once told was as troublesome as in the
+conception, and added another confusion to the first.
+
+Lord Elmwood now fixed his eyes upon him with a sullen contempt, and
+rising from his chair, said, "Rushbrook, if you have been so
+inconsiderate as to give away your heart, tell me so at once, and tell
+me the object."
+
+Rushbrook shuddered at the thought.
+
+"I here," continued the Earl, "tolerate the first untruth you ever told
+me, as the false assertion of a lover; and give you an opportunity of
+recalling it--but after this moment, it is a lie between man and man--a
+lie to your friend and father, and I will not forgive it."
+
+Rushbrook stood silent, confused, alarmed, and bewildered in his
+thoughts. Lord Elmwood proceeded:
+
+"Name the person, if there is any, on whom you have bestowed your heart;
+and though I do not give you the hope that I shall not censure your
+folly, I will at least not reproach you for having at first denied it."
+
+To repeat these words in writing, the reader must condemn the young man
+that he could hesitate to own he loved, if he was even afraid to name
+the object of his passion; but his interrogator had made the two answers
+inseparable, so that all evasions of the second, Rushbrook knew would be
+fruitless, after having avowed the first--and how could he confess the
+latter? The absolute orders he received from the steward on his first
+return from his travels, were, "Never to mention his daughter, any more
+than his late wife, before Lord Elmwood." The fault of having rudely
+intruded into Lady Matilda's presence, rushed also upon his mind; for he
+did not even dare to say, by what means he had beheld her. But more than
+all, the threatening manner in which this rational and apparently
+conciliating speech was uttered, the menaces, the severity which sat
+upon the Earl's countenance while he delivered those moderate words,
+might have intimidated a man wholly independent, and less used to fear
+than his nephew had been.
+
+"You make no answer, Sir," said Lord Elmwood, after waiting a few
+moments for his reply.
+
+"I have only to say, my Lord," returned Rushbrook, "that although my
+heart may be totally disengaged, I may yet be disinclined to marriage."
+
+"May! May! Your heart _may_ be disengaged," repeated he. "Do you dare to
+reply to me equivocally, when I have asked a positive answer?"
+
+"Perhaps I am not positive myself, my Lord; but I will enquire into the
+state of my mind, and make you acquainted with it very soon."
+
+As the angry demeanour of his uncle affected Rushbrook with fear, so
+that fear, powerfully (but with proper manliness) expressed, again
+softened the displeasure of Lord Elmwood; and seeing and pitying his
+nephew's sensibility, he now changed his austere voice, and said mildly,
+but firmly,
+
+"I give you a week to consult with yourself; at the expiration of that
+time I shall talk with you again, and I command you to be then prepared
+to speak, not only without deceit, but without hesitation." He left the
+room at these words, and left Rushbrook released from a fate, which his
+apprehensions had beheld impending that moment.
+
+He had now a week to call his thoughts together, to weigh every
+circumstance, and to determine whether implicitly to submit to Lord
+Elmwood's recommendation of a wife, or to revolt from it, and see
+another, with more subserviency to his will, appointed his heir.
+
+Undetermined how to act upon this trial which was to decide his future
+destiny, Rushbrook suffered so poignant an uncertainty, that he became
+at length ill, and before the end of the week that was allotted him for
+his reply, he was confined to his bed in a high fever. Lord Elmwood was
+extremely affected at his indisposition; he gave him every care he could
+bestow, and even much of his personal attendance. This last favour had a
+claim upon the young man's gratitude, superior to every other obligation
+which since his infancy his benefactor had conferred; and he was at
+times so moved by those marks of kindness he received, that he would
+form the intention of tearing from his heart every trace that Lady
+Matilda had left there, and as soon as his health would permit him,
+obey, to the utmost of his views, every wish his uncle had conceived.
+Yet again, her pitiable situation presented itself to his compassion,
+and her beauteous person to his love. Divided between the claims of
+obligation to the father, and tender attachment to the daughter, his
+illness was increased by the tortures of his mind, and he once sincerely
+wished for that death, of which he was in danger, to free him from the
+dilemma in which his affections had involved him.
+
+At the time his disorder was at the height, and he lay complaining of
+the violence of his fever, Lord Elmwood, taking his hand, asked him, "If
+there was any thing he could do for him?"
+
+"Yes, yes, my Lord, a great deal:" he replied eagerly.
+
+"What is it, Harry?"
+
+"Oh! my Lord," replied he, "that is what I must not tell you."
+
+"Defer it then till you are well:" said Lord Elmwood; afraid of being
+surprised, or affected by the state of his health, into any promises
+which he might hereafter find the impropriety of granting.
+
+"And when I recover, my Lord, you give me leave to reveal to you my
+wishes, let them be what they will?"
+
+His uncle hesitated----but seeing an anxiety for the answer, by his
+raising himself upon his elbow in the bed and staring wildly, Lord
+Elmwood at last said, "Certainly--Yes, yes," as a child is answered for
+its quiet.
+
+That Lord Elmwood could have no idea what the real petition was, which
+Rushbrook meant to present him is certain; but it is certain he expected
+he had some request to make, with which it might be wrong for him to
+comply, and therefore he avoided hearing what it was; for great as his
+compassion for him was in his present state, it was not of sufficient
+force to urge him to give a promise he did not mean to perform.
+Rushbrook, on his part was pleased with the assurance he might speak
+when he was restored to health; but no sooner was his fever abated, and
+his senses perfectly recovered from the slight derangement his malady
+had occasioned, than the lively remembrance of what he had hinted,
+alarmed him, and he was even afraid to look his kind, but awful relation
+in the face. Lord Elmwood's cheerfulness, however, on his returning
+health, and his undiminished attention, soon convinced him that he had
+nothing to fear. But, alas! he found too, that he had nothing to hope.
+As his health re-established, his wishes re-established also, and with
+his wishes, his despair.
+
+Convinced now, that his nephew had something on his mind which he feared
+to reveal, the Earl no longer doubted but that some youthful attachment
+had armed him against any marriage he should propose; but he had so much
+pity for his present weak state, to delay that further inquiry which he
+had threatened before his illness, to a time when he should be entirely
+restored.
+
+It was the end of May before Rushbrook was able to partake in the usual
+routine of the day--the country was now prescribed him as the means of
+complete restoration; and as Lord Elmwood designed to leave London some
+time in June, he advised him to go to Elmwood House a week or two before
+him; this advice was received with delight, and a letter was sent to Mr.
+Sandford to prepare for Mr. Rushbrook's arrival.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+During the illness of Rushbrook, news had been sent of his danger, from
+the servants in town to those at Elmwood House, and Lady Matilda
+expressed compassion when she was told of it--she began to conceive, the
+instant she thought he would soon die, that his visit to her had merit
+rather than impertinence in its design, and that he might possibly be a
+more deserving man, than she had supposed him to be. Even Sandford and
+Miss Woodley, began to recollect qualifications he possessed, which they
+never had reflected on before, and Miss Woodley in particular,
+reproached herself that she had been so severe and inattentive to him.
+Notwithstanding the prospects his death pointed out to her, it was with
+infinite joy she heard he was recovered; nor was Sandford less
+satisfied; for he had treated the young man too unkindly not to dread,
+lest any ill should befall him; but although he was glad to hear of his
+restored health, when he was informed he was coming down to Elmwood
+House for a few weeks in the style of its master, Sandford, with all his
+religious and humane principles, could not help thinking, "That if the
+lad had been properly preps well out of the world as in it."
+
+He was still less his friend when he saw him arrive with his usual
+florid complexion: had he come pale and sickly, Sandford had been kind
+to him; but in apparently good health and spirits, he could not form his
+lips to tell him he was "Glad to see him."
+
+On his arrival, Matilda, who for five months had been at large, secluded
+herself as she would have done upon the arrival of Lord Elmwood; but
+with far different sensations. Notwithstanding her restriction on the
+latter occasion, the residence of her father in that house had been a
+source of pleasure, rather than of sorrow to her; but from the abode of
+Rushbrook she derived punishment alone.
+
+When, from inquiries, Rushbrook found that on his approach, Matilda had
+retired to her own confined apartments, the thought was torture to him;
+it was the hope of seeing and conversing with her, of being admitted at
+all times to her society as the mistress of the house, that had raised
+his spirits, and effected his perfect cure beyond any other cause; and
+he was hurt to the greatest degree at this respect, or rather contempt,
+shown to him by her retreat.
+
+It was, nevertheless, a subject too delicate for him to touch upon in
+any one sense--an invitation for her company on his part, might carry the
+appearance of superior authority, and an affected condescension, which
+he justly considered as the worst of all insults. And yet, how could he
+support the idea that his visit had placed the daughter of his
+benefactor, as a dependent stranger in that house, where in reality _he_
+was the dependent, and she the lawful heir? For two or three days he
+suffered the torment of these reflections, hoping that he should come to
+an explanation of all he felt, by a fortunate meeting with Miss Woodley;
+but when that meeting occurred, though he observed she talked to him
+with less reserve than she had formerly done, and even gave some proofs
+of the native goodness of her disposition, yet she scrupulously avoided
+naming Lady Matilda; and when he diffidently inquired of her health, a
+cold restraint overspread Miss Woodley's face, and she left him
+instantly. To Sandford it was still more difficult for him to apply; for
+though frequently together, they were never sociable; and as Sandford
+seldom disguised his feelings, to Rushbrook he was always extremely
+severe, and sometimes unmannerly.
+
+In this perplexed situation, the country air was rather of detriment
+than service to the invalid; and had he not, like a true lover, clung
+fast to hope, while he could perceive nothing but despair, he would have
+returned to town, rather than by his stay have placed in a subordinate
+state, the object of his adoration. Persisting in his hopes, he one
+morning met Miss Woodley in the garden, and engaging her a longer time
+than usual in conversation, at last obtained her promise "She would that
+day dine with him and Mr. Sandford." But no sooner had she parted from
+him, than she repented of her consent; and upon communicating it,
+Matilda, for the first time in her life, darted upon her kind companion,
+a look of the most cutting reproach and haughty resentment. Miss
+Woodley's own sentiments had upbraided her before; but she was not
+prepared to receive so pointed a mark of disapprobation from her young
+friend, till now duteous and humble to her as to a mother, and not less
+affectionate. Her heart was too susceptible to bear this disrespectful
+and contumelious frown, from the object of her long-devoted care and
+concern; the tears instantly covered her face, and she laid her hands
+upon her heart, as if she thought it would break. Matilda was moved, but
+she possessed too much of the manly resentment of her father, to
+discover what she felt for the first few minutes. Miss Woodley, who had
+given so many tears to her sorrows, but never till now, one to her
+anger, had a deeper sense of this indifference, than of the anger
+itself, and to conceal what she suffered, left the room. Matilda, who
+had been till this time working at her needle, seemingly composed, now
+let her work drop from her hand, and sat for a while in a deep reverie.
+At length she rose up, and followed Miss Woodley to the other apartment.
+She entered grave, majestic and apparently serene, while her poor heart
+fluttered with a thousand distressing sensations. She approached Miss
+Woodley (who was still in tears) with silence; and awed by her manners,
+the faithful friend of her deceased mother exclaimed, "Dear Lady
+Matilda, think no more on what I have done--do not resent it any longer,
+and on my knees I'll beg your pardon." Miss Woodley rose as she uttered
+these last words; but Matilda laid fast hold of her to prevent the
+posture she offered to take, and instantly assumed it herself. "Oh, let
+this be my atonement!" she cried with the most earnest supplication.
+
+They interchanged forgiveness; and as this reconciliation was sincere,
+they each, without reserve, gave their opinion upon the subject that had
+caused the misunderstanding; and it was agreed an apology should be sent
+to Mr. Rushbrook, "That Miss Woodley had been suddenly indisposed:" nor
+could this be said to differ from the truth, for since what had passed
+she was unfit to pay a visit.
+
+Rushbrook, who had been all the morning elated with the advance he
+supposed he had made in that lady's favour, was highly disappointed,
+vexed, and angry, when this apology was delivered; nor did he, nor
+perhaps could he, conceal what he felt, although his severe observer,
+Mr. Sandford, was present.
+
+"I am a very unfortunate man!" said he, as soon as the servant was gone
+who brought the message.
+
+Sandford cast his eyes upon him with a look of surprise and contempt.
+
+"A very unfortunate man indeed, Mr. Sandford," repeated he, "although
+you treat my complaint contemptuously."
+
+Sandford made no reply, and seemed above making one.
+
+They sat down to dinner;--Rushbrook eat scarce any thing, but drank
+frequently; Sandford took no notice of either, but had a book (which was
+his custom when he dined with persons whose conversation was not
+interesting to him) laid by the side of his plate, which he occasionally
+looked into, as the dishes were removing, or other opportunities served.
+
+Rushbrook, just now more hopeless than ever of forming an acquaintance
+with Lady Matilda, began to give way to symptoms of despondency; and
+they made their first attack, by urging him, to treat on the same level
+of familiarity that he himself was treated, Mr. Sandford, to whom he
+had, till now, ever behaved with the most profound tokens of respect.
+
+"Come," said he to him as soon as the dinner was removed, "lay aside
+your book and be good company."
+
+Sandford lifted up his eyes upon him--stared in his face--and cast them on
+the book again.
+
+"Pshaw," continued Rushbrook, "I want a companion; and as Miss Woodley
+has disappointed me, I must have your company."
+
+Sandford now laid his book down upon the table; but still holding his
+fingers in the pages he was reading, said, "And why are you disappointed
+of Miss Woodley's company? When people expect what they have no right to
+hope, 'tis impertinent assurance to complain they are disappointed."
+
+"I had a right to hope she would come," answered Rushbrook, "for she
+promised she would."
+
+"But what right had you to ask her?"
+
+"The right every one has, to make his time pass as agreeably as he can."
+
+"But not at the expence of another."
+
+"I believe, Mr. Sandford, it would be a heavy expence to you, to see me
+happy; I believe it would cost you even your own happiness."
+
+"That is a price I have not now to give:" replied Sandford, and began
+reading again.
+
+"What, you have already paid it away? No wonder that at your time of
+life it should be gone. But what do you think of my having already
+squandered mine?"
+
+"I don't think about you;" returned Sandford, without taking his eyes
+from the book.
+
+"Can you look me in the face and say that, Mr. Sandford? No, you
+cannot--for you know you _do_ think of me, and you know you hate
+me."--Here he drank two glasses of wine one after another; "And I can
+tell you why you hate me," continued he: "It is from a cause for which I
+often hate myself."
+
+Sandford read on.
+
+"It is on Lady Matilda's account you hate me, and use me thus."
+
+Sandford put down the book hastily, and put both his hands by his side.
+
+"Yes," resumed Rushbrook, "you think I am wronging her."
+
+"I think you insult her," exclaimed Sandford, "by this rude mention of
+her name; and I command you at your peril to desist."
+
+"At my peril! Mr. Sandford? Do you assume the authority of my Lord
+Elmwood?"
+
+"I do on this occasion; and if you dare to give your tongue a freedom"----
+
+Rushbrook interrupted him--"Why then I boldly say, (and as her friend you
+ought rather to applaud than resent it) I boldly say, that my heart
+suffers so much for her situation, that I am regardless of my own. I
+love her father--I loved her mother more--but I love _her_ beyond
+either."
+
+"Hold your licentious tongue," cried Sandford, "or quit the room."
+
+"Licentious! Oh! the pure thoughts that dwell in her innocent mind, are
+not less sensual than mine towards her. Do you upbraid me with my
+respect, my pity for her? They are the sensations which impel me to
+speak thus undisguised, even to you, my open--no, even worse--my secret
+enemy!"
+
+"Insult _me_ as you please, Mr. Rushbrook,--but beware how you mention
+Lord Elmwood's daughter."
+
+"Can it be to her dishonour that I pity her? that I would quit the house
+this moment never to return, so that she supplied the place I with-hold
+from her."
+
+"Go, then;" cried Sandford.
+
+"It would be of no use to her, or I would. But come, Mr. Sandford, I
+will dare do as much as you. Only second me, and I will entreat Lord
+Elmwood to be reconciled--to see and own her."
+
+"Your vanity would be equal to your temerity--_you_ entreat? She must
+greatly esteem those paternal favours which _your_ entreaties gained
+her! Do you forget, young man, how short a time it is, since you were
+_entreated for?_"
+
+"I prove that I do not, while this anxiety for Lady Matilda, arises,
+from what I feel on that account."
+
+"Remove your anxiety, then, from her to yourself; for were I to let Lord
+Elmwood know what has now passed"--
+
+"It is for your own sake, not for mine, if you do not."
+
+"You shall not dare me to it, Mr. Rushbrook." And he rose from his seat:
+"You shall not dare me to do you an injury. But to avoid the temptation,
+I will never again come into your company, unless my friend, Lord
+Elmwood, be present, to protect me and his child from your insults."
+
+Rushbrook rose in yet more warmth than Sandford
+
+"Have you the injustice to say that I have insulted Lady Matilda?"
+
+"To speak of her at all, is in you an insult. But you have done more--you
+have dared to visit her--to force into her presence and shock her with
+your offers of services which she scorns; and with your compassion,
+which she is above."
+
+"Did she complain to you?"
+
+"She or her friend did."
+
+"I rather suppose, Mr. Sandford, that you have bribed some of the
+servants to reveal this."
+
+"The suspicion becomes Lord Elmwood's heir."
+
+"It becomes the man, who lives in a house with you."
+
+"I thank you, Mr. Rushbrook, for what has passed this day--it has taken a
+weight off my mind. I thought my disinclination to you, might perhaps
+arise from prejudice--this conversation has relieved me from those fears,
+and--I thank you." Saying this he calmly walked out of the room, and left
+Rushbrook to reflect on what he had been doing.
+
+Heated with the wine he had drank (and which Sandford, engaged on his
+book, had not observed) no sooner was he alone, than he became by
+degrees cool and repentant. "What had he done?" was the first question
+to himself--"He had offended Sandford."--The man, whom reason as well as
+prudence had ever taught him to respect, and even to revere. He had
+grossly offended the firm friend of Lady Matilda, by the unreserved and
+wanton use of her name. All the retorts he had uttered came now to his
+memory; with a total forgetfulness of all that Sandford had said to
+provoke them.
+
+He once thought to follow him and beg his pardon; but the contempt with
+which he had been treated, more than all the anger, with-held him.
+
+As he sat forming plans how to retrieve the opinion, ill as it was,
+which Sandford formerly entertained of him, he received a letter from
+Lord Elmwood, kindly enquiring after his health, and saying that he
+should be down early in the following week. Never were the friendly
+expressions of his uncle half so welcome to him; for they served to
+sooth his imagination, racked with Sandford's wrath, and his own
+displeasure.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+When Sandford acted deliberately, he always acted up to his duty; it was
+his duty to forgive Rushbrook, and he did so--but he had declared he
+would never "Be again in his company unless Lord Elmwood was present;"
+and with all his forgiveness, he found an unforgiving gratification, in
+the duty, of being obliged to keep his word.
+
+The next day Rushbrook dined alone, while Sandford gave his company to
+the ladies. Rushbrook was too proud to seek to conciliate Sandford by
+abject concessions, but he endeavoured to meet him as by accident, and
+meant to try what, in such a case, a submissive apology might effect.
+For two days all the schemes he formed on that head proved fruitless; he
+could never procure even a sight of him. But on the evening of the third
+day, taking a lonely walk, he turned the corner of a grove, and saw in
+the very path he was going, Sandford accompanied by Miss Woodley; and,
+what agitated him infinitely more, Lady Matilda was with them. He knew
+not whether to proceed, or to quit the path and palpably shun them--to
+one, who seemed to put an unkind construction upon all he said and did,
+he knew that to do either, would be to do wrong. In spite of the
+propensity he felt to pass so near to Matilda, could he have known what
+conduct would have been deemed the most respectful, whatever painful
+denial it had cost him, _that_, he would have adopted. But undetermined
+whether to go forward, or to cross to another path, he still walked on
+till he came too nigh to recede: he then, with a diffidence not
+affected, but most powerfully felt, pulled off his hat; and without
+bowing, stood respectfully silent while the company passed. Sandford
+walked on some paces before, and took no further notice as he went by
+him, than just touching the fore part of his hat with his finger. Miss
+Woodley curtsied as she followed. But Lady Matilda made a full stop, and
+said, in the gentlest accents, "I hope, Mr. Rushbrook, you are perfectly
+recovered."
+
+It was the sweetest music he had ever listened to; and he replied with
+the most reverential bow, "I am better a great deal, Ma'am." Then
+instantly pursued his way as if he did not dare to utter another
+syllable.
+
+Sandford seldom found fault with Lady Matilda; not because he loved her,
+but because she seldom did wrong--upon this occasion, however, he was
+half inclined to reprimand her; but yet he did not know what to say--the
+subsequent humility of Rushbrook, had taken from the indiscretion of her
+speaking to him, and the event could by no means justify his censure. On
+hearing her begin to speak, Sandford had stopped; and as Rushbrook after
+replying, walked away, Sandford called to her crossly, "Come, come
+along." But at the same time he put out his elbow for her to take hold
+of his arm.
+
+She hastened her steps, and did so--then turning to Miss Woodley, she
+said, "I expected you would have spoken to Mr. Rushbrook; it might have
+prevented me."
+
+Miss Woodley replied, "I was at a loss what to do;--when we met formerly,
+he always spoke first."
+
+"And he ought now," cried Sandford angrily--and then added, with a
+sarcastic smile, "It is certainly proper that the _superior_, should be
+the first who speaks."
+
+"He did not look as if he thought himself our superior," replied
+Matilda.
+
+"No," returned Sandford, "some people can put on what looks they
+please."
+
+"Then while he looks so pale," replied Matilda, "and so dejected, I can
+never forbear speaking to him when we meet, whatever he may think of
+it."
+
+"And were he and I to meet a hundred, nay a thousand times," returned
+Sandford, "I don't think I should ever speak to him again."
+
+"Bless me! what for, Mr. Sandford?" cried Matilda--for Sandford, who was
+not a man that repeated little incidents, had never mentioned the
+circumstance of their quarrel.
+
+"I have taken such a resolution," answered he, "yet I bear him no
+enmity."
+
+As this short reply indicated that he meant to say no more, no more was
+asked; and the subject was dropped.
+
+In the mean time, Rushbrook, happier than he had been for months,
+intoxicated with joy at that voluntary mark of civility he had received
+from Lady Matilda, felt his heart so joyous, and so free from every
+particle of malice, that he resolved, in the humblest manner, to make
+atonement for the violation of decorum he had lately committed against
+Mr. Sandford.
+
+Too happy, at this time, to suffer a mortification from any indignities
+he might receive, he sent his servant to him into his study, as soon as
+he was returned home, to beg to know "If he might be permitted to wait
+upon him, with a message he had to deliver from Lord Elmwood."
+
+The servant returned--"Mr. Sandford desired he would send the message by
+him, or the house-steward." This was highly affronting; but Rushbrook
+was not in a humour to be offended, and he sent again, begging he would
+admit him; but the answer was, "He was busy."
+
+Thus wholly defeated in his hopes of reconciliation, his new transports
+felt an allay, and the few days that remained before Lord Elmwood came,
+he passed in solitary musing, and ineffectual walks and looks towards
+that path in which he had met Matilda--she came that way no more--indeed
+scarce quitted her apartment, in the practice of that confinement she
+was to experience on the arrival of her father.
+
+All her former agitations now returned. On the day he arrived she
+wept--all the night she did not sleep--and the name of Rushbrook again
+became hateful to her. The Earl came in extremely good health and
+spirits, but appeared concerned to find Rushbrook less well than when he
+went from town. Sandford was now under the necessity of being in
+Rushbrook's company, yet he would never speak to him but when he was
+obliged; or look at him, but when he could not help it. Lord Elmwood
+observed this conduct, yet he neither wondered, or was offended at it--he
+had perceived what little esteem Sandford showed his nephew from his
+first return; but he forgave, in Sandford's humour, a thousand faults he
+would not forgive in any other; nor did he deem this one of his greatest
+faults, knowing the demand upon his partiality from another object.
+
+Miss Woodley waited on Lord Elmwood as formerly; dined with him, and
+related, as heretofore, to the attentive Matilda, all that passed.
+
+About this time Lord Margrave, deprived by the season of all the sports
+of the field, felt his love for Matilda (which had been violent, even
+though divided with the love of hunting) now too strong to be subdued;
+and he resolved, though reluctantly, to apply to her father for his
+consent to their union; but writing to Sandford this resolution, he was
+once more repulsed, and charged as a man of honour, to forbear to
+disturb the tranquillity of the family by any application of the kind.
+To this, Sandford received no answer; for the peer, highly incensed at
+his mistress's repugnance to him, determined more firmly than ever to
+consult his own happiness alone; and as that depended merely upon his
+obtaining her, he cared not by what method it was effected.
+
+About a fortnight after Lord Elmwood came into the country, as he was
+riding one morning, his horse fell with him, and crushed his leg in so
+unfortunate a manner, as to be at first pronounced of dangerous
+consequence. He was brought home in a post chaise, and Matilda heard of
+the accident with more grief than would, perhaps, on such an occasion,
+appertain to the most fondled child.
+
+In consequence of the pain he suffered, his fever was one night very
+high; and Sandford, who seldom quitted his apartment, went frequently to
+his bedside, every time with the secret hope he should hear him ask to
+see his daughter--he was every time disappointed--yet he saw him shake,
+with a cordial friendship, the hand of Rushbrook, as if he delighted in
+seeing those he loved.
+
+The danger in which Lord Elmwood was supposed to be, was but of short
+duration, and his sudden recovery succeeded. Matilda, who had wept,
+moaned, and watched during the crisis of his illness, when she heard he
+was amending, exclaimed, (with a kind of surprise at the novelty of the
+sensation) "And this is joy that I feel! Oh! I never till now knew, what
+those persons felt who experienced joy."
+
+Nor did she repine, like Mr. Sandford and Miss Woodley, at her father's
+inattention to her during his malady, for she did not hope like them--she
+did not hope he would behold her, even in dying.
+
+But notwithstanding his seeming indifference, while his indisposition
+continued, no sooner was he recovered so as to receive the
+congratulations of his friends, than there was no one person he
+evidently showed so much satisfaction at seeing, as Miss Woodley. She
+waited upon him timorously, and with more than ordinary distaste at his
+late conduct, when he put out his hand with the utmost warmth to receive
+her; drew her to him; saluted her, (an honour he had never in his life
+conferred before) with signs of the sincerest friendship and affection.
+Sandford was present; and ever associating the idea of Matilda with Miss
+Woodley, felt his heart bound with a triumph it had not enjoyed for many
+a day.
+
+Matilda listened with delight to the recital Miss Woodley gave on her
+return, and many times while it lasted exclaimed, "She was happy." But
+poor Matilda's sudden transports of joy, which she termed happiness,
+were not made for long continuance; and if she ever found cause for
+gladness, she far oftener had motives for grief.
+
+As Mr. Sandford was sitting with her and Miss Woodley, one evening about
+a week after, a person rang at the bell and inquired for him: on being
+told of it by the servant, he went to the door of the apartment, and
+cried, "Oh! is it you? Come in." An elderly man entered, who had been
+for many years the head gardener at Elmwood House; a man of honesty and
+sobriety, and with an indigent family of aged parents, children, and
+other relations, who subsisted wholly on the income arising from his
+place. The ladies, as well as Sandford, knew him well, and they all,
+almost at once, asked, "What was the matter?" for his looks told them
+something distressful had befallen him.
+
+"Oh, Sir!" said he to Sandford, "I come to intreat your interest."
+
+"In what, Edwards?" said Sandford with a mild voice; for when his
+assistance was supplicated in distress, his rough tones always took a
+plaintive key.
+
+"My Lord has discharged me from his service!" (returned Edwards
+trembling, and the tears starting in his eyes) "I am undone, Mr.
+Sandford, unless you plead for me."
+
+"I will," said Sandford, "I will."
+
+"And yet I am almost afraid of your success," replied the man, "for my
+Lord has ordered me out of his house this moment; and though I knelt
+down to him to be heard, he had no pity."
+
+Matilda sighed from the bottom of her heart, and yet she envied this
+poor man, who had been kneeling to her father.
+
+"What was your offence?" cried Sandford.
+
+The man hesitated; then looking at Matilda, said, "I'll tell you, Sir,
+some other time."
+
+"Did you name me, before Lord Elmwood?" cried she eagerly, and
+terrified.
+
+"No, Madam," replied he, "but I unthinkingly spoke of my poor Lady who
+is dead and gone."
+
+Matilda burst into tears.
+
+"How came you to do so mad a thing?" cried Sandford; and the
+encouragement which his looks had once given him, now fled from his
+face.
+
+"It was unthinkingly," repeated Edwards; "I was showing my Lord some
+plans for the new walks, and told him, among other things, that her
+Ladyship had many years ago approved of them. 'Who?' cried he. Still I
+did not call to mind, but said, 'Lady Elmwood, Sir, while you were
+abroad.'--As soon as these words were delivered, I saw my doom in his
+looks, and he commanded me to quit his house and service that instant."
+
+"I am afraid," said Sandford, shaking his head, "I can do nothing for
+you."
+
+"Yes, Sir, you know you have more power over my Lord than any body--and
+perhaps you may be able to save me and all mine from misery."
+
+"I would, if I could," replied Sandford quickly.
+
+"You can but try, Sir."
+
+Matilda was all this while bathed in tears; nor was Miss Woodley much
+less affected--Lady Elmwood was before their eyes--Matilda beheld her in
+her dying moments; Miss Woodley saw her as the gay ward of Dorriforth.
+
+"Ask Mr. Rushbrook," said Sandford, "prevail on him to speak for you; he
+has more power than I have."
+
+"He has not enough, then," replied Edwards, "for he was in the room with
+my Lord when what I have told you happened."
+
+"And did he say nothing?" asked Sandford.
+
+"Yes, Sir; he offered to speak in my behalf, but my Lord interrupted
+him, and ordered him out of the room--he instantly went."
+
+Sandford, now observing the effect which this narration had on the two
+ladies, led the man to his own apartments, and there assured him he
+dared not undertake his cause; but that if time or chance should happily
+make an alteration in his Lord's disposition, he would be the first who
+would endeavour to replace him.--Edwards was obliged to submit; and
+before the next day at noon, his pleasant house by the side of the park,
+his garden, and his orchard, which he had occupied above twenty years,
+were cleared of their old inhabitant, and all his wretched family.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+This melancholy incident, perhaps affected Matilda and all the friends
+of the deceased Lady Elmwood, beyond any other that had occurred since
+her death. A few days after this circumstance, Miss Woodley, in order to
+divert the disconsolate mind of Lady Matilda, (and in the hope of
+bringing her some little anecdotes, to console her for that which had
+given her so much pain) waited upon Lord Elmwood in his library, and
+borrowed some books out of it. He was now perfectly well from his fall,
+and received her with his usual politeness, but, of course, not with
+that peculiar warmth which he had discovered when he received her just
+after his illness. Rushbrook was in the library at the same time; he
+shewed her several beautiful prints which Lord Elmwood had just received
+from London, and appeared anxious to entertain and give tokens of his
+esteem and respect for her. But what gave her pleasure beyond any other
+attention, was, that after she had taken (by the aid of Rushbrook) about
+a dozen volumes from different shelves, and had laid them together,
+saying she would send her servant to fetch them; Lord Elmwood went
+eagerly to the place where they were, and taking up each book, examined
+minutely what it was. One author he complained was too light, another
+too depressing, and put them on the shelves again: another was
+erroneous, and he changed it for a better: thus, he warned her against
+some, and selected other authors, as the most cautious preceptor culls
+for his pupil, or a fond father for his darling Child. She thanked him
+for his attention to her, but her heart thanked him for his attention to
+his daughter. For as she had herself never received such a proof of his
+care since all their long acquaintance, she reasonably supposed,
+Matilda's reading, and not hers, was the object of his solicitude.
+
+Having in these books store of comfort for poor Matilda, she eagerly
+returned with them; and in reciting every particular circumstance, made
+her consider the volumes, almost like presents from her father.
+
+The month of September was now arrived; and Lord Elmwood, accompanied by
+Rushbrook, went to a small shooting seat, near twenty miles distant from
+Elmwood Castle, for a week's particular sport. Matilda was once more at
+large; and one beautiful morning, about eleven o'clock, seeing Miss
+Woodley walking on the lawn before the house, she hastily took her hat
+to join her; and not waiting to put it on, went nimbly down the great
+staircase, with it hanging on her arm. When she had descended a few
+stairs, she heard a footstep walking slowly up; and, (from what emotion
+she could not tell,) she stopped short, half resolved to turn back. She
+hesitated a single instant whether she should or not--then went a few
+steps further till she came to the second landing place; when, by the
+sudden winding of the staircase,--Lord Elmwood was immediately before
+her!
+
+She had felt something like affright before she saw him; but her reason
+told her she had nothing to fear, as he was away. But now, the
+appearance of a stranger whom she had never before seen; the authority
+in his looks, as well as in the sound of his steps; a resemblance to the
+portrait she had been shown of him; a start of astonishment which he
+gave on beholding her; but above all--her _fears_ confirmed her that it
+was him. She gave a scream of terror--put out her trembling hands to
+catch the balustrades for support--missed them--and fell motionless into
+her father's arms.
+
+He caught her, as by the same impulse, he would have caught any other
+person falling for want of aid. Yet when he found her in his arms, he
+still held her there--gazed on her attentively--and once pressed her to
+his bosom.
+
+At length trying to escape the snare into which he had been led, he was
+going to leave her on the spot where she fell, when her eyes opened and
+she uttered, "Save me." Her voice unmanned him. His long-restrained
+tears now burst forth--and seeing her relapsing into the swoon, he cried
+out eagerly to recall her. Her name did not, however, come to his
+recollection--nor any name but this--"Miss Milner--Dear Miss Milner."
+
+That sound did not awaken her; and now again he wished to leave her in
+this senseless state, that not remembering what had passed, she might
+escape the punishment.
+
+But at this instant, Giffard, with another servant, passed by the foot
+of the stairs: on which, Lord Elmwood called to them--and into Giffard's
+hands delivered his apparently dead child; without one command
+respecting her, or one word of any kind; while his face was agitated
+with shame, with pity, with anger, with paternal tenderness.
+
+As Giffard stood trembling, while he relieved his Lord from this hapless
+burthen, her father had to unloose her hand from the side of his coat,
+which she had caught fast hold of as she fell, and grasped so closely,
+it was with difficulty released.--On attempting to take the hand away he
+trembled--faltered--then bade Giffard do it.
+
+"Who, I, my Lord! I separate you!" cried he. But recollecting himself,
+"My Lord, I will obey your commands whatever they are." And seizing her
+hand, pulled it with violence--it fell--and her father went away.
+
+Matilda was carried to her own apartments, laid upon the bed, and Miss
+Woodley hasted to attend her, after listening to the recital of what had
+passed.
+
+When Lady Elmwood's old and affectionate friend entered the room, and
+saw her youthful charge lying pale and speechless, yet no father by to
+comfort or sooth her, she lifted up her hands to Heaven exclaiming, with
+a burst of tears, "And is this the end of thee, my poor child? Is this
+the end of all our hopes?--of thy own fearful hopes--and of thy mother's
+supplications! Oh! Lord Elmwood! Lord Elmwood!"
+
+At that name Matilda started, and cried, "Where is he? Is it a dream, or
+have I seen him?"
+
+"It is all a dream, my dear," said Miss Woodley.
+
+"And yet I thought he held me in his arms," she replied--"I thought I
+felt his hands press mine.--Let me sleep and dream again."
+
+Now thinking it best to undeceive her, "It is no dream, my dear,"
+returned Miss Woodley.
+
+"Is it not?" cried she, starting up and leaning on her elbow--"Then I
+suppose I must go away--go for ever away."
+
+Sandford now entered. Having been told the news, he came to condole--but
+at the sight of him Matilda was terrified, and cried, "Do not reproach
+me, do not upbraid me--I know I have done wrong--I know I had but one
+command from my father, and that I have disobeyed."
+
+Sandford could not reproach her, for he could not speak; he therefore
+only walked to the window and concealed his tears.
+
+That whole day and night was passed in sympathetic grief, in alarm at
+every sound, lest it should be a messenger to pronounce Matilda's
+destiny.
+
+Lord Elmwood did not stay upon this visit above three hours at Elmwood
+House; he then set off again for the seat he had left; where Rushbrook
+still remained, and from whence his Lordship had merely come by
+accident, to look over some writings which he wanted dispatched to town.
+
+During his short continuance here, Sandford cautiously avoided his
+presence; for he thought, in a case like this, what nature would not of
+herself effect, no art, no arguments of his, could accomplish: to Nature
+and Providence he left the whole. What these two powerful principles
+brought about, the reader will judge, when he peruses the following
+letter, received early the next morning by Miss Woodley.
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+SIMPLE STORY,
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES,
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+VOL. IV.
+
+_THE FOURTH EDITION._
+
+LONDON:
+
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,
+
+PATERNOSTER ROW.
+
+1799.
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+_A letter from Giffard, Lord Elmwood's House Steward, to Miss Woodley._
+
+     "MADAM,
+
+     "My Lord, above a twelvemonth ago, acquainted me he had permitted his
+     daughter to reside in his house; but at the same time he informed me,
+     the grant was under a certain restriction, which, if ever broken, I
+     was to see his then determination (of which he also acquainted me)
+     put in execution. In consequence of Lady Matilda's indisposition,
+     Madam, I have ventured to delay this notice till morning.--I need not
+     say with what concern I now give it, or mention to you, I believe,
+     what is forfeited. My Lord staid but a few hours yesterday, after the
+     unhappy circumstance on which I write, took place; nor did I see him
+     after, till he was in his carriage; he then sent for me to the
+     carriage door, and told me he should be back in two days time, and
+     added, 'Remember your duty.' That duty, I hope, Madam, you will not
+     require me to explain in more direct terms.--As soon as my Lord
+     returns, I have no doubt but he will ask me if it is fulfilled, and I
+     shall be under the greatest apprehension, should his commands not be
+     obeyed.
+
+     "If there is any thing wanting for the convenience of your and Lady
+     Matilda's departure, you have but to order it, and it is at your
+     service--I mean likewise any cash you may have occasion for. I should
+     presume to add my opinion where you might best take up your abode; but
+     with such advice as you will have from Mr. Sandford, mine would be but
+     assuming.
+
+     "I would also have waited upon you, Madam, and have delivered myself
+     the substance of this letter; but I am an old man, and the changes I
+     have been witness to in my Lord's house since I first lived in it,
+     has encreased my age many years; and I have not the strength to see
+     you upon this occasion. I loved my deceased Lady--I love my Lord--and
+     I love their child--nay, so I am sure does my Lord himself; but there
+     is no accounting for his resolutions, or for the alteration his
+     disposition has lately undergone.
+
+     "I beg pardon, Madam, for this long intrusion, and am, and ever will
+     be, (while you and my Lord's daughter are so) your afflicted humble
+     servant,
+
+     "ROBERT GIFFARD.
+
+     "Elmwood House,
+
+     "Sept. 12."
+
+When this letter was brought to Miss Woodley, she knew what it contained
+before she opened it, and therefore took it with an air of
+resignation--yet though she guessed the momentous part of its contents,
+she dreaded in what words it might be related; and having now no
+essential good to expect, hope, that will never totally expire, clung at
+this crisis to little circumstances, and she hoped most fervently, the
+terms of the letter might not be harsh, but that Lord Elmwood had
+delivered his commands in gentle language. The event proved he had; and
+lost to every important comfort, she felt grateful to him for this small
+one.
+
+Matilda, too, was cheered by this letter, for she expected something
+worse; and the last line, in which Giffard said he knew "His Lordship
+loved her," she thought repaid her for the purport of the other part.
+
+Sandford was not so easily resigned or comforted--he walked about the
+room when the letter was shewn to him--called it cruel--stifled his tears,
+and wished to show his resentment only--but the former burst through all
+his endeavours, and he sunk into grief.
+
+Nor was the fortitude of Matilda, which came to her assistance on the
+first onset of this trial, sufficient to arm her, when the moment came
+she was to quit the house--her father's house--never to see that, or him
+again.
+
+When word was brought that the carriage was at the door, which was to
+convey her from all she held so dear, and she saw before her the
+prospect of a long youthful and healthful life, in which misery and
+despair were all she could discern; that despair seized her at once, and
+gaining courage from it, she cried,
+
+"What have I to fear if I disobey my father's commands once more?--he
+cannot use me worse. I'll stay here till he returns--again throw myself
+in his way, and then I will not faint, but plead for mercy. Perhaps were
+I to kneel to him--kneel, like other children to their parents, and beg
+his blessing, he would not refuse it me."
+
+"You must not try:" said Sandford, mildly.
+
+"Who," cried she, "shall prevent me flying to my father? Have I another
+friend on earth? Have I one relation in the world but him? This is the
+second time I have been turned out of his house. In my infant state my
+cruel father turned me out; but then, he sent me to a mother--now I have
+none; and I will stay with him."
+
+Again the steward sent to let them know the coach was waiting.
+
+Sandford, now, with a determined countenance, went coolly up to Lady
+Matilda, and taking her hand, seemed resolved to lead her to the
+carriage.
+
+Accustomed to be awed by every serious look of his, she yet resisted
+this; and cried, "Would _you_ be the minister of my father's cruelty?"
+
+"Then," said Sandford solemnly to her, "farewell--from this moment you
+and I part. I will take my leave, and do you remain where you are--at
+least till you are forced away. But I'll not stay to be driven hence--for
+it is impossible your father will suffer any friend of yours to continue
+here, after this disobedience. Adieu."
+
+"I'll go this moment," said she, and rose hastily.
+
+Miss Woodley took her at her word, and hurried her immediately out of
+the room.
+
+Sandford followed slow behind, as if he had followed at her funeral.
+
+When she came to that spot on the stairs where she had met her father,
+she started back, and scarce knew how to pass it. When she had--"There he
+held me in his arms," said she, "and I thought I felt him press me to
+his heart, but I now find I was mistaken."
+
+As Sandford came forward, to hand her into the coach, "Now you behave
+well;" said he, "by this behaviour, you do not entirely close all
+prospect of reconciliation with your father."
+
+"Do you think it is not yet impossible?" cried she, clasping his hand.
+"Giffard says he loves me," continued she, "and do you think he might
+yet be brought to forgive me?"
+
+"Forgive you!" cried Sandford.
+
+"Suppose I was to write to him, and entreat his forgiveness?"
+
+"Do not write yet," said Sandford, with no cheering accent.
+
+The carriage drove off--and as it went, Matilda leaned her head from the
+window, to survey Elmwood House from the roof to the bottom. She cast
+her eyes upon the gardens too--upon the fish ponds--even the coach houses,
+and all the offices adjoining--which, as objects that she should never
+see again--she contemplated, as objects of importance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Rushbrook, who, at twenty miles distance, could have no conjecture what
+had passed at Elmwood House, during the short visit Lord Elmwood made
+there, went that way with his dogs and gun in order to meet him on his
+return, and accompany him in the chaise back--he did so--and getting into
+the carriage, told him eagerly the sport he had had during the day;
+laughed at an accident that had befallen one of his dogs; and for some
+time did not perceive but that his uncle was perfectly attentive. At
+length, observing he answered more negligently than usual to what he
+said, Rushbrook turned his eyes quickly upon him, and cried,
+
+"My Lord, are you not well?"
+
+"Yes; perfectly well, I thank you, Rushbrook," and he leaned back
+against the carriage.
+
+"I thought, Sir," returned Rushbrook, "you spoke languidly--I beg your
+pardon."
+
+"I have the head-ache a little," answered he:--then taking off his hat,
+brushed the powder from it, and as he put it on again, fetched a most
+heavy sigh; which no sooner had escaped him, than, to drown its sound,
+he said briskly,
+
+"And so you tell me you have had good sport to-day?"
+
+"No, my Lord, I said but indifferent."
+
+"True, so you did. Bid the man drive faster--it will be dark before we
+get home."
+
+"You will shoot to-morrow, my Lord?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"How does Mr. Sandford do, Sir?"
+
+"I did not see him."
+
+"Not see Mr. Sandford, My Lord? but he was out I suppose--for they did
+not expect you at Elmwood House."
+
+"No, they did not."
+
+In such conversation Rushbrook and his uncle continued to the end of
+their journey. Dinner was then immediately served, and Lord Elmwood
+appeared much in his usual spirits; at least, not suspecting any cause
+for their abatement, Rushbrook did not observe any alteration.
+
+Lord Elmwood went, however, earlier to bed than ordinary, or rather to
+his bed-chamber; for though he retired some time before his nephew, when
+Rushbrook passed his chamber door it was open, and he not in bed, but
+sitting in a musing posture, as if he had forgot to shut it.
+
+When Rushbrook's valet came to attend his master, he said to him,
+
+"I suppose, Sir, you do not know what has happened at the Castle?"
+
+"For heaven's sake what?" cried Rushbrook.
+
+"My Lord has met Lady Matilda:" replied the man.
+
+"How? Where? What's the consequence?"
+
+"We don't know yet, Sir; but all the servants suppose her Ladyship will
+not be suffered to remain there any longer."
+
+"They all suppose wrong," returned Rushbrook hastily--"My Lord loves her
+I am certain, and this event may be the happy means of his treating her
+as his child from this day."
+
+The servant smiled and shook his head.
+
+"Why, what more do you know?"
+
+"Nothing more than I have told you, Sir; except that his Lordship took
+no kind of notice of her Ladyship that appeared like love."
+
+Rushbrook was all uneasiness and anxiety to know the particulars of what
+had passed; and now Lord Elmwood's inquietude, which he had but slightly
+noticed before, came full to his observation. He was going to ask more
+questions; but he recollected Lady Matilda's misfortunes were too
+sacred, to be talked of thus familiarly by the servants of the
+family;--besides, it was evident this man thought, and but naturally, it
+might not be for his master's interest the father and the daughter
+should be united; and therefore would certainly give to all he said the
+opposite colouring.
+
+In spite of his prudence, however, and his delicacy towards Matilda,
+Rushbrook could not let his valet leave him till he had inquired, and
+learned all the circumstantial account of what had happened; except,
+indeed, the order received by Giffard, which being given after Lord
+Elmwood was in his carriage and in concise terms, the domestics who
+attended him (and from whom this man had gained his intelligence) were
+unacquainted with it.
+
+When the servant had left Rushbrook alone, the perturbation of his mind
+was so great, that he was, at length, undetermined whether to go to bed,
+or to rush into his uncle's apartment, and at his feet beg for that
+compassion upon his daughter, which he feared he had denied her. But
+then, to what peril would he not expose himself by such a step? Nay, he
+might perhaps even injure her whom he wished to serve; for if his uncle
+was at present unresolved, whether to forgive or to resent this
+disobedience to his commands, another's interference might enrage, and
+precipitate him on the latter.
+
+This consideration was so weighty, it resigned Rushbrook to the suspense
+he was compelled to endure till the morning; when he flattered himself,
+that by watching every look and motion of Lord Elmwood, his penetration
+would be able to discover the state of his heart, and how he meant to
+act.
+
+But the morning came, and he found all his prying curiosity was of no
+avail; Lord Elmwood did not drop one word, give one look, or use one
+action that was not customary.
+
+On first seeing him, Rushbrook blushed at the secret with which he was
+entrusted; then, as he gazed on the Earl, contemplated the joy he ought
+to have known in clasping in his arms a child like Matilda, whose
+tenderness, reverence, and duty, had deprived her of all sensation at
+his sight; which was in Rushbrook's mind an honour, that rendered him
+superior to what he was before.
+
+They were in the fields all the day as usual; Lord Elmwood now cheerful,
+and complaining no more of the head-ache. Yet once being separated from
+his nephew, Rushbrook crossed over a stile into another field, and found
+him sitting by the side of a bank, his gun lying by him, and himself
+lost in thought. He rose on seeing him, and proceeded to the sport as
+before.
+
+At dinner, he said he should not go to Elmwood House the next day, as he
+had appointed, but stay where he was, three or four days longer. From
+these two small occurrences, Rushbrook would fain have extracted
+something by which to judge the state of his mind; but upon the test,
+that was impossible--he had caught him so musing many a time before; and
+as to his prolonging his stay, that might arise from the sport--or,
+indeed, had any thing more material swayed him, who could penetrate
+whether it was the effect of the lenity, or the severity, he had dealt
+towards his child? whether his continuance there was to shun her, or to
+shun the house from whence he had banished her?
+
+The three or four days for their temporary abode being passed, they both
+returned together to Elmwood House. Rushbrook thought he saw his uncle's
+countenance change as they entered the avenue, yet he did not appear
+less in spirits; and when Sandford joined them at dinner, the Earl went
+with his usual alacrity to him, and (as was his custom after any
+separation) put out his hand cheerfully to take his. Sandford said, "How
+do you do, my Lord?" cheerfully in return; but put both his hands into
+his bosom, and walked to the other side of the room. Lord Elmwood did
+not seem to observe this affront--nor was it done as an affront--it was
+merely what poor Sandford felt; and he felt he could _not_ shake hands
+with him.
+
+Rushbrook soon learned the news that Matilda was gone, and Elmwood House
+was to him a desert--he saw there no real friend of her's, except poor
+Sandford, and to him, Rushbrook knew himself now, more displeasing than
+ever; and all his overtures of atonement, he, at this time, found more
+and more ineffectual. Matilda was exiled; and her supposed triumphant
+rival was, to Sandford, more odious than he had ever been.
+
+In alleviation of their banishment, Miss Woodley, with her charge, had
+not returned to their old retreat; but were gone to a farm house, not
+farther than thirty miles from Lord Elmwood's: here Sandford, with
+little inconvenience, visited them; nor did his patron ever take notice
+of his occasional absence; for as he had before given his daughter, in
+some measure, to his charge; so honour, delicacy, and the common ties of
+duty, made him approve, rather than condemn his attention to her.
+
+Though Sandford's frequent visits soothed Matilda, they could not
+comfort her; for he had no consolation to bestow that was suited to her
+mind--her father had given no one token of regret for what he had done.
+He had even inquired sternly of Giffard on his returning home,
+
+"If Miss Woodley had left the house?"
+
+The steward guessing the whole of his meaning, answered, "Yes, my Lord;
+and _all_ your commands in that respect have been obeyed."
+
+He replied, "I am satisfied." And, to the grief of the old man, appeared
+really so.
+
+To the farm-house, the place of Matilda's residence, there came, besides
+Sandford, another visitor far less welcome--Viscount Margrave. He had
+heard with surprise, and still greater joy, that Lord Elmwood had once
+more shut his doors against his daughter. In this her discarded state,
+he no longer burthened his lively imagination with the dull thoughts of
+marriage, but once more formed the idea of making her his mistress.
+
+Ignorant of a certain decorum which attended all Lord Elmwood's actions,
+he suspected that his child might be in want; and an acquaintance with
+the worst part of her sex informed him, that relief from poverty was the
+sure bargain for his success. With these hopes, he again paid Miss
+Woodley and her a visit; but the coldness of the former, and the
+haughtiness of the latter, still kept him at a distance, and again made
+him fear to give one allusion to his purpose: but he returned home
+resolved to write what he durst not speak--he did so--he offered his
+services, his purse, his house--they were rejected with contempt, and a
+stronger prohibition than ever given to his visits.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Lord Elmwood had now allowed Rushbrook a long vacation, in respect to
+his answer upon the subject of marriage; and the young man vainly
+imagined, his intentions upon that subject were entirely given up. One
+morning, however, as he was attending him in the library,
+
+"Henry,"----said his uncle, with a pause at the beginning of his speech,
+which indicated that he was going to say something of importance,
+"Henry----you have not forgot the discourse I had with you a little time
+previous to your illness?"
+
+Henry hesitated--for he wished to have forgotten it--but it was too
+strongly impressed upon his memory. Lord Elmwood resumed,
+
+"What! equivocating again, Sir? Do you remember it, or do you not?"
+
+"Yes, my Lord, I do."
+
+"And are you prepared to give me an answer?"
+
+Rushbrook paused again.
+
+"In our former conversation," continued the Earl, "I gave you but a week
+to determine--there has, I think, elapsed since that time, half a year."
+
+"About as much, Sir."
+
+"Then surely you have now made up your mind?"
+
+"I had done that at first, my Lord--if it had met with your concurrence."
+
+"You wished to lead a bachelor's life, I think you said?"
+
+Rushbrook bowed.
+
+"Contrary to my will?"
+
+"No, my Lord, I wished to have your approbation."
+
+"And you wished for my approbation of the very opposite thing to that I
+proposed? But I am not surprised--such is the gratitude of the world--and
+such is yours."
+
+"My Lord, if you doubt my gratitude----"
+
+"Give me a proof of it, Harry, and I will doubt no longer."
+
+"Upon every other subject but this, my Lord, Heaven is my witness your
+happiness----"
+
+Lord Elmwood interrupted him. "I understand you--upon every other
+subject, but the only one, my content requires, you are ready to obey
+me. I thank you."
+
+"My Lord, do not torture me with this suspicion; it is so contrary to my
+deserts, that I cannot bear it."
+
+"Suspicion of your ingratitude!--you judge too favourably of my
+opinion--it amounts to certainty."
+
+"Then to convince you, Sir, I am not ungrateful, tell me who the Lady is
+you have chosen for me, and here I give you my word, I will sacrifice
+all my future prospects of happiness--all, for which I would wish to
+live--and become her husband as soon as you shall appoint."
+
+This was spoken with a tone so expressive of despair, that Lord Elmwood
+replied,
+
+"And while you obey me, you take care to let me know, it will cost you
+your future peace. This is, I suppose, to enhance the merit of the
+obligation--but I shall not accept your acquiescence on these terms."
+
+"Then in dispensing with it, I hope for your pardon."
+
+"Do you suppose, Rushbrook, I can pardon an offence, the sole foundation
+of which, arises from a spirit of disobedience?--for you have declared to
+me your affections are disengaged. In our last conversation did you not
+say so?"
+
+"At first I did, my Lord--but you permitted me to consult my heart more
+closely; and I have since found that I was mistaken."
+
+"You then own you at first told me a falsehood, and yet have all this
+time, kept me in suspense without confessing it."
+
+"I waited, my Lord, till you should enquire----"
+
+"You have then, Sir, waited too long;" and the fire flashed from his
+eyes.
+
+Rushbrook now found himself in that perilous state, that admitted of no
+medium of resentment, but by such dastardly conduct on his part, as
+would wound both his truth and courage; and thus, animated by his
+danger, he was resolved to plunge boldly at once into the depth of his
+patron's anger.
+
+"My Lord," said he, (but he did not undertake this task without
+sustaining the trembling and convulsion of his whole frame) "My
+Lord--waving for a moment the subject of my marriage--permit me to remind
+you, that when I was upon my sick bed, you promised, that on my
+recovery, you would listen to a petition I should offer to you."
+
+"Let me recollect," replied he. "Yes--I do remember something of it. But
+I said nothing to warrant any improper petition."
+
+"Its impropriety was not named, my Lord."
+
+"No matter--that, you must judge of, and answer for the consequences."
+
+"I would answer with my life, willingly--but I own that I shrink from
+your anger."
+
+"Then do not provoke it."
+
+"I have already gone too far to recede--and you would of course demand an
+explanation, if I attempted to stop here."
+
+"I should."
+
+"Then, my Lord, I am bound to speak--but do not interrupt me--hear me out,
+before you banish me from your presence for ever."
+
+"I will, Sir," replied he, prepared to hear something that would
+displease him, and yet determined to hear with patience to the
+conclusion.
+
+"Then, my Lord,"--(cried Rushbrook, in the greatest agitation of mind and
+body) "Your daughter"----
+
+The resolution Lord Elmwood had taken (and on which he had given his
+word to his nephew not to interrupt him) immediately gave way. The
+colour rose in his face--his eye darted lightning--and his hand was lifted
+up with the emotion, that word had created.
+
+"You promised to hear me, my Lord!" cried Rushbrook, "and I claim your
+promise."
+
+He now suddenly overcame his violence of passion, and stood silent and
+resigned to hear him; but with a determined look, expressive of the
+vengeance that should ensue.
+
+"Lady Matilda," resumed Rushbrook, "is an object that wrests from me the
+enjoyment of every blessing your kindness bestows. I cannot but feel
+myself as her adversary--as one, who has supplanted her in your
+affections--who supplies her place, while she is exiled, a wanderer, and
+an orphan."
+
+The Earl took his eyes from Rushbrook, during this last sentence, and
+cast them on the floor.
+
+"If I feel gratitude towards you, my Lord," continued he, "gratitude is
+innate in my heart, and I must also feel it towards her, who first
+introduced me to your protection."
+
+Again the colour flew to Lord Elmwood's face; and again he could hardly
+restrain himself from uttering his indignation.
+
+"It was the mother of Lady Matilda," continued Rushbrook, "who was this
+friend to me; nor will I ever think of marriage, or any other joyful
+prospect, while you abandon the only child of my beloved patroness, and
+load me with rights, which belong to her."
+
+Here Rushbrook stopped--Lord Elmwood was silent too, for near half a
+minute; but still his countenance continued fixed, with his unvaried
+resolves.
+
+After this long pause, the Earl said with composure, but with firmness,
+"Have you finished, Mr. Rushbrook?"
+
+"All that I dare to utter, my Lord; and I fear, I have already said too
+much."
+
+Rushbrook now trembled more than ever, and looked pale as death; for the
+ardour of speaking being over, he waited his sentence, with less
+constancy of mind than he expected he should.
+
+"You disapprove my conduct, it seems;" said Lord Elmwood, "and in that,
+you are but like the rest of the world--and yet, among all my
+acquaintance, you are the only one who has dared to insult me with your
+opinion. And this you have not done inadvertently; but willingly, and
+deliberately. But as it has been my fate to be used ill, and severed
+from all those persons to whom my soul has been most attached; with less
+regret I can part from you, than if this were my first trial."
+
+There was a truth and a pathetic sound in the utterance of these words,
+that struck Rushbrook to the heart--and he beheld himself as a barbarian,
+who had treated his benevolent and only friend, with insufferable
+liberty; void of respect for those corroding sorrows which had
+imbittered so many years of his life, and in open violation of his most
+peremptory commands. He felt that he deserved all he was going to
+suffer, and he fell upon his knees; not so much to deprecate the doom he
+saw impending, as thus humbly to acknowledge, it was his due.
+
+Lord Elmwood, irritated by this posture, as a sign of the presumptuous
+hope that he might be forgiven, suffered now his anger to burst all
+bounds; and raising his voice, he exclaimed in a rage,
+
+"Leave my house, Sir. Leave my house instantly, and seek some other
+home."
+
+Just as these words were begun, Sandford opened the library door, was
+witness to them, and to the imploring situation of Rushbrook. He stood
+silent with amazement!
+
+Rushbrook arose, and feeling in his mind a presage, that he might never
+from that hour, behold his benefactor more; as he bowed in token of
+obedience to his commands, a shower of tears covered his face; but Lord
+Elmwood, unmoved, fixed his eyes upon him, which pursued him with
+enraged looks to the end of the room. Here he had to pass Sandford; who,
+for the first time in his life, took hold of him by the hand, and said
+to Lord Elmwood, "My Lord, what's the matter?"
+
+"That ungrateful villain," cried he, "has dared to insult me.--Leave my
+house this moment, Sir."
+
+Rushbrook made an effort to go, but Sandford still held his hand; and
+meekly said to Lord Elmwood,
+
+"He is but a boy, my Lord, and do not give him the punishment of a man."
+
+Rushbrook now snatched his hand from Sandford's, and threw it with
+himself upon his neck; where he indeed sobbed like a boy.
+
+"You are both in league," exclaimed Lord Elmwood.
+
+"Do you suspect me of partiality to Mr. Rushbrook?" said Sandford,
+advancing nearer to the Earl.
+
+Rushbrook had now gained the point of remaining in the room; but the
+hope that privilege inspired (while he still harboured all the just
+apprehensions for his fate) gave birth, perhaps, to a more exquisite
+sensation of pain, than despair would have done. He stood
+silent--confounded--hoping that he was forgiven--fearing that he was not.
+
+As Sandford approached still nearer to Lord Elmwood, he continued, "No,
+my Lord, I know you do not suspect me, of partiality to Mr.
+Rushbrook--has any part of my behaviour ever discovered it?"
+
+"You now then only interfere to provoke me."
+
+"If that were the case," returned Sandford, "there have been occasions,
+when I might have done it more effectually--when my own heart-strings
+were breaking, because I would not provoke, or add to what you
+suffered."
+
+"I am obliged to you, Mr. Sandford:" he returned, mildly.
+
+"And if, my Lord, I have proved any merit in a late forbearance, reward
+me for it now; and take this young man from the depth of despair in
+which I see he is sunk, and say you pardon him."
+
+Lord Elmwood made no answer--and Rushbrook, drawing strong inferences of
+hope from his silence, lifted up his eyes from the ground, and ventured
+to look in his face: he found it composed to what it had been, but still
+strongly marked with agitation. He cast his eyes away again, in
+confusion.
+
+On which his uncle said to him--"I shall postpone executing your
+obedience to my late orders, till you think fit once more to provoke
+them--and then, not even Sandford, shall dare to plead your excuse."
+
+Rushbrook bowed.
+
+"Go, leave the room, Sir."
+
+He instantly obeyed.
+
+Then Sandford, turning to Lord Elmwood, shook him by the hand, and
+cried, "My Lord, I thank you--I thank you very kindly, my Lord--I shall
+now begin to think I have some weight with you."
+
+"You might indeed think so, did you know how much I have pardoned."
+
+"What was his offence, my Lord?"
+
+"Such as I would not have forgiven you, or any earthly being besides
+himself--but while you were speaking in his behalf, I recollected there
+was a gratitude so extraordinary in the hazards he ran, that almost made
+him pardonable."
+
+"I guess the subject then," cried Sandford; and yet I could not have
+supposed"----
+
+"It is a subject we cannot speak on, Sandford, therefore let us drop
+it."
+
+At these words the discourse concluded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+To the relief of Rushbrook, Lord Elmwood that day dined from home, and
+he had not the confusion to see him again till the evening. Previous to
+this, Sandford and he met at dinner; but as the attendants were present,
+nothing passed on either side respecting the incident in the morning.
+Rushbrook, from the peril which had so lately threatened him, was now in
+his perfectly cool, and dispassionate senses; and notwithstanding the
+real tenderness which he bore to the daughter of his benefactor, he was
+not insensible to the comfort of finding himself, once more in the
+possession of all those enjoyments he had forfeited, and for a moment
+lost.
+
+As he reflected on this, to Sandford he felt the first tie of
+acknowledgement--but for his compassion, he knew he should have been at
+that very time of their meeting at dinner, away from Elmwood House for
+ever; and bearing on his mind a still more painful recollection, the
+burthen of his kind patron's continual displeasure. Filled with these
+thoughts, all the time of dinner, he could scarce look at his companion,
+without tears of gratitude; and whenever he attempted to speak to him,
+gratitude choaked his utterance.
+
+Sandford, on his part, behaved just the same as ever; and to show he did
+not wish to remind Rushbrook of what he had done, he was just as uncivil
+as ever.
+
+Among other things, he said, "He did not know Lord Elmwood dined from
+home, for if he had, he should have dined in his own apartment."
+
+Rushbrook was still more obliged to him for all this; and the weight of
+obligations with which he was oppressed, made him long for an
+opportunity to relieve himself by expressions. As soon, therefore, as
+the servants were all withdrawn, he began:
+
+"Mr. Sandford, whatever has been your opinion of _me_, I take pride to
+myself, that in my sentiments towards _you_, I have always distinguished
+you for that humane, disinterested character, you have this day proved."
+
+"Humane, and disinterested," replied Sandford, "are flattering epithets
+indeed, for an old man going out of the world, and who can have no
+temptation to be otherwise."
+
+"Then suffer me to call your actions generous and compassionate, for
+they have saved me----"
+
+"I know, young man," cried Sandford, interrupting him, "you are glad at
+what I have done, and that you find a gratification in telling me you
+are; but it is a gratification I will not indulge you with--therefore,
+say another sentence on the subject, and" (rising from his seat) "I'll
+leave the room, and never come into your company again, whatever your
+uncle may say to it."
+
+Rushbrook saw by the solemnity of his countenance, he was serious, and
+positively assured him he would never thank him more: on which Sandford
+took his seat again, but he still frowned, and it was many minutes
+before he conquered his ill humour. As his countenance became less sour,
+Rushbrook fell from some general topics he had eagerly started in order
+to appease him, and said,
+
+"How hard is it to restrain conversation from the subject of our
+thoughts; and yet amidst our dearest friends, and among persons who have
+the same dispositions and sentiments as our own, their minds, too, fixed
+upon the self-same objects, is this constraint practised--and thus,
+society, which was meant for one of our greatest blessings, becomes
+insipid, nay, often more wearisome than solitude."
+
+"I think, young man," replied Sandford, "you have made pretty free with
+your speech to-day, and ought not to complain of the want of toleration
+on that score."
+
+"I do complain;" replied Rushbrook, "for if toleration was more
+frequent, the favour of obtaining it would be less."
+
+"And your pride, I suppose, is above receiving a favour."
+
+"Never from those I esteem; and to convince you of it, I wish this
+moment to request a favour of you."
+
+"I dare say I shall refuse it. However what is it?"
+
+"Permit me to speak to you upon the subject of Lady Matilda?"
+
+Sandford made no answer, consequently did not forbid him--and he
+proceeded.
+
+"For her sake--as I suppose Lord Elmwood may have told you--I this morning
+rashly threw myself into the predicament from whence you released me--for
+her sake, I have suffered much--for her sake I have hazarded a great
+deal, and am still ready to hazard more."
+
+"But for your own sake, do not," returned Sandford, drily.
+
+"You may laugh at these sentiments as romantic, Mr. Sandford, but if
+they are, to me they are nevertheless natural."
+
+"But of what service are they to be either to her, or to yourself?"
+
+"To me they are painful, and to her would be but impertinent, were she
+to know them."
+
+"I shan't inform her of them, so do not trouble yourself to caution me
+against it."
+
+"I was not going--you know I was not--but I was going to say, that from no
+one so well as from you, could she be told my sentiments, without the
+danger of receiving offence."
+
+"And what impression do you wish to give her, from her becoming
+acquainted with them?"
+
+"The impression, that she has one sincere friend: that upon every
+occurrence in life, there is a heart so devoted to all she feels, that
+she never can suffer without the sympathy of another: or can ever
+command him, and all his fortunes to unite for her welfare, without his
+ready, his immediate compliance."
+
+"And do you imagine, that any of your professions, or any of her
+necessities, would ever prevail upon her to put you to the trial?"
+
+"Perhaps not."
+
+"What, then, are the motives which induce you to wish her to be told of
+this?"
+
+Rushbrook paused.
+
+"Do you think," continued Sandford, "the intelligence will give her any
+satisfaction?"
+
+"Perhaps not."
+
+"Will it be of any to yourself?"
+
+"The highest in the world."
+
+"And so all you have been urging upon this occasion, is, at last, only
+to please yourself."
+
+"You wrong my meaning--it is her merit which inspires me with the desire
+of being known to her--it is her sufferings, her innocence, her beauty----"
+
+Sandford stared--Rushbrook proceeded: "It is her----"
+
+"Nay, stop where you are," cried Sandford; "you are arrived at the
+zenith of perfection in a woman, and to add one qualification more,
+would be an anti-climax."
+
+"Oh!" cried Rushbrook with warmth, "I loved her, before I ever beheld
+her."
+
+"Loved her!" cried Sandford, with astonishment, "You are talking of what
+you did not intend."
+
+"I am, indeed:" returned he in confusion, "I fell by accident on the
+word love."
+
+"And by the same accident stumbled on the word beauty; and thus by
+accident, am I come to the truth of all your professions."
+
+Rushbrook knew that he loved; and though his affection had sprung from
+the most laudable motives, yet was he ashamed of it, as of a vice--he
+rose, he walked about the room, and he did not look Sandford in the
+face for a quarter of an hour: Sandford, satisfied that he had judged
+rightly, and yet unwilling to be too hard upon a passion, which he
+readily believed must have had many noble virtues for its foundation,
+now got up and went away, without saying a word in censure, though not a
+word in approbation.
+
+It was in the month of October, and just dark, at the time Rushbrook was
+left alone, yet in the agitation of his mind, arising from the subject
+on which he had been talking, he found it impossible to remain in the
+house, and therefore walked into the fields; but there was another
+instigation, more powerful than the necessity of walking--it was the
+allurement of passing along that path where he had last seen Lady
+Matilda, and where, for the only time, she had condescended to speak to
+him divested of haughtiness; and with a gentleness that dwelt upon his
+memory beyond all her other endowments.
+
+Here, he retraced his own steps repeatedly, his whole imagination
+engrossed with her idea, till the sound of her father's carriage
+returning from his visit, roused him from the delusion of his trance, to
+the dread of the confusion and embarrassment he should endure, on next
+meeting him. He hoped Sandford might be present, and yet he was now,
+almost as much ashamed of seeing him, as his uncle, whom he had so
+lately offended.
+
+Loath to leave the spot where he was, as to enter the house, he remained
+there, till he considered it would be ill manners, in his present
+humiliated situation, not to show himself at the usual supper hour,
+which was immediately.
+
+As he laid his hand upon the door of the apartment to open it, he was
+sorry to hear by Lord Elmwood's voice, he was in the room before him;
+for there was something much more conspicuously distressing, in entering
+where he already was, than had his uncle come in after him. He found
+himself, however, re-assured, by overhearing the Earl laugh and speak in
+a tone expressive of the utmost good humour to Sandford, who was with
+him.
+
+Yet again, he felt all the awkwardness of his own situation; but making
+one courageous effort, opened the door and entered. Lord Elmwood had
+been away half the day, had dined abroad, and it was necessary to take
+some notice of his return; Rushbrook, therefore, bowed humbly, and what
+was more to his advantage, he looked humbly. His uncle made a slight
+return to the salutation, but continued the recital he had begun to
+Sandford; then sat down to the supper table--supped--and passed the whole
+evening without saying a syllable, or even casting a look, in
+remembrance of what had passed in the morning. Or if there was any
+token, that shewed he remembered the circumstance at all, it was the
+putting his glass to his nephew's, when Rushbrook called for wine, and
+drinking at the time he did.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The repulse Lord Margrave received, did not diminish the ardour of his
+pursuit; for as he was no longer afraid of resentment from the Earl,
+whatever treatment his daughter might receive, he was determined the
+anger of Lady Matilda, or of her female friend, should not impede his
+pretensions.
+
+Having taken this resolution, he laid the plan of an open violation of
+all right; and determined to bear away that prize by force, which no art
+was likely to procure. He concerted with two of his favourite
+companions, but their advice was, "One struggle more of fair means."
+This was totally against his inclination; for, he had much rather have
+encountered the piercing cries of a female in the last agonies of
+distress, than the fatigue of her sentimental harangues, or elegant
+reproofs, such as he had the sense to understand, but not the capacity
+to answer.
+
+Stimulated, however, by his friends to one more trial, in spite of the
+formal dismission he had twice received, he intruded another visit on
+Lady Matilda at the Farm. Provoked beyond bearing at such unfeeling
+assurance, Matilda refused to come into the room where he was, and Miss
+Woodley alone received him, and expressed her surprise at the little
+attention he had paid to her explicit desire.
+
+"Madam," replied the nobleman, "to be plain with you, I am in love."
+
+"I do not the least doubt it, my Lord," replied Miss Woodley: "nor ought
+you to doubt the truth of what I advance, when I assure you, that you
+have not the smallest reason to hope your love will be returned; for
+Lady Matilda is resolved _never_ to listen to your passion."
+
+"That man," he replied, "is to blame, who can relinquish his hopes, upon
+the mere resolution of a lady."
+
+"And that lady would be wrong," replied Miss Woodley, "who should
+entrust her happiness in the care of a man, who can think thus meanly of
+her and of her sex."
+
+"I think highly of them all," he replied; "and to convince you in how
+high an estimation I hold _her_ in particular, my whole fortune is at
+her command."
+
+"Your entire absence from this house, my Lord, she would consider as a
+much greater mark of your respect."
+
+A long conversation, as uninteresting as this, ensued: the unexpected
+arrival of Mr. Sandford, put an end to it. He started at the sight of
+Lord Margrave; but the Viscount was much more affected at the sight of
+him.
+
+"My Lord," said Sandford boldly to him, "have you received any
+encouragement from Lady Matilda to authorize this visit?"
+
+"None, upon my honour, Mr. Sandford; but I hope you know how to pardon a
+lover!"
+
+"A rational one I do--but you, my Lord, are not of that class while you
+persecute the pretended object of your affection."
+
+"Do you call it persecution that I once offered her a share of my title
+and fortune--and even now, declare my fortune is at her disposal?"
+
+Sandford was uncertain whether he understood his meaning--but Lord
+Margrave, provoked at his ill reception, felt a triumph in removing his
+doubts, and proceeded thus:
+
+"For the discarded daughter of Lord Elmwood, cannot expect the same
+proposals, which I made, while she was acknowledged, and under the
+protection of her father."
+
+"What proposals then, my Lord?" asked Sandford hastily.
+
+"Such," replied he, "as the Duke of Avon made to her mother."
+
+Miss Woodley quitted the room that instant. But Sandford, who never felt
+resentment but against those in whom he saw some virtue, calmly replied,
+
+"My Lord, the Duke of Avon was a gentleman, a man of elegance and
+breeding; and what have you to offer in recompense for your defects in
+qualities like these?"
+
+"My wealth," replied he, "opposed to her indigence." Sandford smiled,
+and answered,
+
+"Do you suppose _that_ wealth can be esteemed, which has not been able
+to make you respectable? What is it makes wealth valuable? Is it the
+pleasures of the table? the pleasure of living in a fine house? or of
+wearing fine cloaths? These are pleasures, a Lord enjoys, but in common
+with his valet. It is the pleasure of being conspicuous, which makes
+riches desirable; but if we are conspicuous only for our vice and folly,
+had we not better remain in poverty?"
+
+"You are beneath my notice."
+
+"I trust I shall continue so--and that your Lordship will never again
+condescend to come where I am."
+
+"A man of rank condescends to mix with any society, when a pretty woman
+is the object."
+
+"My Lord, I have a book here in my pocket, which I am eager to read; it
+is an author who speaks sense and reason--will you pardon the impatience
+I feel for such company; and permit me to call your carriage?"
+
+Saying this, he went hastily and beckoned to the coachman; the carriage
+drove up, the door was opened, and Lord Margrave, ashamed to be exposed
+before his attendants, and convinced of the inutility of remaining any
+longer where he was, departed.
+
+Sandford was soon joined by the ladies; and the conversation falling, of
+course, upon the nobleman who had just taken his leave, Sandford
+unwarily exclaimed, "I wish Rushbrook had been here."
+
+"Who?" cried Lady Matilda.
+
+"I do believe," said Miss Woodley, "that young man has some good
+qualities."
+
+"A great many," returned Sandford, mutteringly.
+
+"Happy young man!" cried Matilda: "he is beloved by all those, whose
+affection it would be my choice to possess, beyond any other blessing
+this world could bestow."
+
+"And yet I question, if Rushbrook is happy," said Sandford.
+
+"He cannot be otherwise," returned Matilda, "if he is a man of
+understanding."
+
+"He does not want understanding neither," replied Sandford; "although he
+has certainly many indiscretions."
+
+"But which Lord Elmwood, I suppose," said Matilda, "looks upon with
+tenderness."
+
+"Not upon all his faults," answered Sandford; "for I have seen him in
+very dangerous circumstances with your father."
+
+"Have you indeed?" cried Matilda: "then I pity him."
+
+"And I believe," said Miss Woodley, "that from his heart, he
+compassionates you. Now, Mr. Sandford," continued she, "though this is
+the first time I ever heard you speak in his favour, (and I once thought
+as indifferently of Mr. Rushbrook as you can do) yet now I will venture
+to ask you, whether you do not think he wishes Lady Matilda much happier
+than she is?"
+
+"I have heard him say so," answered Sandford.
+
+"It is a subject," returned Lady Matilda, "which I did not imagine you,
+Mr. Sandford, would have permitted him to have mentioned lightly, in
+your presence."
+
+"Lightly! Do you suppose, my dear, we turned your situation into
+ridicule?"
+
+"No, Sir,--but there is a sort of humiliation in the grief to which I am
+doomed, that ought surely to be treated with the highest degree of
+delicacy by my friends."
+
+"I don't know on what point you fix real delicacy; but if it consists in
+sorrow, the young man gives a proof he possesses it, for he shed tears
+when I last heard him mention your name."
+
+"I have more cause to weep at the mention of his."
+
+"Perhaps so.--But let me tell you, Lady Matilda, that your father might
+have preferred a more unworthy object."
+
+"Still had he been to me," she cried, "an object of envy. And as I
+frankly confess my envy of Mr. Rushbrook, I hope you will pardon my
+malice, which is, you know, but a consequent crime."
+
+The subject now turned again upon Lord Margrave; and all of them being
+firmly persuaded, this last reception would put an end to every further
+intrusion from him, they treated his pretensions, and himself, with the
+contempt they inspired--but not with the caution that was requisite.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+The next morning early, Mr. Sandford returned to Elmwood House, but with
+his spirits depressed, and his heart overcharged with sorrow. He had
+seen Lady Matilda, the object of his visit, but he had beheld her
+considerably altered in her looks and in her health; she was become very
+thin, and instead of the vivid bloom that used to adorn her cheeks, her
+whole complexion was of a deadly pale--her countenance no longer
+expressed hope or fear, but a fixed melancholy--she shed no tears, but
+was all sadness. He had beheld this, and he had heard her insulted by
+the licentious proposals of a nobleman, from whom there was no
+satisfaction to be demanded, because she had no friend to vindicate her
+honour.
+
+Rushbrook, who suspected where Sandford was gone, and imagined he would
+return that day, took his morning's ride, so as to meet him on the road,
+at the distance of a few miles from the Castle; for, since his perilous
+situation with Lord Elmwood, he was so fully convinced of the general
+philanthropy of Sandford's character, that in spite of his churlish
+manners, he now addressed him, free from that reserve to which his rough
+behaviour had formerly given birth. And Sandford, on his part, believing
+he had formed an illiberal opinion of Lord Elmwood's heir, though he
+took no pains to let him know that his opinion was changed, yet resolved
+to make him restitution upon every occasion that offered.
+
+Their mutual greetings when they met, were unceremonious, but cordial;
+and Rushbrook turned his horse and rode back with Sandford; yet,
+intimidated by his respect and tenderness for Lady Matilda, rather than
+by fear of the rebuffs of his companion, he had not the courage to name
+her, till the ride was just finished, and they came within a few yards
+of the house--incited then by the apprehension, he might not soon again
+enjoy so fit an opportunity, he said,
+
+"Pardon me, Mr. Sandford, if I guess where you have been, and if my
+curiosity forces me to inquire for Miss Woodley's and Lady Matilda's
+health?"
+
+He named Miss Woodley first, to prolong the time before he mentioned
+Matilda; for though to name her gave him extreme pleasure, yet it was a
+pleasure accompanied by confusion and pain.
+
+"They are both very well," replied Sandford, "at least they did not
+complain they were sick."
+
+"They are not in spirits, I suppose?" said Rushbrook.
+
+"No, indeed:" replied Sandford, shaking his head.
+
+"No new misfortune has happened, I hope?" cried Rushbrook; for it was
+plain to see Sandford's spirits were unusually cast down.
+
+"Nothing new," returned he, "except the insolence of a young nobleman."
+
+"What nobleman?" cried Rushbrook.
+
+"A lover of Lady Matilda's," replied Sandford.
+
+Rushbrook was petrified. "Who? What lover, Mr. Sandford?--explain?"
+
+They were now arrived at the house; and Sandford, without making any
+reply to this question, said to the servant who took his horse, "She has
+come a long way this morning; take care of her."
+
+This interruption was torture to Rushbrook, who kept close to his side,
+in order to obtain a further explanation; but Sandford, without
+attending to him, walked negligently into the hall, and before they
+advanced many steps, they were met by Lord Elmwood.
+
+All further information was put an end to for the present.
+
+"How do you do, Sandford?" said Lord Elmwood with extreme kindness; as
+if he thanked him for the journey which, it was likely, he suspected he
+had been taking.
+
+"I am indifferently well, my Lord:" replied he, with a face of deep
+concern, and a tear in his eye, partly in gratitude for his patron's
+civility, and partly in reproach for his cruelty.
+
+It was not now till the evening, that Rushbrook had an opportunity of
+renewing the conversation, which had been so barbarously interrupted.
+
+In the evening, no longer able to support the suspense into which he was
+thrown; without fear or shame, he followed Sandford into his chamber at
+the time of his retiring, and entreated of him, with all the anxiety he
+suffered, to explain his allusion when he talked of a lover, and of
+insolence to Lady Matilda.
+
+Sandford, seeing his emotion, was angry with himself that he had
+inadvertently mentioned the subject; and putting on an air of surly
+importance, desired,--if he had any business with him, that he would call
+in the morning.
+
+Exasperated at so unexpected a reception, and at the pain of his
+disappointment, Rushbrook replied, "He treated him cruelly, nor would he
+stir out of his room, till he had received a satisfactory answer to his
+question."
+
+"Then bring your bed," replied Sandford, "for you must pass your whole
+night here."
+
+He found it vain to think of obtaining any intelligence by threats, he
+therefore said in a timid and persuasive manner,
+
+"Did you, Mr. Sandford, hear Lady Matilda mention my name?"
+
+"Yes," replied Sandford, a little better reconciled to him.
+
+"Did you tell her what I lately declared to you?" he asked with still
+more diffidence.
+
+"No," replied Sandford.
+
+"It is very well, Sir," returned he, vexed to the heart--yet again
+wishing to sooth him--
+
+"You certainly, Mr. Sandford, know what is for the best--yet I entreat
+you will give me some further account of the nobleman you named?"
+
+"I know what is for the best," replied Sandford, "and I won't."
+
+Rushbrook bowed, and immediately left the room. He went apparently
+submissive, but the moment he showed this submission, he took the
+resolution of paying a visit himself to the farm at which Lady Matilda
+resided; and of learning, either from Miss Woodley, the people of the
+house, the neighbours, or perhaps from Lady Matilda's own lips, the
+secret which the obstinacy of Sandford had with-held.
+
+He saw all the dangers of this undertaking, but none appeared so great
+as the danger of losing her he loved, by the influence of a rival--and
+though Sandford had named "insolence," he was in doubt whether what had
+appeared so to him, was so in reality, or would be so considered by her.
+
+To prevent the cause of his absence being suspected by Lord Elmwood, he
+immediately called his groom, ordered his horse, and giving those
+servants concerned, a strict charge of secrecy, with some frivolous
+pretence to apologize for his not being present at breakfast (resolving
+to be back by dinner) he set off that night, and arrived at an inn about
+a mile from the farm at break of day.
+
+The joy he felt when he found himself so near to the beloved object of
+his journey, made him thank Sandford in his heart, for the unkindness
+which had sent him thither. But new difficulties arose, how to
+accomplish the end for which he came; he learned from the people of the
+inn, that a Lord, with a fine equipage, had visited at the farm, but who
+he was, or for what purpose he went, no one could inform him.
+
+Dreading to return with his doubts unsatisfied, and yet afraid of
+proceeding to extremities that might be construed into presumption, he
+walked disconsolately (almost distractedly) about the fields, looking
+repeatedly at his watch, and wishing the time would stand still, till he
+was ready to go back with his errand compleated.
+
+Every field he passed, brought him nearer to the house on which his
+imagination was fixed; but how, without forfeiting every appearance of
+that respect which he so powerfully felt, could he attempt to enter
+it?--he saw the indecorum, resolved not to be guilty of it, and yet
+walked on till he was within but a small orchard of the door. Could he
+then retreat?--he wished he could; but he found that he had proceeded too
+far to be any longer master of himself. The time was urgent; he must
+either behold her, and venture her displeasure, or by diffidence during
+one moment, give up all his hopes perhaps for ever.
+
+With that same disregard to consequences, which actuated him when he
+dared to supplicate Lord Elmwood in his daughter's behalf, he at length
+went eagerly to the door and rapped.
+
+A servant came--he asked to "Speak with Miss Woodley, if she was quite
+alone."
+
+He was shown into an apartment, and Miss Woodley entered to him.
+
+She started when she beheld who it was; but as he did not see a frown
+upon her face, he caught hold of her hand, and said persuasively,
+
+"Do not be offended with me. If I mean to offend you, may I forfeit my
+life in atonement."
+
+Poor Miss Woodley, glad in her solitude to see any one from Elmwood
+House, forgot his visit was an offence, till he put her in mind of it;
+she then said, with some reserve,
+
+"Tell me the purport of your coming, Sir, and perhaps I may have no
+reason to complain?"
+
+"It was to see Lady Matilda," he replied, "or to hear of her health. It
+was to offer her my services--it was, Miss Woodley, to convince her, if
+possible, of my esteem."
+
+"Had you no other method, Sir?" said Miss Woodley, with the same
+reserve.
+
+"None;" replied he, "or with joy I should have embraced it; and if you
+can inform me of any other, tell me I beseech you instantly, and I will
+immediately be gone, and pursue your directions."
+
+Miss Woodley hesitated.
+
+"You know of no other means, Miss Woodley," he cried.
+
+"And yet I cannot commend this," said she.
+
+"Nor do I. Do not imagine because you see me here, that I approve my
+conduct; but reduced to this necessity, pity the motives that have urged
+it."
+
+Miss Woodley did pity them; but as she would not own that she did, she
+could think of nothing else to say.
+
+At this instant a bell rung from the chamber above.
+
+"That is Lady Matilda's bell," said Miss Woodley; "she is coming to take
+a short walk. Do you wish to see her?"
+
+Though it was the first wish of his heart, he paused, and said, "Will
+you plead my excuse?"
+
+As the flight of stairs was but short, which Matilda had to come down,
+she was in the room with Miss Woodley and Mr. Rushbrook, just as that
+sentence ended.
+
+She had stepped beyond the door of the apartment, when perceiving a
+visitor, she hastily withdrew.
+
+Rushbrook, animated, though trembling at her presence, cried, "Lady
+Matilda, do not avoid me, till you know that I deserve such a
+punishment."
+
+She immediately saw who it was, and returned back with a proper pride,
+and yet a proper politeness in her manner.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Sir," said she, "I did not know you; I was afraid I
+intruded upon Miss Woodley and a stranger."
+
+"You do not then consider me as a stranger, Lady Matilda? and that you
+do not, requires my warmest acknowledgements."
+
+She sat down, as if overcome by ill spirits and ill health.
+
+Miss Woodley now asked Rushbrook to sit--for till now she had not.
+
+"No, Madam," replied he, with confusion, "not unless Lady Matilda gives
+me permission."
+
+She smiled, and pointed to a chair--and all the kindness which Rushbrook
+during his whole life had received from Lord Elmwood, never inspired
+half the gratitude, which this one instance of civility from his
+daughter excited.
+
+He sat down, with the confession of the obligation upon every feature of
+his face.
+
+"I am not well, Mr. Rushbrook," said Matilda, languidly; "and you must
+excuse any want of etiquette at this house."
+
+"While you excuse me, Madam, what can I have to complain of?"
+
+She appeared absent while he was speaking, and turning to Miss Woodley,
+said, "Do you think I had better walk to-day?"
+
+"No, my dear," answered Miss Woodley; "the ground is damp, and the air
+cold."
+
+"You are not well, indeed, Lady Matilda," said Rushbrook, gazing upon
+her with the most tender respect.
+
+She shook her head; and the tears, without any effort either to impel or
+to restrain them, ran down her face.
+
+Rushbrook rose from his seat, and with an accent and manner the most
+expressive, said, "We are cousins, Lady Matilda--in our infancy we were
+brought up together--we were beloved by the same mother--fostered by the
+same father"----
+
+"Oh!" cried she, interrupting him, with a tone which indicated the
+bitterest anguish.
+
+"Nay, do not let me add to your uneasiness," he resumed, "while I am
+attempting to alleviate it. Instruct me what I can do to show my esteem
+and respect, rather than permit me thus unguided, to rush upon what you
+may construe into insult and arrogance."
+
+Miss Woodley went to Matilda, took her hand, then wiped the tears from
+her eyes, while Matilda reclined against her, entirely regardless of
+Rushbrook's presence.
+
+"If I have been in the least instrumental to this sorrow,"--said
+Rushbrook, with a face as much agitated as his mind.
+
+"No," said Miss Woodley, in a low voice, "you have not--she is often
+thus."
+
+"Yes," said Matilda, raising her head, "I am frequently so weak that I
+cannot resist the smallest incitement to grief. But do not make your
+visit long, Mr. Rushbrook," she continued, "for I was just then
+thinking, that should Lord Elmwood hear of this attention you have paid
+me, it might be fatal to you." Here she wept again, as bitterly as
+before.
+
+"There is no probability of his hearing of it, Madam," Rushbrook
+replied; "or if there was, I am persuaded that he would not resent it;
+for yesterday, when I am confident he knew that Mr. Sandford had been to
+see you, he received him on his return, with unusual marks of
+kindness."
+
+"Did he?" said she--and again she lifted up her head; her eyes for a
+moment beaming with hope and joy.
+
+"There is something which we cannot yet define," said Rushbrook, "that
+Lord Elmwood struggles with; but when time shall have eradicated"----
+
+Before he could proceed further, Matilda was once more sunk into
+despondency, and scarce attended to what he was saying.
+
+Miss Woodley observing this, said, "Mr. Rushbrook, let it be a token we
+shall be glad to see you hereafter, that I now use the freedom to beg
+you will put an end to your visit."
+
+"You send me away, Madam," returned he, "with the warmest thanks for the
+reception you have give me; and this last assurance of your kindness, is
+beyond any other favour you could have bestowed. Lady Matilda," added
+he, "suffer me to take your hand at parting, and let it be a testimony
+that you acknowledge me for a relation."
+
+She put out her hand--which he knelt to receive, but did not raise it to
+his lips--he held the boon too sacred--and looking earnestly upon it, as
+it lay pale and wan in his, he breathed one sigh over it, and withdrew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Sorrowful and affecting as this interview had been, Rushbrook, as he
+rode home, reflected upon it with the most inordinate delight; and had
+he not seen decline of health, in the looks and behaviour of Lady
+Matilda, his felicity had been unbounded. Entranced in the happiness of
+her society, the thought of his rival never came once to his mind while
+he was with her; a want of recollection, however, he by no means
+regretted, as her whole appearance contradicted every suspicion he could
+possibly entertain, that she favoured the addresses of any man
+living--and had he remembered, he would not have dared to name the
+subject.
+
+The time ran so swiftly while he was away, that it was beyond the dinner
+hour at Elmwood House, when he returned. Heated, his dress and his hair
+disordered, he entered the dining room just as the dessert was put upon
+the table. He was confounded at his own appearance, and at the
+falsehoods he should be obliged to fabricate in his excuse: there was
+yet, that which engaged his attention, beyond any circumstance relating
+to himself--the features of Lord Elmwood--of which his daughter's, whom he
+had just beheld, had the most striking resemblance; though her's were
+softened by sorrow, while his were made austere by the self-same cause.
+
+"Where have you been?" said his uncle, with a frown.
+
+"A chace, my Lord--I beg your pardon--but a pack of dogs I
+unexpectedly met." For in the hacknied art of lying without injury to
+any one, Rushbrook, to his shame, was proficient.
+
+His excuses were received, and the subject ceased.
+
+During his absence that day, Lord Elmwood had called Sandford apart, and
+said to him,--that as the malevolence which he once observed between him
+and Rushbrook, had, he perceived, subsided, he advised him, if he was a
+well-wisher to the young man, to sound his heart, and counsel him not to
+act against the will of his nearest relation and friend. "I myself am
+too hasty," continued Lord Elmwood, "and, unhappily, too much determined
+upon what I have once (though, perhaps, rashly) said, to speak upon a
+topic where it is probable I shall meet with opposition. You, Sandford,
+can reason with moderation. For after all that I have done for my
+nephew, it would be a pity to forsake him at last; and yet, that is but
+too likely, if he provokes me."
+
+"Sir," replied Sandford, "I will speak to him."
+
+"Yet," added Lord Elmwood, sternly, "do not urge what you say for my
+sake, but for his--I can part from him with ease--but he may then repent,
+and, you know, repentance always comes too late with me."
+
+"My Lord, I will exert all the efforts in my power for his welfare. But
+what is the subject on which he has refused to comply with your
+desires?"
+
+"Matrimony--have not I told you?"
+
+"Not a word."
+
+"I wish him to marry, that I may then conclude the deeds in respect to
+my estate,--and the only child of Sir William Winterton (a rich heiress)
+was the wife I meant to propose; but from his indifference to all I have
+said on the occasion, I have not yet mentioned her name to him; you
+may."
+
+"I will, my Lord, and use all my persuasion to engage his obedience; and
+you shall have, at least, a faithful account of what he says."
+
+Sandford the next morning sought an opportunity of being alone with
+Rushbrook--he then plainly repeated to him what Lord Elmwood had said,
+and saw him listen to it all, and heard him answer with the most
+tranquil resolution, "That he would do any thing to preserve the
+friendship and patronage of his uncle--but marry."
+
+"What can be your reason?" asked Sandford--though he guessed.
+
+"A reason, I cannot give to Lord Elmwood."
+
+"Then do not give it to me, for I have promised to tell him every thing
+you say to me."
+
+"And every thing I _have_ said?" asked Rushbrook hastily.
+
+"As to what you have said, I don't know whether it has made impression
+enough on my memory, to enable me to repeat it."
+
+"I am glad it has not."
+
+"And my answer to your uncle, is to be simply, that you will not obey
+him?"
+
+"I should hope, Mr. Sandford, that you would express it in better
+terms."
+
+"Tell me the terms, and I will be exact."
+
+Rushbrook struck his forehead, and walked about the room.
+
+"Am I to give him any reason for your disobeying him?"
+
+"I tell you again, that I dare not name the cause."
+
+"Then why do you submit to a power you are ashamed to own?"
+
+"I am not ashamed--I glory in it.--Are you ashamed of your esteem for Lady
+Matilda?"
+
+"Oh! if she is the cause of your disobedience, be assured I shall not
+mention it, for I am forbid to name her."
+
+"And surely, as that is the case, I need not fear to speak plainly to
+you. I love Lady Matilda--or, perhaps, unacquainted with love, what I
+feel may be only pity--and if so, pity is the most pleasing passion that
+ever possessed a human heart, and I would not change it for all her
+father's estates."
+
+"Pity, then, gives rise to very different sensations--for I pity you, and
+that sensation I would gladly exchange for approbation."
+
+"If you really feel compassion for me, and I believe you do, contrive
+some means by your answers to Lord Elmwood to pacify him, without
+involving me in ruin. Hint at my affections being engaged, but not to
+whom; and add, that I have given my word, if he will allow me a short
+time, a year or two only, I will, during that period, try to disengage
+them, and use all my power to render myself worthy of the union for
+which he designs me."
+
+"And this is not only your solemn promise--but your fixed determination?"
+
+"Nay, why will you search my heart to the bottom, when the surface ought
+to content you?"
+
+"If you cannot resolve on what you have proposed, why do you ask this
+time of your uncle? For should he allow it you, at the expiration, your
+disobedience to his commands will be less pardonable than it is now."
+
+"Within a year, Mr. Sandford, who can tell what strange events may not
+occur, to change all our prospects? Even my passion may decline."
+
+"In that expectation, then--the failure of which yourself must answer
+for--I will repeat as much of this discourse as shall be proper."
+
+Here Rushbrook communicated his having been to see Lady Matilda, for
+which Sandford reproved him, but in less rigorous terms than he
+generally used in his reproofs; and Rushbrook, by his entreaties, now
+gained the intelligence who the nobleman was who addressed Matilda, and
+on what views; but was restrained to patience, by Sandford's arguments
+and threats.
+
+Upon the subject of this marriage, Sandford met his patron, without
+having determined exactly what to say, but rested on the temper in which
+he should find him.
+
+At the commencement of the conversation he said, "Rushbrook begged for
+time."
+
+"I have given him time, have I not?" cried Lord Elmwood: "What can be
+the meaning of his thus trifling with me?"
+
+Sandford replied, "My Lord, young men are frequently romantic in their
+notions of love, and think it impossible to have a sincere affection,
+where their own inclinations do not first point out the choice."
+
+"If he is in love," answered Lord Elmwood, "let him take the object, and
+leave my house and me for ever. Nor under this destiny can he have any
+claim to pity; for genuine love will make him happy in banishment, in
+poverty, or in sickness: it makes the poor man happy as the rich, the
+fool blest as the wise." The sincerity with which Lord Elmwood had
+loved, was expressed more than in words, as he said this.
+
+"Your Lordship is talking," replied Sandford, "of the passion in its
+most refined and predominant sense; while I may possibly be speaking of
+a mere phantom, that has led this young man astray."
+
+"Whatever it be," returned Lord Elmwood, "let him and his friends weigh
+the case well, and act for the best--so shall I."
+
+"His friends, my Lord?--What friends, or what friend has he upon earth
+but you?"
+
+"Then why will he not submit to my advice; or himself give me a proper
+reason why he cannot?"
+
+"Because there may be friendship without familiarity--and so it is
+between him and you."
+
+"That cannot be; for I have condescended to talk to him in the most
+familiar terms."
+
+"To condescend, my Lord, is _not_ to be familiar."
+
+"Then come, Sir, let us be on an equal footing through you. And now
+speak out _his_ thoughts freely, and hear mine in return."
+
+"Why, then, he begs a respite for a year or two."
+
+"On what pretence?"
+
+"To me, it was preference of a single life--but I suspect it is--what he
+imagines to be love--and for some object whom he thinks your Lordship
+would disapprove."
+
+"He has not, then, actually confessed this to you?"
+
+"If he has, it was drawn from him by such means, that I am not warranted
+to say it in direct words."
+
+"I have entered into no contract, no agreement on his account with the
+friends of the lady I have pointed out," said Lord Elmwood; "nothing
+beyond implications have passed betwixt her family and myself at
+present; and if the person on whom he has fixed his affections, should
+not be in a situation absolutely contrary to my wishes, I may, perhaps,
+confirm his choice."
+
+That moment Sandford's courage prompted him to name Lady Matilda, but
+his discretion opposed--however, in the various changes of his
+countenance from the conflict, it was plain to discern that he wished to
+say more than he dared.
+
+On which Lord Elmwood cried,
+
+"Speak on, Sandford--what are you afraid of?"
+
+"Of you, my Lord."
+
+He started.
+
+Sandford went on----"I know no tie--no bond--no innocence, that is a
+protection when you feel resentment."
+
+"You are right," he replied, significantly.
+
+"Then how, my Lord, can you encourage me to _speak on_, when that which
+I perhaps would say, might offend you to hear?"
+
+"To what, and whither are you changing our subject?" cried Lord Elmwood.
+"But, Sir, if you know my resentful and relentless temper, you surely
+know how to shun it."
+
+"Not, and speak plainly."
+
+"Then dissemble."
+
+"No, I'll not do that--but I'll be silent."
+
+"A new parade of submission. You are more tormenting to me than any one
+I have about me. Constantly on the verge of disobeying my commands, that
+you may recede, and gain my good will by your forbearance. But know, Mr.
+Sandford, that I will not suffer this much longer. If you chuse in every
+conversation we have together (though the most remote from such a
+subject) to think of my daughter, you must either banish your thoughts,
+or conceal them--nor by one sign, one item, remind me of her."
+
+"Your daughter did you call her? Can you call yourself her father?"
+
+"I do, Sir--but I was likewise the husband of her mother. And, as that
+husband, I solemnly swear."----He was proceeding with violence.
+
+"Oh! my Lord," cried Sandford, interrupting him, with his hands clasped
+in the most fervent supplication--"Oh! do not let me draw upon her one
+oath more of your eternal displeasure--I'll kneel to beg that you will
+drop the subject."
+
+The inclination he made with his knees bent towards the ground, stopped
+Lord Elmwood instantly. But though it broke in upon his words, it did
+not alter one angry look--his eyes darted, and his lips trembled with,
+indignation.
+
+Sandford, in order to appease him, bowed and offered to withdraw, hoping
+to be recalled. He wished in vain--Lord Elmwood's eyes followed him to
+the door, expressive of rejoicing at his absence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+The companions and counsellors of Lord Margrave, who had so prudently
+advised gentle methods in the pursuit of his passion, while there was
+left any hope of their success; now, convinced there was none, as
+strenuously commended open violence;--and sheltered under the
+consideration, that their depredations were to be practised upon a
+defenceless woman, who had not one protector, except an old priest, the
+subject of their ridicule;--assured likewise from the influence of Lord
+Margrave's wealth, that all inferior consequences could be overborne,
+they saw no room for fears on any side, and what they wished to execute,
+with care and skill premeditated.
+
+When their scheme was mature for performance, three of his chosen
+companions, and three servants, trained in all the villainous exploits
+of their masters, set off for the habitation of poor Matilda, and
+arrived there about the twilight of the evening.
+
+Near four hours after that time (just as the family were going to bed)
+they came up to the doors of the house, and rapping violently, gave the
+alarm of fire, conjuring all the inhabitants to make their way out
+immediately, as they would save their lives.
+
+The family consisted of few persons, all of whom ran instantly to the
+doors and opened them; on which two men rushed in, and with the plea of
+saving Lady Matilda from the pretended flames, caught her in their arms,
+and carried her off; while all the deceived people of the house, running
+eagerly to save themselves, paid no regard to her, till looking for the
+cause for which they had been terrified, they perceived the stratagem,
+and the fatal consequences.
+
+Amidst the complaints, the sorrow, and the affright of the people of the
+farm, Miss Woodley's sensations wanted a name--terror and anguish give
+but a faint description of what she suffered--something like the approach
+of death stole over her senses, and she sat like one petrified with
+horror. She had no doubt who was the perpetrator of this wickedness; but
+how was she to follow? how effect a rescue?
+
+The circumstances of this event, as soon as the people had time to call
+up their recollection, were sent to a neighbouring magistrate; but
+little could be hoped from that. Who was to swear to the robber? Who,
+undertake to find him out! Miss Woodley thought of Rushbrook, of
+Sandford, of Lord Elmwood--but what could she hope from the want of power
+in the two former?--what from the latter, for the want of will? Now
+stupified, and now distracted, she walked about the house incessantly,
+begging for instructions how to act, or how to forget her misery.
+
+A tenant of Lord Elmwood's, who occupied a little farm near to that
+where Lady Matilda lived, and who was well acquainted with the whole
+history of her's and her mother's misfortunes, was returning from a
+neighbouring fair, just as this inhuman plan was put in execution. He
+heard the cries of a woman in distress, and followed the sound, till he
+arrived at a chaise in waiting, and saw Matilda placed in it, by the
+side of two men, who presented pistols to him, as he offered to approach
+and expostulate.
+
+The farmer, uncertain who this female was, yet went to the house she
+had been taken from (as the nearest) with the tale of what he had seen;
+and there, being informed it was Lady Matilda whom he had beheld, this
+intelligence, joined to the powerful effect her screams had on him, made
+him resolve to take horse immediately, and with some friends, follow the
+carriage till they should trace the place to which she was conveyed.
+
+The anxiety, the firmness discovered in determining on this
+understanding, somewhat alleviated the agony Miss Woodley endured, and
+she began to hope, timely assistance might yet be given to her beloved
+charge.
+
+The man set out, meaning at all events to attempt her release; but
+before he had proceeded far, the few friends that accompanied him, began
+to reflect on the improbability of their success, against a nobleman,
+surrounded by servants, with other attendants likewise, and, perhaps,
+even countenanced by the father of the lady, whom they presumed to take
+from him; or if not, while Lord Elmwood beheld the offence with
+indifference, that indifference gave it a sanction, they might in vain
+oppose. These cool reflections tending to their safety, had their weight
+with the companions of the farmer; they all rode back, rejoicing at
+their second thoughts, and left him to pursue his journey and prove his
+valour by himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+It was not with Sandford, as it had lately been with Rushbrook under the
+displeasure of Lord Elmwood--to the latter he behaved, as soon as their
+dissension was past, as if it had never happened--but to Sandford it was
+otherwise--the resentment which he had repressed at the time of the
+offence, lurked in his heart, and dwelt upon his mind for several days;
+during which, he carefully avoided exchanging a word with him, and gave
+every other demonstration of his anger.
+
+Sandford, though experienced in the cruelty and ingratitude of the
+world, yet could not without difficulty brook this severity, this
+contumely, from a man, for whose welfare, ever since his infancy, he
+had laboured; and whose happiness was more dear to him, in spite of all
+his faults, than that of any other person. Even Lady Matilda was not so
+dear to Sandford as her father--and he loved her more that she was Lord
+Elmwood's child, than for any other cause.
+
+Sometimes the old Priest, incensed beyond bearing, was on the point of
+saying to his patron, "How, in my age, dare you thus treat the man, whom
+in his youth you respected and revered?"
+
+Sometimes instead of anger, he felt the tear, he was ashamed to own,
+steal to his eye, and even fall down his cheek. Sometimes he left the
+room half determined to leave the house--but these were all half
+determinations; for he knew him with whom he had to deal too well, not
+to know that he might be provoked into yet greater anger; and that
+should he once rashly quit his house, the doors most probably would be
+shut against him for ever.
+
+In this humiliating state (for even many of the domestics could not but
+observe their Lord's displeasure) Sandford passed three days, and was
+beginning the fourth, when sitting with Lord Elmwood and Rushbrook just
+after breakfast, a servant entered, saying, as he opened the door, to
+somebody who followed, "You must wait till you have my Lord's
+permission."
+
+This attracted their eyes to the door, and a man meanly dressed, walked
+in, following close to the servant.
+
+The latter turned, and seemed again to desire the person to retire, but
+in vain; he rushed forward regardless of his opposer, and in great
+agitation, cried,
+
+"My Lord, if you please, I have business with you, provided you will
+chuse to be alone."
+
+Lord Elmwood, struck with the intruder's earnestness, bade the servant
+leave the room; and then said to the stranger,
+
+"You may speak before these gentlemen."
+
+The man instantly turned pale, and trembled--then, to prolong the time
+before he spoke, went to the door to see if it was shut--returned--yet
+still trembling, seemed unwilling to say his errand.
+
+"What have you done," cried Lord Elmwood, "that you are in this terror?
+What have you done, man?"
+
+"Nothing, my Lord," replied he, "but I am afraid I am going to offend
+you."
+
+"Well, no matter;" (he answered carelessly) "only go on, and let me know
+your business."
+
+The man's distress increased--and he cried in a voice of grief and
+affright--"Your child, my Lord!"----
+
+Rushbrook and Sandford started; and looking at Lord Elmwood, saw him
+turn white as death. In a tremulous voice he instantly cried,
+
+"What of her?" and rose from his seat.
+
+Encouraged by the question, and the agitation of him who asked it, the
+poor man gave way to his feelings, and answered with every sign of
+sorrow,
+
+"I saw her, my Lord, taken away by force--two ruffians seized and carried
+her away, while she screamed in vain to me for help, and tore her hair
+in distraction."
+
+"Man, what do you mean?" cried the Earl.
+
+"Lord Margrave," replied the stranger, "we have no doubt, has formed
+this plot--he has for some time past beset the house where she lived; and
+when his visits were refused, he threatened this. Besides, one of his
+servants attended the carriage; I saw, and knew him."
+
+Lord Elmwood listened to the last part of this account with seeming
+composure--then turning hastily to Rushbrook, he said,
+
+"Where are my pistols, Harry?"
+
+Sandford rose from his seat, and forgetting all the anger between them,
+caught hold of the Earl's hand, and cried, "Will you then prove yourself
+a father?"
+
+Lord Elmwood only answered, "Yes," and left the room.
+
+Rushbrook followed, and begged with all the earnestness he felt, to be
+permitted to accompany his uncle.
+
+While Sandford shook hands with the farmer a thousand times; and he, in
+his turn, rejoiced, as if he had already seen Lady Matilda restored to
+liberty.
+
+Rushbrook in vain entreated Lord Elmwood; he laid his commands upon him
+not to go a step from the Castle; while the agitation of his own mind,
+was too great, to observe the rigour of this sentence on his nephew.
+
+During the hasty preparations for the Earl's departure, Sandford
+received from Miss Woodley the sad intelligence of what had happened;
+but he returned an answer to recompence her for all she had suffered on
+the occasion.
+
+Within a few hours Lord Elmwood set off, accompanied by his guide, the
+farmer, and other attendants furnished with every requisite to ascertain
+the success of their enterprise--while poor Matilda little thought of a
+deliverer nigh, much less, that her deliverer should prove her father.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Lord Margrave, black as this incident of his life must make him appear
+to the reader, still nursed in his conscience a reserve of specious
+virtue, to keep him in peace with himself. It was his design to plead,
+to argue, to implore, nay even to threaten, long before he put his
+threats in force; and with this and the following reflection, he
+reconciled--as most bad men can--what he had done, not only to the laws of
+humanity, but to the laws of honour.
+
+"I have stolen a woman certainly;" said he to himself, "but I will make
+her happier than she was in that humble state from which I have taken
+her. I will even," said he, "now that she is in my power, win her
+affections--and when, in fondness, hereafter she hangs upon me, how will
+she thank me for this little trial, through which I shall have conducted
+her to happiness!"
+
+Thus did he hush his remorse, while he waited impatiently at home, in
+expectation of his prize.
+
+Half expiring with her sufferings, of body as well as of mind, about
+twelve o'clock the next night, after she was borne away, Matilda
+arrived; and felt her spirits revive by the superior sufferings that
+awaited her--for her increasing terrors roused her from the death-like
+weakness, brought on by fatigue.
+
+Lord Margrave's house, to which he had gone previous to this occasion,
+was situated in the lonely part of a well-known forest, not more than
+twenty miles distant from London: this was an estate he rarely visited;
+and as he had but few servants here, it was a place which he supposed
+would be less the object of suspicion in the present case, than any
+other of his seats. To this, then, Lady Matilda was conveyed--a superb
+apartment allotted her--and one of his confidential females placed to
+attend upon her, with all respect, and assurances of safety.
+
+Matilda looked in this woman's face, and seeing she bore the features of
+her sex, while her own knowledge reached none of those worthless
+characters of which this person was a specimen, she imagined that none
+of those could look as she did, and therefore found consolation in her
+seeming tenderness. She was even prevailed upon (by her promises to sit
+by her side and watch) to throw herself on the bed, and suffer sleep for
+a few minutes--for sleep to her was suffering; her fears giving birth to
+dreams terrifying as her waking thoughts.
+
+More wearied than refreshed with her sleep, she rose at break of day,
+and refusing to admit of the change of an article in her dress, she
+persisted to sit in the torn disordered habit in which she had been
+dragged away; nor would she taste a morsel, of all the delicacies that
+were prepared for her.
+
+Her attendant, for some time observed the most reverential awe; but
+finding this had not the effect of gaining compliance with her advice,
+she varied her manners, and began by less submissive means to attempt an
+influence. She said her orders were to be obedient, while she herself
+was obeyed--at least in circumstances so material as the lady's health,
+of which she had the charge as a physician, and expected equal
+compliance from her patient--food and fresh apparel she prescribed as the
+only means to prevent death; and even threatened her invalid with
+something worse, a visit from Lord Margrave, if she continued obstinate.
+
+Now loathing her for the deception she had practised, more, than had she
+received her thus at first, Matilda hid her eyes from the sight of her;
+and when she was obliged to look, she shuddered.
+
+This female at length thought it her duty to wait upon her worthy
+employer, and inform him the young lady in her trust would certainly
+die, unless there were means employed to oblige her to take some
+nourishment.
+
+Lord Margrave, glad of an opportunity that might apologize for his
+intrusion upon Lady Matilda, went with eagerness to her apartment, and
+throwing himself at her feet, conjured her if she would save his life,
+as well as her own, to submit to be consoled.
+
+The extreme disgust and horror his presence inspired, caused Matilda for
+a moment to forget all her want of power, her want of health, her
+weakness; and rising from the place where she sat, she cried, with her
+voice elevated,
+
+"Leave me, my Lord, or I'll die in spite of all your care; I'll
+instantly expire with grief, if you do not leave me."
+
+Accustomed to the tears and reproaches of the sex--though not of those
+like her--he treated with contempt these menaces of anger, and seizing
+her hand, carried it to his lips.
+
+Enraged, and overwhelmed with sorrow at the affront, she cried,
+(forgetting every other friend she had,) "Oh! my dear Miss Woodley, why
+are you not here to protect me?"
+
+"Nay," returned Lord Margrave, stifling a fit of laughter, "I should
+think the old Priest would be as good a champion as the lady."
+
+The remembrance of Sandford, with all his kindness, now rushed so
+forcibly on Matilda's mind, that she shed a shower of tears, on thinking
+how much he felt, and would continue to feel, for her situation. Once
+she thought on Rushbrook, and thought even _he_ would be sorry for her.
+Of her father she did not think--she dared not--one single moment that
+thought intruded, but she hurried it away--it was too bitter.
+
+It was now again quite night; and near to that hour when she came first
+to the house. Lord Margrave, though at some distance from her, remained
+still in her apartment, while her female companion had stolen away. His
+insensibility to her lamentations--the agitated looks he sometimes cast
+upon her--her weak and defenceless state, all conspired to fill her mind
+with horror.
+
+He saw her apprehensions in her distracted face, disheveled hair, and
+the whole of her forlorn appearance--yet, notwithstanding his former
+resolutions, he could not resist the desire of fulfilling all her
+dreadful expectations.
+
+He once again approached her, and again was going to seize her hand;
+when the report of a pistol, and a confused noise of persons assembling
+towards the apartment prevented him.
+
+He started--but looked more surprised than alarmed--her alarm was
+augmented; for she supposed this tumult was some experiment to
+intimidate her into submission. She wrung her hands, and lifted up her
+eyes to Heaven, in the last agony of despair, when one of Lord
+Margrave's servants entered hastily and announced,
+
+"Lord Elmwood!"
+
+That moment her father entered--and with all the unrestrained fondness of
+a parent, folded her in his arms.
+
+Her extreme, her excess of joy on such a meeting, and from such anguish
+rescued, was, in part, repressed by his awful presence. The
+apprehensions to which she had been accustomed, kept her timid and
+doubtful--she feared to speak, or clasp him in return for his embrace,
+but falling on her knees, clung round his legs, and bathed his feet with
+her tears.----These were the happiest moments that she had ever
+known--perhaps, the happiest _he_ had ever known.
+
+Lord Margrave, on whom Lord Elmwood had not even cast a look, now left
+the room; but as he quitted it, called out,
+
+"My Lord Elmwood, if you have any demands on me,"--
+
+The Earl interrupted him, "Would you make me an executioner? The law
+shall be your only antagonist."
+
+Matilda, quite exhausted, yet upheld by the sudden transport she had
+felt, was led by her father out of this wretched dwelling--more
+despicable than the beggar's hovel.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Rushbrook was detained at Elmwood House during all this time, more from
+the persuasions, nay prayers, of Sandford, than the commands of Lord
+Elmwood. He had, but for Sandford, followed his uncle, and exposed
+himself to his anger, sooner than have endured the most piercing
+inquietude, which he was doomed to suffer, till the news arrived of Lady
+Matilda's safety. He indeed had little else to fear from the known firm,
+courageous character of her father, and the expedition with which he
+undertook his journey; but lovers' fears are like those of women,
+obstinate, and no argument could persuade either him or Miss Woodley
+(who had now ventured to come to Elmwood House) but that Matilda's peace
+of mind might be for ever destroyed, before she was set at liberty.
+
+The summons from Lord Elmwood for their coming to town, was received by
+each of this party with delight; but the impatience to obey it, was in
+Rushbrook so violent, it was painful to himself, and extremely
+troublesome to Sandford; who wished, from his regard to Lady Matilda,
+rather to delay, than hurry their journey.
+
+"You are to blame," said he to him and Miss Woodley, "to wish by your
+arrival, to divide with Lord Elmwood that tender bond, which ties the
+good who confer obligations, to the object of their benevolence. At
+present there is no one with him to share in the care and protection of
+his daughter, and he is under the necessity of discharging that duty
+himself; this habit may become so powerful, that he _cannot_ throw it
+off, even if his former resolutions should urge him to it. While we
+remain here, therefore, Lady Matilda is safe with her father; but it
+would not surprise me, if on our arrival (especially if we are
+precipitate) he should place her again with Miss Woodley at a distance."
+
+To this forcible conjecture, they submitted for a few days, and then
+most gladly set out for town.
+
+On their arrival, they were met, even at the street-door, by Lady
+Matilda; and with an expression of joy, they did not suppose her
+features could have worn. She embraced Miss Woodley! hung upon Sandford!
+and to Mr. Rushbrook, who from his conscious love only bowed at an
+humble distance, she held out her hand with every look and gesture of
+the tenderest esteem.
+
+When Lord Elmwood joined them, he welcomed them all sincerely; but
+Sandford the most, with whom he had not spoken for many days before he
+left the country, for his allusion to the wretched situation of his
+daughter.--And Sandford (with his fellow-travellers) now saw him treat
+that daughter with an easy, a natural fondness, as if she had lived with
+him from her infancy. He appeared, however, at times, under the
+apprehension, that the propensity of man to jealousy, might give
+Rushbrook a pang at this dangerous rival in his love and fortune--for
+though Lord Elmwood remembered well the hazard he had once ventured to
+befriend Matilda, yet the present unlimited reconciliation was something
+so unlooked for, it might be a trial too much for his generosity, to
+remain wholly disinterested on the event. Slight as was this suspicion,
+it did Rushbrook injustice. He loved Lady Matilda too sincerely, he
+loved her father's happiness, and her mother's memory too faithfully,
+not to be rejoiced at all he witnessed; nor could the secret hope that
+whispered him, "Their blessings might one day be mutual," increase the
+pleasure he found, in beholding Matilda happy.
+
+Unexpected affairs, in which Lord Elmwood had been for some time
+engaged, had diverted his attention for awhile from the marriage of his
+nephew; nor did he at this time find his disposition sufficiently
+severe, to exact from the young man a compliance with his wishes, at so
+cruel an alternative as that of being for ever discarded. He felt his
+mind, by the late incident, too much softened for such harshness; he yet
+wished for the alliance he had proposed; for he was more consistent in
+his character than to suffer the tenderness his daughter's peril had
+awakened, to derange those plans which he had long projected. Never even
+now, for a moment did he indulge--for perhaps it would have been an
+indulgence--the idea of replacing her exactly in the rights of her birth,
+to the disappointment of all his nephew's expectations.
+
+Yet, milder at this crisis in his temper than he had been for years
+before, and knowing he could be no longer irritated upon the subject of
+his daughter, he once more resolved to trust himself in a conference
+with Rushbrook on the subject of marriage; meaning at the same time to
+mention Matilda as an opponent from whom he had nothing to fear. But
+for some time before Rushbrook was called to this private audience, he
+had, by his unwearied attention, endeavoured to impress upon Matilda's
+mind, the softest sentiments in his favour. He succeeded--but not as he
+wished. She loved him as her friend, her cousin, her foster-brother, but
+not as a lover. The idea of love never once came to her thoughts; and
+she would sport with Rushbrook like the most harmless child, while he,
+all impassioned, could with difficulty resist telling her, what she made
+him suffer.
+
+At the meeting between him and Lord Elmwood, to which he was called for
+his final answer on that subject which had once nearly proved so fatal
+to him; after a thousand fears, much confusion and embarrassment, he at
+length frankly confessed his "Heart was engaged, and had been so, long
+before his uncle offered to direct his choice."
+
+Lord Elmwood desired to know, "On whom he had placed his affections."
+
+"I dare not tell you, my Lord," returned he, infinitely confused; "but
+Mr. Sandford can witness their sincerity and how long they have been
+fixed."
+
+"Fixed!" cried the Earl.
+
+"Immoveably fixed, my Lord; and yet the object is as unconscious of my
+love to this moment, as you yourself have been; and I swear ever shall
+be so, without your permission."
+
+"Name the object," said Lord Elmwood, anxiously.
+
+"My Lord, I dare not.--The last time I named her to you, you threatened
+to abandon me for my arrogance."
+
+Lord Elmwood started.----"My daughter! Would you marry her?"
+
+"But with your approbation, my Lord; and that----"
+
+Before he could proceed a word further, his uncle left the room
+hastily--and left Rushbrook all terror for his approaching fate.
+
+Lord Elmwood went immediately into the apartment where Sandford, Miss
+Woodley, and Matilda, were sitting, and cried with an angry voice, and
+with his countenance disordered,
+
+"Rushbrook has offended me beyond forgiveness.--Go, Sandford, to the
+library, where he is, and tell him this instant to quit my house, and
+never dare to return."
+
+Miss Woodley lifted up her hands and sighed.
+
+Sandford rose slowly from his seat to execute the office.
+
+While Lady Matilda, who was arranging her music books upon the
+instrument, stopped from her employment suddenly, with her face bathed
+in tears.
+
+A general silence ensued, till Lord Elmwood, resuming his angry tone,
+cried, "Did you hear me, Mr. Sandford?"
+
+Sandford now, without a word in reply, made for the door--but there
+Matilda impeded him, and throwing her arms about his neck, cried,
+
+"Dear Mr. Sandford, do not."
+
+"How!" exclaimed her father.
+
+She saw the impending frown, and rushing towards him, took his hand
+fearfully, and knelt at his feet. "Mr. Rushbrook is my relation," she
+cried in a pathetic voice, "my companion, my friend--before you loved me
+he was anxious for my happiness, and often visited me to lament with,
+and console me. I cannot see him turned out of your house without
+feeling for _him_, what he once felt for _me._"
+
+Lord Elmwood turned aside to conceal his sensations--then raising her
+from the floor, he said, "Do you know what he has asked of me?"
+
+"No," answered she in the utmost ignorance, and with the utmost
+innocence painted on her face; "but whatever it is, my Lord, though you
+do not grant it, yet pardon him for asking."
+
+"Perhaps _you_ would grant him what he has requested?" said her father.
+
+"Most willingly--was it in my gift."
+
+"It is," replied he. "Go to him in the library, and hear what he has to
+say; for on your will his fate shall depend."
+
+Like lightning she flew out of the room; while even the grave Sandford
+smiled at the idea of their meeting.
+
+Rushbrook, with his fears all verified by the manner in which his uncle
+had left him, sat with his head reclined against a bookcase, and every
+limb extended with the despair that had seized him.
+
+Matilda nimbly opened the door and cried, "Mr. Rushbrook, I am come to
+comfort you."
+
+"That you have always done," said he, rising in rapture to receive her,
+even in the midst of all his sadness.
+
+"What is it you want?" said she. "What have you asked of my father that
+he has denied you?"
+
+"I have asked for that," replied he, "which is dearer to me than my
+life."
+
+"Be satisfied then," returned she, "for you shall have it."
+
+"Dear Matilda! it is not in your power to bestow."
+
+"But he has told me it _shall_ be in my power; and has desired me to
+give, or to refuse it you, at my own pleasure."
+
+"O Heavens!" cried Rushbrook in transport, "Has he?"
+
+"He has indeed--before Mr. Sandford and Miss Woodley. Now tell me what
+you petitioned for?"
+
+"I asked him," cried Rushbrook, trembling, "for a wife."
+
+Her hand, which had just then taken hold of his, in the warmth of her
+wish to serve him, now dropped down as with the stroke of death--her face
+lost its colour--and she leaned against the desk by which they were
+standing, without uttering a word.
+
+"What means this change?" said he; "Do you not wish me happy?"
+
+"Yes," she exclaimed: "Heaven is my witness. But it gives me concern to
+think we must part."
+
+"Then let us be joined," cried he, falling at her feet, "till death
+alone can part us."
+
+All the sensibility--the reserve--the pride, with which she was so amply
+possessed, returned to her that moment. She started and cried, "Could
+Lord Elmwood know for what he sent me?"
+
+"He did," replied Rushbrook--"I boldly told him of my presumptuous love,
+and he has given to you alone, the power over my happiness or misery.
+Oh! do not doom me to the latter."
+
+Whether the heart of Matilda, such as it has been described, _could_
+sentence him to misery, the reader is left to surmise--and if he supposes
+that it could _not_, he has every reason to suppose that their wedded
+life, was--a life of happiness.
+
+He has beheld the pernicious effects of an _improper education_ in the
+destiny which attended the unthinking Miss Milner.--On the opposite side,
+what may not be hoped from that school of prudence--though of
+adversity--in which Matilda was bred?
+
+And Mr. Milner, Matilda's grandfather, had better have given his
+_fortune_ to a distant branch of his family--as Matilda's father once
+meant to do--so that he had given to his daughter
+
+A PROPER EDUCATION.
+
+
+
+
+PLAYS written by MRS. INCHBALD, and published by G. G. and J. ROBINSON,
+Paternoster Row.
+
+
+LOVER'S VOWS;
+
+A Play in five Acts, from the German of
+KOTZEBUE.
+
+WIVES AS THEY WERE, AND MAIDS
+AS THEY ARE.
+
+EVERY ONE HAS HIS FAULT.
+
+I'LL TELL YOU WHAT,
+Comedies in five Acts.
+
+SUCH THINGS ARE,
+A Play in five Acts.
+
+THE MARRIED MAN,
+A Comedy, Price 1s. 6d. each.
+
+THE CHILD OF NATURE.
+
+APPEARANCE IS AGAINST THEM.
+
+THE WIDOW'S VOW.
+
+THE MIDNIGHT HOUR,
+A Comedy.
+
+THE WEDDING DAY,
+Price One Shilling each.
+
+NATURE AND ART,
+The Second Edition, in Two Volumes, Price
+7s. sewed.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Simple Story, by Mrs. Inchbald
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SIMPLE STORY ***
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Simple Story, by Mrs. Inchbald
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Simple Story
+
+Author: Mrs. Inchbald
+
+Editor: G. L. Strachey
+
+Release Date: July 5, 2007 [EBook #22002]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SIMPLE STORY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Marcia Brooks, and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced
+from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
+Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD
+
+WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
+
+G. L. STRACHEY
+
+LONDON
+HENRY FROWDE
+1908
+
+OXFORD: HORACE HART
+PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+PREFACE
+
+VOLUME I
+I-CHAPTER I             5
+I-CHAPTER II            8
+I-CHAPTER III          13
+I-CHAPTER IV           14
+I-CHAPTER V            17
+I-CHAPTER VI           22
+I-CHAPTER VII          25
+I-CHAPTER VIII         31
+I-CHAPTER IX           34
+I-CHAPTER X            38
+I-CHAPTER XI           42
+I-CHAPTER XII          47
+I-CHAPTER XIII         53
+I-CHAPTER XIV          57
+I-CHAPTER XV           63
+I-CHAPTER XVI          69
+I-CHAPTER XVII         78
+
+VOLUME II
+II-CHAPTER I           85
+II-CHAPTER II          90
+II-CHAPTER III         94
+II-CHAPTER IV         102
+II-CHAPTER V          112
+II-CHAPTER VI         117
+II-CHAPTER VII        121
+II-CHAPTER VIII       131
+II-CHAPTER IX         138
+II-CHAPTER X          146
+II-CHAPTER XI         153
+II-CHAPTER XII        164
+
+VOLUME III
+III-CHAPTER I         173
+III-CHAPTER II        177
+III-CHAPTER III       179
+III-CHAPTER IV        187
+III-CHAPTER V         188
+III-CHAPTER VI        194
+III-CHAPTER VII       201
+III-CHAPTER VIII      204
+III-CHAPTER IX        205
+III-CHAPTER X         214
+III-CHAPTER XI        218
+III-CHAPTER XII       227
+III-CHAPTER XIII      233
+III-CHAPTER XIV       244
+
+VOLUME IV
+IV-CHAPTER I          247
+IV-CHAPTER II         250
+IV-CHAPTER III        255
+IV-CHAPTER IV         261
+IV-CHAPTER V          266
+IV-CHAPTER VI         270
+IV-CHAPTER VII        277
+IV-CHAPTER VIII       283
+IV-CHAPTER IX         285
+IV-CHAPTER X          288
+IV-CHAPTER XI         291
+IV-CHAPTER XII        293
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+_A Simple Story_ is one of those books which, for some reason or other,
+have failed to come down to us, as they deserved, along the current of
+time, but have drifted into a literary backwater where only the
+professional critic or the curious discoverer can find them out. "The
+iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy;" and nowhere more
+blindly than in the republic of letters. If we were to inquire how it
+has happened that the true value of Mrs. Inchbald's achievement has
+passed out of general recognition, perhaps the answer to our question
+would be found to lie in the extreme difficulty with which the mass of
+readers detect and appreciate mere quality in literature. Their judgment
+is swayed by a hundred side-considerations which have nothing to do with
+art, but happen easily to impress the imagination, or to fit in with the
+fashion of the hour. The reputation of Mrs. Inchbald's contemporary,
+Fanny Burney, is a case in point. Every one has heard of Fanny Burney's
+novels, and _Evelina_ is still widely read. Yet it is impossible to
+doubt that, so far as quality alone is concerned, _Evelina_ deserves to
+be ranked considerably below _A Simple Story._ But its writer was the
+familiar friend of the greatest spirits of her age; she was the author
+of one of the best of diaries; and her work was immediately and
+immensely popular. Thus it has happened that the name of Fanny Burney
+has maintained its place upon the roll of English novelists, while that
+of Mrs. Inchbald is forgotten.
+
+But the obscurity of Mrs. Inchbald's career has not, of course, been the
+only reason for the neglect of her work. The merits of _A Simple Story_
+are of a kind peculiarly calculated to escape the notice of a
+generation of readers brought up on the fiction of the nineteenth
+century. That fiction, infinitely various as it is, possesses at least
+one characteristic common to the whole of it--a breadth of outlook upon
+life, which can be paralleled by no other body of literature in the
+world save that of the Elizabethans. But the comprehensiveness of view
+shared by Dickens and Tolstoy, by Balzac and George Eliot, finds no
+place in Mrs. Inchbald's work. Compared with _A Simple Story_ even the
+narrow canvases of Jane Austen seem spacious pictures of diversified
+life. Mrs. Inchbald's novel is not concerned with the world at large, or
+with any section of society, hardly even with the family; its subject is
+a group of two or three individuals whose interaction forms the whole
+business of the book. There is no local colour in it, no complexity of
+detail nor violence of contrast; the atmosphere is vague and neutral,
+the action passes among ill-defined sitting-rooms, and the most poignant
+scene in the story takes place upon a staircase which has never been
+described. Thus the reader of modern novels is inevitably struck, in _A
+Simple Story_, by a sense of emptiness and thinness, which may well
+blind him to high intrinsic merits. The spirit of the eighteenth century
+is certainly present in the book, but it is the eighteenth century of
+France rather than of England. Mrs. Inchbald no doubt owed much to
+Richardson; her view of life is the indoor sentimental view of the great
+author of _Clarissa_; but her treatment of it has very little in common
+with his method of microscopic analysis and vast accumulation. If she
+belongs to any school, it is among the followers of the French classical
+tradition that she must be placed. _A Simple Story_ is, in its small
+way, a descendant of the Tragedies of Racine; and Miss Milner may claim
+relationship with Madame de Cleves.
+
+Besides her narrowness of vision, Mrs. Inchbald possesses another
+quality, no less characteristic of her French predecessors, and no less
+rare among the novelists of England. She is essentially a stylist--a
+writer whose whole conception of her art is dominated by stylistic
+intention. Her style, it is true, is on the whole poor; it is often
+heavy and pompous, sometimes clumsy and indistinct; compared with the
+style of such a master as Thackeray it sinks at once into
+insignificance. But the interest of her style does not lie in its
+intrinsic merit so much as in the use to which she puts it. Thackeray's
+style is mere ornament, existing independently of what he has to say;
+Mrs. Inchbald's is part and parcel of her matter. The result is that
+when, in moments of inspiration, she rises to the height of her
+opportunity, when, mastering her material, she invests her expression
+with the whole intensity of her feeling and her thought, then she
+achieves effects of the rarest beauty--effects of a kind for which one
+may search through Thackeray in vain. The most triumphant of these
+passages is the scene on the staircase of Elmwood House--a passage which
+would be spoilt by quotation and which no one who has ever read it could
+forget. But the same quality is to be found throughout her work. "Oh,
+Miss Woodley!" exclaims Miss Milner, forced at last to confess to her
+friend what she feels towards Dorriforth, "I love him with all the
+passion of a mistress, and with all the tenderness of a wife." No young
+lady, even in the eighteenth century, ever gave utterance to such a
+sentence as that. It is the sentence, not of a speaker, but of a writer;
+and yet, for that very reason, it is delightful, and comes to us charged
+with a curious sense of emotion, which is none the less real for its
+elaboration. In _Nature and Art_, Mrs. Inchbald's second novel, the
+climax of the story is told in a series of short paragraphs, which, for
+bitterness and concentration of style, are almost reminiscent of
+Stendhal:
+
+     The jury consulted for a few minutes. The verdict was "Guilty".
+
+     She heard it with composure.
+
+     But when William placed the fatal velvet on his head and rose to
+     pronounce sentence, she started with a kind of convulsive motion,
+     retreated a step or two back, and, lifting up her hands with a
+     scream, exclaimed--
+
+     "Oh, not from _you!_"
+
+     The piercing shriek which accompanied these words prevented their
+     being heard by part of the audience; and those who heard them
+     thought little of their meaning, more than that they expressed
+     her fear of dying.
+
+     Serene and dignified, as if no such exclamation had been uttered,
+     William delivered the fatal speech, ending with "Dead, dead,
+     dead".
+
+     She fainted as he closed the period, and was carried back to
+     prison in a swoon; while he adjourned the court to go to dinner.
+
+Here, no doubt, there is a touch of melodrama; but it is the melodrama
+of a rhetorician, and, in that fine "She heard it with composure",
+genius has brushed aside the forced and the obvious, to express, with
+supreme directness, the anguish of a soul.
+
+For, in spite of Mrs. Inchbald's artificialities, in spite of her lack
+of that kind of realistic description which seems to modern readers the
+very blood and breath of a good story, she has the power of doing what,
+after all, only a very few indeed of her fellow craftsmen have ever been
+able to do--she can bring into her pages the living pressure of a human
+passion, she can invest, if not with realism, with something greater
+than realism--with the sense of reality itself--the pains, the triumphs,
+and the agitations of the human heart. "The heart," to use the
+old-fashioned phrase--there is Mrs. Inchbald's empire, there is the
+sphere of her glory and her command. Outside of it, her powers are weak
+and fluctuating. She has no firm grasp of the masculine elements in
+character: she wishes to draw a rough man, Sandford, and she draws a
+rude one; she tries her hand at a hero, Rushbrook, and she turns out a
+prig. Her humour is not faulty, but it is exceedingly slight. What an
+immortal figure the dim Mrs. Horton would have become in the hands of
+Jane Austen! In _Nature and Art_, her attempts at social satire are
+superficial and overstrained. But weaknesses of this kind--and it would
+be easy to prolong the list--are what every reader of the following pages
+will notice without difficulty, and what no wise one will regard. "Il ne
+faut point juger des hommes par ce qu'ils ignorent, mais par ce qu'ils
+savent;" and Mrs. Inchbald's knowledge was as profound as it was
+limited. Her Miss Milner is an original and brilliant creation, compact
+of charm and life. She is a flirt, and a flirt not only adorable, but
+worthy of adoration. Did Mrs. Inchbald take the suggestion of a heroine
+with imperfections from the little masterpiece which, on more sides than
+one, closely touches her's--Manon Lescaut? Perhaps; and yet, if this was
+so, the borrowing was of the slightest, for it is only in the fact that
+she _is_ imperfect that Miss Milner bears to Manon any resemblance at
+all. In every other respect, the English heroine is the precise contrary
+of the French one: she is a creature of fiery will, of high bearing, of
+noble disposition; and her shortcomings are born, not of weakness, but
+of excess of strength. Mrs. Inchbald has taken this character, she has
+thrown it under the influence of a violent and absorbing passion, and,
+upon that theme, she has written her delicate, sympathetic, and
+artificial book.
+
+As one reads it, one cannot but feel that it is, if not directly and
+circumstantially, at least in essence, autobiographical. One finds
+oneself speculating over the author, wondering what was her history, and
+how much of it was Miss Milner's. Unfortunately the greater part of what
+we should most like to know of Mrs. Inchbald's life has vanished beyond
+recovery. She wrote her Memoirs, and she burnt them; and who can tell
+whether even there we should have found a self-revelation? Confessions
+are sometimes curiously discreet, and, in the case of Mrs. Inchbald, we
+may be sure that it is only what was indiscreet that would really be
+worth the hearing. Yet her life is not devoid of interest. A brief
+sketch of it may be welcome to her readers.
+
+Elizabeth Inchbald was born on the 15th of October, 1753, at
+Standingfield, near Bury St. Edmunds in Suffolk;[1] one of the numerous
+offspring of John and Mary Simpson. The Simpsons, who were Roman
+Catholics, held a moderate farm in Standingfield, and ranked among the
+gentry of the neighbourhood. In Elizabeth's eighth year, her father
+died; but the family continued at the farm, the elder daughters marrying
+and settling in London, while Elizabeth grew up into a beautiful and
+charming girl. One misfortune, however, interfered with her happiness--a
+defect of utterance which during her early years rendered her speech so
+indistinct as to be unintelligible to strangers. She devoted herself to
+reading and to dreams of the great world. At thirteen, she declared she
+would rather die than live longer without seeing the world; she longed
+to go to London; she longed to go upon the stage. When, in 1770, one of
+her brothers became an actor at Norwich, she wrote secretly to his
+manager, Mr. Griffith, begging for an engagement. Mr. Griffith was
+encouraging, and, though no definite steps were taken, she was
+sufficiently charmed with him to write out his name at length in her
+diary, with the inscription "Each dear letter of thy name is harmony."
+Was Mr. Griffith the hero of the company as well as its manager? That,
+at any rate, was clearly Miss Simpson's opinion; but she soon had other
+distractions. In the following year she paid a visit to her married
+sisters in London, where she met another actor, Mr. Inchbald, who seems
+immediately to have fallen in love with her, and to have proposed. She
+remained cool. "In spite of your eloquent pen," she wrote to him, with a
+touch of that sharp and almost bitter sense that was always hers,
+"matrimony still appears to me with less charms than terrors: the bliss
+arising from it, I doubt not, is superior to any other--but best not to
+be ventured for (in my opinion), till some little time have proved the
+emptiness of all other; which it seldom fails to do." Nevertheless, the
+correspondence continued, and, early in 1772, some entries in her diary
+give a glimpse of her state of mind:--
+
+     _Jan. 22._ Saw Mr. Griffith's picture.
+
+     _Jan. 28._ Stole it.
+
+     _Jan. 29._ Rather disappointed at not receiving a letter from Mr.
+     Inchbald.
+
+A few months later she did the great deed of her life: she stepped
+secretly into the Norwich coach, and went to London. The days that
+followed were full of hazard and adventure, but the details of them are
+uncertain. She was a girl of eighteen, absolutely alone, and
+astonishingly attractive--"tall," we are told, "slender, straight, of the
+purest complexion, and most beautiful features; her hair of a golden
+auburn, her eyes full at once of spirit and sweetness;" and it was only
+to be expected that, in such circumstances, romance and daring would
+soon give place to discomfort and alarm. She attempted in vain to obtain
+a theatrical engagement; she found herself, more than once, obliged to
+shift her lodging; and at last, after ten days of trepidation, she was
+reduced to apply for help to her married sisters. This put an end to her
+difficulties, but, in spite of her efforts to avoid notice, her beauty
+had already attracted attention, and she had received a letter from a
+stranger, with whom she immediately entered into correspondence. She had
+all the boldness of innocence, and, in addition, a force of character
+which brought her safely through the risks she ran. While she was still
+in her solitary lodging, a theatrical manager, named Dodd, attempted to
+use his position as a cover for seduction. She had several interviews
+with him alone, and the story goes that, in the last, she snatched up a
+basin of hot water and dashed it in his face. But she was not to go
+unprotected for long; for within two months of her arrival in London she
+had married Mr. Inchbald.
+
+The next twelve years of Mrs. Inchbald's life were passed amid the rough
+and tumble of the eighteenth-century stage. Her husband was thirty-seven
+when she married him, a Roman Catholic like herself, and an actor who
+depended for his living upon ill-paid and uncertain provincial
+engagements. Mrs. Inchbald conquered her infirmity of speech and threw
+herself into her husband's profession. She accompanied him to Bristol,
+to Scotland, to Liverpool, to Birmingham, appearing in a great variety
+of roles, but never with any very conspicuous success. The record of
+these journeys throws an interesting light upon the conditions of the
+provincial companies of those days. Mrs. Inchbald and her companions
+would set out to walk from one Scotch town to another; they would think
+themselves lucky if they could climb on to a passing cart, to arrive at
+last, drenched with rain perhaps, at some wretched hostelry. But this
+kind of barbarism did not stand in the way of an almost childish gaiety.
+In Yorkshire, we find the Inchbalds, the Siddonses, and Kemble retiring
+to the moors, in the intervals of business, to play blindman's buff or
+puss in the corner. Such were the pastimes of Mrs. Siddons before the
+days of her fame. No doubt this kind of lightheartedness was the best
+antidote to the experience of being "saluted with volleys of potatoes
+and broken bottles", as the Siddonses were by the citizens of Liverpool,
+for having ventured to appear on their stage without having ever played
+before the King. On this occasion, the audience, according to a letter
+from Kemble to Mrs. Inchbald, "extinguished all the lights round the
+house; then jumped upon the stage; brushed every lamp out with their
+hats; took back their money; left the theatre, and determined themselves
+to repeat this till they have another company." These adventures were
+diversified by a journey to Paris, undertaken in the hope that Mr.
+Inchbald, who found himself without engagements, might pick up a
+livelihood as a painter of miniatures. The scheme came to nothing, and
+the Inchbalds eventually went to Hull, where they returned to their old
+profession. Here, in 1779, suddenly and somewhat mysteriously, Mr.
+Inchbald died. To his widow the week that followed was one of "grief,
+horror, and almost despair"; but soon, with her old pertinacity, she was
+back at her work, settling at last in London, and becoming a member of
+the Covent Garden company. Here, for the next five years, she earned for
+herself a meagre living, until, quite unexpectedly, deliverance came. In
+her moments of leisure she had been trying her hand upon dramatic
+composition; she had written some farces, and, in 1784, one of them, _A
+Mogul Tale_, was accepted, acted, and obtained a great success. This was
+the turning-point of her career. She followed up her farce with a series
+of plays, either original or adapted, which, almost without exception,
+were well received, so that she was soon able to retire from the stage
+with a comfortable competence. She had succeeded in life; she was happy,
+respected, free.
+
+Mrs. Inchbald's plays are so bad that it is difficult to believe that
+they brought her a fortune. But no doubt it was their faults that made
+them popular--their sentimentalities, their melodramatic absurdities,
+their strangely false and high-pitched moral tone. They are written in
+a jargon which resembles, if it resembles anything, an execrable prose
+translation from very flat French verse. "Ah, Manuel!" exclaims one of
+her heroines, "I am now amply punished by the Marquis for all my cruelty
+to Duke Cordunna--he to whom my father in my infancy betrothed me, and to
+whom I willingly pledged my faith, hoping to wed; till Romono, the
+Marquis of Romono, came from the field of glory, and with superior
+claims of person as of fame, seized on my heart by force, and perforce
+made me feel I had never loved till then." Which is the more
+surprising--that actors could be found to utter such speeches, or that
+audiences could be collected to applaud them? Perhaps, for us, the most
+memorable fact about Mrs. Inchbald's dramatic work is that one of her
+adaptations (from the German of Kotzebue) was no other than that
+_Lovers' Vows_ which, as every one knows, was rehearsed so brilliantly
+at Ecclesford, the seat of the Right Hon. Lord Ravenshaw, in Cornwall,
+and which, after all, was _not_ performed at Sir Thomas Bertram's. But
+that is an interest _sub specie aeternitatis_; and, from the temporal
+point of view, Mrs. Inchbald's plays must be regarded merely as
+means--means towards her own enfranchisement, and that condition of
+things which made possible _A Simple Story._ That novel had been
+sketched as early as 1777; but it was not completely written until 1790,
+and not published until the following year. A second edition was printed
+immediately, and several more followed; the present reprint is taken
+from the fourth, published in 1799--but with the addition of the
+characteristic preface, which, after the second edition, was dropped.
+The four small volumes of these early editions, with their large type,
+their ample spacing, their charming flavour of antiquity, delicacy, and
+rest--may be met with often enough in secluded corners of secondhand
+bookshops, or on some neglected shelf in the library of a country
+house. For their own generation, they represented a distinguished title
+to fame. Mrs. Inchbald--to use the expression of her biographer--"was
+ascertained to be one of the greatest ornaments of her sex." She was
+painted by Lawrence, she was eulogized by Miss Edgeworth, she was
+complimented by Madame de Stael herself. She had, indeed, won for
+herself a position which can hardly be paralleled among the women of the
+eighteenth century--a position of independence and honour, based upon
+talent, and upon talent alone. In 1796 she published _Nature and Art_,
+and ten years later appeared her last work--a series of biographical and
+critical notices prefixed to a large collection of acting plays. During
+the greater part of the intervening period she lived in lodgings in
+Leicester Square--or "Leicester Fields" as the place was still often
+called--in a house opposite that of Sir Joshua Reynolds. The oeconomy
+which she had learnt in her early days she continued to practise;
+dressing with extraordinary plainness, and often going without a fire in
+winter; so that she was able, through her self-sacrifice, to keep from
+want a large band of poor relatives and friends. The society she mixed
+with was various, but, for the most part, obscure. There were occasional
+visits from the now triumphant Mrs. Siddons; there were incessant
+propositions--but alas! they were equivocal--from Sir Charles Bunbury;
+for the rest, she passed her life among actor-managers and humble
+playwrights and unremembered medical men. One of her friends was William
+Godwin, who described her to Mrs. Shelley as a "piquante mixture between
+a lady and a milkmaid", and who, it is said, suggested part of the plot
+of _A Simple Story._ But she quarreled with him when he married Mary
+Wollstonecraft, after whose death she wrote to him thus--"With the most
+sincere sympathy in all you have suffered--with the most perfect
+forgiveness of all you have said to me, there must nevertheless be an
+end to our acquaintance _for ever._ I respect your prejudices, but I
+also respect my own." Far more intimate were her relations with Dr.
+Gisborne--a mysterious figure, with whom, in some tragic manner that we
+can only just discern, was enacted her final romance. His name--often in
+company with that of another physician, Dr. Warren, for whom, too, she
+had a passionate affection--occurs frequently among her papers; and her
+diary for December 17, 1794, has this entry:--"Dr. Gisborne drank tea
+here, and staid very late: he talked seriously of marrying--but not
+_me_." Many years later, one September, she amused herself by making out
+a list of all the Septembers since her marriage, with brief notes as to
+her state of mind during each. The list has fortunately survived, and
+some of the later entries are as follows:--
+
+     1791. London; after my novel, Simple Story ... very happy.
+
+     1792. London; in Leicester Square ... cheerful, content, and
+     sometimes rather happy....
+
+     1794. Extremely happy, but for poor Debby's death.
+
+     1795. My brother George's death, and an intimate acquaintance
+     with Dr. Gisborne--not happy....
+
+     1797. After an alteration in my teeth, and the death of Dr.
+     Warren--yet far from unhappy.
+
+     1798. Happy, but for suspicion amounting almost to certainty of a
+     rapid appearance of age in my face....
+
+     1802. After feeling wholly indifferent about Dr. Gisborne--very
+     happy but for ill health, ill looks, &c.
+
+     1803. After quitting Leicester Square probably for ever--after
+     caring scarce at all or thinking of Dr. Gisborne ... very
+     happy....
+
+     1806.... After the death of Dr. Gisborne, too, often very
+     unhappy, yet mostly cheerful, and on my return to London nearly
+     happy.
+
+The record, with all its quaintness, produces a curious impression of
+stoicism--of a certain grim acceptance of the facts of life. It would
+have been a pleasure, certainly, but an alarming pleasure, to have known
+Mrs. Inchbald.
+
+In the early years of the century, she gradually withdrew from London,
+establishing herself in suburban boarding-houses, often among sisters of
+charity, and devoting her days to the practice of her religion. In her
+early and middle life she had been an indifferent Catholic: "Sunday.
+Rose late, dressed, and read in the Bible about David, &c."--this is one
+of the very few references in her diary to anything approaching a
+religious observance during many years. But, in her old age, her views
+changed; her devotions increased with her retirement; and her retirement
+was at last complete. She died, in an obscure Kensington boarding-house,
+on August 1, 1821. She was buried in Kensington churchyard. But, if her
+ghost lingers anywhere, it is not in Kensington: it is in the heart of
+the London that she had always loved. Yet, even there, how much now
+would she find to recognize? Mrs. Inchbald's world has passed away from
+us for ever; and, as we walk there to-day amid the press of the living,
+it is hard to believe that she too was familiar with Leicester Square.
+
+G. L. STRACHEY.
+
+[1] The following account is based upon the _Memoirs of Mrs. Inchbald,
+including her familiar correspondence with the most distinguished
+persons of her time_, edited by James Boaden, Esq.--a discursive, vague,
+and not unamusing book.
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+SIMPLE STORY,
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES,
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+VOL. I.
+
+_THE FOURTH EDITION._
+
+LONDON:
+
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,
+PATERNOSTER ROW.
+
+1799.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+It is said, _a book should be read with the same spirit with which it
+has been written._ In that case, fatal must be the reception of this--for
+the writer frankly avows, that during the time she has been writing it,
+she has suffered every quality and degree of weariness and lassitude,
+into which no other employment could have betrayed her.
+
+It has been the destiny of the writer of this Story to be occupied
+throughout her life, in what has the least suited either her inclination
+or capacity--with an invincible impediment in her speech, it was her lot
+for thirteen years to gain a subsistence by public speaking--and, with
+the utmost detestation to the fatigue of inventing, a constitution
+suffering under a sedentary life, and an education confined to the
+narrow boundaries prescribed her sex, it has been her fate to devote a
+tedious seven years to the unremitting labour of literary
+productions--whilst a taste for authors of the first rank has been an
+additional punishment, forbidding her one moment of those self-approving
+reflections, which are assuredly due to the industrious. But, alas! in
+the exercise of the arts, industry scarce bears the name of merit. What
+then is to be substituted in the place of genius? GOOD FORTUNE. And if
+these volumes should be attended by the good fortune that has
+accompanied her other writings, to that divinity, and that alone, she
+shall attribute their success.
+
+Yet, there is a _first cause_ still, to whom I cannot here forbear to
+mention my obligations.
+
+The Muses, I trust, will pardon me, that to them I do not feel myself
+obliged--for, in justice to their heavenly inspirations, I believe they
+have never yet favoured me with one visitation; but sent in their
+disguise NECESSITY, who, being the mother of Invention, gave me all
+mine--while FORTUNE kindly smiled, and was accessory to the cheat.
+
+But this important secret I long wished, and endeavoured to conceal; yet
+one unlucky moment candidly, though unwittingly, divulged it--I frankly
+owned, "That Fortune having chased away Necessity, there remained no
+other incitement to stimulate me to a labour I abhorred." It happened to
+be in the power of the person to whom I confided this secret, to send
+NECESSITY once more. Once more, then, bowing to its empire, I submit to
+the task it enjoins.
+
+This case has something similar to a theatrical anecdote told (I think)
+by Colly Cibber:
+
+"A performer of a very mean salary, played the Apothecary in Romeo and
+Juliet so exactly to the satisfaction of the audience, that this little
+part, independent of the other characters, drew immense houses whenever
+the play was performed. The manager in consequence, thought it but
+justice to advance the actor's salary; on which the poor man (who, like
+the character he represented, had been half starved before) began to
+live so comfortably, he became too plump for the part; and being of no
+importance in any thing else, the manager of course now wholly
+discharged him--and thus, actually reducing him to the want of a piece of
+bread, in a short time he became a proper figure for the part again."
+
+Welcome, then, thou all-powerful principle, NECESSITY! THOU, who art the
+instigator of so many bad authors and actors--THOU, who from my infancy
+seldom hast forsaken me, still abide with me. I will not complain of any
+hardship thy commands require, so thou dost not urge my pen to
+prostitution. In all thy rigour, oh! do not force my toil to libels--or
+what is equally pernicious--panegyric on the unworthy!
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Dorriforth, bred at St. Omer's in all the scholastic rigour of that
+college, was, by education, and the solemn vows of his order, a Roman
+Catholic priest--but nicely discriminating between the philosophical and
+the superstitious part of that character, and adopting the former only,
+he possessed qualities not unworthy the first professors of
+Christianity. Every virtue which it was his vocation to preach, it was
+his care to practise; nor was he in the class of those of the religious,
+who, by secluding themselves from the world, fly the merit they might
+have in reforming mankind. He refused to shelter himself from the
+temptations of the layman by the walls of a cloister, but sought for,
+and found that shelter in the centre of London, where he dwelt, in his
+own prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance.
+
+He was about thirty, and had lived in the metropolis near five years,
+when a gentleman above his own age, but with whom he had from his youth
+contracted a most sincere friendship, died, and left him the sole
+guardian of his daughter, who was then eighteen.
+
+The deceased Mr. Milner, on his approaching dissolution, perfectly
+sensible of his state, thus reasoned with himself before he made the
+nomination:--"I have formed no intimate friendship during my whole life,
+except one--I can be said to know the heart of no man, except the heart
+of Dorriforth. After knowing his, I never sought acquaintance with
+another--I did not wish to lessen the exalted estimation of human nature
+which he had inspired. In this moment of trembling apprehension for
+every thought which darts across my mind, and more for every action
+which I must soon be called to answer for; all worldly views here thrown
+aside, I act as if that tribunal, before which I every moment expect to
+appear, were now sitting in judgment upon my purpose. The care of an
+only child is the great charge that in this tremendous crisis I have to
+execute. These earthly affections that bind me to her by custom,
+sympathy, or what I fondly call parental love, would direct me to study
+her present happiness, and leave her to the care of those whom she
+thinks her dearest friends; but they are friends only in the sunshine of
+fortune; in the cold nipping frost of disappointment, sickness, or
+connubial strife, they will forsake the house of care, although the very
+house which they may have themselves built."
+
+Here the excruciating anguish of the father, overcame that of the dying
+man.
+
+"In the moment of desertion," continued he, "which I now picture to
+myself, where will my child find comfort? That heavenly aid which
+religion gives, and which now, amidst these agonizing tortures, cheers
+with humbler hope my afflicted soul; that, she will be denied."
+
+It is in this place proper to remark, that Mr. Milner was a member of
+the church of Rome, but on his marriage with a lady of Protestant
+tenets, they mutually agreed their sons should be educated in the
+religious opinion of their father, and their daughters in that of their
+mother. One child only was the result of their union, the child whose
+future welfare now occupied the anxious thoughts of her expiring father.
+From him the care of her education had been with-held, as he kept
+inviolate his promise to her departed mother on the article of religion,
+and therefore consigned his daughter to a boarding-school for
+Protestants, whence she returned with merely such ideas of religion as
+ladies of fashion at her age mostly imbibe. Her little heart employed in
+all the endless pursuits of personal accomplishments, had left her mind
+without one ornament, except such as nature gave; and even they were not
+wholly preserved from the ravages made by its rival, _Art._
+
+While her father was in health he beheld, with extreme delight, his
+accomplished daughter, without one fault which taste or elegance could
+have imputed to her; nor ever enquired what might be her other
+failings. But, cast on a bed of sickness, and upon the point of leaving
+her to her fate, those failings at once rushed on his thought--and all
+the pride, the fond enjoyment he had taken in beholding her open the
+ball, or delight her hearers with her wit, escaped his remembrance; or,
+not escaping it, were lamented with a sigh of compassion, or a
+contemptuous frown, at such frivolous qualifications.
+
+"Something essential," said he to himself, "must be considered--something
+to prepare her for an hour like this. Can I then leave her to the charge
+of those who themselves never remember such an hour will come?
+Dorriforth is the only person I know, who, uniting the moral virtues to
+those of religion, and pious faith to native honour, will protect,
+without controlling, instruct, without tyrannizing, comfort, without
+flattering; and, perhaps in time, make good by choice, rather than by
+constraint, the dear object of his dying friend's sole care."
+
+Dorriforth, who came post from London to visit Mr. Milner in his
+illness, received a few moments before his death all his injunctions,
+and promised to fulfil them. But, in this last token of his friend's
+esteem, he still was restrained from all authority to direct his ward in
+one religious opinion, contrary to those her mother had professed, and
+in which she herself had been educated.
+
+"Never perplex her mind with an idea that may disturb, but cannot
+reform"--were his latest words; and Dorriforth's reply gave him entire
+satisfaction.
+
+Miss Milner was not with her father at this affecting period--some
+delicately nervous friend, with whom she was on a visit at Bath, thought
+proper to conceal from her not only the danger of his death, but even
+his indisposition, lest it might alarm a mind she thought too
+susceptible. This refined tenderness gave poor Miss Milner the almost
+insupportable agony of hearing that her father was no more, even before
+she was told he was not in health. In the bitterest anguish she flew to
+pay her last duty to his remains, and performed it with the truest
+filial love, while Dorriforth, upon important business, was obliged to
+return to town.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Dorriforth returned to London heavily afflicted for the loss of his
+friend; and yet, perhaps, with his thoughts more engaged upon the trust
+which that friend had reposed in him. He knew the life Miss Milner had
+been accustomed to lead; he dreaded the repulses his admonitions might
+possibly meet; and feared he had undertaken a task he was too weak to
+execute--the protection of a young woman of fashion.
+
+Mr. Dorriforth was nearly related to one of our first Catholic Peers;
+his income was by no means confined, but approaching to affluence; yet
+such was his attention to those in poverty, and the moderation of his
+own desires, that he lived in all the careful plainness of oeconomy. His
+habitation was in the house of a Mrs. Horton, an elderly gentlewoman,
+who had a maiden niece residing with her, not many years younger than
+herself. But although Miss Woodley was thirty-five, and in person
+exceedingly plain, yet she possessed such an extreme cheerfulness of
+temper, and such an inexhaustible fund of good nature, that she escaped
+not only the ridicule, but even the appellation of an old maid.
+
+In this house Dorriforth had lived before the death of Mr. Horton; nor
+upon that event had he thought it necessary, notwithstanding his
+religious vow of celibacy, to fly the roof of two such innocent females
+as Mrs. Horton and her niece. On their part, they regarded him with all
+that respect and reverence which the most religious flock shews to its
+pastor; and his friendly society they not only esteemed a spiritual, but
+a temporal advantage, as the liberal stipend he allowed for his
+apartments and board, enabled them to continue in the large and
+commodious house which they had occupied during the life of Mr. Horton.
+
+Here, upon Mr. Dorriforth's return from his journey, preparations were
+made for the reception of his ward; her father having made it his
+request that she might, for a time at least, reside in the same house
+with her guardian, receive the same visits, and cultivate the
+acquaintance of his companions and friends.
+
+When the will of her father was made known to Miss Milner, she
+submitted, without the least reluctance, to all he had required. Her
+mind, at that time impressed with the most poignant sorrow for his loss,
+made no distinction of happiness that was to come; and the day was
+appointed, with her silent acquiescence, when she was to arrive in
+London, and there take up her abode, with all the retinue of a rich
+heiress.
+
+Mrs. Horton was delighted with the addition this acquisition to her
+family was likely to make to her annual income, and style of living. The
+good-natured Miss Woodley was overjoyed at the expectation of their new
+guest, yet she herself could not tell why--but the reason was, that her
+kind heart wanted a more ample field for its benevolence; and now her
+thoughts were all pleasingly employed how she should render, not only
+the lady herself, but even all her attendants, happy in their new
+situation.
+
+The reflections of Dorriforth were less agreeably engaged--Cares, doubts,
+fears, possessed his mind--and so forcibly possessed it, that upon every
+occasion which offered, he would inquisitively endeavour to gain
+intelligence of his ward's disposition before he saw her; for he was, as
+yet, a stranger not only to the real propensities of her mind, but even
+to her person; a constant round of visits having prevented his meeting
+her at her father's, the very few times he had been at his house, since
+her final return from school. The first person whose opinion he, with
+all proper reserve, asked concerning Miss Milner, was Lady Evans, the
+widow of a Baronet, who frequently visited at Mrs. Horton's.
+
+But that the reader may be interested in what Dorriforth says and does,
+it is necessary to give some description of his person and manners. His
+figure was tall and elegant, but his face, except a pair of dark bright
+eyes, a set of white teeth, and a graceful fall in his clerical curls of
+brown hair, had not one feature to excite admiration--yet such a gleam of
+sensibility was diffused over each, that many people mistook his face
+for handsome, and all were more or less attracted by it--in a word, the
+charm, that is here meant to be described, is a _countenance_--on _his_
+you read the feelings of his heart--saw all its inmost workings--the
+quick pulses that beat with hope and fear, or the gentle ones that moved
+in a more equal course of patience and resignation. On this countenance
+his thoughts were pourtrayed; and as his mind was enriched with every
+virtue that could make it valuable, so was his face adorned with every
+expression of those virtues--and they not only gave a lustre to his
+aspect, but added a harmonious sound to all he uttered; it was
+persuasive, it was perfect eloquence; whilst in his looks you beheld his
+thoughts moving with his lips, and ever coinciding with what he said.
+
+With one of those interesting looks which revealed the anxiety of his
+heart, and yet with that graceful restraint of all gesticulation, for
+which he was remarkable, even in his most anxious concerns, he addressed
+Lady Evans, who had called on Mrs. Horton to hear and to request the
+news of the day: "Your Ladyship was at Bath last spring--you know the
+young lady to whom I have the honour of being appointed guardian.
+Pray,"--
+
+He was earnestly intent upon asking a question, but was prevented by the
+person interrogated.
+
+"Dear Mr. Dorriforth, do not ask me any thing about Miss Milner--when I
+saw her she was very young: though indeed that is but three months ago,
+and she can't be much older now."
+
+"She is eighteen," answered Dorriforth, colouring with regret at the
+doubts which this lady had increased, but not inspired.
+
+"And she is very beautiful, that I can assure you," said Lady Evans.
+
+"Which I call no qualification," said Dorriforth, rising from his chair
+in evident uneasiness.
+
+"But where there is nothing else, let me tell you, beauty is something."
+
+"Much worse than nothing, in my opinion," returned Dorriforth.
+
+"But now, Mr. Dorriforth, do not from what I have said, frighten
+yourself, and imagine your ward worse than she really is--all I know of
+her, is merely, that she's young, idle, indiscreet, and giddy, with half
+a dozen lovers in her suite; some coxcombs, others men of gallantry,
+some single, and others married."
+
+Dorriforth started. "For the first time of my life," cried he with a
+manly sorrow, "I wish I had never known her father."
+
+"Nay," said Mrs. Horton, who expected every thing to happen just as she
+wished, (for neither an excellent education, the best company, or long
+experience had been able to cultivate or brighten this good lady's
+understanding,) "Nay," said she, "I am sure, Mr. Dorriforth, you will
+soon convert her from all her evil ways."
+
+"Dear me," returned Lady Evans, "I am sure I never meant to hint at any
+thing evil--and for what I have said, I will give you up my authors if
+you please; for they were not observations of my own; all I do is to
+mention them again."
+
+The good-natured Miss Woodley, who sat working at the window, an humble,
+but an attentive listener to this discourse, ventured here to say
+exactly six words: "Then don't mention them any more."
+
+"Let us change the subject," said Dorriforth.
+
+"With all my heart," cried Lady Evans; "and I am sure it will be to the
+young lady's advantage."
+
+"Is Miss Milner tall or short?" asked Mrs. Horton, still wishing for
+farther information.
+
+"Oh, tall enough of all conscience," returned she; "I tell you again
+that no fault can be found with her person."
+
+"But if her mind is defective"--exclaimed Dorriforth, with a sigh----
+
+"That may be improved as well as the person," cried Miss Woodley.
+
+"No, my dear," returned Lady Evans, "I never heard of a pad to make
+straight an ill-shapen disposition."
+
+"Oh, yes," answered Miss Woodley, "good company, good books, experience,
+and the misfortunes of others, may have more power to form the mind to
+virtue, than"----
+
+Miss Woodley was not permitted to proceed, for Lady Evans rising hastily
+from her seat, cried, "I must be gone--I have an hundred people waiting
+for me at home--besides, were I inclined to hear a sermon, I should
+desire Mr. Dorriforth to preach, and not you."
+
+Just then Mrs. Hillgrave was announced. "And here is Mrs. Hillgrave,"
+continued she--"I believe, Mrs. Hillgrave, you know Miss Milner, don't
+you? The young lady who has lately lost her father."
+
+Mrs. Hillgrave was the wife of a merchant who had met with severe
+losses: as soon as the name of Miss Milner was uttered, she lifted up
+her hands, and the tears started in her eyes.
+
+"There!" cried Lady Evans, "I desire you will give your opinion of her,
+and I am sorry I cannot stay to hear it." Saying this, she curtsied and
+took her leave.
+
+When Mrs. Hillgrave had been seated a few minutes, Mrs. Horton, who
+loved information equally with the most inquisitive of her sex, asked
+the new visitor--"If she might be permitted to know, why, at the mention
+of Miss Milner, she had seemed so much affected?"
+
+This question exciting the fears of Dorriforth, he turned anxiously
+round, attentive to the reply.
+
+"Miss Milner," answered she, "has been my benefactress and the best I
+ever had." As she spoke, she took out her handkerchief and wiped away
+the tears that ran down her face.
+
+"How so?" cried Dorriforth eagerly, with his own eyes moistened with
+joy, nearly as much as her's were with gratitude.
+
+"My husband, at the commencement of his distresses," replied Mrs.
+Hillgrave, "owed a sum of money to her father, and from repeated
+provocations, Mr. Milner was determined to seize upon all our
+effects--his daughter, however, by her intercessions, procured us time,
+in order to discharge the debt; and when she found _that_ time was
+insufficient, and her father no longer to be dissuaded from his
+intention, she secretly sold some of her most valuable ornaments to
+satisfy his demand, and screen us from its consequences."
+
+Dorriforth, pleased at this recital, took Mrs. Hillgrave by the hand,
+and told her, "she should never want a friend."
+
+"Is Miss Milner tall, or short?" again asked Mrs. Horton, fearing, from
+the sudden pause which had ensued, the subject should be dropped.
+
+"I don't know," answered Mrs. Hillgrave.
+
+"Is she handsome, or ugly?"
+
+"I really can't tell."
+
+"It is very strange you should not take notice!"
+
+"I did take notice, but I cannot depend upon my own judgment--to me she
+appeared beautiful as an angel; but perhaps I was deceived by the
+beauties of her disposition."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+This gentlewoman's visit inspired Mr. Dorriforth with some confidence in
+the principles and character of his ward. The day arrived on which she
+was to leave her late father's seat, and fix her abode at Mrs. Horton's;
+and her guardian, accompanied by Miss Woodley, went in his carriage to
+meet her, and waited at an inn on the road for her reception.
+
+After many a sigh paid to the memory of her father, Miss Milner, upon
+the tenth of November, arrived at the place, half-way on her journey to
+town, where Dorriforth and Miss Woodley were expecting her. Besides
+attendants, she had with her a gentleman and lady, distant relations of
+her mother's, who thought it but a proper testimony of their civility to
+attend her part of the way, but who so much envied her guardian the
+trust Mr. Milner had reposed in him, that as soon as they had delivered
+her safe into his care, they returned.
+
+When the carriage, which brought Miss Milner, stopped at the inn gate,
+and her name was announced to Dorriforth, he turned pale--something like
+a foreboding of disaster trembled at his heart, and consequently spread
+a gloom over all his face. Miss Woodley was even obliged to rouse him
+from the dejection into which he was cast, or he would have sunk beneath
+it: she was obliged also to be the first to welcome his lovely
+charge.--Lovely beyond description.
+
+But the natural vivacity, the gaiety which report had given to Miss
+Milner, were softened by her recent sorrow to a meek sadness--and that
+haughty display of charms, imputed to her manners, was changed to a
+pensive demeanor. The instant Dorriforth was introduced to her by Miss
+Woodley as her "Guardian, and her deceased father's most beloved
+friend," she burst into tears, knelt down to him for a moment, and
+promised ever to obey him as her father. He had his handkerchief to his
+face at the time, or she would have beheld the agitation--the remotest
+sensations of his heart.
+
+This affecting introduction being over, after some minutes passed in
+general conversation, the carriages were again ordered; and, bidding
+farewell to the relations who had accompanied her, Miss Milner, her
+guardian, and Miss Woodley departed for town; the two ladies in Miss
+Milner's carriage, and Dorriforth in that in which he came.
+
+Miss Woodley, as they rode along, made no attempts to ingratiate herself
+with Miss Milner; though, perhaps, such an honour might constitute one
+of her first wishes--she behaved to her but as she constantly behaved to
+every other human creature--that, was sufficient to gain the esteem of a
+person possessed of an understanding equal to Miss Milner's--she had
+penetration to discover Miss Woodley's unaffected worth, and was soon
+induced to reward it with the warmest friendship.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+After a night's rest in London, less violently impressed with the loss
+of her father, reconciled, if not already attached to her new
+acquaintance, her thoughts pleasingly occupied with the reflection that
+she was in that gay metropolis--a wild and rapturous picture of which her
+active fancy had often formed--Miss Milner waked from a peaceful and
+refreshing sleep, with much of that vivacity, and with all those airy
+charms, which for a while had yielded their transcendent power to the
+weaker influence of her filial sorrow.
+
+Beautiful as she had appeared to Miss Woodley and to Dorriforth on the
+preceding day, when she joined them this morning at breakfast,
+re-possessed of her lively elegance and dignified simplicity, they gazed
+at her, and at each other alternately, with astonishment!--and Mrs.
+Horton, as she sat at the head of her tea-table, felt herself but as a
+menial servant: such command has beauty if united with sense and virtue.
+In Miss Milner it was so united. Yet let not our over-scrupulous readers
+be misled, and extend their idea of her virtue so as to magnify it
+beyond that which frail mortals commonly possess; nor must they cavil,
+if, on a nearer view, they find it less--but let them consider, that if
+she had more faults than generally belong to others, she had likewise
+more temptations.
+
+From her infancy she had been indulged in all her wishes to the extreme
+of folly, and started habitually at the unpleasant voice of control. She
+was beautiful; she had been too frequently told the high value of that
+beauty, and thought every moment passed in wasteful idleness during
+which she was not gaining some new conquest. She had a quick
+sensibility, which too frequently discovered itself in the immediate
+resentment of injuries or neglect. She had, besides, acquired the
+dangerous character of a wit; but to which she had no real pretensions,
+although the most discerning critic, hearing her converse, might fall
+into this mistake. Her replies had all the effect of repartee, not
+because she possessed those qualities which can properly be called wit,
+but that what she said was delivered with an energy, an instantaneous
+and powerful conception of the sentiment, joined with a real or a
+well-counterfeited simplicity, a quick turn of the eye, and an arch
+smile. Her words were but the words of others, and, like those of
+others, put into common sentences; but the delivery made them pass for
+wit, as grace in an ill-proportioned figure will often make it pass for
+symmetry.
+
+And now--leaving description--the reader must form a judgment of her by
+her actions; by all the round of great or trivial circumstances that
+shall be related.
+
+At breakfast, which had just begun at the commencement of this chapter,
+the conversation was lively on the part of Miss Milner, wise on the part
+of Dorriforth, good on the part of Miss Woodley, and an endeavour at all
+three on the part of Mrs. Horton. The discourse at length drew from Mr.
+Dorriforth this observation:
+
+"You have a greater resemblance of your father, Miss Milner, than I
+imagined you had from report: I did not expect to find you so like him."
+
+"Nor did I, Mr. Dorriforth, expect to find you any thing like what you
+are."
+
+"No?--pray what did you expect to find me?"
+
+"I expected to find you an elderly man, and a plain man."
+
+This was spoken in an artless manner, but in a tone which obviously
+declared she thought her guardian young and handsome. He replied, but
+not without some little embarrassment, "A plain man you shall find me in
+all my actions."
+
+"Then your actions are to contradict your appearance."
+
+For in what she said, Miss Milner had the quality peculiar to wits, of
+hazarding the thought that first occurs, which thought, is generally
+truth. On this, he paid her a compliment in return.
+
+"You, Miss Milner, I should suppose, must be a very bad judge of what is
+plain, and what is not."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Because I am sure you will readily own you do not think yourself
+handsome; and allowing that, you instantly want judgment."
+
+"And I would rather want judgment than beauty," she replied, "and so I
+give up the one for the other."
+
+With a serious face, as if proposing a very serious question, Dorriforth
+continued, "And you really believe you are not handsome?"
+
+"I should, if I consulted my own opinion, believe that I was not; but in
+some respects I am like Roman Catholics; I don't believe upon my own
+understanding, but from what other people tell me."
+
+"And let this convince you," replied Dorriforth, "that what we teach is
+truth; for you find you would be deceived did you not trust to persons
+who know better than yourself. But, my dear Miss Milner, we will talk
+upon some other topic, and never resume this again--we differ in opinion,
+I dare say, on one subject only, and this difference I hope will never
+extend itself to any other. Therefore, let not religion be named between
+us; for as I have resolved never to persecute you, in pity be grateful,
+and do not persecute me."
+
+Miss Milner looked with surprise that any thing so lightly said, should
+be so seriously received. The kind Miss Woodley ejaculated a short
+prayer to herself, that heaven would forgive her young friend the
+involuntary sin of religious ignorance--while Mrs. Horton, unperceived,
+as she imagined, made the sign of the cross upon her forehead as a guard
+against the infectious taint of heretical opinions. This pious ceremony
+Miss Milner by chance observed, and now shewed such an evident
+propensity to burst into a fit of laughter, that the good lady of the
+house could no longer contain her resentment, but exclaimed, "God
+forgive you," with a severity so different from the idea which the words
+conveyed, that the object of her anger was, on this, obliged freely to
+indulge that impulse which she had in vain been struggling to suppress;
+and no longer suffering under the agony of restraint, she gave way to
+her humour, and laughed with a liberty so uncontrolled, that soon left
+her in the room with none but the tender-hearted Miss Woodley a witness
+of her folly.
+
+"My dear Miss Woodley," (then cried Miss Milner, after recovering
+herself) "I am afraid you will not forgive me."
+
+"No, indeed I will not," returned Miss Woodley.
+
+But how unimportant, how weak, how ineffectual are _words_ in
+conversation--looks and manners alone express--for Miss Woodley, with her
+charitable face and mild accents, saying she would not forgive, implied
+only forgiveness--while Mrs. Horton, with her enraged voice and aspect,
+begging heaven to pardon the offender, palpably said, she thought her
+unworthy of all pardon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Six weeks have now elapsed since Miss Milner has been in London
+partaking with delight all its pleasures, while Dorriforth has been
+sighing with apprehension, attending to her with precaution, and praying
+with zealous fervour for her safety. Her own and her guardian's
+acquaintance, and, added to them, the new friendships (to use the
+unmeaning language of the world) which she was continually forming,
+crowded so perpetually to the house, that seldom had Dorriforth even a
+moment left him from her visits or visitors, to warn her of her
+danger:--yet when a moment offered, he caught it eagerly--pressed the
+necessity of "Time not always passed in society; of reflection; of
+reading; of thoughts for a future state; and of virtues acquired to make
+old age supportable." That forcible power of genuine feeling, which
+directs the tongue to eloquence, had its effect while she listened to
+him, and she sometimes put on the looks and gesture of assent--sometimes
+even spoke the language of conviction; but this the first call of
+dissipation would change to ill-timed raillery, or peevish remonstrance,
+at being limited in delights her birth and fortune entitled her to
+enjoy.
+
+Among the many visitors who attended at her levees, and followed her
+wherever she went, there was one who seemed, even when absent from her,
+to share her thoughts. This was Lord Frederick Lawnly, the younger son
+of a Duke, and the avowed favourite of all the most discerning women of
+taste.
+
+He was not more than twenty-three; animated, elegant, extremely
+handsome, and possessed of every accomplishment that would captivate a
+heart less susceptible of love than Miss Milner's was supposed to be.
+With these allurements, no wonder if she took pleasure in his company--no
+wonder if she took pride in having it known that he was among the number
+of her devoted admirers. Dorriforth beheld this growing intimacy with
+alternate pain and pleasure--he wished to see Miss Milner married, to see
+his charge in the protection of another, rather than of himself; yet
+under the care of a young nobleman, immersed in all the vices of the
+town, without one moral excellence, but such as might result eventually
+from the influence of the moment--under such care he trembled for her
+happiness--yet trembled more lest her heart should be purloined without
+even the authority of matrimonial views.
+
+With sentiments like these, Dorriforth could never disguise his
+uneasiness at the sight of Lord Frederick, nor could the latter help
+discerning the suspicion of the guardian, and consequently each was
+embarrassed in the presence of the other. Miss Milner observed, but
+observed with indifference, the sensations of both--there was but one
+passion which then held a place in her bosom, and that was vanity;
+vanity defined into all the species of pride, vain-glory,
+self-approbation--an inordinate desire of admiration, and an immoderate
+enjoyment of the art of pleasing, for her own individual happiness, and
+not for the happiness of others. Still had she a heart inclined, and
+oftentimes affected by tendencies less unworthy; but those approaches to
+what was estimable, were in their first impulse too frequently met and
+intercepted by some darling folly.
+
+Miss Woodley (who could easily discover a virtue, although of the most
+diminutive kind, and scarce through the magnifying glass of calumny
+could ever perceive a fault) was Miss Milner's inseparable companion at
+home, and her zealous advocate with Dorriforth, whenever, during her
+absence, she became the subject of discourse. He listened with hope to
+the praises of her friend, but saw with despair how little they were
+merited. Sometimes he struggled to subdue his anger, but oftener strove
+to suppress tears of pity for her hapless state.
+
+By this time all her acquaintance had given Lord Frederick to her as a
+lover; the servants whispered it, and some of the public prints had even
+fixed the day of marriage;--but as no explanation had taken place on his
+part, Dorriforth's uneasiness was increased, and he seriously told his
+ward, he thought it would be indispensably prudent in her to entreat
+Lord Frederick to discontinue his visits. She smiled with ridicule at
+the caution, but finding it repeated, and in a manner that indicated
+authority, she promised not only to make, but to enforce the request.
+The next time he came she did so, assuring him it was by her guardian's
+desire; "Who, from motives of delicacy, had permitted her to solicit as
+a favour, what he could himself make a demand." Lord Frederick reddened
+with anger--he loved Miss Milner; but he doubted whether, from the
+frequent proofs he had experienced of his own inconstancy, he should
+continue to love--and this interference of her guardian threatened an
+explanation or a dismission, before he became thoroughly acquainted with
+his own heart.--Alarmed, confounded, and provoked, he replied,
+
+"By heaven, I believe Mr. Dorriforth loves you himself, and it is
+jealousy that makes him treat me in this manner."
+
+"For shame, my Lord!" cried Miss Woodley, who was present, and who
+trembled with horror at the sacrilegious idea.
+
+"Nay, shame to him if he is not in love"--answered his Lordship, "for who
+but a savage could behold beauty like her's without owning its power?"
+
+"Habit," replied Miss Milner, "is every thing--Mr. Dorriforth sees and
+converses with beauty, but from habit he does not fall in love; as you,
+my Lord, from habit, so often do."
+
+"Then you believe that love is not in my nature?"
+
+"No more of it, my Lord, than habit could very soon extinguish."
+
+"But I would not have it extinguished--I would rather it should mount to
+a flame, for I think it a crime to be insensible of the divine blessings
+love can bestow."
+
+"Then you indulge the passion to avoid a sin?--this very motive deters
+Mr. Dorriforth from that indulgence."
+
+"It ought to deter him, for the sake of his oaths--but monastick vows,
+like those of marriage, were made to be broken--and surely when your
+guardian looks at you, his wishes"----
+
+"Are never less pure," she replied eagerly, "than those which dwell in
+the bosom of my _celestial_ guardian."
+
+At that instant Dorriforth entered the room. The colour had mounted into
+Miss Milner's face from the warmth with which she had delivered her
+opinion, and his accidental entrance at the very moment this praise had
+been conferred upon him in his absence, heightened the blush to a deep
+glow on every feature--confusion and earnestness caused even her lips to
+tremble and her whole frame to shake.
+
+"What's the matter?" cried Dorriforth, looking with concern on her
+discomposure.
+
+"A compliment paid by herself to you, Sir," replied Lord Frederick, "has
+affected your ward in the manner you have seen."
+
+"As if she blushed at the untruth," said Dorriforth.
+
+"Nay, that is unkind," cried Miss Woodley; "for if you had been here"----
+
+"--I would not have said what I did," replied Miss Milner, "but left him
+to vindicate himself."
+
+"Is it possible that I can want any vindication? Who would think it
+worth their while to slander so unimportant a person as I am?"
+
+"The man who has the charge of Miss Milner," replied Lord Frederick,
+"derives a consequence from her."
+
+"No ill consequence, I hope, my Lord?" said Dorriforth, with a firmness
+in his voice, and with an eye so fixed, that his antagonist hesitated
+for a moment in want of a reply--and Miss Milner softly whispering to
+him, as her guardian turned his head, to avoid an argument, he bowed
+acquiescence. And then, as if in compliment to her, he changed the
+subject;--with an air of ridicule he cried,
+
+"I wish, Mr. Dorriforth, you would give me absolution of all my sins,
+for I confess they are many, and manifold."
+
+"Hold, my Lord," exclaimed Dorriforth, "do not confess before the
+ladies, lest, in order to excite their compassion, you should be tempted
+to accuse yourself of sins you have never yet committed."
+
+At this Miss Milner laughed, seemingly so well pleased, that Lord
+Frederick, with a sarcastic sneer, repeated,
+
+          "From Abelard it came,
+    And Eloisa still must love the name."
+
+Whether from an inattention to the quotation, or from a consciousness it
+was wholly inapplicable, Dorriforth heard it without one emotion of
+shame or of anger--while Miss Milner seemed shocked at the implication;
+her pleasantry was immediately suppressed, and she threw open the sash
+and held her head out at the window, to conceal the embarrassment these
+lines had occasioned.
+
+The Earl of Elmwood was at that juncture announced--a Catholic nobleman,
+just come of age, and on the eve of marriage. His visit was to his
+cousin, Mr. Dorriforth, but as all ceremonious visits were alike
+received by Dorriforth, Miss Milner, and Mrs. Horton's family, in one
+common apartment, Lord Elmwood was ushered into this, and of course
+directed the conversation to a different subject.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+With an anxious desire that the affection, or acquaintance, between Lord
+Frederick and Miss Milner might be finally dissolved, her guardian
+received with infinite satisfaction, overtures of marriage from Sir
+Edward Ashton. Sir Edward was not young or handsome; old or ugly; but
+immensely rich, and possessed of qualities that made him worthy of the
+happiness to which he aspired. He was the man whom Dorriforth would have
+chosen before any other for the husband of his ward, and his wishes made
+him sometimes hope, against his cooler judgment, that Sir Edward would
+not be rejected--he was resolved, at all events, to try the force of his
+own power in the strongest recommendation of him.
+
+Notwithstanding that dissimilarity of opinion which, in almost every
+instance, subsisted between Miss Milner and her guardian, there was in
+general the most punctilious observance of good manners from each
+towards the other--on the part of Dorriforth more especially; for his
+politeness would sometimes appear even like the result of a system which
+he had marked out for himself, as the only means to keep his ward
+restrained within the same limitations. Whenever he addressed her there
+was an unusual reserve upon his countenance, and more than usual
+gentleness in the tone of his voice; this appeared the effect of
+sentiments which her birth and situation inspired, joined to a studied
+mode of respect, best calculated to enforce the same from her. The
+wished-for consequence was produced--for though there was an instinctive
+rectitude in the understanding of Miss Milner that would have taught
+her, without other instruction, what manners to observe towards her
+deputed father; yet, from some volatile thought, or some quick sense of
+feeling, which she had not been accustomed to subdue, she was
+perpetually on the verge of treating him with levity; but he would
+immediately recall her recollection by a reserve too awful, and a
+gentleness too sacred for her to violate. The distinction which both
+required, was thus, by his skilful management alone, preserved.
+
+One morning he took an opportunity, before her and Miss Woodley, to
+introduce and press the subject of Sir Edward Ashton's hopes. He first
+spoke warmly in his praise, then plainly said that he believed she
+possessed the power of making so deserving a man happy to the summit of
+his wishes. A laugh of ridicule was the only answer; but a sudden frown
+from Dorriforth having put an end to it, he resumed his usual
+politeness, and said,
+
+"I wish you would shew a better taste, than thus pointedly to disapprove
+of Sir Edward."
+
+"How, Mr. Dorriforth, can you expect me to give proofs of a good taste,
+when Sir Edward, whom you consider with such high esteem, has given so
+bad an example of his, in approving me?"
+
+Dorriforth wished not to flatter her by a compliment she seemed to have
+sought for, and for a moment hesitated what answer to make.
+
+"Reply, Sir, to that question," she said.
+
+"Why then, Madam," returned he, "it is my opinion, that supposing what
+your humility has advanced be just, yet Sir Edward will not suffer by
+the suggestion; for in cases where the heart is so immediately
+concerned, as I believe Sir Edward's to be, taste, or rather reason, has
+no power to act."
+
+"You are in the right, Mr. Dorriforth; this is a proper justification of
+Sir Edward--and when I fall in love, I beg that you will make the same
+excuse for me."
+
+"Then," said he earnestly, "before your heart is in that state which I
+have described, exert your reason."
+
+"I shall," answered she, "and not consent to marry a man whom I could
+never love."
+
+"Unless your heart is already given away, Miss Milner, what can make you
+speak with such a degree of certainty?"
+
+He thought on Lord Frederick when he said this, and he riveted his eyes
+upon her as if to penetrate her sentiments, and yet trembled for what he
+should find there. She blushed, and her looks would have confirmed her
+guilty, if the unembarrassed and free tone of her voice, more than her
+words, had not preserved her from that sentence.
+
+"No," she replied, "my heart is not given away; and yet I can venture to
+declare, Sir Edward will never possess an atom of it."
+
+"I am sorry, for both your sakes, that these are your sentiments," he
+replied. "But as your heart is still your own," (and he seemed rejoiced
+to find it was) "permit me to warn you how you part with a thing so
+precious--the dangers, the sorrows you hazard in bestowing it, are
+greater than you may be aware of. The heart once gone, our thoughts, our
+actions, are no more our own, than that is." He seemed _forcing_ himself
+to utter all this, and yet broke off as if he could have said much more,
+if the extreme delicacy of the subject had not prevented him.
+
+When he left the room, and she heard the door shut after him, she said,
+with an inquisitive thoughtfulness, "What can make good people so
+skilled in all the weaknesses of the bad? Mr. Dorriforth, with all those
+prudent admonitions, appears rather like a man who has passed his life
+in the gay world, experienced all its dangerous allurements, all its
+repentant sorrows; than like one who has lived his whole time secluded
+in a monastery, or in his own study. Then he speaks with such exquisite
+sensibility on the subject of love, that he commends the very thing
+which he attempts to depreciate. I do not think my Lord Frederick would
+make the passion appear in more pleasing colours by painting its
+delights, than Mr. Dorriforth could in describing its sorrows--and if he
+talks to me frequently in this manner, I shall certainly take pity on
+Lord Frederick, for the sake of his adversary's eloquence."
+
+Miss Woodley, who heard the conclusion of this speech with the tenderest
+concern, cried, "Alas! you then think seriously of Lord Frederick!"
+
+"Suppose I do, wherefore that _alas!_ Miss Woodley?"
+
+"Because I fear you will never be happy with him."
+
+"That is plainly telling me he will not be happy with me."
+
+"I do not know--I cannot speak of marriage from experience," answered
+Miss Woodley, "but I think I can guess what it is."
+
+"Nor can I speak of love from experience," replied Miss Milner, "but I
+think I can guess what it is."
+
+"But do not fall in love, my dear," (cried Miss Woodley, with her
+accustomed simplicity of heart, as if she had been asking a favour that
+depended upon the will of the person entreated,) "pray do not fall in
+love without the approbation of your guardian."
+
+Her young friend smiled at the inefficacious prayer, but promised to do
+all she could to oblige her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Sir Edward, not wholly discouraged by the denial with which Dorriforth
+had, with delicacy, acquainted him, still hoped for a kind reception,
+and was so often at the house of Mrs. Horton, that Lord Frederick's
+jealousy was excited, and the tortures he suffered in consequence,
+convinced him, beyond a doubt, of the sincerity of his affection. Every
+time he beheld the object of his passion, (for he still continued his
+visits, though not so frequently as heretofore) he pleaded his cause
+with such ardour, that Miss Woodley, who was sometimes present, and ever
+compassionate, could not resist wishing him success. He now
+unequivocally offered marriage, and entreated that he might lay his
+proposals before Mr. Dorriforth, but this was positively forbidden.
+
+Her reluctance he imputed, however, more to the known partiality of her
+guardian for the addresses of Sir Edward, than to any motive which
+depended upon herself; and to Mr. Dorriforth he conceived a greater
+dislike than ever; believing that through his interposition, in spite of
+his ward's attachment, he might yet be deprived of her. But Miss Milner
+declared both to him and to her friend, that love had, at present,
+gained no influence over her mind. Yet did the watchful Miss Woodley
+oftentimes hear a sigh escape from her unknown to herself, till she was
+reminded of it, and then a sudden blush would instantly overspread her
+face. This seeming struggle with her passion, endeared her more than
+ever to Miss Woodley, and she would even risk the displeasure of
+Dorriforth by her compliance with every new pursuit that might amuse the
+time, which else her friend passed in heaviness of heart.
+
+Balls, plays, incessant company, at length roused her guardian from that
+mildness with which he had been accustomed to treat her. Night after
+night his sleep had been disturbed by fears for her when abroad; morning
+after morning it had been broken by the clamour of her return. He
+therefore gravely said to her one forenoon as he met her accidentally
+upon the staircase,
+
+"I hope, Miss Milner, you pass this evening at home?"
+
+Unprepared for the sudden question, she blushed and replied,
+"Yes."--Though she knew she was engaged to a brilliant assembly, for
+which her milliner had been consulted a whole week.
+
+She, however, flattered herself that what she had said might be excused
+as a mistake, the lapse of memory, or some other trifling fault, when he
+should know the truth. The truth was earlier divulged than she
+expected--for just as dinner was removed, her footman delivered a message
+to her from her milliner concerning a new dress for the evening--the
+_present evening_ particularly marked. Her guardian looked astonished.
+
+"I thought, Miss Milner, you gave me your word that you would pass this
+evening at home?"
+
+"I mistook--for I had before given my word that I should pass it abroad."
+
+"Indeed!" cried he.
+
+"Yes, indeed; and I believe it is right that I should keep my first
+promise; is it not?"
+
+"The promise you gave me then, you do not think of any consequence?"
+
+"Yes, certainly, if you do."
+
+"I do."
+
+"And mean, perhaps, to make it of more consequence than it deserves, by
+being offended."
+
+"Whether or not, I _am_ offended--you shall find I am." And he looked so.
+
+She caught his piercing eyes--her's were immediately cast
+down; and she trembled--either with shame or with resentment.
+
+Mrs. Horton rose from her seat--moved the decanters and fruit round the
+table--stirred the fire--and came back to her seat again, before another
+word was uttered. Nor had this good woman's officious labours taken the
+least from the awkwardness of the silence, which, as soon as the bustle
+she had made was over, returned in its full force.
+
+At last, Miss Milner rising with alacrity, was preparing to go out of
+the room, when Dorriforth raised his voice, and in a tone of authority
+said,
+
+"Miss Milner, you shall not leave the house this evening."
+
+"Sir!" she exclaimed with a kind of doubt of what she had heard--a
+surprise, which fixed her hand on the door she had half opened, but
+which now she shewed herself irresolute whether to open wide in
+defiance, or to shut submissively. Before she could resolve, he rose
+from his chair, and said, with a force and warmth she had never heard
+him use before,
+
+"I command you to stay at home this evening." And he walked immediately
+out of the apartment by another door.
+
+Her hand fell motionless from that which she held--she appeared
+motionless herself--till Mrs. Horton, "Beseeching her not to be uneasy at
+the treatment she had received," made her tears flow as if her heart was
+breaking.
+
+Miss Woodley would have said something to comfort her, but she had
+caught the infection, and could not utter a word. It was not from any
+real cause of grief that she wept; but there was a magnetic quality in
+tears, which always attracted her's.
+
+Mrs. Horton secretly enjoyed this scene, though the real well meaning of
+her heart, and ease of her conscience, did not suffer her to think so.
+She, however, declared she had "long prognosticated it would come to
+this;" and she "only thanked heaven it was no worse."
+
+"What could be worse, Madam?" cried Miss Milner; "am not I disappointed
+of the ball?"
+
+"You don't mean to go then?" said Mrs. Horton; "I commend your prudence;
+and I dare say it is more than your guardian gives you credit for."
+
+"Do you think I would go," answered Miss Milner, with an eagerness that
+for a time suppressed her tears, "in contradiction to his will?"
+
+"It is not the first time, I believe, you have acted contrary to that,
+Miss Milner," replied Mrs. Horton, and affected a tenderness of voice,
+to soften the harshness of her words.
+
+"If you think so, Madam, I see nothing that should prevent me now." And
+she flung out of the room as if she had resolved to disobey him. This
+alarmed poor Miss Woodley.
+
+"My dear aunt," she cried to Mrs. Horton, "follow and prevail upon Miss
+Milner to give up her design; she means to be at the ball in opposition
+to her guardian's will."
+
+"Then," said Mrs. Horton, "I'll not be instrumental in detering her--if
+she does it may be for the best; it may give Mr. Dorriforth a clearer
+knowledge what means are proper to convert her from evil."
+
+"But, my dear Madam, she must be preserved from the evil of
+disobedience; and as you tempted, you will be the most likely to
+dissuade her. But if you will not, I must endeavour."
+
+Miss Woodley was leaving the room to perform this good work, when Mrs.
+Horton, in imitation of the example given her by Dorriforth, cried,
+
+"Niece, I command you not to stir out of this room this evening."
+
+Miss Woodley obediently sat down--and though her thoughts and heart were
+in the chamber of her friend, she never marked by one impertinent word,
+or by one line of her face, the restraint she suffered.
+
+At the usual hour, Mr. Dorriforth and his ward were summoned to tea:--he
+entered with a countenance which evinced the remains of anger; his eye
+gave testimony of his absent thoughts; and though he took up a pamphlet
+affecting to read, it was plain to discern that he scarcely knew he held
+it in his hand.
+
+Mrs. Horton began to make tea with a mind as intent upon something else
+as Dorriforth's--she longed for the event of this misunderstanding; and
+though she wished no ill to Miss Milner, yet with an inclination bent
+upon seeing something new--without the fatigue of going out of her own
+house--she was not over scrupulous what that novelty might be. But for
+fear she should have the imprudence to speak a word upon the subject
+which employed her thoughts, or even to look as if she thought of it at
+all; she pinched her lips close together, and cast her eyes on vacancy,
+lest their significant regards might expose her to detection. And for
+fear any noise should intercept even the sound of what might happen, she
+walked across the room more softly than usual, and more softly touched
+every thing she was obliged to lay her hand on.
+
+Miss Woodley thought it her duty to be mute; and now the gingle of a tea
+spoon was like a deep-toned bell, all was so quiet.
+
+Mrs. Horton, too, in the self-approving reflection that she was not in a
+quarrel or altercation of any kind, felt herself at this moment
+remarkably peaceful and charitable. Miss Woodley did not recollect
+_herself_ so, but was so in reality--in her, peace and charity were
+instinctive virtues, accident could not increase them.
+
+The tea had scarce been made, when a servant came with Miss Milner's
+compliments, and she "did not mean to have any tea." The pamphlet shook
+in Dorriforth's hand while this message was delivered--he believed her to
+be dressing for her evening's entertainment, and now studied in what
+manner he should prevent, or resent her disobedience to his commands. He
+coughed--drank his tea--endeavoured to talk, but found it
+difficult--sometimes read--and in this manner near two hours were passed
+away, when Miss Milner came into the room.--Not dressed for a ball, but
+as she had risen from dinner. Dorriforth read on, and seemed afraid of
+looking up, lest he should see what he could not have pardoned. She
+drew a chair and sat at the table by the side of her delighted friend.
+
+After a few minutes' pause, and some little embarrassment on the part of
+Mrs. Horton, at the disappointment she had to encounter from this
+unexpected dutiful conduct, she asked Miss Milner, "if she would now
+have any tea?" She replied, "No, I thank you, Ma'am," in a voice so
+languid, compared with her usual one, that Dorriforth lifted up his eyes
+from the book; and seeing her in the same dress that she had worn all
+the day, turned them hastily away from her again--not with a look of
+triumph, but of confusion.
+
+Whatever he might have suffered if he had seen her decorated, and
+prepared to bid defiance to his commands, yet even upon that trial, he
+would not have endured half the painful sensations he now for a moment
+felt--he felt himself to blame.
+
+He feared that he had treated her with too much severity--he admired her
+condescension, accused himself for having exacted it--he longed to ask
+her pardon--he did not know how.
+
+A cheerful reply from her, to a question of Miss Woodley's, embarrassed
+him still more--he wished that she had been sullen, he then would have
+had a temptation, or pretence, to have been sullen too.
+
+With all these sentiments crowding fast upon his heart, he still read,
+or seemed to read, as if he took no notice of what was passing; till a
+servant came into the room and asked Miss Milner at what time she should
+want the carriage? to which she replied, "I don't go out to-night."
+Dorriforth then laid the book out of his hand, and by the time the
+servant had left the room, thus began:
+
+"Miss Milner, I give you, I fear, some unkind proofs of my regard. It is
+often the ungrateful task of a friend to be troublesome--sometimes
+unmannerly. Forgive the duties of my office, and believe that no one is
+half so much concerned if it robs you of any degree of happiness, as I
+myself am."
+
+What he said, he looked with so much sincerity, that had she been
+burning with rage at his late behaviour, she must have forgiven him,
+for the regret which he so forcibly exprest. She was going to reply, but
+found she could not, without accompanying her words with tears,
+therefore, after the first attempt, she desisted.
+
+On this he rose from his chair, and going to her, said, "Once more shew
+your submission by obeying me a second time to-day. Keep your
+appointment, and be assured that I shall issue my commands with more
+circumspection for the future, as I find how strictly they are complied
+with."
+
+Miss Milner, the gay, the vain, the dissipated, the haughty Miss Milner,
+sunk underneath this kindness, and wept with a gentleness and patience,
+which did not give more surprise than it gave joy to Dorriforth. He was
+charmed to find her disposition so tractable--prophesied to himself the
+future success of his guardianship, and her eternal as well as temporal
+happiness from this specimen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Although Dorriforth was the good man that he has been described, there
+were in his nature shades of evil--there was an obstinacy which he
+himself, and his friends termed firmness of mind; but had not religion
+and some opposite virtues weighed heavily in the balance, it would
+frequently have degenerated into implacable stubbornness.
+
+The child of a sister once beloved, who married a young officer against
+her brother's consent, was at the age of three years left an orphan,
+destitute of all support but from his uncle's generosity: but though
+Dorriforth maintained, he would never see him. Miss Milner, whose heart
+was a receptacle for the unfortunate, no sooner was told the melancholy
+history of Mr. and Mrs. Rushbrook, the parents of the child, than she
+longed to behold the innocent inheritor of her guardian's resentment,
+and took Miss Woodley with her to see the boy. He was at a farm house a
+few miles from town; and his extreme beauty and engaging manners, wanted
+not the sorrows to which he had been born, to give him farther
+recommendation to the kindness of her, who had come to visit him. She
+looked at him with admiration and pity, and having endeared herself to
+him by the most affectionate words and caresses, on her bidding him
+farewell, he cried most pitiously to go along with her. Unused at any
+time to resist temptations, whether to reprehensible, or to laudable
+actions, she yielded to his supplications, and having overcome a few
+scruples of Miss Woodley's, determined to take young Rushbrook to town,
+and present him to his uncle. This idea was no sooner formed than
+executed. By making a present to the nurse, she readily gained her
+consent to part with him for a day or two, and the signs of joy denoted
+by the child on being put into the carriage, repaid her beforehand for
+every reproof she might receive from her guardian, for the liberty she
+had taken.
+
+"Besides," said she to Miss Woodley, who had still her fears, "do you
+not wish his uncle should have a warmer interest in his care than
+duty?--it is duty alone which induces Mr. Dorriforth to provide for him;
+but it is proper that affection should have some share in his
+benevolence--and how, hereafter, will he be so fit an object of the love
+which compassion excites, as he is at present?"
+
+Miss Woodley acquiesced. But before they arrived at their own door it
+came into Miss Milner's remembrance, that there was a grave sternness in
+the manners of her guardian when provoked, the recollection of which
+made her a little apprehensive for what she had done--her friend, who
+knew him better than she did, was more so. They both became silent as
+they approached the street where they lived--for Miss Woodley having once
+represented her fears, and having suppressed them in resignation to Miss
+Milner's better judgment, would not repeat them--and Miss Milner would
+not confess they were now troubling her.
+
+Just, however, as the coach stopped at the door, she had the forecast
+and the humility to say, "We will not tell Mr. Dorriforth the child is
+his nephew, unless he should appear fond, and pleased with him, and then
+I think we may venture without any danger."
+
+This was agreed; and when Dorriforth entered the room just before
+dinner, poor Harry Rushbrook was introduced as the son of a lady who
+frequently visited there. The deception passed--his uncle shook hands
+with him, and at length highly pleased with his engaging manner, and
+applicable replies, took him on his knee, and kissed him with affection.
+Miss Milner could scarce restrain the joy it gave her; but unluckily,
+Dorriforth said soon after to the child, "And now tell me your name."
+
+"Harry Rushbrook," replied he, with force and clearness of voice.
+
+Dorriforth was holding him fondly round the waist as he stood with his
+feet upon his knees; and at this reply he did not _throw_ him from
+him--but he removed his hands, which had supported him, so suddenly, that
+the child, to prevent falling on the floor, threw himself about his
+uncle's neck. Miss Milner and Miss Woodley turned aside to conceal their
+tears. "I had like to have been down," cried Harry, fearing no other
+danger. But his uncle took hold of each hand which had twined around
+him, and placed him immediately on the ground. The dinner being that
+instant served, he gave no greater marks of his resentment than calling
+for his hat, and walking instantly out of the house.
+
+Miss Milner cried for anger; yet she did not shew less kindness to the
+object of this vexatious circumstance: she held him in her arms while
+she sat at table, and repeatedly said to him, (though he had not the
+sense to thank her) "That she would always be his friend."
+
+The first emotions of resentment against Dorriforth being passed, she
+returned with her little charge to the farm house, before it was likely
+his uncle should come back; another instance of obedience, which Miss
+Woodley was impatient her guardian should know; she therefore enquired
+where he was, and sent him a note for the sole purpose of acquainting
+him with it, offering at the same time an apology for what had happened.
+He returned in the evening seemingly reconciled, nor was a word
+mentioned of the incident which had occurred in the former part of the
+day; yet in his countenance remained a perfect remembrance of it,
+without one trait of compassion for his helpless nephew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+There are few things so mortifying to a proud spirit as to suffer by
+immediate comparison--men can hardly bear it, but to women the punishment
+is intolerable; and Miss Milner now laboured under this humiliation to a
+degree which gave her no small inquietude.
+
+Miss Fenton, young, of exquisite beauty, elegant manners, gentle
+disposition, and discreet conduct, was introduced to Miss Milner's
+acquaintance by her guardian, and frequently, sometimes inadvertently,
+held up by him as a pattern for her to follow--for when he did not say
+this in direct terms, it was insinuated by the warmth of his panegyric
+on those virtues in which Miss Fenton excelled, and in which his ward
+was obviously deficient. Conscious of her own inferiority in these
+subjects of her guardian's praise, Miss Milner, instead of being
+inspired to emulation, was provoked to envy.
+
+Not to admire Miss Fenton was impossible--to find one fault with her
+person or sentiments was equally impossible--and yet to love her was
+unlikely.
+
+That serenity of mind which kept her features in a continual placid
+form, though enchanting at the first glance, upon a second or third,
+fatigued the sight for want of variety; and to have seen her distorted
+with rage, convulsed with mirth, or in deep dejection, had been to her
+advantage. But her superior soul appeared above those emotions, and
+there was more inducement to worship her as a saint than to love her as
+a woman. Yet Dorriforth, whose heart was not formed (at least not
+educated) for love, regarding her in the light of friendship only,
+beheld her as the most perfect model for her sex. Lord Frederick on
+first seeing her was struck with her beauty, and Miss Milner apprehended
+she had introduced a rival; but he had not seen her three times, before
+he called her "The most insufferable of Heaven's creatures," and vowed
+there was more charming variation in the plain features of Miss
+Woodley.
+
+Miss Milner had a heart affectionate to her own sex, even where she saw
+them in possession of superior charms; but whether from the spirit of
+contradiction, from feeling herself more than ordinarily offended by her
+guardian's praise of this lady, or that there was a reserve in Miss
+Fenton that did not accord with her own frank and ingenuous disposition,
+so as to engage her esteem, certain it is that she took infinite
+satisfaction in hearing her beauty and virtues depreciated or turned
+into ridicule, particularly if Mr. Dorriforth was present. This was
+painful to him upon many accounts; perhaps an anxiety for his ward's
+conduct was not among the least; and whenever the circumstance occurred,
+he could with difficulty restrain his anger. Miss Fenton was not only a
+person whose amiable qualities he admired, but she was soon to be allied
+to him by her marriage with his nearest relation, Lord Elmwood, a young
+nobleman whom he sincerely loved.
+
+Lord Elmwood had discovered all that beauty in Miss Fenton which every
+common observer could not but see. The charms of her mind and of her
+fortune had been pointed out by his tutor; and the utility of the
+marriage, in perfect submission to his precepts, he never permitted
+himself to question.
+
+This preceptor held with a magisterial power the government of his
+pupil's passions; nay, governed them so entirely, that no one could
+perceive (nor did the young Lord himself know) that he had any.
+
+This rigid monitor and friend was a Mr. Sandford, bred a Jesuit in the
+same college at which Dorriforth had since been educated, but before his
+time the order was compelled to take another name. Sandford had been the
+tutor of Dorriforth as well as of his cousin, Lord Elmwood, and by this
+double tie seemed now entailed upon the family. As a Jesuit, he was
+consequently a man of learning; possessed of steadiness to accomplish
+the end of any design once meditated, and of sagacity to direct the
+conduct of men more powerful, but less ingenious, than himself. The
+young Earl, accustomed in his infancy to fear him as his master, in his
+youthful manhood received every new indulgence with gratitude, and at
+length loved him as a father--nor had Dorriforth as yet shaken off
+similar sensations.
+
+Mr. Sandford perfectly knew how to influence the sentiments and
+sensations of all human kind, but yet he had the forbearance not to
+"draw all hearts towards him." There were some whose hatred he thought
+not unworthy of his pious labours; and in that pursuit he was more rapid
+in his success than even in procuring esteem. It was an enterprise in
+which he succeeded with Miss Milner even beyond his most sanguine wish.
+
+She had been educated at an English boarding school, and had no idea of
+the superior and subordinate state of characters in a foreign
+seminary--besides, as a woman, she was privileged to say any thing she
+pleased; and as a beautiful woman, she had a right to expect that
+whatever she pleased to say, should be admired.
+
+Sandford knew the hearts of women, as well as those of men, though he
+had passed little of his time in their society--he saw Miss Milner's
+heart at the first view of her person; and beholding in that little
+circumference a weight of folly that he wished to eradicate, he began to
+toil in the vineyard, eagerly courting her detestation of him, in the
+hope he could also make her abominate herself. In the mortifications of
+slight he was expert; and being a man of talents, whom all companies,
+especially her friends, respected, he did not begin by wasting that
+reverence so highly valued upon ineffectual remonstrances, of which he
+could foresee the reception, but wakened her attention by his neglect of
+her. He spoke of her in her presence as of an indifferent person,
+sometimes forgetting even to name her when the subject required it; then
+would ask her pardon, and say that he "Really did not recollect her,"
+with such seeming sorrow for his fault, that she could not think the
+offence intended, and of course felt the affront more acutely.
+
+While, with every other person she was the principle, the cause upon
+whom a whole party depended for conversation, cards, musick, or dancing,
+with Mr. Sandford she found that she was of no importance. Sometimes she
+tried to consider this disregard of her as merely the effect of
+ill-breeding; but he was not an ill-bred man: he was a gentleman by
+birth, and one who had kept the best company--a man of sense and
+learning. "And such a man slights me without knowing it," she said--for
+she had not dived so deeply into the powers of simulation, as to suspect
+that such careless manners were the result of art.
+
+This behaviour of Mr. Sandford had its desired effect--it humbled her in
+her own opinion more than a thousand sermons would have done preached on
+the vanity of youth and beauty. She felt an inward shame at the
+insignificance of these qualities that she never knew before, and would
+have been cured of all her pride, had she not possessed a degree of
+spirit beyond the generality of her sex--such a degree as even Mr.
+Sandford, with all his penetration, did not expect. She determined to
+resent his treatment; and, entering the lists as his declared enemy,
+give to the world a reason why he did not acknowledge her sovereignty,
+as well as the rest of her devoted subjects.
+
+She now commenced hostilities against all his arguments, his learning,
+and his favourite axioms; and by a happy talent of ridicule, in want of
+other weapons for this warfare, she threw in the way of the holy Father
+as great trials of his patience, as any that his order could have
+substituted in penance. Many things he bore like a martyr--at others, his
+fortitude would forsake him, and he would call on her guardian, his
+former pupil, to interpose with his authority: she would then declare
+that she only had acted thus "to try the good man's temper, and that if
+he had combated with his fretfulness a few moments longer, she would
+have acknowledged his claim to canonization; but that having yielded to
+the sallies of his anger, he must now go through numerous other
+probations."
+
+If Miss Fenton was admired by Dorriforth, by Sandford she was
+adored--and, instead of placing her as an example to Miss Milner, he
+spoke of her as of one endowed beyond Miss Milner's power of imitation.
+Often, with a shake of his head and a sigh, would he say,
+
+"No; I am not so hard upon you as your guardian: I only desire you to
+love Miss Fenton; to resemble her, I believe, is above your ability."
+
+This was too much to bear composedly--and poor Miss Woodley, who was
+generally a witness of these controversies, felt a degree of sorrow at
+every sentence which like the foregoing chagrined and distressed her
+friend. Yet as she suffered too for Mr. Sandford, the joy of her
+friend's reply was abated by the uneasiness it gave to _him._ But Mrs.
+Horton felt for none but the right reverend priest; and often did she
+feel so violently interested in his cause, that she could not refrain
+giving an answer herself in his behalf--thus doing the duty of
+an adversary with all the zeal of an advocate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Mr. Sandford finding his friend Dorriforth frequently perplexed in the
+management of his ward, and he himself thinking her incorrigible, gave
+his counsel, that a suitable match should be immediately sought out for
+her, and the care of so dangerous a person given into other hands.
+Dorriforth acknowledged the propriety of this advice, but lamented the
+difficulty of pleasing his ward as to the quality of her lover; for she
+had refused, besides Sir Edward Ashton, many others of equal
+pretensions. "Depend upon it then," cried Sandford, "that her affections
+are engaged; and it is proper that you should know to whom." Dorriforth
+thought he did know, and mentioned Lord Frederick; but said that he had
+no farther authority for the supposition than what his observation had
+given him, for that every explanation both upon his and her side had
+been evaded. "Take her then," cried Sandford, "into the country, and if
+Lord Frederick should not follow, there is an end of your suspicions."
+
+"I shall not easily prevail upon Miss Milner to leave town," replied he,
+"while it is in the highest fashion."
+
+"You can but try," returned Sandford; "and if you should not succeed
+now, at least fix the time you mean to go during the autumn, and be firm
+to your determination."
+
+"But in the autumn," replied Dorriforth, "Lord Frederick will of course
+be in the country; and as his uncle's estate is near our residence, he
+will not then so evidently follow her, as he would if I could induce her
+to go now."
+
+It was agreed the attempt should be made. Instead of receiving this
+abrupt proposal with uneasiness, Miss Milner, to the surprise of all
+present, immediately consented; and gave her guardian an opportunity of
+saying several of the kindest and politest things upon her ready
+compliance.
+
+"A token of approbation from you, Mr. Dorriforth," returned she, "I
+always considered with high estimation--but your commendations are now
+become infinitely superior in value by their scarcity; for I do not
+believe that since Miss Fenton and Mr. Sandford came to town, I have
+received one testimony of your esteem."
+
+Had these words been uttered with pleasantry, they might have passed
+without observation; but at the conclusion of the period, resentment
+flew to Miss Milner's face, and she darted a piercing look at Mr.
+Sandford, which more pointedly expressed that she was angry with him,
+than if she had spoken volumes in her usual strain of raillery.
+Dorriforth was confused--but the concern which she had so plainly evinced
+for his good opinion throughout all that she had been saying, silenced
+any rebuke he might else have given her, for this unwarrantable charge
+against his friend. Mrs. Horton was shocked at the irreverent manner in
+which Mr. Sandford was treated--and Miss Woodley turned to him with a
+benevolent smile upon her face, hoping to set him an example of the
+manner in which he should receive the reproach. Her good wishes did not
+succeed--yet he was perfectly unruffled, and replied with coolness,
+
+"The air of the country has affected the lady already--but it is a
+comfortable thing," continued he, "that in the variety of humours to
+which some women are exposed, they cannot be uniform even in deceit."
+
+"Deceit!" cried Miss Milner, "in what am I deceitful? did I ever pretend
+that I had an esteem for you?"
+
+"That would not have been deceit, Madam, but merely good manners."
+
+"I never, Mr. Sandford, sacrificed truth to politeness."
+
+"Except when the country has been proposed, and you thought it
+politeness to appear satisfied."
+
+"And I _was_ satisfied, till I recollected that you might probably be of
+the party--then, every grove was changed into a wilderness, every rivulet
+into a stagnated pool, and every singing bird into a croaking raven."
+
+"A very poetical description," returned he calmly. "But, Miss Milner,
+you need not have had any apprehensions of _my_ company in the country,
+for I understand the seat to which your guardian means to go, belongs to
+you; and you may depend upon it, Madam, that I shall never enter a house
+in which you are the mistress."
+
+"Nor any house, I am certain, Mr. Sandford, but in which you are
+yourself the master."
+
+"What do you mean, Madam? (and for the first time he elevated his
+voice,) am I the master here?"
+
+"Your servants," replied she, looking at the company, "will not tell you
+so; but I do."
+
+"You condescend, Mr. Sandford," cried Mrs. Horton, "in talking so much
+to a young heedless woman; but I know you do it for her good."
+
+"Well, Miss Milner," cried Dorriforth, (and the most cutting thing he
+could say,) "since I find my proposal of the country has put you out of
+humour, I shall mention it no more."
+
+With all that quantity of resentment, anger, or rage, which sometimes
+boiled in the veins of Miss Milner, she was yet never wanting in that
+respect towards her guardian, which with-held her from ever uttering one
+angry sentence, directed immediately to him; and a severe word of his,
+instead of exasperating, was sure to subdue her. This was the case at
+present--his words wounded her to the heart, but she had not the asperity
+to reply to them as she thought they merited, and she burst into tears.
+Dorriforth, instead of being concerned, as he usually was at seeing her
+uneasy, appeared on the present occasion provoked. He thought her
+weeping was a new reproach to his friend Mr. Sandford, and that to
+suffer himself to be moved by it, would be a tacit condemnation of his
+friend's conduct. She understood his thoughts, and getting the better
+of her tears, apologised for her weakness; adding,
+
+"She could never bear with indifference an unjust accusation."
+
+"To prove that mine was unjust, Madam," replied Dorriforth; "be prepared
+to quit London, without any marks of regret, in a few days."
+
+She bowed assent; the necessary preparations were agreed upon; and while
+with apparent satisfaction she adjusted the plan of her journey, (like
+those who behave well, not so much to please themselves as to vex their
+enemies,) she secretly triumphed in the mortification she hoped that Mr.
+Sandford would receive from her obedient behaviour.
+
+The news of this intended journey was of course soon made public. There
+is a secret charm in being pitied, when the misfortune is but ideal; and
+Miss Milner found infinite gratification in being told, "That her's was
+a cruel case, and that it was unjust and barbarous to force so much
+beauty into concealment while London was filled with her admirers; who,
+like her, would languish in consequence of her solitude." These things,
+and a thousand such, a thousand times repeated, she still listened to
+with pleasure; yet preserved the constancy not to shrink from her
+resolution of submitting.
+
+Those involuntary sighs, however, that Miss Woodley had long ago
+observed, became still more frequent; and a tear half starting in her
+eye was an additional subject of her friend's observation. Yet though
+Miss Milner at those times was softened into melancholy, she by no means
+appeared unhappy. Her friend was acquainted with love only by name; yet
+she was confirmed from these increased symptoms, in what she before only
+suspected, that _love_ must be the foundation of her care. "Her senses
+have been captivated by the person and accomplishments of Lord
+Frederick," said Miss Woodley to herself, "but her understanding compels
+her to see his faults, and reproaches her passion.--And, oh!" cried she,
+"could her guardian and Mr. Sandford know of this conflict, how much
+would they have to admire; how little to condemn!"
+
+With such friendly thoughts, and with the purest intentions, Miss
+Woodley did not fail to give both gentlemen reason to believe, a
+contention of this nature was the actual state of Miss Milner's mind.
+Dorriforth was affected at the description, and Sandford urged more than
+ever the necessity of leaving town. In a few days they departed; Mrs.
+Horton, Miss Woodley, Miss Milner, and Mr. Dorriforth, accompanied by
+Miss Fenton, whom Miss Milner, knowing it to be the wish of her
+guardian, invited, for three months before her marriage, to her country
+seat. Elmwood House, or rather Castle, the seat of Lord Elmwood, was
+only a few miles distant from this residence, and he was expected to
+pass great part of the summer there, with his tutor, Mr. Sandford.
+
+In the neighbourhood was also (as it has been already said) an estate
+belonging to an uncle of Lord Frederick's, and most of the party
+suspected they should soon see him on a visit there. To that expectation
+they in great measure attributed Miss Milner's visible content.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+With this party Miss Milner arrived at her country house, and for near
+six weeks, all around was the picture of tranquillity; her satisfaction
+was as evident as every other person's; and all severe admonition being
+at this time unnecessary, either to exhort her to her duty, or to warn
+her against her folly, she was even in perfect good humour with Miss
+Fenton, and added friendship to hospitality.
+
+Mr. Sandford, who came with Lord Elmwood to the neighbouring seat, about
+a week after the arrival of Miss Milner at her's, was so scrupulously
+exact in the observance of his word, "_Never to enter a house of Miss
+Milner's,_" that he would not even call upon his friend Dorriforth
+there--but in their walks, and at Lord Elmwood's, the two parties would
+occasionally join, and of course Sandford and she at those times met--yet
+so distant was the reserve on either side, that not a single word upon
+any occasion was ever exchanged between them.
+
+Miss Milner did not like Mr. Sandford; yet as there was no cause of
+inveterate rancour, admiring him too as a man who meant well, and being
+besides of a most forgiving temper, she frequently felt concerned that
+he did not speak to her, although it had been to find fault as usual--and
+one morning as they were all, after a long ramble, drawing towards her
+house, where Lord Elmwood was invited to dine, she could not restrain
+dropping a tear at seeing Sandford turn back and wish them a "Good day."
+
+But though she had the generosity to forgive an affront, she had not the
+humility to make a concession; and she foresaw that nothing less than
+some very humble atonement on her part would prevail upon the haughty
+priest to be reconciled. Dorriforth saw her concern upon this last
+trifling occasion with a secret pleasure, and an admiration that she had
+never before excited. She once insinuated to him to be a mediator
+between them; but before any accommodation could take place, the peace
+and composure of their abode were disturbed by the arrival of Sir Edward
+Ashton at Lord Elmwood's, where it appeared as if he had been invited in
+order to pursue his matrimonial plan.
+
+At a dinner given by Lord Elmwood, Sir Edward was announced as an
+unexpected visitor; Miss Milner did not suppose him such, and she turned
+pale when his name was uttered. Dorriforth fixed his eyes upon her with
+some tokens of compassion, while Sandford seemed to exult, and by his
+repeated "Welcomes" to the Baronet, gave proofs how much he was rejoiced
+to see him. All the declining enmity of Miss Milner was renewed at this
+behaviour, and suspecting Sandford as the instigator of the visit, she
+could not overcome her displeasure, but gave way to it in a manner she
+thought the most mortifying. Sir Edward, in the course of conversation,
+enquired "What neighbours were in the country;" and she, with an
+appearance of high satisfaction, named Lord Frederick Lawnly as being
+hourly expected at his uncle's. The colour spread over Sir Edward's
+face--Dorriforth was confounded--and Mr. Sandford looked enraged.
+
+"Did Lord Frederick tell _you_ he should be down?" Sandford asked of
+Dorriforth.
+
+To which he replied, "No."
+
+"But I hope, Mr. Sandford, you will permit _me_ to know?" said Miss
+Milner. For as she now meant to torment him by what she said, she no
+longer constrained herself to silence--and as he harboured the same kind
+intention towards her, he had no longer any objection to make a reply,
+and therefore answered,
+
+"No, madam, if it depended upon my permission, you should _not_ know."
+
+"Not _any thing_, Sir, I dare say; you would keep me in utter
+ignorance."
+
+"I would."
+
+"From a self-interested motive, Mr. Sandford--that I might have a greater
+respect for you."
+
+Some of the company laughed--Mrs. Horton coughed--Miss Woodley
+blushed--Lord Elmwood sneered--Dorriforth frowned--and Miss Fenton looked
+just as she did before.
+
+The conversation was changed as soon as possible, and early in the
+evening the party from Milner Lodge returned home.
+
+Miss Milner had scarce left her dressing room, where she had been taking
+off some part of her dress, when Dorriforth's servant came to acquaint
+her that his master was alone in his study, and begged to speak with
+her. She felt herself tremble--she immediately experienced a
+consciousness that she had not acted properly at Lord Elmwood's; for she
+felt a presentiment that her guardian was going to upbraid her, and her
+heart whispered that he had never yet reproached her without a cause.
+
+Miss Woodley just then entered her apartment, and she found herself so
+much a coward, as to propose that she should go with her, and aid her
+with a word or two occasionally in her excuse.
+
+"What you, my dear," returned Miss Woodley, "who not three hours ago had
+the courage to vindicate your own cause before a whole company, of whom
+many were your adversaries; do _you_ want an advocate before your
+guardian alone, who has ever treated you with tenderness?"
+
+"It is that very tenderness which frightens me; which intimidates, and
+strikes me dumb. Is it possible I can return impertinence to the
+language and manners which Mr. Dorriforth uses? and as I am debarred
+from that resource, what can I do but stand before him like a guilty
+creature, acknowledging my faults."
+
+She again entreated her friend to go with her; but on a positive
+refusal, from the impropriety of such an intrusion, she was obliged at
+length to go by herself.
+
+How much does the difference of exterior circumstances influence not
+only the manners, but even the persons of some people! Miss Milner in
+Lord Elmwood's drawing room, surrounded by listeners, by admirers, (for
+even her enemies could not look at her without admiration) animated with
+approbation and applause--and Miss Milner, with no giddy observer to give
+her actions a false eclat, destitute of all but her own understanding,
+(which secretly condemns her) upon the point of receiving censure from
+her guardian and friend, are two different beings. Though still
+beautiful beyond description, she does not look even in person the same.
+In the last-mentioned situation, she was shorter in stature than in the
+former--she was paler--she was thinner--and a very different contour
+presided over her whole air, and all her features.
+
+When she arrived at the door of the study, she opened it with a
+trepidation she could hardly account for, and entered to Dorriforth the
+altered woman she has been represented. His heart had taken the most
+decided part against her, and his face had assumed the most severe
+aspect of reproach; but her appearance gave an instantaneous change to
+his whole mind, and countenance.
+
+She halted, as if she feared to approach--he hesitated, as if he knew not
+how to speak. Instead of the anger with which he was prepared to begin,
+his voice involuntarily softened, and without knowing what he said, he
+began,
+
+"My dear Miss Milner."--
+
+She expected he was angry, and in her confusion his gentleness was lost
+upon her. She imagined that what he said might be censure, and she
+continued to tremble, though he repeatedly assured her, that he meant
+only to advise, not upbraid her.
+
+"For as to all those little disputes between Mr. Sandford and you," said
+he, "I should be partial if I blamed you more than him--indeed, when you
+take the liberty to condemn him, his character makes the freedom appear
+in a more serious light than when he complains of you--and yet, if he
+provokes your retorts, he alone must answer for them; nor will I
+undertake to decide betwixt you. But I have a question to ask you, and
+to which I require a serious and unequivocal answer. Do you expect Lord
+Frederick in the country?"
+
+Without hesitation she replied, "I do."
+
+"One more question I have to ask, madam, and to which I expect a reply
+equally unreserved. Is Lord Frederick the man you approve for your
+husband?"
+
+Upon this close interrogation she discovered an embarrassment, beyond
+any she had ever yet betrayed, and faintly replied,
+
+"No, he is not."
+
+"Your words tell me one thing," answered Dorriforth, "but your looks
+declare another--which am I to believe?"
+
+"Which you please," was her answer, while she discovered an insulted
+dignity, that astonished, without convincing him.
+
+"But then why encourage him to follow you hither, Miss Milner?"
+
+"Why commit a thousand follies (she replied in tears) every hour of my
+life?"
+
+"You then promote the hopes of Lord Frederick without one serious
+intention of completing them? This is a conduct against which it is my
+duty to guard you, and you shall no longer deceive either him or
+yourself. The moment he arrives, it is my resolution that you refuse to
+see him, or consent to become his wife."
+
+In answer to the alternative thus offered, she appeared averse to both
+propositions; and yet came to no explanation why; but left her guardian
+at the end of the conference as much at a loss to decide upon her true
+sentiments, as he was before he had thus seriously requested he might be
+informed of them; but having stedfastly taken the resolution which he
+had just communicated, he found that resolution a certain relief to his
+mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Sir Edward Ashton, though not invited by Miss Milner, yet frequently did
+himself the honour to visit her at her house; sometimes he accompanied
+Lord Elmwood, at other times he came to see Dorriforth alone, who
+generally introduced him to the ladies. But Sir Edward was either so
+unwilling to give pain to the object of his love, or so intimidated by
+her frowns, that he seldom addressed her with a single word, except the
+usual compliments at entering, and retiring. This apprehension of
+offending, without one hope of pleasing, had the most awkward effect
+upon the manners of the worthy Baronet; and his endeavours to insinuate
+himself into the affections of the woman he loved, merely by not giving
+her offence either in speaking to her or looking at her, formed a
+character so whimsical, that it frequently forced a smile from Miss
+Milner, though his very name had often power to throw a gloom over her
+face: she looked upon him as the cause of her being hurried to the
+election of a lover, before her own mind could well direct her where to
+fix. Besides, his pursuit was troublesome, while it was no triumph to
+her vanity, which by the addresses of Lord Frederick, was in the highest
+manner gratified.
+
+His Lordship now arrives in the country, and calls one morning at Miss
+Milner's; her guardian sees his carriage coming up the avenue, and gives
+orders to the servants, to say their lady is not at home, but that Mr.
+Dorriforth is: Lord Frederick leaves his compliments and goes away.
+
+The ladies all observed his carriage and servants. Miss Milner flew to
+her glass, adjusted her dress, and in her looks expressed every sign of
+palpitation--but in vain she keeps her eye fixed upon the door of the
+apartment; no Lord Frederick appears.
+
+After some minutes of expectation, the door opens and her guardian comes
+in;--she was disappointed; he perceived that she was, and he looked at
+her with a most serious face;--she immediately called to mind the
+assurance he had given her, "That her acquaintance with Lord Frederick
+in its then improper state should not continue," and between chagrin and
+confusion, she was at a loss how to behave.
+
+Though the ladies were all present, Dorriforth said, without the
+smallest reserve, "Perhaps, Miss Milner, you may think I have taken an
+unwarrantable liberty, in giving orders to your servants to deny you to
+Lord Frederick; but until his Lordship and I have had a private
+conference, or you condescend to declare your sentiments more fully in
+regard to his visits, I think it my duty to put an end to them."
+
+"You will always perform your duty, Mr. Dorriforth, I have no doubt,
+whether I concur or not."
+
+"Yet believe me, madam, I should perform it more cheerfully, if I could
+hope that it was sanctioned by your inclinations."
+
+"I am not mistress of my inclinations, Sir, or they should conform to
+yours."
+
+"Place them under my direction, and I will answer for it they will."
+
+A servant came in--"Lord Frederick is returned, Sir, and says he should
+be glad to see you."
+
+"Shew him into the study," cried Dorriforth hastily, and rising from his
+chair, left the room.
+
+"I hope they won't quarrel," said Mrs. Horton, meaning, that she thought
+they would.
+
+"I am sorry to see you so uneasy, Miss Milner," said Miss Fenton, with
+perfect unconcern.
+
+As the badness of the weather had prevented their usual morning's
+exercise, the ladies were employed at their needles till the dinner bell
+called them away. "Do you think Lord Frederick is gone?" then whispered
+Miss Milner to Miss Woodley.--"I think not," she replied.--"Go ask of the
+servants, dear creature." And Miss Woodley went out of the room. She
+soon returned and said, apart, "He is now getting into his chariot; I
+saw him pass in violent haste through the hall; he seemed to fly."
+
+"Ladies, the dinner is waiting," cried Mrs. Horton, and they repaired to
+the dining room, where Dorriforth soon after came, and engrossed their
+whole attention by his disturbed looks, and unusual silence. Before
+dinner was over, he was, however, more himself, but still he appeared
+thoughtful and dissatisfied. At the time of their evening walk he
+excused himself from accompanying them, and they saw him in a distant
+field with Mr. Sandford in earnest conversation; for Sandford and he
+often stopped on one spot for a quarter of an hour, as if the interest
+of the subject had so engaged them, they stood still without knowing it.
+Lord Elmwood, who had joined the ladies, walked home with them;
+Dorriforth entered soon after, in a much less gloomy humour than when he
+went out, and told his relation, that he and the ladies would dine with
+him the next day if he was disengaged; and it was agreed they should.
+
+Still Dorriforth was in some perturbation, but the immediate cause was
+concealed till the day following, when, about an hour before the
+company's departure from the Castle, Miss Milner and Miss Woodley were
+desired, by a servant, to walk into a separate apartment, in which they
+found Mr. Dorriforth with Mr. Sandford waiting for them. Her guardian
+made an apology to Miss Milner for the form, the ceremony, of which he
+was going to make use; but he trusted, the extreme weight which
+oppressed his mind, lest he should mistake the real sentiments of a
+person whose happiness depended upon his correct knowledge of them,
+would plead his excuse.
+
+"I know, Miss Milner," continued he, "the world in general allows to
+unmarried women great latitude in disguising their mind with respect to
+the man they love. I too, am willing to pardon any little dissimulation
+that is but consistent with a modesty that becomes every woman upon the
+subject of marriage. But here, to what point I may limit, or you may
+extend, this kind of venial deceit, may so widely differ, that it is not
+impossible for me to remain unacquainted with your sentiments, even
+after you have revealed them to me. Under this consideration, I wish
+once more to hear your thoughts in regard to matrimony, and to hear them
+before one of your own sex, that I may form an opinion by her
+constructions."
+
+To all this serious oration, Miss Milner made no other reply than by
+turning to Mr. Sandford, and asking, "If he was the person of her own
+sex, to whose judgment her guardian was to submit his own?"
+
+"Madam," cried Sandford angrily, "you are come hither upon serious
+business."
+
+"Any business must be serious to me, Mr. Sandford, in which you are
+concerned; and if you had called it _sorrowful_, the epithet would have
+suited as well."
+
+"Miss Milner," said her guardian, "I did not bring you here to contend
+with Mr. Sandford."
+
+"Then why, Sir, bring him hither? for where he and I are, there must be
+contention."
+
+"I brought him hither, Madam, or I should rather say, brought you to
+this house, merely that he might be present on this occasion, and with
+his discernment relieve me from a suspicion, that my own judgment is
+neither able to suppress nor to confirm."
+
+"Are there any more witnesses you may wish to call in, Sir, to remove
+your doubts of my veracity? if there are, pray send for them before you
+begin your interrogations."
+
+He shook his head--she continued.
+
+"The whole world is welcome to hear what I say, and every different
+person is welcome to judge me differently."
+
+"Dear Miss Milner,"--cried Miss Woodley, with a tone of reproach for the
+vehemence with which she had spoken.
+
+"Perhaps, Miss Milner," said Dorriforth, "you will not now reply to
+those questions I was going to put?"
+
+"Did I ever refuse, Sir," returned she with a self-approving air, "to
+comply with any request that you have seriously made? Have I ever
+refused obedience to your commands whenever you thought proper to lay
+them upon me? If not, you have no right to suppose that I will do so
+now."
+
+He was going to reply, when Mr. Sandford sullenly interrupted him, and
+making towards the door, cried, "When you come to the point for which
+you brought me here, send for me again."
+
+"Stay now," said Dorriforth. "And Miss Milner," continued he, "I not
+only entreat, but command you to tell me--have you given your word, or
+your affections to Lord Frederick Lawnly?"
+
+The colour spread over her face, and she replied--"I thought confessions
+were always to be in secret; however, as I am not a member of your
+church, I submit to the persecution of a heretic, and I answer--Lord
+Frederick has neither my word, nor any share in my affections."
+
+Sandford, Dorriforth, and Miss Woodley looked at each other with a
+degree of surprise that for some time kept them silent. At length
+Dorriforth said, "And it is your firm intention never to become his
+wife?"
+
+To which she answered--"At present it is."
+
+"At present! do you suspect you shall change your sentiments?"
+
+"Women sometimes do."
+
+"But before that change can take place, your acquaintance will be at an
+end: for it is that which I shall next insist upon, and to which you can
+have no objection."
+
+She replied, "I had rather it should continue."
+
+"On what account?" cried Dorriforth.
+
+"Because it entertains me."
+
+"For shame, for shame!" returned he; "it endangers your character and
+your happiness. Yet again, do not suffer me to interfere, if the
+breaking with Lord Frederick can militate against your felicity."
+
+"By no means," she answered; "Lord Frederick makes part of my amusement,
+but could never constitute my felicity."
+
+"Miss Woodley," said Dorriforth, "do you comprehend your friend in the
+same literal and unequivocal sense that I do?"
+
+"Certainly I do, Sir."
+
+"And pray, Miss Woodley," said he, "were those the sentiments which you
+have always entertained?"
+
+Miss Woodley hesitated--he continued. "Or has this conversation altered
+them?"
+
+She hesitated again, then answered--"This conversation has altered
+them."
+
+"And yet you confide in it!" cried Sandford, looking at her with
+contempt.
+
+"Certainly I do," replied Miss Woodley.
+
+"Do not you then, Mr. Sandford?" asked Dorriforth.
+
+"I would advise you to act as if I did," replied Sandford.
+
+"Then, Miss Milner," said Dorriforth, "you see Lord Frederick no
+more--and I hope I have your permission to apprize him of this
+arrangement."
+
+"You have, Sir," she replied with a completely unembarrassed countenance
+and voice.
+
+Her friend looked at her as if to discover some lurking wish, adverse to
+all these protestations, but she could not discern one. Sandford too
+fixed his penetrating eyes upon her, as if he would look through her
+soul, but finding it perfectly composed, he cried out,
+
+"Why then not write his dismission herself, and save you, Mr.
+Dorriforth, the trouble of any farther contest with him?"
+
+"Indeed, Miss Milner," said Dorriforth, "that would oblige me; for it is
+with great reluctance that I meet him upon this subject--he was extremely
+impatient and importunate when he was last with me--he took advantage of
+my ecclesiastical situation to treat me with a levity and ill breeding,
+that I could ill have suffered upon any other consideration than a
+compliance with my duty."
+
+"Dictate what you please, Mr. Dorriforth, and I will write it," said
+she, with a warmth like the most unaffected inclination. "And while you,
+Sir," she continued, "are so indulgent as not to distress me with the
+importunities of any gentleman to whom I am averse, I think myself
+equally bound to rid you of the impertinence of every one to whom you
+may have objection."
+
+"But," answered he, "rest assured I have no material objection to my
+Lord Frederick, except from that dilemma, in which your acquaintance
+with him has involved us all; and I should conceive the same against any
+other man, where the same circumstance occurred. As you have now,
+however, freely and politely consented to the manner in which it has
+been proposed that you shall break with him, I will not trouble you a
+moment longer upon a subject on which I have so frequently explained my
+wishes, but conclude it by assuring you, that your ready acquiescence
+has given me the sincerest satisfaction."
+
+"I hope, Mr. Sandford," said she, turning to him with a smile, "I have
+given _you_ satisfaction likewise?"
+
+Sandford could not say yes, and was ashamed to say no; he, therefore,
+made answer only by his looks, which were full of suspicion. She,
+notwithstanding, made him a very low courtesy. Her guardian then handed
+her out of the apartment into her coach, which was waiting to take her,
+Miss Woodley, and himself, home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+Notwithstanding the seeming readiness with which Miss Milner had
+resigned all farther acquaintance with Lord Frederick, during the short
+ride home she appeared to have lost great part of her wonted spirits;
+she was thoughtful, and once sighed heavily. Dorriforth began to fear
+that she had not only made a sacrifice of her affections, but of her
+veracity; yet, why she had done so, he could not comprehend.
+
+As the carriage moved slowly through a lane between Elmwood Castle and
+her own house, on casting her eyes out of the window, Miss Milner's
+countenance was brightened in an instant, and that instant Lord
+Frederick, on horse-back, was at the coach door, and the coachman
+stopped.
+
+"Oh, Miss Milner," cried he, (with a voice and manner that could give
+little suspicion of the truth of what he said) "I am overjoyed at the
+happiness of seeing you, even though it is but an accidental meeting."
+
+She was evidently glad to see _him_; but the earnestness with which he
+spoke, put her upon her guard not to express the like, and she said, in
+a cool constrained manner, she "Was glad to see his Lordship."
+
+The reserve with which she spoke, gave Lord Frederick immediate
+suspicion who was in the coach with her, and turning his head quickly,
+he met the stern eye of Dorriforth; upon which, without the smallest
+salutation, he turned from him again abruptly and rudely. Miss Milner
+was confused, and Miss Woodley in torture, at this palpable affront, to
+which Dorriforth alone appeared indifferent.
+
+"Go on," said Miss Milner to the footman, "desire the coachman to drive
+on."
+
+"No," cried Lord Frederick, "not till you have told me when I shall see
+you again."
+
+"I will write you word, my Lord," replied she, something alarmed. "You
+shall have a letter immediately after I get home."
+
+As if he guessed what its contents were to be, he cried out with warmth,
+"Take care, then, Madam, how you treat me in that letter--and you, Mr.
+Dorriforth," turning to him, "do you take care what it contains; for if
+it is dictated by you, to you I shall send the answer."
+
+Dorriforth, without making any reply, or casting a look at him, put his
+head out of the window on the opposite side, and called, in a very angry
+tone, to the coachman, "How dare you not drive on, when your Lady orders
+you?"
+
+The sound of Dorriforth's voice in anger, was to the servants so
+unusual, that it acted like electricity upon the man, and he drove on at
+the instant with such rapidity, that Lord Frederick was in a moment left
+many yards behind. As soon, however, as he recovered from the surprise
+into which this sudden command had thrown him, he rode with speed after
+the carriage, and followed it, till it arrived at the door of Miss
+Milner's house; there, giving himself up to the rage of love, or to rage
+against Dorriforth for the contempt he had shewn to him, he leaped from
+his horse when Miss Milner stepped from her carriage, and seizing her
+hand, entreated her "Not to desert him, in compliance with the
+injunctions of monkish hypocrisy."
+
+Dorriforth heard this, standing silently by, with a manly scorn upon his
+countenance.
+
+Miss Milner struggled to loose her hand, saying, "Excuse me from
+replying to you now, my Lord."
+
+In return, he lifted her hand eagerly to his lips, and began to devour
+it with kisses; when Dorriforth, with an instantaneous impulse, rushed
+forward, and struck him a violent blow in the face. Under the force of
+this assault, and the astonishment it excited, Lord Frederick staggered,
+and letting fall the hand of Miss Milner, her guardian immediately laid
+hold of it, and led her into the house.
+
+She was terrified beyond description; and with extreme difficulty Mr.
+Dorriforth conveyed her to her own chamber, without taking her in his
+arms. When, by the assistance of her maid, he had placed her upon a
+sofa--covered with shame and confusion for what he had done, he fell upon
+his knees before her, and earnestly "Entreated her forgiveness for the
+indelicacy he had been guilty of in her presence." And that he had
+alarmed her, and had forgot the respect which he thought sacredly her
+due, seemed the only circumstance which then dwelt upon his thoughts.
+
+She felt the indecorum of the posture he had condescended to take, and
+was shocked. To see her guardian at her feet, struck her with a sense of
+impropriety, as if she had seen a parent there. All agitation and
+emotion, she implored him to rise, and, with a thousand protestations,
+declared, "That she thought the rashness of the action was the highest
+proof of his regard for her."
+
+Miss Woodley now entered; her care being ever employed upon the
+unfortunate, Lord Frederick had been the object of it: she had waited by
+his side, and, with every good purpose, had preached patience to him,
+while he was smarting under the pain, but more under the shame, of his
+chastisement. At first, his fury threatened a retort upon the servants
+around him (and who refused his entrance into the house) of the
+punishment he had received. But, in the certainty of an _amende
+honorable_, which must hereafter be made, he overcame the many
+temptations which the moment offered, and re-mounting his horse rode
+away from the scene of his disgrace.
+
+No sooner had Miss Woodley entered the room, and Dorriforth had resigned
+to her the care of his ward, than he flew to the spot where he had left
+Lord Frederick, negligent of what might be the event if he still
+remained there. After enquiring, and being told that he was gone,
+Dorriforth returned to his own apartment; and with a bosom torn by more
+excruciating sensations than those which he had given to his adversary.
+
+The reflection that struck him first with remorse, as he shut the door
+upon himself, was:--"I have departed from my character--from the sacred
+character, and the dignity of my profession and sentiments--I have
+departed from myself. I am no longer the philosopher, but the ruffian--I
+have treated with an unpardonable insult a young nobleman, whose only
+offence was love, and a fond desire to insinuate himself into the favour
+of his mistress. I must atone for this outrage in whatever manner he may
+choose; and the law of honour and of justice (though in this one
+instance contrary to the law of religion) enjoins, that if he demands my
+life in satisfaction for his wounded feelings, it is his due. Alas! that
+I could have laid it down this morning, unsullied with a cause for which
+it will make but inadequate atonement."
+
+His next reproach was--"I have offended and filled with horror, a
+beautiful young woman, whom it was my duty to have protected from those
+brutal manners, to which I myself have exposed her."
+
+Again--"I have drawn upon myself the just upbraidings of my faithful
+preceptor and friend; of the man in whose judgment it was my delight to
+be approved--above all, I have drawn upon myself the stings of my
+conscience."
+
+"Where shall I pass this sleepless night?" cried he, walking repeatedly
+across his chamber; "Can I go to the ladies? I am unworthy of their
+society. Shall I go and repose my disturbed mind on Sandford? I am
+ashamed to tell him the cause of my uneasiness. Shall I go to Lord
+Frederick, and humbling myself before him, beg his forgiveness? He would
+spurn me for a coward. No"----(and he lifted up his eyes to Heaven) "Thou
+all great, all wise and omnipotent Being, Thou whom I have most
+offended, it is to Thee alone that I have recourse in this hour of
+tribulation, and from Thee alone I solicit comfort. And the confidence
+in which I now address myself to Thee, encouraged by that long
+intercourse which religion has effected, repays me amply in this one
+moment, for the many years of my past life devoted with my best, though
+imperfect, efforts to thy service."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Although Miss Milner had not foreseen any fatal event resulting from the
+indignity offered to Lord Frederick, yet she passed a night very
+different from those to which she had been accustomed. No sooner was she
+falling into a sleep, than a thousand vague, but distressing, ideas
+darted across her imagination. Her heart would sometimes whisper to her
+when she was half asleep, "Lord Frederick is banished from you for
+ever." She shakes off the uneasiness this idea brings along with it--she
+then starts, and sees the blow still aimed at him by Dorriforth. No
+sooner has she driven away this painful image, than she is again
+awakened by beholding her guardian at her feet sueing for pardon. She
+sighs, she trembles, and is chilled with terror.
+
+Relieved by tears, towards the morning she sinks into a slumber, but
+waking, finds the same images crowding all together upon her mind: she
+is doubtful to which to give the preference--one, however, rushes the
+foremost, and continues so. She knows not the fatal consequence of
+ruminating, nor why she dwells upon that, more than upon all the rest,
+but it will give place to none.
+
+She rises languid and disordered, and at breakfast, adds fresh pain to
+Dorriforth by her altered appearance.
+
+He had scarce left the room, when an officer waited upon him with a
+challenge from Lord Frederick. To the message delivered by this
+gentleman, he replied,
+
+"Sir, as a clergyman, more especially of the church of Rome, I know not
+whether I am not exempt from answering a demand of this kind; but not
+having had forbearance to avoid an offence, I will not claim an
+exemption that would only indemnify me from making reparation."
+
+"You will then, Sir, meet Lord Frederick at the appointed hour?" said
+the officer.
+
+"I will, Sir; and my immediate care shall be to find a gentleman who
+will accompany me."
+
+The officer withdrew, and when Dorriforth was again alone, he was going
+once more to reflect, but he durst not. Since yesterday, reflection, for
+the first time, was become painful to him; and even as he rode the short
+way to Lord Elmwood's immediately after, he found his own thoughts were
+so insufferable, that he was obliged to enter into conversation with his
+servant. Solitude, that formerly charmed him, would, at those moments,
+have been worse than death.
+
+At Lord Elmwood's, he met Sandford in the hall, and the sight of him was
+no longer welcome--he knew how different the principles which he had just
+adopted were to those of that reverend friend, and without his
+complaining, or even suspecting what had happened, his presence was a
+sufficient reproach. He passed him as hastily as he could, and enquiring
+for Lord Elmwood, disclosed to him his errand. It was to ask him to be
+his second;--the young Earl started, and wished to consult his tutor, but
+that, his kinsman strictly forbade; and having urged his reasons with
+arguments, which at least _he_ could not refute, he was at length
+prevailed upon to promise that he would accompany him to the field,
+which was at the distance only of a few miles, and the parties were to
+be there at seven on the same evening.
+
+As soon as his business with Lord Elmwood was settled, Dorriforth
+returned home, to make preparations for the event which might ensue from
+this meeting. He wrote letters to several of his friends, and one to his
+ward, in writing which, he could with difficulty preserve the usual
+firmness of his mind. Sandford going into Lord Elmwood's library soon
+after his relation had left him, expressed his surprise at finding he
+was gone; upon which that nobleman having answered a few questions, and
+given a few significant hints that he was entrusted with a secret,
+frankly confessed, what he had promised to conceal.
+
+Sandford, as much as a holy man could be, was enraged at Dorriforth for
+the cause of the challenge, but was still more enraged at his wickedness
+in accepting it. He applauded his pupil's virtue in making the
+discovery, and congratulated himself that he should be the instrument
+of saving not only his friend's life, but of preventing the scandal of
+his being engaged in a duel.
+
+In the ardour of his designs, he went immediately to Miss
+Milner's--entered that house which he had so long refused to enter, and
+at a time when he was upon aggravated bad terms with its owner.
+
+He asked for Dorriforth, went hastily into his apartment, and poured
+upon him a torrent of rebukes. Dorriforth bore all he said with the
+patience of a devotee, but with the firmness of a man. He owned his
+fault, but no eloquence could make him recall the promise he had given
+to repair the injury. Unshaken by the arguments, persuasions, and
+menaces of Sandford, he gave an additional proof of that inflexibility
+for which he had been long distinguished--and after a dispute of two
+hours, they parted, neither of them the better for what either had
+advanced, but Dorriforth something the worse; his conscience gave
+testimony to Sandford's opinion, "that he was bound by ties more sacred
+than worldly honour." But while he owned, he would not yield to the
+duty.
+
+Sandford left him, determined, however, that Lord Elmwood should not be
+accessory in his guilt, and this he declared; upon which Dorriforth took
+the resolution of seeking another second.
+
+In passing through the house on his return home, Sandford met, by
+accident, Mrs. Horton, Miss Milner, and the other two ladies returning
+from a saunter in the garden. Surprised at the sight of Mr. Sandford in
+her house, Miss Milner would not express that surprise, but going up to
+him with all the friendly benevolence which in general played about her
+heart, she took hold of one of his hands, and pressed it with a kindness
+which told him more forcibly that he was welcome, than if she had made
+the most elaborate speech to convince him of it. He, however, seemed
+little touched with her behaviour, and as an excuse for breaking his
+word, cried,
+
+"I beg your pardon, madam, but I was brought hither in my anxiety to
+prevent murder."
+
+"Murder!" exclaimed all the ladies.
+
+"Yes," answered he, addressing himself to Miss Fenton, "your betrothed
+husband is a party concerned; he is going to be second to Mr.
+Dorriforth, who means this very evening to be killed by my Lord
+Frederick, or to kill him, in addition to the blow that he gave him last
+night."
+
+Mrs. Horton exclaimed, "if Mr. Dorriforth dies, he dies a martyr."
+
+Miss Woodley cried with fervour, "Heaven forbid!"
+
+Miss Fenton cried, "dear me!"
+
+While Miss Milner, without uttering one word, sunk speechless on the
+floor.
+
+They lifted her up and brought her to the door which entered into the
+garden. She soon recovered; for the tumult of her mind would not suffer
+her to remain inactive, and she was rouzed, in spite of her weakness, to
+endeavour to ward off the impending disaster. In vain, however, she
+attempted to walk to her guardian's apartment--she sunk as before, and
+was taken to a settee, while Miss Woodley was dispatched to bring him to
+her.
+
+Informed of the cause of her indisposition, he followed Miss Woodley
+with a tender anxiety for her health, and with grief and confusion that
+he had so carelessly endangered it. On his entering the room Sandford
+beheld the inquietude of his mind, and cried, "Here is your _Guardian_,"
+with a cruel emphasis on the word.
+
+He was too much engaged by the sufferings of his ward to reply to
+Sandford. He placed himself on the settee by her, and with the utmost
+tenderness, reverence, and pity, entreated her not to be concerned at an
+accident in which he, and he alone, had been to blame; but which he had
+no doubt would be accommodated in the most amicable manner.
+
+"I have one favour to require of you, Mr. Dorriforth," said she, "and
+that is, your promise, your solemn promise, which I know is ever sacred,
+that you will not meet my Lord Frederick."
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"Oh, Madam," cried Sandford, "he is grown a libertine now, and I would
+not believe his word, if he were to give it you."
+
+"Then, Sir," returned Dorriforth angrily, "you _may_ believe my word,
+for I will keep that which I gave to _you._ I will give Lord Frederick
+all the restitution in my power. But my dear Miss Milner, let not this
+alarm you; we may not find it convenient to meet this many a day; and
+most probably some fortunate explanation may prevent our meeting at all.
+If not, reckon but among the many duels that are fought, how few are
+fatal: and even in that case, how small would be the loss to society,
+if----" He was proceeding.
+
+"I should ever deplore the loss!" cried Miss Milner; "on such an
+occasion, I could not survive the death of either."
+
+"For my part," he replied, "I look upon my life as much forfeited to my
+Lord Frederick, to whom I have given a high offence, as it might in
+other instances have been forfeited to the offended laws of the land.
+Honour, is the law of the polite part of the land; we know it; and when
+we transgress against it knowingly, we justly incur our punishment.
+However, Miss Milner, this affair will not be settled immediately, and I
+have no doubt, but that all will be as you could wish. Do you think I
+should appear thus easy," added he with a smile, "if I were going to be
+shot at by my Lord Frederick?"
+
+"Very well!" cried Sandford, with a look that evinced he was better
+informed.
+
+"You will stay within then, all this day?" said Miss Milner.
+
+"I am engaged to dinner," he replied; "it is unlucky--I am sorry for
+it--but I'll be at home early in the evening."
+
+"Stained with human blood," cried Sandford, "or yourself a corpse."
+
+The ladies lifted up their hands!--Miss Milner rose from her seat, and
+threw herself at her guardian's feet.
+
+"You kneeled to me last night, I now kneel to you," (she cried) "kneel,
+never desiring to rise again, if you persist in your intention. I am
+weak, I am volatile, I am indiscreet, but I have a heart from which
+some impressions can never--oh! never, be erased."
+
+He endeavoured to raise her, she persisted to kneel--and here the
+affright, the terror, the anguish, she endured, discovered to her, her
+own sentiments--which, till that moment, she had doubted--and she
+continued,
+
+"I no longer pretend to conceal my passion--I love Lord Frederick
+Lawnly."
+
+Her guardian started.
+
+"Yes, to my shame I love him:" (cried she, all emotion) "I meant to have
+struggled with the weakness, because I supposed it would be displeasing
+to you--but apprehension for his safety has taken away every power of
+restraint, and I beseech you to spare his life."
+
+"This is exactly what I thought," cried Sandford, with an air of
+triumph.
+
+"Good heaven!" cried Miss Woodley.
+
+"But it is very natural," said Mrs. Horton.
+
+"I own," said Dorriforth, (struck with amaze, and now taking her from
+his feet with a force that she could not resist) "I own, Miss Milner, I
+am greatly affected and wounded at this contradiction in your
+character."--
+
+"But did not I say so?" cried Sandford, interrupting him.
+
+"However," continued he, "you may take my word, though you have deceived
+me in your's, that Lord Frederick's life is secure. For your sake, I
+would not endanger it for the universe. But let this be a warning to
+you"----
+
+He was proceeding with the most austere looks, and pointed language,
+when observing the shame, and the self-reproach that agitated her mind,
+he divested himself in great measure of his resentment, and said,
+mildly,
+
+"Let this be a warning to you, how you deal in future with the friends
+who wish you well. You have hurried me into a mistake that might have
+cost me my life, or the life of the man you love; and thus exposed _you_
+to misery, more bitter than death."
+
+"I am not worthy of your friendship, Mr. Dorriforth," said she, sobbing
+with grief, "and from this moment forsake me."
+
+"No, Madam, not in the moment you first discover to me, how I can make
+you happy."
+
+The conversation appearing now to become of a nature in which the rest
+of the company could have no share whatever, they were all, except Mr.
+Sandford, retiring; when Miss Milner called Miss Woodley back, saying,
+"Stay you with me; I was never so unfit to be left without your
+friendship."
+
+"Perhaps at present you can dispense with mine?" said Dorriforth. She
+made no answer. He then, once more assured her Lord Frederick's life was
+safe, and was quitting the room--but when he recollected in what
+humiliation he had left her, turning towards her as he opened the door,
+he added,
+
+"And be assured, Madam, that my esteem for you, shall be _the same as
+ever._"
+
+Sandford, as he followed him, bowed, and repeated the same words--"And,
+Madam, be assured that my esteem for you, shall be the same as ever."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+This taunting reproof from Sandford made little impression upon Miss
+Milner, whose thoughts were all fixed on a subject of much more
+importance than the opinion which he entertained of her. She threw her
+arms about her friend the moment they were left alone, and asked, with
+anxiety, "What she thought of her behaviour?" Miss Woodley, who could
+not approve of the duplicity she had betrayed, still wished to reconcile
+her as much as possible to her own conduct, and replied, she "Highly
+commended the frankness with which she had, at last, acknowledged her
+sentiments."
+
+"Frankness!" cried Miss Milner, starting. "Frankness, my dear Miss
+Woodley! What you have just now heard me say, is all a falsehood."
+
+"How, Miss Milner!"
+
+"Oh, Miss Woodley," returned she, sobbing upon her bosom, "pity the
+agonies of my heart, my heart, by nature sincere, when such are the
+fatal propensities it cherishes, that I must submit to the grossest
+falsehoods rather than reveal the truth."
+
+"What can you mean?" cried Miss Woodley, with the strongest amazement in
+her face.
+
+"Do you suppose I love Lord Frederick? Do you suppose I _can_ love him?
+Oh fly, and prevent my guardian from telling him such an untruth."
+
+"What can you mean?" repeated Miss Woodley; "I protest you terrify me."
+For this inconsistency in the behaviour of Miss Milner, appeared as if
+her senses had been deranged.
+
+"Fly," she resumed, "and prevent the inevitable ill consequence which
+will ensue, if Lord Frederick should be told this falsehood. It will
+involve us all in greater disquiet than we suffer at present."
+
+"Then what has influenced you, my dear Miss Milner?"
+
+"That which impels all my actions--an unsurmountable instinct--a fatality,
+that will for ever render me the most miserable of human beings; and yet
+you, even you, my dear Miss Woodley, will not pity me."
+
+Miss Woodley pressed her closely in her arms, and vowed, "That while she
+was unhappy, from whatever cause, she still would pity her."
+
+"Go to Mr. Dorriforth then, and prevent him from imposing upon Lord
+Frederick."
+
+"But that imposition is the only means of preventing the duel," replied
+Miss Woodley. "The moment I have told him that your affection was but
+counterfeited, he will no longer refuse accepting the challenge."
+
+"Then at all events I am undone," exclaimed Miss Milner, "for the duel
+is horrible, even beyond every thing else."
+
+"How so?" returned Miss Woodley, "since you have declared you do not
+care for Lord Frederick?"
+
+"But are you so blind," returned Miss Milner with a degree of madness in
+her looks, "as to believe I do not care for Mr. Dorriforth? Oh! Miss
+Woodley! I love him with all the passion of a mistress, and with all the
+tenderness of a wife."
+
+Miss Woodley at this sentence sat down--it was on a chair that was close
+to her--her feet could not have taken her to any other. She trembled--she
+was white as ashes, and deprived of speech. Miss Milner, taking her by
+the hand, said,
+
+"I know what you feel--I know what you think of me--and how much you hate
+and despise me. But Heaven is witness to all my struggles--nor would I,
+even to myself, acknowledge the shameless prepossession, till forced by
+a sense of his danger"----
+
+"Silence," cried Miss Woodley, struck with horror.
+
+"And even now," resumed Miss Milner, "have I not concealed it from all
+but you, by plunging myself into a new difficulty, from which I know not
+how I shall be extricated? And do I entertain a hope? No, Miss Woodley,
+nor ever will. But suffer me to own my folly to you--to entreat your
+soothing friendship to free me from my weakness. And, oh! give me your
+advice, to deliver me from the difficulties which surround me."
+
+Miss Woodley was still pale, and still silent.
+
+Education, is called second nature; in the strict (but not enlarged)
+education of Miss Woodley, it was more powerful than the first--and the
+violation of oaths, persons, or things consecrated to Heaven, was, in
+her opinion, if not the most enormous, yet among the most terrific in
+the catalogue of crimes.
+
+Miss Milner had lived so long in a family who had imbibed those
+opinions, that she was convinced of their existence; nay, her own reason
+told her that solemn vows of every kind, ought to be sacred; and the
+more she respected her guardian's understanding, the less did she call
+in question his religious tenets--in esteeming him, she esteemed all his
+notions; and among the rest, venerated those of his religion. Yet that
+passion, which had unhappily taken possession of her whole soul, would
+not have been inspired, had there not subsisted an early difference, in
+their systems of divine faith. Had she been early taught what were the
+sacred functions of a Roman ecclesiastic, though all her esteem, all her
+admiration, had been attracted by the qualities and accomplishments of
+her guardian, yet education, would have given such a prohibition to her
+love, that she would have been precluded from it, as by that barrier
+which divides a sister from a brother.
+
+This, unfortunately, was not the case; and Miss Milner loved Dorriforth
+without one conscious check to tell her she was wrong, except that which
+convinced her--her love would be avoided by him with detestation, and
+with horror.
+
+Miss Woodley, something recovered from her first surprise, and
+sufferings--for never did her susceptible mind suffer so
+exquisitely--amidst all her grief and abhorrence, felt that pity was
+still predominant--and reconciled to the faults of Miss Milner by her
+misery, she once more looked at her with friendship, and asked, "What
+she could do to render her less unhappy?"
+
+"Make me forget," replied Miss Milner, "every moment of my life since I
+first saw you--that moment was teeming with a weight of cares, under
+which I must labour till my death."
+
+"And even in death," replied Miss Woodley, "do not hope to shake them
+off. If unrepented in this world"----
+
+She was proceeding--but the anxiety her friend endured, would not suffer
+her to be free from the apprehension, that, notwithstanding the positive
+assurance of her guardian, if he and Lord Frederick should meet, the
+duel might still take place; she therefore rang the bell and enquired if
+Mr. Dorriforth was still at home?--the answer was--"He had rode out. You
+remember," said Miss Woodley, "he told you he should dine from home."
+This did not, however, dismiss her fears, and she dispatched two
+servants different ways in pursuit of him, acquainting them with her
+suspicions, and charging them to prevent the duel. Sandford had also
+taken his precautions; but though he knew the time, he did not know the
+exact place of their appointment, for that Lord Elmwood had forgot to
+enquire.
+
+The excessive alarm which Miss Milner discovered upon this occasion, was
+imputed by the servants, and by others who were witnesses of it, to her
+affection for Lord Frederick; while none but Miss Woodley knew, or had
+the most distant suspicion of the real cause.
+
+Mrs. Horton and Miss Fenton, who were sitting together expatiating on
+the duplicity of their own sex in the instance just before them, had,
+notwithstanding the interest of the discourse, a longing desire to break
+it off; for they were impatient to see this poor frail being whom they
+were loading with their censure. They longed to see if she would have
+the confidence to look them in the face: them, to whom she had so often
+protested, that she had not the smallest attachment to Lord Frederick,
+but from motives of vanity.
+
+These ladies heard with infinite satisfaction that dinner had been
+served, but met Miss Milner at the table with a less degree of pleasure
+than they had expected; for her mind was so totally abstracted from any
+consideration of _them_, that they could not discern a single blush, or
+confused glance, which their presence occasioned. No, she had before
+them divulged nothing of which she was ashamed; she was only ashamed
+that what she had said was not true. In the bosom of Miss Woodley alone
+was that secret entrusted which could call a blush into her face, and
+before her, she _did_ feel confusion--before the gentle friend, to whom
+she had till this time communicated all her faults without
+embarrassment, she now cast down her eyes in shame.
+
+Soon after the dinner was removed, Lord Elmwood entered; and that
+gallant young nobleman declared--"Mr. Sandford had used him ill, in not
+permitting him to accompany his relation; for he feared that Mr.
+Dorriforth would now throw himself upon the sword of Lord Frederick,
+without a single friend near to defend him." A rebuke from the eye of
+Miss Woodley, which from this day had a command over Miss Milner,
+restrained her from expressing the affright she suffered from this
+intimation. Miss Fenton replied, "As to that, my Lord, I see no reason
+why Mr. Dorriforth and Lord Frederick should not now be friends."
+"Certainly," said Mrs. Horton; "for as soon as my Lord Frederick is made
+acquainted with Miss Milner's confession, all differences must be
+reconciled."
+
+"What confession?" asked Lord Elmwood.
+
+Miss Milner, to avoid hearing a repetition of that which gave her pain
+even to recollect, rose in order to retire into her own apartment, but
+was obliged to sit down again, till she received the assistance of Lord
+Elmwood and her friend, who led her into her dressing room. She reclined
+upon a sofa there, and though left alone with that friend, a silence
+followed of half an hour; nor when the conversation began, was the name
+of Dorriforth once uttered--they were grown cool and considerate since
+the discovery, and both were equally fearful of naming him.
+
+The vanity of the world, the folly of riches, the charms of retirement,
+and such topics engaged their discourse, but not their thoughts, for
+near two hours; and the first time the word Dorriforth was spoken, was
+by a servant, who with alacrity opened the dressing room door, without
+previously rapping, and cried, "Madam, Mr. Dorriforth."
+
+Dorriforth immediately came in, and went eagerly to Miss Milner. Miss
+Woodley beheld the glow of joy and of guilt upon her face, and did not
+rise to give him her seat, as was her custom, when she was sitting by
+his ward and he came to her with intelligence. He therefore stood while
+he repeated all that had happened in his interview with Lord Frederick.
+
+But with her gladness to see her guardian safe, she had forgot to
+enquire of the safety of his antagonist; of the man whom she had
+pretended to love so passionately--even smiles of rapture were upon her
+face, though Dorriforth might be returned from putting him to death.
+This incongruity of behaviour Miss Woodley observed, and was
+confounded--but Dorriforth, in whose thoughts a suspicion either of her
+love for him, or indifference for Lord Frederick, had no place, easily
+reconciled this inconsistency, and said,
+
+"You see by my countenance that all is well, and therefore you smile on
+me before I tell you what has passed."
+
+This brought her to the recollection of her conduct, and now with looks
+ill constrained, she attempted the expression of an alarm she did not
+feel.
+
+"Nay, I assure you Lord Frederick is safe," he resumed, "and the
+disgrace of his blow washed entirely away, by a few drops of blood from
+this arm." And he laid his hand upon his left arm, which rested in his
+waistcoat as a kind of sling.
+
+She cast her eyes there, and seeing where the ball had entered the coat
+sleeve, she gave an involuntary scream, and sunk upon the sofa. Instead
+of that affectionate sympathy which Miss Woodley used to exert upon her
+slightest illness or affliction, she now addressed her in an unpitying
+tone, and said, "Miss Milner, you have heard Lord Frederick is safe, you
+have therefore nothing to alarm you." Nor did she run to hold a smelling
+bottle, or to raise her head. Her guardian seeing her near fainting, and
+without any assistance from her friend, was going himself to give it;
+but on this, Miss Woodley interfered, and having taken her head upon her
+arm, assured him, "It was a weakness to which Miss Milner was
+accustomed: that she would ring for her maid, who knew how to relieve
+her instantly with a few drops." Satisfied with this, Dorriforth left
+the room; and a surgeon being come to examine his wound, he retired into
+his own chamber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+The power delegated by the confidential to those entrusted with their
+secrets, Miss Woodley was the last person on earth to abuse--but she was
+also the last, who, by an accommodating complacency, would participate
+in the guilt of her friend--and there was no guilt, except that of
+murder, which she thought equal to the crime in question, if it was ever
+perpetrated. Adultery, reason would perhaps have informed her, was a
+more pernicious evil to society; but to a religious mind, what sound is
+so horrible as _sacrilege?_ Of vows made to God or to man, the former
+must weigh the heaviest. Moreover, the sin of infidelity in the married
+state, is not a little softened to common understandings, by its
+frequency; whereas, of religious vows broken by a devotee she had never
+heard; unless where the offence had been followed by such examples of
+divine vengeance, such miraculous punishments in this world, (as well as
+eternal punishment in the other) as served to exaggerate the
+wickedness.
+
+She, who could, and who did pardon Miss Milner, was the person who saw
+her passion in the severest light, and resolved upon every method,
+however harsh, to root it from her heart--nor did she fear success,
+resting on the certain assurance, that however deep her love might be
+fixed, it would never be returned. Yet this confidence did not prevent
+her taking every precaution, lest Dorriforth should come to the
+knowledge of it. She would not have his composed mind disturbed with
+such a thought--his steadfast principles so much as shaken by the
+imagination--nor overwhelm him with those self-reproaches which his fatal
+attraction, unpremeditated as it was, would still have drawn upon him.
+
+With this plan of concealment, in which the natural modesty of Miss
+Milner acquiesced, there was but one effort for which this unhappy ward
+was not prepared; and that was an entire separation from her guardian.
+She had, from the first, cherished her passion without the most remote
+prospect of a return--she was prepared to see Dorriforth, without ever
+seeing him more nearly connected to her than as her guardian and friend;
+but not to see him at all--for _that_, she was not prepared.
+
+But Miss Woodley reflected upon the inevitable necessity of this measure
+before she made the proposal; and then made it with a firmness that
+might have done honour to the inflexibility of Dorriforth himself.
+
+During the few days that intervened between her open confession of a
+passion for Lord Frederick and this proposed plan of separation, the
+most intricate incoherence appeared in the character of Miss Milner--and
+in order to evade a marriage with him, and conceal, at the same time,
+the shameful propensity which lurked in her breast, she was once even on
+the point of declaring a passion for Sir Edward Ashton.
+
+In the duel which had taken place between Lord Frederick and Dorriforth,
+the latter had received the fire of his antagonist, but positively
+refused to return it; by which he had kept his promise not to endanger
+his Lordship's life, and had reconciled Sandford, in great measure, to
+his behaviour--and Sandford now (his resolution once broken) no longer
+refused entering Miss Milner's house, but came whenever it was
+convenient, though he yet avoided the mistress of it as much as
+possible; or showed by every word and look, when she was present, that
+she was still less in his favour than she had ever been.
+
+He visited Dorriforth on the evening of his engagement with Lord
+Frederick, and the next morning breakfasted with him in his own chamber;
+nor did Miss Milner see her guardian after his first return from that
+engagement before the following noon. She enquired, however, of his
+servant how he did, and was rejoiced to hear that his wound was but
+slight--yet this enquiry she durst not make before Miss Woodley.
+
+When Dorriforth made his appearance the next day, it was evident that he
+had thrown from his heart a load of cares; and though they had left a
+languor upon his face, content was in his voice, in his manners, in
+every word and action. Far from seeming to retain any resentment against
+his ward, for the danger into which her imprudence had led him, he
+appeared rather to pity her indiscretion, and to wish to soothe the
+perturbation which the recollection of her own conduct had evidently
+raised in her mind. His endeavours were successful--she was soothed every
+time he spoke to her; and had not the watchful eye of Miss Woodley stood
+guard over her inclinations, she had plainly discovered, that she was
+enraptured with the joy of seeing him again himself, after the danger to
+which he had been exposed.
+
+These emotions, which she laboured to subdue, passed, however, the
+bounds of her ineffectual resistance, when at the time of retiring after
+dinner, he said to her in a low voice, but such as it was meant the
+company should hear, "Do me the favour, Miss Milner, to call at my study
+some time in the evening; I have to speak with you upon business."
+
+She answered, "I will, Sir." And her eyes swam with delight, in
+expectation of the interview.
+
+Let not the reader, nevertheless, imagine, there was in that ardent
+expectation, one idea which the most spotless mind, in love, might not
+have indulged without reproach. Sincere love (at least among the
+delicate of the female sex) is often gratified by that degree of
+enjoyment, or rather forbearance, which would be torture in the pursuit
+of any other passion. Real, delicate, and restrained love, such as Miss
+Milner's, was indulged in the sight of the object only; and having
+bounded her wishes by her hopes, the height of her happiness was limited
+to a conversation, in which no other but themselves took a part.
+
+Miss Woodley was one of those who heard the appointment, but the only
+one who conceived with what sensation it was received.
+
+While the ladies remained in the same room with Dorriforth, Miss Milner
+thought of little, except of him. As soon as they withdrew into another
+apartment, she remembered Miss Woodley; and turning her head suddenly,
+saw her friend's face imprinted with suspicion and displeasure: this at
+first was painful to her--but recollecting that in a couple of hours she
+was to meet her guardian alone--to speak to him, and hear him speak to
+her only--every other thought was absorbed in that one, and she
+considered with indifference, the uneasiness, or the anger of her
+friend.
+
+Miss Milner, to do justice to her heart, did not wish to beguile
+Dorriforth into the snares of love: could any supernatural power have
+endowed her with the means, and at the same time have shewn to her the
+ills that must arise from such an effect of her charms, she had
+assuredly virtue enough to have declined the conquest; but without
+enquiring what she proposed, she never saw him, without previously
+endeavouring to look more attractive, than she would have desired,
+before any other person. And now, without listening to the thousand
+exhortations that spoke in every feature of Miss Woodley, she flew to a
+looking-glass, to adjust her dress in a manner that she thought most
+enchanting.
+
+Time stole away, and the time of going to her guardian arrived. In his
+presence, unsupported by the presence of any other, every grace that she
+had practised, every look that she had borrowed to set off her charms,
+were annihilated; and she became a native beauty, with the artless
+arguments of reason only for her aid. Awed thus by his power, from
+every thing but what she really was, she never was perhaps half so
+bewitching, as in those timid, respectful, and embarrassed moments she
+passed alone with him. He caught at those times her respect, her
+diffidence, nay, even her embarrassment; and never would one word of
+anger pass on either side.
+
+On the present occasion, he first expressed the high satisfaction that
+she had given him, by at length revealing to him the real state of her
+mind.
+
+"And when I take every thing into consideration, Miss Milner," added he,
+"I rejoice that your sentiments happen to be such as you have owned.
+For, although my Lord Frederick is not the very man I could have wished
+for your perfect happiness; yet, in the state of human perfection and
+human happiness, you might have fixed your affections with perhaps less
+propriety; and still, where my unwillingness to thwart your inclinations
+might not have permitted me to contend with them."
+
+Not a word of reply did this demand; or if it had, not a word could she
+have given.
+
+"And now, Madam, the reason of my desire to speak with you--is, to know
+the means you think most proper to pursue, in order to acquaint Lord
+Frederick, that notwithstanding this late repulse, there are hopes of
+your partiality in his favour."
+
+"Defer the explanation," she replied eagerly.
+
+"I beg your pardon--it cannot be. Besides, how can you indulge a
+disposition thus unpitying? Even so ardently did I desire to render the
+man who loves you happy, that though he came armed against my life, had
+I not reflected, that previous to our engagement it would appear like
+fear, and the means of bartering for his forgiveness, I should have
+revealed your sentiments the moment I had seen him. When the engagement
+was over, I was too impatient to acquaint you with his safety, to think
+then on gratifying him. And indeed, the delicacy of the declaration,
+after the many denials which you have no doubt given him, should be
+considered. I therefore consult your opinion upon the manner in which it
+shall be made."
+
+"Mr. Dorriforth, can you allow nothing to the moments of surprise, and
+that pity, which the fate impending inspired? and which might urge me to
+express myself of Lord Frederick, in a manner my cooler thoughts will
+not warrant?"
+
+"There was nothing in your expressions, my dear Miss Milner, the least
+equivocal--if you were off your guard when you pleaded for Lord
+Frederick, as I believe you were, you said more sincerely what you
+thought; and no discreet, or rather indiscreet attempts to retract, can
+make me change these sentiments."
+
+"I am very sorry," she replied, confused and trembling.
+
+"Why sorry? Come give me commission to reveal your partiality. I'll not
+be too hard upon you--a hint from me will do. Hope is ever apt to
+interpret the slightest words to its own use, and a lover's hope is
+beyond all others, sanguine."
+
+"I never gave Lord Frederick hope."
+
+"But you never plunged him into despair."
+
+"His pursuit intimates that I never have, but he has no other proof."
+
+"However light and frivolous you have been upon frivolous subjects, yet
+I must own, Miss Milner, that I did expect when a case of this
+importance came seriously before you, you would have discovered a proper
+stability in your behaviour."
+
+"I do, Sir; and it was only when I was affected with a weakness, which
+arose from accident, that I have betrayed inconsistency."
+
+"You then assert again, that you have no affection for my Lord
+Frederick?"
+
+"Not enough to become his wife."
+
+"You are alarmed at marriage, and I do not wonder you should be so; it
+shews a prudent foresight which does you honour--but, my dear, are there
+no dangers in a single state? If I may judge, Miss Milner, there are
+many more to a young lady of your accomplishments, than if you were
+under the protection of a husband."
+
+"My father, Mr. Dorriforth, thought your protection sufficient."
+
+"But that protection was rather to direct your choice, than to be the
+cause of your not choosing at all. Give me leave to point out an
+observation which, perhaps, I have too frequently made before, but upon
+this occasion I must intrude it once again. Miss Fenton is its
+object--her fortune is inferior to your's, her personal attractions are
+less"----
+
+Here the powerful glow of joy, and of gratitude, for an opinion so
+negligently, and yet so sincerely expressed, flew to Miss Milner's face,
+neck, and even to her hands and fingers; the blood mounted to every part
+of her skin that was visible, for not a fibre but felt the secret
+transport, that Dorriforth thought her more beautiful than the beautiful
+Miss Fenton.
+
+If he observed her blushes, he was unsuspicious of the cause, and went
+on.
+
+"There is, besides, in the temper of Miss Fenton, a sedateness that
+might with less hazard ensure her safety in an unmarried life; and yet
+she very properly thinks it her duty, as she does not mean to seclude
+herself by any vows to the contrary, to become a wife--and in obedience
+to the counsel of her friends, will be married within a very few weeks."
+
+"Miss Fenton may marry from obedience, I never will."
+
+"You mean to say, that love shall alone induce you."
+
+"I do."
+
+"If you would point out a subject upon which I am the least able to
+reason, and on which my sentiments, such as they are, are formed only
+from theory, (and even there, more cautioned than instructed) it is the
+subject of love. And yet, even that little which I know, tells me,
+without a doubt, that what you said yesterday, pleading for Lord
+Frederick's life, was the result of the most violent and tender love."
+
+"The _little you know_ then, Mr. Dorriforth, has deceived you; had you
+_known more_, you would have judged otherwise."
+
+"I submit to the merit of your reply; but without allowing me a judge at
+all, I will appeal to those who were present with me."
+
+"Are Mrs. Horton and Mr. Sandford to be the connoisseurs?"
+
+"No; I'll appeal to Miss Fenton and Miss Woodley."
+
+"And yet, I believe," replied she with a smile, "I believe theory must
+only be the judge even there."
+
+"Then from all you have said, Madam, on this occasion, I am to conclude
+that you still refuse to marry Lord Frederick?"
+
+"You are."
+
+"And you submit never to see him again?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"All you then said to me, yesterday, was false?"
+
+"I was not mistress of myself at the time."
+
+"Therefore it was truth!--for shame, for shame!"
+
+At that moment the door opened, and Mr. Sandford walked in--he started
+back on seeing Miss Milner, and was going away; but Dorriforth called to
+him to stay, and said with warmth,
+
+"Tell me, Mr. Sandford, by what power, by what persuasion, I can prevail
+upon Miss Milner to confide in me as her friend; to lay her heart open,
+and credit mine when I declare to her, that I have no view in all the
+advice I give to her, but her immediate welfare."
+
+"Mr. Dorriforth, you know my opinion of that lady," replied Sandford;
+"it has been formed ever since my first acquaintance with her, and it
+continues the same."
+
+"But instruct me how I am to inspire her with confidence," returned
+Dorriforth; "how I am to impress her with a sense of that, which is for
+her advantage?"
+
+"You can work no miracles," replied Sandford, "you are not holy enough."
+
+"And yet my ward," answered Dorriforth, "appears to be acquainted with
+that mystery; for what but the force of a miracle can induce her to
+contradict to-day, what before you, and several other witnesses, she
+positively acknowledged yesterday?"
+
+"Do you call that miraculous?" cried Sandford; "the miracle had been if
+she had _not_ done so--for did she not yesterday contradict what she
+acknowledged the day before? and will she not to-morrow disavow what
+she says to-day?"
+
+"I wish that she may--" replied Dorriforth mildly, for he saw the tears
+flowing down her face at the rough and severe manner in which Sandford
+had spoken, and he began to feel for her uneasiness.
+
+"I beg pardon," cried Sandford, "for speaking so rudely to the mistress
+of the house--I have no business here, I know; but where _you_ are, Mr.
+Dorriforth, unless I am turned out, I shall always think it my duty to
+come."
+
+Miss Milner curtsied, as much as to say, he was welcome to come. He
+continued,
+
+"I was to blame, that upon a nice punctilio, I left you so long without
+my visits, and without my counsel; in that time, you have run the hazard
+of being murdered, and what is worse, of being excommunicated; for had
+you been so rash as to have returned your opponent's fire, not all my
+interest at Rome would have obtained remission of the punishment."
+
+Miss Milner, through all her tears, could not now restrain her laughter.
+On which he resumed;
+
+"And here do I venture, like a missionary among savages--but if I can
+only save you from their scalping knives--from the miseries which that
+lady is preparing for you, I am rewarded."
+
+Sandford spoke this with great fervour, and the offence of her love
+never appeared to her in so tremendous a point of view, as when thus,
+unknowingly, alluded to by him.
+
+"_The miseries that lady is preparing for you_," hung upon her ears like
+the notes of a raven, and sounded equally ominous. The words "_murder_"
+and "_excommunication_" he had likewise uttered; all the fatal effects
+of sacrilegious love. Frightful superstitions struck her to the heart,
+and she could scarcely prevent falling down under their oppression.
+
+Dorriforth beheld the difficulty she had in sustaining herself, and with
+the utmost tenderness went towards her, and supporting her, said, "I beg
+your pardon--I invited you hither with a far different intention than
+your uneasiness, and be assured----"
+
+Sandford was beginning to speak, when Dorriforth resumed,--"Hold, Mr.
+Sandford, the lady is under my protection, and I know not whether it is
+not requisite that you should apologize to her, and to me, for what you
+have already said."
+
+"You asked my opinion, or I had not given it you--would you have me, like
+_her_, speak what I do not think?"
+
+"Say no more, Sir," cried Dorriforth--and leading her kindly to the door,
+as if to defend her from his malice, told her, "He would take another
+opportunity of renewing the subject."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+When Dorriforth was alone with Sandford, he explained to him what before
+he had only hinted; and this learned Jesuit frankly confessed, "That the
+mind of woman was far above, or rather beneath, his comprehension." It
+was so, indeed--for with all his penetration, and few even of that school
+had more, he had not yet penetrated into the recesses of Miss Milner's
+heart.
+
+Miss Woodley, to whom she repeated all that had passed between herself,
+her guardian, and Sandford, took this moment, in the agitation of her
+spirits, to alarm her still more by prophetic insinuations; and at
+length represented to her here, for the first time, the necessity, "That
+Mr. Dorriforth and she no longer should remain under the same roof."
+This was like the stroke of sudden death to Miss Milner, and clinging to
+life, she endeavoured to avert the blow by prayers, and by promises. Her
+friend loved her too sincerely to be prevailed upon.
+
+"But in what manner can I accomplish the separation?" cried she, "for
+till I marry we are obliged, by my father's request, to live in the same
+house."
+
+"Miss Milner," answered Miss Woodley, "much as I respect the will of a
+dying man, I regard your and Mr. Dorriforth's present and eternal
+happiness much more; and it is my resolution that you _shall part._ If
+_you_ will not contrive the means, that duty falls on me, and without
+any invention I see the measure at once."
+
+"What is it?" cried Miss Milner eagerly.
+
+"I will reveal to Mr. Dorriforth, without hesitation, the real state of
+your heart; which your present inconsistency of conduct will but too
+readily confirm."
+
+"You would not plunge me into so much shame, into so much anguish!"
+cried she, distractedly.
+
+"No," replied Miss Woodley, "not for the world, if you will separate
+from him by any mode of your own--but that you _shall_ separate is my
+determination; and in spite of all your sufferings, this shall be the
+expedient, unless you instantly agree to some other."
+
+"Good Heaven, Miss Woodley! is this your friendship?"
+
+"Yes--and the truest friendship I have to bestow. Think what a task I
+undertake for your sake and his, when I condemn myself to explain to him
+your weakness. What astonishment! what confusion! what remorse, do I
+foresee painted upon his face! I hear him call you by the harshest
+names, and behold him fly from your sight for ever, as an object of his
+detestation."
+
+"Oh spare the dreadful picture.--Fly from my sight for ever! Detest my
+name! Oh! my dear Miss Woodley, let but his friendship for me still
+remain, and I will consent to any thing. You may command me. I will go
+away from him directly--but let us part in friendship--Oh! without the
+friendship of Mr. Dorriforth, life would be a heavy burthen indeed."
+
+Miss Woodley immediately began to contrive schemes for their separation;
+and, with all her invention alive on the subject, the following was the
+only natural one that she could form.
+
+Miss Milner, in a letter to her distant relation at Bath, was to
+complain of the melancholy of a country life, which she was to say her
+guardian imposed upon her; and she was to entreat the lady to send a
+pressing invitation that she would pass a month or two at her house;
+this invitation was to be laid before Dorriforth for his approbation,
+and the two ladies were to enforce it, by expressing their earnest
+wishes for his consent. This plan having been properly regulated, the
+necessary letter was sent to Bath, and Miss Woodley waited with
+patience, but with a watchful guard upon the conduct of her friend, till
+the answer should arrive.
+
+During this interim a tender and complaining epistle from Lord Frederick
+was delivered to Miss Milner; to which, as he received no answer, he
+prevailed upon his uncle, with whom he resided, to wait upon her, and
+obtain a verbal reply; for he still flattered himself, that fear of her
+guardian's anger, or perhaps his interception of the letter which he had
+sent, was the sole cause of her apparent indifference.
+
+The old gentleman was introduced both to Miss Milner and to Mr.
+Dorriforth, but received from each an answer so explicit, that left his
+nephew no longer in doubt but that all farther pursuit was vain.
+
+Sir Edward Ashton about this time also submitted to a formal dismission;
+and had the mortification to reflect, that he was bestowing upon the
+object of his affections, the tenderest proof of his regard, by
+absenting himself entirely from her society.
+
+Upon this serious and certain conclusion to the hopes of Lord Frederick,
+Dorriforth was more astonished than ever at the conduct of his ward. He
+had once thought her behaviour in this respect was ambiguous, but since
+her confession of a passion for that nobleman, he had no doubt but in
+the end she would become his wife. He lamented to find himself mistaken,
+and thought it proper now to condemn her caprice, not merely in words,
+but in the general tenor of his behaviour. He consequently became more
+reserved, and more austere than he had been since his first acquaintance
+with her; for his manners, not from design, but imperceptibly to
+himself, had been softened since he became her guardian, by that tender
+respect which he had uniformly paid to the object of his protection.
+
+Notwithstanding the severity he now assumed, his ward, in the prospect
+of parting from him, grew melancholy; Miss Woodley's love to her friend
+rendered her little otherwise; and Dorriforth's peculiar gravity,
+frequently rigour, could not but make their whole party less cheerful
+than it had been. Lord Elmwood too, at this time was lying dangerously
+ill of a fever; Miss Fenton of course was as much in sorrow as her
+nature would permit her to be, and both Sandford and Dorriforth in
+extreme concern upon his Lordship's account.
+
+In this posture of affairs, the letter of invitation arrives from Lady
+Luneham at Bath; it was shewn to Dorriforth; and to prove to his ward
+that he is so much offended, as no longer to feel that excessive
+interest in her concerns which he once felt, he gives an opinion on the
+subject with indifference--he desires "Miss Milner will do what she
+herself thinks proper." Miss Woodley instantly accepts this permission,
+writes back, and appoints the day upon which her friend means to set off
+for the visit.
+
+Miss Milner is wounded at the heart by the cold and unkind manners of
+her guardian, but dares not take one step to retrieve his opinion.
+Alone, or to her friend, she sighs and weeps: he discovers her sorrow,
+and is doubtful whether the departure of Lord Frederick from that part
+of the country is not the cause.
+
+When the time she was to set out for Bath was only two days off, the
+behaviour of Dorriforth took, by degrees, its usual form, if not a
+greater share of polite and tender attention than ever. It was the first
+time he had parted from Miss Milner since he became her guardian, and he
+felt upon the occasion, a reluctance. He had been angry with her, he had
+shewn her that he was, and he now began to wish that he had not. She is
+not happy, (he considered within himself) every word and action declares
+she is not; I may have been too severe, and added perhaps to her
+uneasiness. "At least we will part on good terms," said he--"Indeed, my
+regard for her is such, I cannot part otherwise."
+
+She soon discerned his returning kindness, and it was a gentle tie that
+would have fastened her to that spot for ever, but for the firm
+resistance of Miss Woodley.
+
+"What will the absence of a few months effect?" said she, pleading her
+own cause; "At the end of a few months at farthest, he will expect me
+back, and where then will be the merit of this separation?"
+
+"In that time," replied Miss Woodley, "we may find some method to make
+it longer." To this she listened with a kind of despair, but uttered,
+she "Was resigned,"--and she prepared for her departure.
+
+Dorriforth was all anxiety that every circumstance of her journey should
+be commodious; he was eager she should be happy; and he was eager she
+should see that he entirely forgave her. He would have gone part of the
+way with her, but for the extreme illness of Lord Elmwood, in whose
+chamber he passed most of the day, and slept in Elmwood House every
+night.
+
+On the morning of her journey, when Dorriforth gave his hand and
+conducted Miss Milner to the carriage, all the way he led her she could
+not restrain her tears; which increased, as he parted from her, to
+convulsive sobs. He was affected by her grief; and though he had
+previously bid her farewell, he drew her gently on one side, and said,
+with the tenderest concern,
+
+"My dear Miss Milner, we part friends?--I hope we do?--On my side, depend
+upon it, that I regret nothing so much at our separation, as having ever
+given you a moment's pain."
+
+"I believe so," was all she could utter, for she hastened from him, lest
+his discerning eye should discover the cause of the weakness which thus
+overcame her. But her apprehensions were groundless; the rectitude of
+his own heart was a bar to the suspicion of her's. He once more kindly
+bade her adieu, and the carriage drove away.
+
+Miss Fenton and Miss Woodley accompanied her part of the journey, about
+thirty miles, where they were met by Sir Harry and Lady Luneham. Here
+was a parting nearly as affecting as that between her and her guardian.
+Miss Woodley, who for several weeks had treated her friend with a
+rigidness she herself hardly supposed was in her nature, now bewailed
+that she had done so; implored her forgiveness; promised to correspond
+with her punctually, and to omit no opportunity of giving her every
+consolation short of cherishing her fatal passion--but in that, and that
+only, was the heart of Miss Milner to be consoled.
+
+END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+SIMPLE STORY,
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES,
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+VOL. II.
+
+_THE FOURTH EDITION._
+
+LONDON:
+
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON, PATERNOSTER ROW.
+
+1799.
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+When Miss Milner arrived at Bath, she thought it the most altered place
+she had ever seen--she was mistaken--it was herself that was changed.
+
+The walks were melancholy, the company insipid, the ball-room
+fatiguing--for, she had left behind all that could charm or please her.
+
+Though she found herself much less happy than when she was at Bath
+before, yet she felt, that she would not, even to enjoy all that past
+happiness, be again reduced to the being she was at that period. Thus
+does the lover consider the extinction of his passion with the same
+horror as the libertine looks upon annihilation; the one would rather
+live hereafter, though in all the tortures described as constituting his
+future state, than cease to exist; so, there are no tortures which a
+lover would not suffer, rather than cease to love.
+
+In the wide prospect of sadness before her, Miss Milner's fancy caught
+hold of the only comfort which presented itself; and this, faint as it
+was, in the total absence of every other, her imagination painted to her
+as excessive. The comfort was a letter from Miss Woodley--a letter, in
+which the subject of her love would most assuredly be mentioned, and in
+whatever terms, it would still be the means of delight.
+
+A letter arrived--she devoured it with her eyes. The post mark denoting
+from whence it came, the name of "Milner Lodge" written on the top, were
+all sources of pleasure--and she read slowly every line it contained, to
+procrastinate the pleasing expectation she enjoyed, till she should
+arrive at the name of Dorriforth. At last, her impatient eye caught the
+word, three lines beyond the place she was reading--irresistibly, she
+skipped over those lines, and fixed on the point to which she was
+attracted.
+
+Miss Woodley was cautious in her indulgence; she made the slightest
+mention of Dorriforth; saying only, "He was extremely concerned, and
+even dejected, at the little hope there was of his cousin, Lord
+Elmwood's, recovery." Short and trivial as this passage was, it was
+still more important to Miss Milner than any other in the letter--she
+read it again and again, considered, and reflected upon it. Dejected,
+thought she, what does that word exactly mean?--did I ever see Mr.
+Dorriforth dejected?--how, I wonder, does he look in that state? Thus did
+she muse, while the cause of his dejection, though a most serious one,
+and pathetically described by Miss Woodley, scarce arrested her
+attention once. She ran over with haste the account of Lord Elmwood's
+state of health; she certainly pitied him while she thought of him, but
+she did not think of him long. To die, was a hard fate for a young
+nobleman just in possession of his immense fortune, and on the eve of
+marriage with a beautiful young woman; but Miss Milner thought that an
+abode in Heaven might be still better than all this, and she had no
+doubt but his Lordship would go thither. The forlorn state of Miss
+Fenton ought to have been a subject for compassion, but she knew that
+lady had resignation to bear any lot with patience, and that a trial of
+her fortitude might be more flattering to her vanity than to be Countess
+of Elmwood: in a word, she saw no one's misfortunes equal to her own,
+because she saw no one so little able to bear misfortune.
+
+She replied to Miss Woodley's letter, and dwelt very long on that
+subject which her friend had passed over lightly; this was another
+indulgence; and this epistolary intercourse was now the only enjoyment
+she possessed. From Bath she paid several visits with Lady Luneham--all
+were alike tedious and melancholy.
+
+But her guardian wrote to her, and though it was on a topic of sorrow,
+the letter gave her joy--the sentiments it expressed were merely
+common-place, yet she valued them as the dearest effusions of friendship
+and affection; and her hands trembled, and her heart beat with rapture
+while she wrote the answer, though she knew it would not be received by
+him with one emotion like those which she experienced. In her second
+letter to Miss Woodley, she prayed like a person insane to be taken home
+from confinement, and like a lunatic protested, in sensible language,
+she "Had no disorder." But her friend replied, "That very declaration
+proves its violence." And she assured her, nothing less than placing her
+affections elsewhere, should induce her to believe but that she was
+incurable.
+
+The third letter from Milner Lodge brought the news of Lord Elmwood's
+death. Miss Woodley was exceedingly affected by this event, and said
+little else on any other subject. Miss Milner was shocked when she read
+the words "He is dead", and instantly thought,
+
+"How transient are all sublunary things! Within a few years _I_ shall be
+dead--and how happy will it then be, if I have resisted every temptation
+to the alluring pleasures of this life!" The happiness of a peaceful
+death occupied her contemplation for near an hour; but at length, every
+virtuous and pious sentiment this meditation inspired, served but to
+remind her of the many sentences she had heard from her guardian's lips
+upon the same subject--her thoughts were again fixed on him, and she
+could think of nothing besides.
+
+In a short time after this, her health became impaired from the
+indisposition of her mind; she languished, and was once in imminent
+danger. During a slight delirium of her fever, Miss Woodley's name and
+her guardian's were incessantly repeated; Lady Luneham sent them
+immediate word of this, and they both hastened to Bath, and arrived
+there just as the violence and danger of her disorder had ceased. As
+soon as she became perfectly recollected, her first care, knowing the
+frailty of her heart, was to enquire what she had uttered while
+delirious. Miss Woodley, who was by her bedside, begged her not to be
+alarmed on that account, and assured her she knew, from all her
+attendants, that she had only spoken with a friendly remembrance (as was
+really the case) of those persons who were dear to her.
+
+She wished to know whether her guardian was come to see her, but she
+had not the courage to ask before her friend; and she in her turn was
+afraid by the too sudden mention of his name, to discompose her. Her
+maid, however, after some little time, entered the chamber, and
+whispered Miss Woodley. Miss Milner asked inquisitively "What she said?"
+
+The maid replied softly, "Lord Elmwood, Madam, wishes to come and see
+you for a few moments, if you will allow him."
+
+At this reply Miss Milner stared wildly.
+
+"I thought," said she, "I thought Lord Elmwood had been dead--are my
+senses disordered still?"
+
+"No, my dear," answered Miss Woodley, "it is the present Lord Elmwood
+who wishes to see you; he whom you left ill when you came hither, _is_
+dead."
+
+"And who is the present Lord Elmwood?" she asked.
+
+Miss Woodley, after a short hesitation, replied--"Your guardian."
+
+"And so he is," cried Miss Milner; "he is the next heir--I had forgot.
+But is it possible that he is here?"
+
+"Yes--" returned Miss Woodley with a grave voice and manner, to moderate
+that glow of satisfaction which for a moment sparkled even in her
+languid eye, and blushed over her pallid countenance. "Yes--as he heard
+you were ill, he thought it right to come and see you."
+
+"He is very good," she answered, and the tear started in her eyes.
+
+"Would you please to see his Lordship?" asked her maid.
+
+"Not yet, not yet," she replied; "let me recollect myself first." And
+she looked with a timid doubt upon her friend, to ask if it was proper.
+
+Miss Woodley could hardly support this humble reference to her judgment,
+from the wan face of the poor invalid, and taking her by the hand,
+whispered, "You shall do what you please." In a few minutes Lord Elmwood
+was introduced.
+
+To those who sincerely love, every change of situation or circumstances
+in the object beloved, appears an advantage. So, the acquisition of a
+title and estate was, in Miss Milner's eye, an inestimable advantage to
+her guardian; not on account of their real value; but that any change,
+instead of diminishing her passion, would have served only to increase
+it--even a change to the utmost poverty.
+
+When he entered--the sight of him seemed to be too much for her, and
+after the first glance she turned her head away. The sound of his voice
+encouraged her to look once more--and then she riveted her eyes upon him.
+
+"It is impossible, my dear Miss Milner," he gently whispered, "to say,
+what joy I feel that your disorder has subsided."
+
+But though it was impossible to say, it was possible to _look_ what he
+felt, and his looks expressed his feelings. In the zeal of those
+sensations, he laid hold of her hand, and held it between his--this he
+did not himself know--but she did.
+
+"You have prayed for me, my Lord, I make no doubt?" said she, and
+smiled, as if thanking him for those prayers.
+
+"Fervently, ardently!" returned he; and the fervency with which he had
+prayed spoke in every feature.
+
+"But I am a protestant, you know, and if I had died such, do you believe
+I should have gone to Heaven?"
+
+"Most assuredly, that would not have prevented you."
+
+"But Mr. Sandford does not think so."
+
+"He must; for he means to go there himself."
+
+To keep her guardian with her, Miss Milner seemed inclined to converse;
+but her solicitous friend gave Lord Elmwood a look, which implied that
+it might be injurious to her, and he retired.
+
+They had only one more interview before he left the place; at which Miss
+Milner was capable of sitting up--he was with her, however, but a very
+short time, some necessary concerns relative to his late kinsman's
+affairs, calling him in haste to London. Miss Woodley continued with her
+friend till she saw her entirely reinstated in her health: during which
+time her guardian was frequently the subject of their private
+conversation; and upon those occasions Miss Milner has sometimes brought
+Miss Woodley to acknowledge, "That could Mr. Dorriforth have possibly
+foreseen the early death of the last Lord Elmwood, it had been more for
+the honour of his religion (as that ancient title would now after him
+become extinct), if he had preferred marriage vows to those of
+celibacy."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+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?"
+
+"Yes," answered Mr. Fleetmond, "but there are no _religious_ vows, from
+which the sovereign Pontiff at Rome cannot grant a dispensation, as
+those commandments which are made by the church, the church has always
+the power to revoke; and when it is for the general good of religion,
+his Holiness thinks it incumbent on him, to publish his bull, and remit
+all penalties for their non-observance; and certainly it is for the
+honour of the Catholics, that this Earldom should continue in a Catholic
+family. In short, I'll venture to lay a wager, my Lord Elmwood is
+married within a year."
+
+Miss Milner, who listened with attention, feared she was in a dream, or
+deceived by the pretended knowledge of Mr. Fleetmond, who might know
+nothing--yet all that he had said was very probable; and he was himself a
+Roman Catholic, so that he must be well informed on the subject upon
+which he spoke. If she had heard the direst news that ever sounded in
+the ears of the most susceptible of mortals, the agitation of her mind
+and person could not have been stronger--she felt, while every word was
+speaking, a chill through all her veins--a pleasure too exquisite, not to
+bear along with it the sensation of exquisite pain; of which she was so
+sensible, that for a few moments it made her wish that she had not heard
+the intelligence; though, very soon after, she would not but have heard
+it for the world.
+
+As soon as she had recovered from her first astonishment and joy, she
+wrote to Miss Woodley an exact account of what she had heard, and
+received this answer:
+
+"I am sorry any body should have given you this piece of information,
+because it was a task, in executing which, I had promised myself extreme
+satisfaction--but from the fear that your health was not yet strong
+enough to support, without some danger, the burthen of hopes which I
+knew would, upon this occasion, press upon you, I deferred my
+communication and it has been anticipated. Yet, as you seem in doubt as
+to the reality of what you have been told, perhaps this confirmation of
+it may fall very little short of the first news; especially when it is
+enforced by my request, that you will come to us, as soon as you can
+with propriety leave Lady Luneham.
+
+"Come, my dear Miss Milner, and find in your once rigid monitor a
+faithful confidante. I will no longer threaten to disclose a secret you
+have trusted me with, but leave it to the wisdom, or sensibility of
+_his_ heart, (who is now to penetrate into the hearts of our sex, in
+search of one that may beat in unison with his own) to find it out. I no
+longer condemn, but congratulate you on your passion; and will assist
+you with all my advice and my earnest wishes, that it may obtain a
+return."
+
+This letter was another of those excruciating pleasures, that almost
+reduced Miss Milner to the grave. Her appetite forsook her; and she
+vainly endeavoured, for several nights, to close her eyes. She thought
+so much upon the prospect of accomplishing her wishes, that she could
+admit no other idea; nor even invent one probable excuse for leaving
+Lady Luneham before the appointed time, which was then at the distance
+of two months. She wrote to Miss Woodley to beg her contrivance, to
+reproach her for keeping the secret so long from her, and to thank her
+for having revealed it in so kind a manner at last. She begged also to
+be acquainted how Mr. Dorriforth (for still she called him by that name)
+spoke and thought of this sudden change in his destiny.
+
+Miss Woodley's reply was a summons for her to town upon some pretended
+business, which she avoided explaining, but which entirely silenced Lady
+Luneham's entreaties for her stay.
+
+To her question concerning Lord Elmwood she answered, "It is a subject
+on which he seldom speaks--he appears just the same he ever did, nor
+could you by any part of his conduct, conceive that any such change had
+taken place." Miss Milner exclaimed to herself, "I am glad he is not
+altered--if his words, looks, or manners, were any thing different from
+what they formerly were, I should not like him so well." And just the
+reverse would have been the case, had Miss Woodley sent her word he was
+changed. The day for her leaving Bath was fixed; she expected it with
+rapture, but before its arrival, sunk under the care of expectation; and
+when it came, was so much indisposed, as to be obliged to defer her
+journey for a week.
+
+At length she found herself in London--in the house of her guardian--and
+that guardian no longer bound to a single life, but _enjoined_ to marry.
+He appeared in her eyes, as in Miss Woodley's, the same as ever; or
+perhaps more endearing than ever, as it was the first time she had
+beheld him with hope. Mr. Sandford did _not_ appear the same; yet he was
+in reality as surly and as disrespectful in his behaviour to her as
+usual; but she did not observe, or she did not feel his morose temper as
+heretofore--he seemed amiable, mild, and gentle; at least this was the
+happy medium through which her self-complacent mind began to see him;
+for good humour, like the jaundice, makes every one of its own
+complexion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Lord Elmwood was preparing to go abroad, for the purpose of receiving in
+form, the dispensation from his vows; it was, however, a subject he
+seemed carefully to avoid speaking upon; and when by any accident he was
+obliged to mention it, it was without any marks either of satisfaction
+or concern.
+
+Miss Milner's pride began to be alarmed. While he was Mr. Dorriforth,
+and confined to a single life, his indifference to her charms was rather
+an honourable than a reproachful trait in his character, and in reality,
+she admired him for the insensibility. But on the eve of being at
+liberty, and on the eve of making his choice, she was offended _that_
+choice was not immediately fixed upon her. She had been accustomed to
+receive the devotion of every man who saw her, and not to obtain it of
+the man from whom, of all others, she most wished it, was cruelly
+humiliating. She complained to Miss Woodley, who advised her to have
+patience; but that was one of the virtues in which she was the least
+practised.
+
+Encouraged, nevertheless, by her friend in the commendable desire of
+gaining the affections of him, who possessed all her own, she, however,
+left no means unattempted for the conquest--but she began with too great
+a certainty of success, not to be sensible of the deepest mortification
+in the disappointment--nay, she anticipated a disappointment, as she had
+before anticipated her success; by turns feeling the keenest emotions
+from hope and from despair.
+
+As these passions alternately governed her, she was alternately in
+spirits or dejected; in good or in ill humour; and the vicissitudes of
+her prospect at length gave to her behaviour an air of caprice, which
+not all her follies had till now produced. This was not the way to
+secure the affections of Lord Elmwood; she knew it was not; and before
+him she was under some restriction. Sandford observed this, and without
+reserve, added to the list of her other failings, hypocrisy. It was
+plain to see that Mr. Sandford esteemed her less and less every day; and
+as he was the person who most influenced the opinion of her guardian,
+he became to her, very soon, an object not merely of dislike, but of
+abhorrence.
+
+These mutual sentiments were discoverable in every word and action,
+while they were in each other's company; but still in his absence, Miss
+Milner's good nature, and total freedom from malice, never suffered her
+to utter a sentence injurious to his interest. Sandford's charity did
+not extend thus far; and speaking of her with severity one evening while
+she was at the opera, "His meaning," as he said, "but to caution her
+guardian against her faults," Lord Elmwood replied,
+
+"There is one fault, however, Mr. Sandford, I cannot lay to her charge."
+
+"And what is that, my Lord?" cried Sandford, eagerly, "What is that one
+fault, which Miss Milner has not?"
+
+"I never," replied Lord Elmwood, "heard Miss Milner, in your absence,
+utter a syllable to your disadvantage."
+
+"She dares not, my Lord, because she is in fear of you and she knows you
+would not suffer it."
+
+"She then," answered his Lordship, "pays me a much higher compliment
+than you do; for you freely censure _her_, and yet imagine I _will_
+suffer it."
+
+"My Lord," replied Sandford, "I am undeceived now, and shall never take
+that liberty again."
+
+As Lord Elmwood always treated Sandford with the utmost respect, he
+began to fear he had been deficient upon this occasion; and the
+disposition which had induced him to take his ward's part, was likely,
+in the end, to prove unfavourable to her; for perceiving Sandford was
+offended at what had passed, as the only means of retribution, he began
+himself to lament her volatile and captious propensities; in which
+lamentation, Sandford, now forgetting his affront, joined with the
+heartiest concurrence, adding,
+
+"You, Sir, having now other cares to employ your thoughts, ought to
+insist upon her marrying, or retiring into the country."
+
+She returned home just as this conversation was finished, and Sandford,
+the moment she entered, rang for his candle to retire. Miss Woodley,
+who had been at the opera with Miss Milner, cried,
+
+"Bless me, Mr. Sandford, are you not well, you are going to leave us so
+early?"
+
+He replied, "No, I have a pain in my head."
+
+Miss Milner, who never listened to complaints without sympathy, rose
+immediately from her seat, saying,
+
+"I think I never heard you, Mr. Sandford, complain of indisposition
+before. Will you accept of my specific for the head-ache? Indeed it is a
+certain relief--I'll fetch it instantly."
+
+She went hastily out of the room, and returned with a bottle, which, she
+assured him, "Was a present from Lady Luneham, and would certainly cure
+him." And she pressed it upon him with such an anxious earnestness, that
+with all his churlishness he could not refuse taking it.
+
+This was but a common-place civility, such as is paid by one enemy to
+another every day; but the _manner_ was the material part. The
+unaffected concern, the attention, the good will, she demonstrated in
+this little incident, was that which made it remarkable, and immediately
+took from Lord Elmwood the displeasure to which he had been just before
+provoked, or rather transformed it into a degree of admiration. Even
+Sandford was not insensible to her behaviour, and in return, when he
+left the room, "Wished her a good night."
+
+To her and Miss Woodley, who had not been witnesses of the preceding
+conversation, what she had done appeared of no merit; but to the mind of
+Lord Elmwood, the merit was infinite; and upon the departure of
+Sandford, he began to be unusually cheerful. He first pleasantly
+reproached the ladies for not offering him a place in their box at the
+opera.
+
+"Would you have gone, my Lord?" asked Miss Milner, highly delighted.
+
+"Certainly," returned he, "had you invited me."
+
+"Then from this day I give you a general invitation; nor shall any other
+company be admitted but those whom you approve."
+
+"I am very much obliged to you," said he.
+
+"And you," continued she, "who have been accustomed only to
+church-music, will be more than any one, enchanted with hearing the
+softer music of love."
+
+"What ravishing pleasures you are preparing for me!" returned he--"I know
+not whether my weak senses will be able to support them!"
+
+She had her eyes upon him when he spoke this, and she discovered in his,
+that were fixed upon her, a sensibility unexpected--a kind of fascination
+which enticed her to look on, while her eyelids fell involuntarily
+before its mighty force, and a thousand blushes crowded over her face.
+He was struck with these sudden signals; hastily recalled his former
+countenance, and stopped the conversation.
+
+Miss Woodley, who had been a silent observer for some time, now thought
+a word or two from her would be acceptable rather than troublesome.
+
+"And pray, my Lord," said she, "when do you go to France?"
+
+"To Italy you mean;--I shall not go at all," said he. "My superiors are
+very indulgent, for they dispense with all my duties. I ought, and I
+meant, to have gone abroad; but as a variety of concerns require my
+presence in England, every necessary ceremony has taken place here."
+
+"Then your Lordship is no longer in orders?" said Miss Woodley.
+
+"No; they have been resigned these five days."
+
+"My Lord, I give you joy," said Miss Milner.
+
+He thanked her, but added with a sigh, "If I have given up content in
+search of joy, I shall perhaps be a loser by the venture." Soon after
+this, he wished them a good night, and retired.
+
+Happy as Miss Milner found herself in his company, she saw him leave the
+room with infinite satisfaction, because her heart was impatient to give
+a loose to its hopes on the bosom of Miss Woodley. She bade Mrs. Horton
+immediately good night; and, in her friend's apartment, gave way to all
+the language of passion, warmed with the confidence of meeting its
+return. She described the sentiments she had read in Lord Elmwood's
+looks; and though Miss Woodley had beheld them too, Miss Milner's fancy
+heightened the expression of every glance, till her construction became,
+by degrees, so extremely favourable to her own wishes, that had not her
+friend been present, and known in what measure to estimate those
+symptoms, she must infallibly have thought, by the joy to which they
+gave birth, that he had openly avowed a passion for her.
+
+Miss Woodley, therefore, thought it her duty to allay these ecstasies,
+and represented to her, she might be deceived in her hopes--or even
+supposing his wishes inclined towards her, there were yet great
+obstacles between them.--"Would not Sandford, who directed his every
+thought and purpose, be consulted upon this? and if he was, upon what,
+but the most romantic affection on the part of Lord Elmwood, had Miss
+Milner to depend? and his Lordship was not a man to be suspected of
+submitting to the excess of any passion." Thus did Miss Woodley argue,
+lest her friend should be misled by her wishes; yet, in her own mind,
+she scarce harboured a doubt that any thing would thwart them. The
+succeeding circumstance proved she was mistaken.
+
+Another gentleman of family and fortune made overtures to Miss Milner;
+and her guardian, so far from having his thoughts inclined towards her
+on his own account, pleaded this lover's cause even with more zeal than
+he had pleaded for Sir Edward and Lord Frederick; thus at once
+destroying all those plans of happiness which poor Miss Milner had
+formed.
+
+In consequence, her melancholy humour was now predominant; she confined
+herself at home, and yet, by her own order, was denied to all her
+visitors. Whether this arose from pure melancholy, or the still
+lingering hope of making her conquest, by that sedateness of manners
+which she knew her guardian admired, she herself perhaps did not
+perfectly know. Be that as it may, Lord Elmwood could not but observe
+this change, and one morning thought fit to mention, and to applaud it.
+
+Miss Woodley and she were at work together when he came into the room;
+and after sitting several minutes, and talking upon indifferent
+subjects, to which his ward replied with a dejection in her voice and
+manner--he said,
+
+"Perhaps I am wrong, Miss Milner, but I have observed that you are
+lately more thoughtful than usual."
+
+She blushed, as she always did when the subject was herself. He
+continued, "Your health appears perfectly restored, and yet I have
+observed you take no delight in your former amusements."
+
+"Are you sorry for that, my Lord?"
+
+"No, I am extremely glad; and I was going to congratulate you upon the
+change. But give me leave to enquire, to what lucky accident we may
+attribute this alteration?"
+
+"Your Lordship then thinks all my commendable deeds arise from accident,
+and that I have no virtues of my own."
+
+"Pardon me, I think you have many." This he spoke emphatically; and her
+blushes increased.
+
+He resumed--"How can I doubt of a lady's virtues, when her countenance
+gives me such evident proofs of them? Believe me, Miss Milner, that in
+the midst of your gayest follies, while you thus continue to blush, I
+shall reverence your internal sensations."
+
+"Oh! my Lord, did you know some of them, I am afraid you would think
+them unpardonable."
+
+This was so much to the purpose, that Miss Woodley found herself
+alarmed--but without reason--Miss Milner loved too sincerely to reveal it
+to the object. He answered,
+
+"And did you know some of mine, you might think them _equally_
+unpardonable."
+
+She turned pale, and could no longer guide her needle--in the fond
+transport of her heart she imagined that his love for her, was among the
+sensations to which he alluded. She was too much embarrassed to reply,
+and he continued,
+
+"We have all much to pardon in one another: and I know not whether the
+officious person who forces, even his good advice, is not as blameable
+as the obstinate one, who will not listen to it. And now, having made a
+preface to excuse you, should you once more refuse mine, I shall venture
+to give it."
+
+"My Lord, I have never yet refused to follow your advice, but where my
+own peace of mind was so nearly concerned, as to have made me culpable,
+had I complied."
+
+"Well, Madam, I submit to your determinations; and shall never again
+oppose your inclination to remain single."
+
+This sentence, as it excluded the idea of soliciting for himself, gave
+her the utmost pain; and her eye glanced at him, full of reproach. He
+did not observe it, but went on.
+
+"While you continue unmarried, it seems to have been your father's
+intention that you should continue under my immediate care; but as I
+mean for the future to reside chiefly in the country--answer me candidly,
+do you think you could be happy there, for at least three parts of the
+year?"
+
+After a short hesitation, she replied, "I have no objection."
+
+"I am glad to hear it," he returned eagerly, "for it is my earnest
+desire to have you with me--your welfare is dear to me as my own; and
+were we apart, continual apprehensions would prey upon my mind."
+
+The tear started in her eye, at the earnestness that accompanied these
+words; he saw it, and to soften her still more with the sense of his
+esteem for her, he increased his earnestness while he said,
+
+"If you will take the resolution to quit London for the time I mention,
+there shall be no means omitted to make the country all you can wish--I
+shall insist upon Miss Woodley's company for both our sakes; and it will
+not only be _my_ study to form such a society as you may approve, but I
+am certain it will be likewise the study of Lady Elmwood----"
+
+He was going on, but as if a poniard had thrust her to the heart, she
+writhed under this unexpected stroke.
+
+He saw her countenance change--he looked at her steadfastly.
+
+It was not a common change from joy to sorrow, from content to
+uneasiness, which Miss Milner discovered--she felt, and she expressed
+anguish--Lord Elmwood was alarmed and shocked. She did not weep, but she
+called Miss Woodley to come to her, with a voice that indicated a degree
+of agony.
+
+"My Lord," (cried Miss Woodley, seeing his consternation and trembling
+lest he should guess the secret,) "My Lord, Miss Milner has again
+deceived you--you must not take her from London--it is that, and that
+alone, which is the cause of her uneasiness."
+
+He seemed more amazed still--and still more shocked at her duplicity than
+at her torture. "Good Heaven!" exclaimed he, "How am I to accomplish her
+wishes? What am I to do? How can I judge, if she will not confide in me,
+but thus for ever deceive me?"
+
+She leaned, pale as death, on the shoulder of Miss Woodley, her eye
+fixed with apparent insensibility to all that was said, while he
+continued,
+
+"Heaven is my witness, if I knew--If I could conceive the means how to
+make her happy, I would sacrifice my own happiness to hers."
+
+"My Lord," said Miss Woodley with a smile, "perhaps I may call upon you
+hereafter to fulfil your word."
+
+He was totally ignorant what she meant, nor had he leisure, from the
+confusion of his thoughts, to reflect upon her meaning; he nevertheless
+replied, with warmth, "Do. You shall find I'll perform it.--Do. I will
+faithfully perform it."
+
+Though Miss Milner was conscious this declaration could not, in
+delicacy, be ever adduced against him; yet the fervent and solemn manner
+in which he made it, cheered her spirits; and as persons enjoy the
+reflection of having in their possession some valuable gem, though they
+are determined never to use it, so she upon this, was comforted and grew
+better. She now lifted up her head, and leaned it on her hand, as she
+sat by the side of a table--still she did not speak, but seemed overcome
+with sorrow. As her situation became, however, less alarming, her
+guardian's pity and affright began to take the colour of resentment; and
+though he did not say so, he was, and looked, highly offended.
+
+At this juncture Mr. Sandford entered. On beholding the present party,
+it required not his sagacity to see at the first view, that they were
+all uneasy; but instead of the sympathy this might have excited in some
+dispositions, Mr. Sandford, after casting a look at each of them,
+appeared in high spirits.
+
+"You seem unhappy, my Lord," said he, with a smile.
+
+"You do _not_--Mr. Sandford," Lord Elmwood replied.
+
+"No, my Lord, nor would I, were I in your situation. What should make a
+man of sense out of temper but a worthy object!" And he looked at Miss
+Milner.
+
+"There are no objects unworthy our care:" replied Lord Elmwood.
+
+"But there are objects on whom all care is fruitless, your Lordship will
+allow."
+
+"I never yet despaired of any one, Mr. Sandford."
+
+"And yet there are persons, of whom it is presumption to entertain
+hopes." And he looked again at Miss Milner.
+
+"Does your head ache, Miss Milner?" asked her friend, seeing her hold it
+with her hand.
+
+"Very much," returned she.
+
+"Mr. Sandford," said Miss Woodley, "did you use all those drops Miss
+Milner gave you for a pain in the head?"
+
+"Yes:" answered he, "I did." But the question at that moment somewhat
+embarrassed him.
+
+"And I hope you found benefit from them:" said Miss Milner, with great
+kindness, as she rose from her seat, and walked slowly out of the room.
+
+Though Miss Woodley followed her, so that Mr. Sandford was left alone
+with Lord Elmwood, and might have continued his unkind insinuations
+without one restraint, yet his lips were closed for the present. He
+looked down on the carpet--twitched himself upon his chair--and began to
+talk of the weather.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+When the first transports of despair were past, Miss Milner suffered
+herself to be once more in hope. She found there were no other means to
+support her life; and to her comfort, her friend was much less severe on
+the present occasion than she expected. No engagement between mortals
+was, in Miss Woodley's opinion, binding like that entered into with
+heaven; and whatever vows Lord Elmwood had possibly made to another, she
+justly supposed that no woman's love for him equalled Miss Milner's--it
+was prior to all others too; that established her claim to contend at
+least for success; and in a contention, what rival would not fall before
+her?
+
+It was not difficult to guess who this rival was; or if they were a
+little time in suspence, Miss Woodley soon arrived at the certainty, by
+inquiring of Mr. Sandford; who, unsuspecting why she asked, readily
+informed her the intended Lady Elmwood was no other than Miss Fenton;
+and that their marriage would be solemnized as soon as the mourning for
+the late Lord Elmwood was over. This last intelligence made Miss Woodley
+shudder--she repeated it, however, to Miss Milner, word for word.
+
+"Happy! happy woman!" exclaimed Miss Milner of Miss Fenton; "she has
+received the first fond impulse of his heart, and has had the
+transcendent happiness of teaching him to love!"
+
+"By no means," returned Miss Woodley, finding no other suggestion likely
+to comfort her; "do not suppose that his marriage is the result of
+love--it is no more than a duty, a necessary arrangement, and this you
+may plainly see by the wife on whom he has fixed. Miss Fenton was
+thought a proper match for his cousin, and that same propriety has
+transferred her to him."
+
+It was easy to convince Miss Milner that all her friend said was truth,
+for she wished it so. "And oh!" she exclaimed, "could I but stimulate
+passion, against the cold influence of propriety;--Do you think, my dear
+Miss Woodley," (and she looked with such begging eyes, it was impossible
+not to answer as she wished,) "do you think it would be unjust to Miss
+Fenton, were I to inspire her destined husband with a passion which she
+may not have inspired, and which I believe _she_ cannot feel?"
+
+Miss Woodley paused a minute, and then answered, "No:"--but there was a
+hesitation in her manner of delivery--she _did_ say, "No:" but she looked
+as if she was afraid she ought to have said "Yes." Miss Milner, however,
+did not give her time to recall the word, or to alter its meaning by
+adding others to it, but ran on eagerly, and declared, "As that was her
+opinion, she would abide by it, and do all she could to supplant her
+rival." In order, nevertheless, to justify this determination, and
+satisfy the conscience of Miss Woodley, they both concluded that Miss
+Fenton's heart was not engaged in the intended marriage, and
+consequently that she was indifferent whether it ever took place or not.
+
+Since the death of the late Earl, she had not been in town; nor had the
+present Earl been near the place where she resided, since the week in
+which her lover died; of course, nothing similar to love could have been
+declared at so early a period; and if it had been made known at a later,
+it must only have been by letter, or by the deputation of Mr. Sandford,
+who they knew had been once in the country to visit her; but how little
+he was qualified to enforce a tender passion, was a comfortable
+reflection.
+
+Revived by these conjectures, of which some were true, and others false;
+the very next day a gloom overspread their bright prospects, on Mr.
+Sandford's saying, as he entered the breakfast-room,
+
+"Miss Fenton, ladies, desired me to present her compliments."
+
+"Is she in town?" asked Mrs. Horton.
+
+"She came yesterday morning," returned Sandford, "and is at her
+brother's, in Ormond-street; my Lord and I supped there last night, and
+that made us so late home."
+
+Lord Elmwood entered soon after, and bowing to his ward, confirmed what
+had been said, by telling her, that "Miss Fenton had charged him with
+her kindest respects."
+
+"How does poor Miss Fenton look?" Mrs. Horton asked Lord Elmwood.
+
+To which question Sandford replied, "Beautiful--she looks beautifully."
+
+"She has got over her uneasiness, I suppose then?" said Mrs. Horton--not
+dreaming that she was asking the questions before her new lover.
+
+"Uneasy!" replied Sandford, "uneasy at any trial this world can send?
+That would be highly unworthy of her."
+
+"But sometimes women do fret at such things:" replied Mrs. Horton,
+innocently.
+
+Lord Elmwood asked Miss Milner--"If she meant to ride, this delightful
+day?"
+
+While she was hesitating--
+
+"There are different kinds of women," (said Sandford, directing his
+discourse to Mrs. Horton;) "there is as much difference between some
+women, as between good and evil spirits."
+
+Lord Elmwood asked Miss Milner again--If she took an airing?
+
+She replied, "No."
+
+"And beauty," continued Sandford, "when endowed upon spirits that are
+evil, is a mark of their greater, their more extreme wickedness. Lucifer
+was the most beautiful of all the angels in Paradise"--
+
+"How do you know?" said Miss Milner.
+
+"But the beauty of Lucifer," (continued Sandford, in perfect neglect and
+contempt of her question,) "was an aggravation of his guilt; because it
+shewed a double share of ingratitude to the Divine Creator of that
+beauty."
+
+"Now you talk of angels," said Miss Milner, "I wish I had wings; and I
+should like to fly through the park this morning."
+
+"You would be taken for an angel in good earnest," said Lord Elmwood.
+
+Sandford was angry at this little compliment, and cried, "I should think
+the serpent's skin would be much more characteristic."
+
+"My Lord," cried she, "does not Mr. Sandford use me ill?" Vext with
+other things, she felt herself extremely hurt at this, and made the
+appeal almost in tears.
+
+"Indeed, I think he does." And he looked at Sandford as if he was
+displeased.
+
+This was a triumph so agreeable to her, that she immediately pardoned
+the offence; but the offender did not so easily pardon her.
+
+"Good morning, ladies," said Lord Elmwood, rising to go away.
+
+"My Lord," said Miss Woodley, "you promised Miss Milner to accompany her
+one evening to the opera; this is opera night."
+
+"Will you go, my Lord?" asked Miss Milner, in a voice so soft, that he
+seemed as if he wished, but could not resist it.
+
+"I am to dine at Mr. Fenton's to-day," he replied; "and if he and his
+sister will go, and you will allow them part of your box, I will promise
+to come."
+
+This was a condition by no means acceptable to her; but as she felt a
+desire to see him in company of his intended bride, (for she fancied she
+could perceive his secret sentiments, could she once see them together)
+she answered not ungraciously, "Yes, my compliments to Mr. and Miss
+Fenton, and I hope they will favour me with their company."
+
+"Then, Madam, if they come, you may expect me--else not." He bowed and
+left the room.
+
+All the day was passed in anxious expectation by Miss Milner, what would
+be the event of the evening: for upon her penetration that evening all
+her future prospects she thought depended. If she saw by his looks, by
+his words, or assiduities, that he loved Miss Fenton, she flattered
+herself she would never think of him again with hope; but if she
+observed him treat her with inattention or indifference, she would
+cherish, from that moment, the fondest expectations. Against that short
+evening her toilet was consulted the whole day: the alternate hope and
+fear which fluttered in her heart, gave a more than usual brilliancy to
+her eyes, and more than usual bloom to her complection. But vain was her
+beauty; vain all her care to decorate that beauty; vain her many looks
+to her box-door in hopes to see it open--Lord Elmwood never came.
+
+The music was discord--every thing she saw was disgusting--in a word, she
+was miserable.
+
+She longed impatiently for the curtain to drop, because she was uneasy
+where she was--yet she asked herself, "Shall I be less unhappy at home?
+Yes; at home I shall see Lord Elmwood, and that will be happiness. But
+he will behold me with neglect, and that will be misery! Ungrateful man!
+I will no longer think of him." Yet could she have thought of him,
+without joining in the same idea Miss Fenton, her anguish had been
+supportable; but while she painted them as lovers, the tortures of the
+rack are but a few degrees more painful than those which she endured.
+
+There are but few persons who ever felt the real passion of jealousy,
+because few have felt the real passion of love; but with those who have
+experienced them both, jealousy not only affects the mind, but every
+fibre of their frame; and Miss Milner's every limb felt agonizing
+torment, when Miss Fenton, courted and beloved by Lord Elmwood, was
+present to her imagination.
+
+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?"
+
+"If I had, I certainly should have come," returned he, "but I only said
+so conditionally."
+
+"That I am a witness to," cried Sandford, "for I was present at the
+time, and he said it should depend upon Miss Fenton."
+
+"And she, with her gloomy disposition," said Miss Milner, "chose to sit
+at home."
+
+"Gloomy disposition!" repeated Sandford: "She has a great share of
+sprightliness--and I think I never saw her in better spirits than she was
+this evening, my Lord."
+
+Lord Elmwood did not speak.
+
+"Bless me, Mr. Sandford," cried Miss Milner, "I meant no reflection
+upon Miss Fenton's disposition; I only meant to censure her taste for
+staying at home."
+
+"I think," replied Mr. Sandford, "a much heavier censure should be
+passed upon those who prefer rambling abroad."
+
+"But I hope, ladies, my not coming," said Lord Elmwood, "was no
+inconvenience to you; for you had still, I see, a gentleman with you."
+
+"Oh! yes, two gentlemen:" answered the son of Lady Evans, a lad from
+school, whom Miss Milner had taken along with her.
+
+"What two?" asked Lord Elmwood.
+
+Neither Miss Milner nor Miss Woodley answered.
+
+"You know, Madam," said young Evans, "that handsome gentleman who handed
+you into your carriage, and you called my Lord."
+
+"Oh! he means Lord Frederick Lawnly:" said Miss Milner carelessly, but a
+blush of shame spread over her face.
+
+"And did he hand you into your coach?" asked Lord Elmwood earnestly.
+
+"By mere accident, my Lord," Miss Woodley replied, "for the crowd was so
+great----"
+
+"I think, my Lord," said Sandford, "it was very lucky that you were
+_not_ there."
+
+"Had Lord Elmwood been with us, we should not have had occasion for the
+assistance of any other," said Miss Milner.
+
+"Lord Elmwood has been with you, Madam," returned Sandford, "very
+frequently, and yet--"
+
+"Mr. Sandford," said Lord Elmwood, interrupting him, "it is near
+bed-time, your conversation keeps the ladies from retiring."
+
+"Your Lordship's does not," said Miss Milner, "for you say nothing."
+
+"Because, Madam, I am afraid to offend."
+
+"But do not you also hope to please? and without risking the one, it is
+impossible to arrive at the other."
+
+"I think, at present, the risk would be too hazardous, and so I wish you
+a good night." And he went out of the room somewhat abruptly.
+
+"Lord Elmwood," said Miss Milner, "is very grave--he does not look like a
+man who has been passing the evening with the woman he loves."
+
+"Perhaps he is melancholy at parting from her," said Miss Woodley.
+
+"More likely offended," said Sandford, "at the manner in which that lady
+has spoken of her."
+
+"Who, I? I protest I said nothing----"
+
+"Nothing! Did not you say that she was gloomy?"
+
+"Nothing but what I thought--I was going to add, Mr. Sandford."
+
+"When you think unjustly, you should not express your thoughts."
+
+"Then, perhaps, I should never speak."
+
+"And it were better you did not, if what you say is to give pain. Do you
+know, Madam, that my Lord is going to be married to Miss Fenton?"
+
+"Yes," answered Miss Milner.
+
+"Do you know that he loves her?"
+
+"No," answered Miss Milner.
+
+"How! do you suppose he does not?"
+
+"I suppose that he does, yet I don't know it."
+
+"Then if you suppose that he does, how can you have the imprudence to
+find fault with her before him?"
+
+"I did not. To call her gloomy, was, I knew, to commend her both to him
+and to you, who admire such tempers."
+
+"Whatever her temper is, _every one_ admires it; and so far from its
+being what you have described, she has great vivacity; vivacity which
+comes from the heart."
+
+"No, if it _came_ from thence, I should admire it too; but, if she has
+any, it rests there, and no one is the better for it."
+
+"Pshaw!" said Miss Woodley, "it is time for us to retire; you and Mr.
+Sandford must finish your dispute in the morning."
+
+"Dispute, Madam!" said Sandford, "I never disputed with any one beneath
+a doctor of divinity in my life. I was only cautioning your friend not
+to make light of those virtues which it would do her honour to possess.
+Miss Fenton is a most amiable young woman, and worthy of just such a
+husband as my Lord Elmwood will make her."
+
+"I am sure," said Miss Woodley, "Miss Milner thinks so--she has a high
+opinion of Miss Fenton--she was at present only jesting."
+
+"But, Madam, a jest is a very pernicious thing, when delivered with a
+malignant sneer. I have known a jest destroy a lady's reputation--I have
+known a jest give one person a distaste for another--I have known a jest
+break off a marriage."
+
+"But I suppose there is no apprehension of that in the present case?"
+said Miss Woodley--wishing he might answer in the affirmative.
+
+"Not that I can foresee. No, Heaven forbid," he replied, "for I look
+upon them to be formed for each other--their dispositions, their
+pursuits, their inclinations the same. Their passions for each other
+just the same--pure--white as snow."
+
+"And I dare say, not warmer," replied Miss Milner.
+
+He looked provoked beyond measure.
+
+"My dear," cried Miss Woodley, "how can you talk thus? I believe in my
+heart you are only envious, because my Lord Elmwood has not offered
+himself to you."
+
+"To her!" said Sandford, affecting an air of the utmost surprise; "to
+her! Do you think he received a dispensation from his vows, to become
+the husband of a coquette--a----."--He was going on.
+
+"Nay, Mr. Sandford," cried Miss Milner, "I believe, after all, my worst
+crime, in your eyes, is that of being a heretic."
+
+"By no means--it is the only circumstance that can apologize for your
+faults; and if you had not that excuse, there would be none for you."
+
+"Then, at present, there _is_ an excuse--I thank you, Mr. Sandford--this
+is the kindest thing you ever said to me. But I am vext to see that you
+are sorry you have said it."
+
+"Angry at your being a heretic!" he resumed--"Indeed I should be much
+more concerned to see you a disgrace to our religion."
+
+Miss Milner had not been in a good humour the whole evening--she had been
+provoked several times to the full extent of her patience: but this
+harsh sentence hurried her beyond all bounds, and she arose from her
+seat in the most violent agitation, exclaiming, "What have I done to be
+thus treated?"
+
+Though Mr. Sandford was not a man easily intimidated, he was upon this
+occasion evidently alarmed; and stared about him with so violent an
+expression of surprise, that it partook, in some degree, of fear. Miss
+Woodley clasped her friend in her arms, and cried with the tenderest
+affection and pity, "My dear Miss Milner, be composed."
+
+Miss Milner sat down, and was so for a minute; but her dead silence was
+almost as alarming to Sandford as her rage had been; and he did not
+perfectly recover himself till he saw tears pouring down her face. He
+then heaved a sigh of content that all had thus ended; but in his heart
+resolved never to forget the ridiculous affright into which he had been
+thrown. He stole out of the room without uttering a syllable--but as he
+never retired to rest before he had repeated a long form of evening
+prayer, when this evening he came to that part which supplicates "Grace
+for the wicked," he mentioned Miss Milner's name with the most fervent
+devotion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Of the many restless nights that Miss Milner passed, this was not one.
+It is true, she had a weight of care upon her heart, even heavier than
+usual, but the burden had overcome her strength: wearied out with hopes,
+with fears, and, at the end, with disappointment and rage, she sunk at
+once into a deep slumber. But the more forgetfulness had then prevailed,
+the more powerful was the force of remembrance when she awoke. At first,
+so sound her sleep had been, that she had a difficulty in calling to
+mind why she was unhappy; but that she _was_ unhappy she well
+recollected--when the cause came to her memory, she would have slept
+again--but it was impossible.
+
+Though her rest had been sound, it had not been refreshing--she was far
+from well, and sent word of her indisposition, as an apology for not
+being present at breakfast. Lord Elmwood looked concerned when the
+message was delivered--Mr. Sandford shook his head.
+
+"Miss Milner's health is not good!" said Mrs. Horton a few minutes
+after.
+
+Lord Elmwood laid down the newspaper to attend to her.
+
+"To me, there is something very extraordinary about her!" continued Mrs.
+Horton, finding she had caught his Lordship's attention.
+
+"So there is to me!" added Sandford, with a sarcastic sneer.
+
+"And so there is to me!" said Miss Woodley, with a serious face and a
+heartfelt sigh.
+
+Lord Elmwood gazed by turns at each, as each delivered their
+sentiments--and when they were all silent, he looked bewildered, not
+knowing what judgment to form from any of these sentences.
+
+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."
+
+"Oh! my Lord," cried Miss Woodley, with a most forcible accent, "_You_
+are the last person on earth she would pardon me for entrusting."
+
+"Why so?" said he, warmly. "But that is the way--the person who is our
+friend we distrust--where a common interest is concerned, we are ashamed
+of drawing on a common danger--afraid of advice, though that advice is to
+save us.----Miss Woodley," said he, changing his voice with excess of
+earnestness, "do you not believe, that I would do anything to make Miss
+Milner happy?"
+
+"Any thing in honour, my Lord."
+
+"She can desire nothing farther," he replied in agitation. "Are her
+desires so unwarrantable, that I cannot grant them?"
+
+Miss Woodley again did not speak--and he continued----
+
+"Great as my friendship is, there are certainly bounds to it--bounds that
+shall save her in spite of herself:"--and he raised his voice.
+
+"In the disposal of themselves," resumed he, with a less vehement tone,
+"that great, that terrific disposal in marriage, (at which I have always
+looked with fear and dismay) there is no accounting for the rashness of
+a woman's choice, or sometimes for the depravity of her taste. But in
+such a case, Miss Milner's election of a husband shall not direct mine.
+If she does not know how to estimate her own value, I do. Independent of
+her fortune, she has beauty to captivate the heart of any man; and with
+all her follies, she has a frankness in her manner, an unaffected wisdom
+in her thoughts, a vivacity in her conversation, and withal, a softness
+in her demeanour, that might alone engage the affections of a man of the
+nicest sentiments, and the strongest understanding. I will not see all
+these qualities and accomplishments debased. It is my office to protect
+her from the consequences of a degrading choice, and I will."
+
+"My Lord, Miss Milner's taste is not a depraved one; it is but too
+refined."
+
+"What can you mean by that, Miss Woodley? You talk mysteriously. Is she
+not afraid that I will thwart her inclinations?"
+
+"She is sure that you will, my Lord."
+
+"Then must the person be unworthy of her."
+
+Miss Woodley rose from her seat--she clasped her hands--every look and
+every gesture proved her alternate resolution and irresolution of
+proceeding. Lord Elmwood's attention was arrested before; but now it was
+fixed to a degree which her extraordinary manner only could occasion.
+
+"My Lord," said she, with a tremulous voice, "promise me, declare to me,
+nay, swear to me, that it shall ever remain a secret in your own breast,
+and I will reveal to you, on whom she has placed her affections."
+
+This preparation made Lord Elmwood tremble, and he ran over instantly in
+his mind all the persons he could recollect, in order to arrive at the
+knowledge by thought, quicker than by words. It was in vain he tried;
+and he once more turned his inquiring eyes upon Miss Woodley. He saw her
+silent and covered with confusion. Again he searched his own thoughts;
+nor ineffectually as before. At the first glance, the object was
+presented, and he beheld--_himself._
+
+The rapid emotion of varying passions, which immediately darted over his
+features, informed Miss Woodley that her secret was discovered--she hid
+her face, while the tears that fell down to her bosom, confirmed the
+truth of his suggestion, beyond what oaths could have done. A short
+interval of silence followed, during which, she suffered tortures for
+the manner in which he would next address her--two seconds gave her this
+reply:
+
+"For God's sake take care what you are doing--you are destroying my
+prospects of futurity--you are making this world too dear to me."
+
+Her drooping head was then lifted up, and she caught the eye of
+Dorriforth; she saw it beam expectation, amazement, joy, ardour, and
+love.----Nay, there was a fire, a vehemence in the quick fascinating rays
+it sent forth, she never before had seen--it filled her with alarm--she
+wished him to love Miss Milner, but to love her with moderation. Miss
+Woodley was too little versed in the subject, to know, this would have
+been not to love at all; at least, not to the extent of breaking
+through engagements, and all the various obstacles that still militated
+against their union.
+
+Lord Elmwood was sensible of the embarrassment his presence gave Miss
+Woodley, and understood the reproaches which she seemed to vent upon
+herself in silence. To relieve her from both, he laid his hand with
+force upon his heart, and said, "Do you believe me?"
+
+"I do, my Lord," she answered, trembling.
+
+"I will make no unjust use of what I know," he replied with firmness.
+
+"I believe you, my Lord."
+
+"But for what my passions now dictate," continued he, "I will not
+answer. They are confused--they are triumphant at present. I have never
+yet, however, been vanquished by them; and even upon this occasion, my
+reason shall combat them to the last--and my reason shall fail me, before
+I do wrong."
+
+He was going to leave the room--she followed him, and cried, "But, my
+Lord, how shall I see again the unhappy object of my treachery?"
+
+"See her," replied he, "as one to whom you meant no injury, and to whom
+you have done none."
+
+"But she would account it an injury."
+
+"We are not judges of what belongs to ourselves," he replied--"I am
+transported at the tidings you have revealed, and yet, perhaps, I had
+better never have heard them."
+
+Miss Woodley was going to say something farther, but as if incapable of
+attending to her, he hastened out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Miss Woodley stood for some time to consider which way she was to go.
+The first person she met, would enquire why she had been weeping? and if
+Miss Milner was to ask the question, in what words could she tell, or in
+what manner deny the truth? To avoid her was her first caution, and she
+took the only method; she had a hackney-coach ordered, rode several
+miles out of town, and returned to dinner with so little remains of her
+swoln eyes, that complaining of the head-ache was a sufficient excuse
+for them.
+
+Miss Milner was enough recovered to be present at dinner, though she
+scarce tasted a morsel. Lord Elmwood did not dine at home, at which Miss
+Woodley rejoiced, but at which Mr. Sandford appeared highly
+disappointed. He asked the servants several times, what he said when he
+went out? They replied, "Nothing more than that he should not be at home
+to dinner."
+
+"I can't imagine where he dines?" said Sandford.
+
+"Bless me, Mr. Sandford, can't you guess?" (cried Mrs. Horton, who by
+this time was made acquainted with his intended marriage) "He dines with
+Miss Fenton to be sure."
+
+"No," replied Sandford, "he is not there; I came from thence just now,
+and they had not seen him all day." Poor Miss Milner, on this, ate
+something; for where we hope for nothing, we receive small indulgencies
+with joy.
+
+Notwithstanding the anxiety and trouble under which Miss Woodley had
+laboured all the morning, her heart for many weeks had not felt so light
+as it did this day at dinner. The confidence that she reposed in the
+promises of Lord Elmwood--the firm reliance she had upon his delicacy and
+his justice--the unabated kindness with which her friend received her,
+while she knew that no one suspicious thought had taken harbour in her
+bosom--and the conscious integrity of her own intentions, though she
+might have been misled by her judgment, all comforted her with the hope,
+she had done nothing she ought to wish recalled. But although she felt
+thus tranquil, in respect to what she had divulged, yet she was a good
+deal embarrassed with the dread of next seeing Lord Elmwood.
+
+Miss Milner, not having spirits to go abroad, passed the evening at
+home. She read part of a new opera, played upon her guitar, mused,
+sighed, occasionally talked with Miss Woodley, and so passed the tedious
+hours till near ten, when Mrs. Horton asked Mr. Sandford to play a game
+at piquet, and on his excusing himself, Miss Milner offered in his
+stead, and was gladly accepted. They had just begun to play when Lord
+Elmwood came into the room--Miss Milner's countenance immediately
+brightened, and though she was in a negligent morning dress, and looked
+paler than usual, she did not look less beautiful. Miss Woodley was
+leaning on the back of her chair to observe the game, and Mr. Sandford
+sat reading one of the Fathers at the other side of the fire place. Lord
+Elmwood, as he advanced to the table, bowed, not having seen the ladies
+since the morning, or Miss Milner that day: they returned the salute,
+and he was going up to Miss Milner, (as if to enquire of her health)
+when Mr. Sandford, laying down his book, said,
+
+"My Lord, where have you been all day?"
+
+"I have been very busy," replied he, and walking from the card-table,
+went up to him.
+
+Miss Milner played one card for another.
+
+"You have been at Mr. Fenton's this evening, I suppose?" said Sandford.
+
+"No; not at all to-day."
+
+"How came that about, my Lord?"
+
+Miss Milner played the ace of diamonds instead of the king of hearts.
+
+"I shall call to-morrow," answered Lord Elmwood; and then walking with a
+very ceremonious air up to Miss Milner, said, "He hoped she was
+perfectly recovered."
+
+Mrs. Horton begged her "To mind what she was about." She replied, "I am
+much better, Sir."
+
+He then returned to Sandford again; but never, during all this time, did
+his eye once encounter Miss Woodley's; and she, with equal care, avoided
+his.
+
+Some cold dishes were now brought up for supper--Miss Milner lost her
+deal, and the game ended.
+
+As they were arranging themselves at the supper-table, "Do, Miss
+Milner," said Mrs. Horton, "have something warm for your supper; a
+chicken boiled, or something of that kind; you have eat nothing to-day."
+
+With feelings of humanity, and apparently no other sensation--but never
+did he feel his philanthropy so forcible--Lord Elmwood said, "Let me beg
+of you, Miss Milner, to have something provided for you."
+
+The earnestness and emphasis with which these few words were
+pronounced, were more flattering than the finest turned compliment would
+have been; her gratitude was expressed in blushes, and by assuring him
+she was now "So well, as to sup on the dishes before her." She spoke,
+however, and had not made the trial; for the moment she carried a morsel
+to her lips, she laid it on her plate again, and turned paler, from the
+vain endeavour to force her appetite. Lord Elmwood had always been
+attentive to her; but now he watched her as he would a child; and when
+he saw by her struggles that she could not eat, he took her plate from
+her; gave her something else; and all with a care and watchfulness in
+his looks, as if he had been a tender-hearted boy, and she his darling
+bird, the loss of which would embitter all the joy of his holidays.
+
+This attention had something in it so tender, so officious, and yet so
+sincere, that it brought the tears into Miss Woodley's eyes, attracted
+the notice of Mr. Sandford, and the observation of Mrs. Horton; while
+the heart of Miss Milner overflowed with a gratitude, that gave place to
+no sentiment except her love.
+
+To relieve the anxiety which her guardian expressed, she endeavoured to
+appear cheerful, and that anxiety, at length, really made her so. He now
+pressed her to take one glass of wine with such solicitude, that he
+seemed to say a thousand things besides. Sandford still made his
+observations, and being unused to conceal his thoughts before the
+present company, he said bluntly,
+
+"Miss Fenton was indisposed the other night, my Lord, and you did not
+seem half thus anxious about her."
+
+Had Sandford laid all Lord Elmwood's estate at Miss Milner's feet, or
+presented her with that eternal bloom which adorns the face of a
+goddess, he would have done less to endear himself to her, than by this
+one sentence--she looked at him with a most benign countenance, and felt
+affliction that she had ever offended him.
+
+"Miss Fenton," Lord Elmwood replied, "has a brother with her: her health
+and happiness are in _his_ care--Miss Milner's are in mine."
+
+"Mr. Sandford," said Miss Milner, "I am afraid that I behaved uncivilly
+to you last night--will you accept of an atonement?"
+
+"No, Madam," returned he, "I accept no expiation without amendment."
+
+"Well, then," said she, smiling, "suppose I promise never to offend you
+again, what then?"
+
+"Why, then, you'll break your promise."
+
+"Do not promise him," said Lord Elmwood, "for he means to provoke you to
+it."
+
+In the like conversation the evening passed, and Miss Milner retired to
+rest in far better spirits than her morning's prospect had given her the
+least pretence to hope. Miss Woodley, too, had cause to be well pleased;
+but her pleasure was in great measure eclipsed by the reflection, that
+there was such a person as Miss Fenton--she wished she had been equally
+acquainted with her's as with Miss Milner's heart, and she would then
+have acted without injustice to either; but Miss Fenton had of late
+shunned their society, and even in their company was of a temper too
+reserved ever to discover her mind; Miss Woodley was obliged, therefore,
+to act to the best of her own judgment only, and leave all events to
+Providence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Within a few days, in the house of Lord Elmwood, every thing, and every
+person, wore a new face. He, was the professed lover of Miss Milner--she,
+the happiest of human beings--Miss Woodley partaking in the joy--Mr.
+Sandford lamenting, with the deepest concern, that Miss Fenton had been
+supplanted; and what added poignantly to his concern was, that she had
+been supplanted by Miss Milner. Though a churchman, he bore his
+disappointment with the impatience of one of the laity: he could hardly
+speak to Lord Elmwood; he would not look at Miss Milner, and was
+displeased with every one. It was his intention, when he first became
+acquainted with Lord Elmwood's resolution, to quit his house; and as the
+Earl had, with the utmost degree of inflexibility, resisted all his good
+counsel upon this subject, he resolved, in quitting him, never to be his
+adviser again. But, in preparing to leave his friend, his pupil, his
+patron, and yet him, who, upon most occasions, implicitly obeyed his
+will, the spiritual got the better of the temporal man, and he
+determined to stay, lest in totally abandoning him to the pursuit of his
+own passions, he should make his punishment even greater than his
+offence. "My Lord," said he, "on the stormy sea, upon which you are
+embarked, though you will not shun the rocks that your faithful pilot
+would point out, he will, nevertheless, sail in your company, and lament
+over your watery grave. The more you slight my advice, the more you want
+it; so that, until you command me to leave your house, (as I suppose you
+will soon do, to oblige your Lady) I will continue along with you."
+
+Lord Elmwood liked him sincerely, and was glad that he took this
+resolution; yet as soon as his reason and affections had once told him
+that he ought to break with Miss Fenton, and marry his ward, he became
+so decidedly of this opinion, that Sandford's never had the most trivial
+weight; nor would he even flatter the supposed authority he possessed
+over him, by urging him to remain in his house a single day, contrary to
+his inclinations. Sandford observed, with grief, this firmness; but
+finding it vain to contend, submitted--not, however, with a good grace.
+
+Amidst all the persons affected by this change in Lord Elmwood's
+marriage-designs, Miss Fenton was, perhaps, affected the least--she would
+have been content to have married, she was content to live single. Mr.
+Sandford had been the first who made overtures to her on the part of
+Lord Elmwood, and was the first sent to ask her to dispense with the
+obligation.--She received both of these proposals with the same insipid
+smile of approbation, and the same cold indifference at the heart.
+
+It was a perfect knowledge of this disposition in his intended wife
+which had given to Lord Elmwood's thoughts on matrimony, the idea of
+dreary winter; but the sensibility of Miss Milner had now reversed that
+prospect into perpetual spring; or the dearer variety of spring, summer,
+and autumn.
+
+It was a knowledge also of this torpor in Miss Fenton's nature, from
+which he formed the purpose of breaking with her; for Lord Elmwood
+still retained enough of the sanctity of his former state to have
+yielded up his own happiness, and even that of his beloved ward, rather
+than have plunged one heart into affliction by his perfidy. This, before
+he offered his hand to Miss Milner, he was perfectly convinced would not
+be the case--even Miss Fenton herself assured him, that her thoughts were
+more upon the joys of Heaven than upon those of earth; and as this
+circumstance would, she believed, induce her to retire into a convent,
+she thought it a happy, rather than an unhappy, event. Her brother, on
+whom her fortune devolved if she took this resolution, was exactly of
+her opinion.
+
+Lost in the maze of happiness that surrounded her, Miss Milner
+oftentimes asked her heart, and her heart whispered like a flatterer,
+"Yes;" Are not my charms even more invincible than I ever believed them
+to be? Dorriforth, the grave, the pious, the anchorite Dorriforth, by
+their force, is animated to all the ardour of the most impassioned
+lover--while the proud priest, the austere guardian is humbled, if I but
+frown, into the veriest slave of love. She then asked, "Why did I not
+keep him longer in suspense? He could not have loved me more, I believe:
+but my power over him might have been greater still. I am the happiest
+of women in the affection he has proved to me, but I wonder whether it
+would exist under ill treatment? If it would not, he still does not love
+me as I wish to be loved--if it would, my triumph, my felicity, would be
+enhanced." These thoughts were mere phantoms of the brain, and never, by
+system, put into action; but, repeatedly indulged, they were practised
+by casual occurrences; and the dear-bought experiment of being loved in
+spite of her faults, (a glory proud women ever aspire to) was, at
+present, the ambition of Miss Milner.
+
+Unthinking woman! she did not reflect, that to the searching eye of Lord
+Elmwood, she had faults, with her utmost care to conceal or overcome
+them, sufficient to try all his love, and all his patience. But what
+female is not fond of experiments? To which, how few do not fall a
+sacrifice!
+
+Perfectly secure in the affections of the man she loved, her declining
+health no longer threatened her; her declining spirits returned as
+before; and the suspicions of her guardian being now changed to the
+liberal confidence of a doating lover, she again professed
+all her former follies, all her fashionable levities, and indulged them
+with less restraint than ever.
+
+For a while, blinded by his passion, Lord Elmwood encouraged and admired
+every new proof of her restored happiness; nor till sufferance had
+tempted her beyond her usual bounds, did he remonstrate. But she, who,
+as his ward, had been ever gentle, and (when he strenuously opposed)
+always obedient; became, as a mistress, sometimes haughty, and, to
+opposition, always insolent. He was surprised, but the novelty pleased
+him. And Miss Milner, whom he tenderly loved, could put on no change, or
+appear in no new character that did not, for the time she adopted it,
+seem to become her.
+
+Among the many causes of complaint which she gave him, want of oeconomy,
+in the disposal of her income, was one. Bills and drafts came upon him
+without number, while the account, on her part, of money expended,
+amounted chiefly to articles of dress that she sometimes never wore,
+toys that were out of fashion before they were paid for, and charities
+directed by the force of whim. Another complaint was, as usual, extreme
+late hours, and often company that he did not approve.
+
+She was charmed to see his love struggling with his censure--his
+politeness with his anxiety--and by the light, frivolous, or resentful
+manner in which she treated his admonitions, she triumphed in shewing to
+Miss Woodley, and, more especially to Mr. Sandford, how much she dared
+upon the strength of his affections.
+
+Everything in preparation for their marriage, which was to take place at
+Elmwood House during the summer months, she resolved for the short time
+she had to remain in London to let no occasion pass of tasting all those
+pleasures that were not likely ever to return; but which, though eager
+as she was in their pursuit, she never placed in competition with those
+she hoped would succeed--those more sedate and superior joys, of
+domestic and conjugal happiness. Often, merely to hasten on the tedious
+hours that intervened, she varied and diverted them, with the many
+recreations her intended husband could not approve.
+
+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."
+
+"Do not interrupt me. Whatever your meaning has been, the effect of it
+is what I have described. Now, I will no longer," continued he, "have an
+enemy, such as you have been, to heighten her charms, which are too
+transcendent in their native state. I will hear no more complaints
+against her, but I will watch her closely myself--and if I find her mind
+and heart (such as my suspicions have of late whispered) too frivolous
+for that substantial happiness I look for with an object so beloved,
+depend upon my word--the marriage shall yet be broken off."
+
+"I depend upon your word; it _will_ then,"--replied Sandford eagerly.
+
+"You are unjust, Sir, in saying so before the trial," replied Lord
+Elmwood, "and your injustice shall make me more cautious, lest I follow
+your example."
+
+"But, my Lord----"
+
+"My mind is made up, Mr. Sandford," returned he, interrupting him; "I am
+no longer engaged to Miss Milner than she shall deserve I should be--but,
+in my strict observations upon her conduct, I will take care not to
+wrong her as you have done."
+
+"My Lord, call my observations wrong, when you have reflected upon them
+as a man, and not as a lover--divest yourself of your passion, and meet
+me upon equal ground."
+
+"I will meet no one--I will consult no one--my own judgment shall be the
+judge, and in a few months marry, or--_banish me from her for ever_."
+
+There was something in these last words, in the tone and firmness with
+which they were delivered, that the heart of Sandford rested upon with
+content--they bore the symptoms of a menace that would be executed; and
+he parted from his patron with congratulations upon his wisdom, and with
+giving him the warmest assurances of his firm reliance on his _word._
+
+Lord Elmwood having come to this resolution, was more composed than he
+had been for several days before; while the horror of domestic
+wrangles--a family without subordination--a house without oeconomy--in a
+word, a wife without discretion, had been perpetually present to his
+mind.
+
+Mr. Sandford, although he was a man of understanding, of learning, and a
+complete casuist, yet all the faults he himself committed, were
+entirely--for want of knowing better. He constantly reproved faults in
+others, and he was most assuredly too good a man not to have corrected
+and amended his own, had they been known to him--but they were not. He
+had been for so long a time the superior of all with whom he lived, had
+been so busied with instructing others, that he had not recollected that
+himself wanted instructions--and in such awe did his habitual severity
+keep all about him, that although he had numerous friends, not one told
+him of his failings--except just now Lord Elmwood, but whom, in this
+instance, as a man in love, he would not credit. Was there not then some
+reason for him to suppose he _had_ no faults? his enemies, indeed,
+hinted that he had, but enemies he never harkened to; and thus, with all
+his good sense, wanted the sense to follow the rule, _Believe what your
+enemies say of you, rather than what is said by your friends._ This rule
+attended to, would make a thousand people amiable, who are now the
+reverse; and would have made _him_ a perfectly upright character. For
+could an enemy to whom he would have listened, have whispered to
+Sandford as he left Lord Elmwood, "Cruel, barbarous man! you go away
+with your heart satisfied, nay, even elated, in the prospect that Miss
+Milner's hopes, on which she alone exists, those hopes which keep her
+from the deepest affliction, and cherish her with joy and gladness, will
+all be disappointed. You flatter yourself it is for the sake of your
+friend, Lord Elmwood, that you rejoice, and because he has escaped a
+danger. You wish him well; but there is another cause for your
+exultation which you will not seek to know--it is, that in his safety,
+shall dwell the punishment of his ward. For shame! for shame! forgive
+her faults, as this of yours requires to be forgiven."
+
+Had any one said this to Sandford, whom he would have credited, or had
+his own heart suggested it, he was a man of that rectitude and
+conscientiousness, that he would have returned immediately to Lord
+Elmwood, and have strengthened all his favourable opinions of his
+intended wife--but having no such monitor, he walked on, highly
+contented, and meeting Miss Woodley, said, with an air of triumph,
+
+"Where's your friend? where's Lady Elmwood?"
+
+Miss Woodley smiled, and answered--She was gone with such and such ladies
+to an auction. "But why give her that title already, Mr. Sandford?"
+
+"Because," answered he, "I think she will never have it."
+
+"Bless me, Mr. Sandford," said Miss Woodley, "you shock me!"
+
+"I thought I should," replied he, "and therefore I told it you."
+
+"For Heaven's sake what has happened?"
+
+"Nothing new--her indiscretions only."
+
+"I know she is imprudent," said Miss Woodley--"I can see that her conduct
+is often exceptionable--but then Lord Elmwood surely loves her, and love
+will overlook a great deal."
+
+"He _does_ love her--but he has understanding and resolution. He loved
+his sister too, tenderly loved her, and yet when he had taken the
+resolution, and passed his word that he would never see her again--even
+upon her death-bed he would not retract it--no entreaties could prevail
+upon him. And now, though he maintains, and I dare say loves, her child,
+yet you remember, when you brought him home, that he would not suffer
+him in his sight."
+
+"Poor Miss Milner!" said Miss Woodley, in the most pitying accents.
+
+"Nay," said Sandford, "Lord Elmwood has not _yet_ passed his word, that
+he will never see her more--he has only threatened to do it; but I know
+enough of him to know, that his threats are generally the same as if
+they were executed."
+
+"You are very good," said Miss Woodley, "to acquaint me of this in
+time--I may now warn Miss Milner of it, and she may observe more
+circumspection."
+
+"By no means," cried Sandford, hastily--"What would you warn her for? It
+will do her no good--besides," added he, "I don't know whether Lord
+Elmwood does not expect secrecy on my part; and if he does----"
+
+"But, with all deference to your opinion," said Miss Woodley, (and with
+all deference did she speak) "don't you think, Mr. Sandford, that
+secrecy upon this occasion would be wicked? For consider the anguish
+that it may occasion to my friend; and if, by advising her, we can save
+her from----" She was going on.----
+
+"You may call it wicked, Madam, not to inform her of what I have hinted
+at," cried he; "but I call it a breach of confidence--if it _was_
+divulged to me in confidence----"
+
+He was going to explain; but Miss Milner entered, and put an end to the
+discourse. She had been passing the whole morning at an auction, and had
+laid out near two hundred pounds in different things for which she had
+no one use, but bought them because they were said to be cheap--among the
+rest was a lot of books upon chemistry, and some Latin authors.
+
+"Why, Madam," cried Sandford, looking over the catalogue where her
+purchases were marked by a pencil, "do you know what you have done? You
+can't read a word of these books."
+
+"Can't I, Mr. Sandford? But I assure you that you will be very much
+pleased with them, when you see how elegantly they are bound."
+
+"My dear," said Mrs. Horton, "why have you bought china? You and my Lord
+Elmwood have more now, than you have places to put them in."
+
+"Very true, Mrs. Horton--I forgot that--but then you know I can give these
+away."
+
+Lord Elmwood was in the room at the conclusion of this conversation----he
+shook his head and sighed.
+
+"My Lord," said she, "I have had a very agreeable morning; but I wished
+for you--if you had been with me, I should have bought a great many other
+things; but I did not like to appear unreasonable in your absence."
+
+Sandford fixed his inquisitive eyes upon Lord Elmwood, to observe his
+countenance--he smiled, but appeared thoughtful.
+
+"And, oh! my Lord, I have bought you a present," said she.
+
+"I do not wish for a present, Miss Milner."
+
+"What not from me? Very well."
+
+"If you present me with yourself, it is all that I ask."
+
+Sandford moved upon his chair, as if he sat uneasy.
+
+"Why then, Miss Woodley," said Miss Milner, "_you_ shall have the
+present. But then it won't suit you--it is for a gentleman. I'll keep it
+and give it to my Lord Frederick the first time I meet with him. I saw
+him this morning, and he looked divinely--I longed to speak to him."
+
+Miss Woodley cast, by stealth, an eye of apprehension upon Lord
+Elmwood's face, and trembled at seeing it flushed with resentment.
+
+Sandford stared with both his eyes full upon him: then threw himself
+upright on his chair, and took a pinch of snuff upon the strength of the
+Earl's uneasiness.
+
+A silence ensued.
+
+After a short time--"You all appear melancholy," said Miss Milner: "I
+wish I had not come home yet."
+
+Miss Woodley was in agony--she saw Lord Elmwood's extreme displeasure,
+and dreaded lest he should express it by some words he could not recall,
+or she could not forgive--therefore, whispering to her she had something
+particular to say, she took her out of the room.
+
+The moment she was gone, Mr. Sandford rose nimbly from his seat, rubbed
+his hands, walked briskly across the room, then asked Lord Elmwood in a
+cheerful tone, "Whether he dined at home to-day?"
+
+That which had given Sandford cheerfulness, had so depressed Lord
+Elmwood, that he sat dejected and silent. At length he answered in a
+faint voice, "No, I believe I shall _not_ dine at home."
+
+"Where is your Lordship going to dine?" asked Mrs. Horton; "I thought we
+should have had your company to-day; Miss Milner dines at home, I
+believe."
+
+"I have not yet determined where I shall dine," replied he, taking no
+notice of the conclusion of her speech.
+
+"My Lord, if you mean to go to the hotel, I'll go with you, if you
+please," cried Sandford officiously.
+
+"With all my heart, Sandford--" and they both went out together, before
+Miss Milner returned to the apartment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Miss Woodley, for the first time, disobeyed the will of Mr. Sandford;
+and as soon as Miss Milner and she were alone, repeated all he had
+revealed to her; accompanying the recital, with her usual testimonies of
+sympathy and affection. But had the genius of Sandford presided over
+this discovery, it could not have influenced the mind of Miss Milner to
+receive the intelligence with a temper more exactly the opposite of that
+which it was the intention of the informer to recommend. Instead of
+shuddering at the menace Lord Elmwood had uttered, she said, she "Dared
+him to perform it." "He dares not," repeated she.
+
+"Why dares not?" said Miss Woodley.
+
+"Because he loves me too well--because his own happiness is too dear to
+him."
+
+"I believe he loves you," replied Miss Woodley, "and yet there is a
+doubt if----"
+
+"There shall be no longer a doubt," cried Miss Milner, "I'll put him to
+the proof."
+
+"For shame, my dear! you talk inconsiderately--what can you mean by
+proof?"
+
+"I mean I will do something that no prudent man _ought_ to forgive; and
+yet, with all his vast share of prudence, _he_ shall forgive it, and
+make a sacrifice of just resentment to partial affection."
+
+"But if you should be disappointed, and he should _not_ make the
+sacrifice?" said Miss Woodley.
+
+"Then I have only lost a man who had no regard for me."
+
+"He may have a great regard for you, notwithstanding."
+
+"But for the love I have felt, and do still feel, for my Lord Elmwood, I
+will have something more than a _great regard_ in return."
+
+"You have his love, I am sure."
+
+"But is it such as mine? _I_ could love _him_ if he had a thousand
+faults. And yet," said she, recollecting herself, "and yet, I believe
+his being faultless, was the first cause of my passion."
+
+Thus she talked on--sometimes in anger, sometimes apparently jesting--till
+her servant came to let her know the dinner was served. Upon entering
+the dining-room, and seeing Lord Elmwood's place at table vacant, she
+started back. She was disappointed of the pleasure she expected in
+dining with him; and his sudden absence, so immediately after the
+intelligence that she had received from Miss Woodley, increased her
+uneasiness. She drew her chair, and sat down with an indifference, that
+said she should not eat; and as soon as she was seated, she put her
+fingers sullenly to her lips, nor touched her knife and fork, nor spoke
+a word in reply to any thing that was said to her during the whole
+dinner. Miss Woodley and Mrs. Horton were both too well acquainted with
+the good disposition of her heart, to take offence, or appear to notice
+this behaviour. They dined, and said nothing either to provoke or sooth
+her. Just as the dinner was going to be removed, a loud rap came at the
+door--"Who is that?" said Mrs. Horton. One of the servants went to the
+window, and answered, "My Lord and Mr. Sandford, Madam."
+
+"Come back to dinner as I live," cried Mrs. Horton.
+
+Miss Milner continued her position and said nothing--but at the corners
+of her mouth, which her fingers did not entirely cover, there were
+discoverable, a thousand dimpled graces like small convulsive fibres,
+which a restrained smile upon Lord Elmwood's return, had sent there.
+
+Lord Elmwood and Sandford entered.
+
+"I am glad you are returned, my Lord," said Mrs. Horton, "for Miss
+Milner would not eat a morsel."
+
+"It was only because I had no appetite," returned she, blushing like
+crimson.
+
+"We should not have come back," said Sandford, "but at the place where
+we went to dine, all the rooms were filled with company."
+
+Lord Elmwood put the wing of a fowl on Miss Milner's plate, but without
+previously asking if she chose any; yet she condescended to eat--they
+spoke to each other too in the course of conversation, but it was with a
+reserve that appeared as if they had been quarrelling, and felt so to
+themselves, though no such circumstance had happened.
+
+Two weeks passed away in this kind of distant behaviour on both sides,
+without either of them venturing a direct quarrel, and without either of
+them expressing (except inadvertently) their strong affection for each
+other.
+
+During this time they were once, however, very near becoming the dearest
+friends in expression, as well as in sentiment. This arose from a favour
+that he had granted in compliance with her desire, though that desire
+had not been urged, but merely insinuated; and as it was a favour which
+he had refused to the repeated requests of many of his friends, the
+value of the obligation was heightened.
+
+She and Miss Woodley had taken an airing to see the poor child, young
+Rushbrook. Lord Elmwood inquiring of the ladies how they had passed
+their morning, Miss Milner frankly told him; and added, "What pain it
+gave her to leave the child behind, as he had again cried to come away
+with her."
+
+"Go for him then to-morrow," said Lord Elmwood, "and bring him home."
+
+"Home!" she repeated, with surprise.
+
+"Yes," replied he, "if you desire it, this shall be his home--you shall
+be a mother, and I will, henceforward, be a father to him."
+
+Sandford, who was present, looked unusually sour at this high token of
+regard for Miss Milner; yet, with resentment on his face, he wiped a
+tear of joy from his eye, for the boy's sake--his frown was the force of
+prejudice, his tear the force of nature.
+
+Rushbrook was brought home; and whenever Lord Elmwood wished to shew a
+kindness to Miss Milner, without directing it immediately to her, he
+took his nephew upon his knee, talked to him, and told him, he "Was glad
+they had become acquainted."
+
+In the various, though delicate, struggles for power between Miss Milner
+and her guardian, there was not one person a witness to these incidents,
+who did not suppose, that all would at last end in wedlock--for the most
+common observer perceived, that ardent love was the foundation of every
+discontent, as well as of every joy they experienced. One great
+incident, however, totally reversed the hope of all future
+accommodation.
+
+The fashionable Mrs. G---- gave a masked ball; tickets were presented to
+persons of quality and fashion; among the rest, three were sent to Miss
+Milner. She had never been at a masquerade, and received them with
+ecstasy--the more especially, as the masque being at the house of a woman
+of fashion, she did not conceive there could be any objection to her
+going. She was mistaken--the moment she mentioned it to Lord Elmwood, he
+desired her, somewhat sternly, "Not to think of being there." She was
+vexed at the prohibition, but more at the manner in which it was
+delivered, and boldly said, "That she should certainly go."
+
+She expected a rebuke for this, but what alarmed her much more, he said
+not a word; but looked with a resignation, which foreboded her sorrow
+greater than the severest reproaches would have done. She sat for a
+minute, reflecting how to rouse him from this composure--she first
+thought of attacking him with upbraidings; then she thought of soothing
+him; and at last of laughing at him. This was the most dangerous of all,
+and yet, this she ventured upon.
+
+"I am sure your Lordship," said she, "with all your saintliness, can
+have no objection to my being present at the masquerade, if I go as a
+Nun."
+
+He made no reply.
+
+"That is a habit," continued she, "which covers a multitude of
+faults--and, for that evening, I may have the chance of making a conquest
+even of you--nay, I question not, if under that inviting attire, even the
+pious Mr. Sandford would not ogle me."
+
+"Hush!" said Miss Woodley.
+
+"Why hush?" cried Miss Milner, aloud, though Miss Woodley had spoken in
+a whisper, "I am sure," continued she, "I am only repeating what I have
+read in books about nuns and their confessors."
+
+"Your conduct, Miss Milner," replied Lord Elmwood "gives evident proofs
+of the authors you have read; you may spare yourself the trouble of
+quoting them."
+
+Her pride was hurt at this, beyond bearing; and as she could not, like
+him, govern her anger, it flushed in her face, and almost forced her
+into tears.
+
+"My Lord," said Miss Woodley, (in a tone so soft and peaceful, that it
+should have calmed the resentment of both,) "my Lord, suppose you were
+to accompany Miss Milner? there are tickets for three, and you can then
+have no objection."
+
+Miss Milner's brow was immediately smoothed; and she fetched a sigh, in
+anxious expectation that he would consent.
+
+"I go, Miss Woodley?" he replied, with astonishment, "Do you imagine I
+would play the buffoon at a masquerade?"
+
+Miss Milner's face changed into its former state.
+
+"I have seen grave characters there, my Lord," said Miss Woodley.
+
+"Dear Miss Woodley," cried Miss Milner, "why persuade Lord Elmwood to
+put on a mask, just at the time he has laid it aside?"
+
+His patience was now tempted to its height, and he answered, "If you
+suspect me of inconsistency, Madam, you shall find me changed."
+
+Pleased that she had been able at last to irritate him, she smiled with
+a degree of triumph, and in that humour was going to reply; but before
+she could speak four words, and before she thought of it, he abruptly
+left the room.
+
+She was highly offended at this insult, and declared, "From that moment
+she banished him from her heart for ever." And to prove that she set his
+love and his anger at equal defiance, she immediately ordered her
+carriage, and said, she "Was going to some of her acquaintance, whom she
+knew to have tickets, and with whom she would fix upon the habit she was
+to appear in at the masquerade; for nothing, unless she was locked up,
+should alter the resolution she had formed, of being there." To
+remonstrate at that moment, Miss Woodley knew would be in vain--her coach
+came to the door, and she drove away.
+
+She did not return to dinner, nor till it was late in the evening; Lord
+Elmwood was at home, but he never once mentioned her name.
+
+She came home, after he had retired, in great spirits; and then, for the
+first time, in her whole life, appeared careless what he might think of
+her behaviour:--but her whole thoughts were occupied upon the business
+which had employed the chief of her day; and her dress engrossed all her
+conversation, as soon as Miss Woodley and she were alone. She told her,
+she had been shewn the greatest variety of beautiful and becoming
+dresses she had ever beheld; "and yet," said she, "I have at last fixed
+upon a very plain one; but one I look so well in, that you will hardly
+know me, when I have it on."
+
+"You are seriously then resolved to go," said Miss Woodley, "if you hear
+no more on the subject from your guardian?"
+
+"Whether I do hear or not, Miss Woodley, I am equally resolved to go."
+
+"But you know, my dear, he has desired you not--and you used always to
+obey his commands."
+
+"As my guardian, I certainly did obey him; and I could obey him as a
+husband; but as a lover, I will not."
+
+"Yet that is the way never to have him for a husband."
+
+"As he pleases--for if he will not submit to be my lover, I will not
+submit to be his wife--nor has he the affection that I require in a
+husband."
+
+Thus the old sentiments, repeated again and again, prevented a
+separation till towards morning.
+
+Miss Milner, for that night, dreamed less of her guardian than of the
+masquerade. On the evening of the next day it was to be--she was up
+early, breakfasted in her dressing room, and remained there most of the
+day, busied in a thousand preparations for the night; one of them was,
+to take every particle of powder out of her hair, and have it curled all
+over in falling ringlets. Her next care was, that her dress should
+exactly fit, and display her fine person to the best advantage--it did
+so. Miss Woodley entered as it was trying on, and was all astonishment
+at the elegance of the habit, and its beautiful effect upon her graceful
+person; but, most of all, she was astonished at her venturing on such a
+character--for though it represented the goddess of Chastity, yet from
+the buskins, and the petticoat festooned far above the ancle,
+ it had, on a first glance, the appearance of a female much less
+virtuous. Miss Woodley admired this dress, yet objected to it; but as
+she admired first, her objections after had no weight.
+
+"Where is Lord Elmwood?" said Miss Milner--"he must not see me."
+
+"No, for heaven's sake," cried Miss Woodley, "I would not have him see
+you in such a disguise for the universe."
+
+"And yet," returned the other, with a sigh, "why am I then thus pleased
+with my dress? for I had rather he should admire me than all the world
+besides, and yet he is not to see me in it."
+
+"But he would not admire you so dressed," said Miss Woodley.
+
+"How shall I contrive to avoid him," said Miss Milner, "if in the
+evening he should offer to hand me into my carriage? But I believe he
+will not be in good humour enough for that."
+
+"You had better dress at the house of the ladies with whom you go," said
+Miss Woodley; and this was agreed upon.
+
+At dinner they learnt that Lord Elmwood was to go that evening to
+Windsor, in order to be in readiness for the king's hunt early in the
+morning. This intelligence having dispersed Miss Milner's fears, she
+concluded upon dressing at home.
+
+Lord Elmwood appeared at dinner, in an even, but not in a good temper;
+the subject of the masquerade was never brought up, nor indeed was it
+once in his thoughts; for though he was offended at his ward's behaviour
+on the occasion, and considered that she committed a fault in telling
+him, "She would go," yet he never suspected she meant to do so, not even
+at the time she said it, much less that she would persist, coolly and
+deliberately, in so direct a contradiction to his will. She, for her
+part, flattered herself, that his going to Windsor, was intended in
+order to give her an opportunity of passing the evening as she pleased,
+without his being obliged to know of it, and consequently to complain.
+Miss Woodley, who was willing to hope as she wished, began to be of the
+same opinion; and, without reluctance, dressed herself as a wood-nymph
+to accompany her friend.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+At half after eleven, Miss Milner's chair, and another with Miss
+Woodley, took them from Lord Elmwood's, to call upon the party
+(wood-nymphs and huntresses) who were to accompany them, and make up the
+suit of Diana.
+
+They had not left the house two minutes, when a thundering rap came at
+the door--it was Lord Elmwood in a post chaise. Upon some occasion the
+next day's hunt was deferred: he had been made acquainted with it, and
+came from Windsor at that late hour. After he had informed Mrs. Horton
+and Mr. Sandford, who were sitting together, of the cause of his sudden
+return, and had supper ordered for him, he enquired, "What company had
+just left the house?"
+
+"We have been alone the whole evening, my Lord," replied Mrs. Horton.
+
+"Nay," returned he, "I saw two chairs, with several servants, come out
+of the door as I drove up, but what livery I could not discern."
+
+"We have had no creature here," repeated Mrs. Horton.
+
+"Nor has Miss Milner had visitors?" asked he.
+
+This brought Mrs. Horton to her recollection, and she cried, "Oh! now I
+know;"----and then checked herself, as if she knew too much.
+
+"What do you know, Madam?" said he, sharply.
+
+"Nothing," said Mrs. Horton, "I know nothing--" and she lifted up her
+hands and shook her head.
+
+"So all people say, who know a great deal," cried Sandford, "and I
+suspect that is at present your case."
+
+"Then I know more than I wish, I am sure, Mr. Sandford," returned she,
+shrugging up her shoulders.
+
+Lord Elmwood was all impatience.
+
+"Explain, Madam, explain."
+
+"Dear my Lord," said she, "if your Lordship will recollect, you may just
+have the same knowledge that I have."
+
+"Recollect what?" said he sternly.
+
+"The quarrel you and your ward had about the masquerade."
+
+"What of that? she is not gone there?" he cried.
+
+"I am not sure she is," returned Mrs. Horton; "but if your Lordship saw
+two sedan chairs going out of this house, I cannot but suspect it must
+be Miss Milner and my niece going to the masquerade."
+
+He made no answer, but rang the bell violently. A servant entered. "Send
+Miss Milner's maid hither," said he, "immediately." The man withdrew.
+
+"Nay, my Lord," cried Mrs. Horton, "any of the other servants could tell
+you just as well, whether Miss Milner is at home, or gone out."
+
+"Perhaps not," replied he.
+
+The maid entered.
+
+"Where is your mistress?" said Lord Elmwood.
+
+The woman had received no orders to conceal where the ladies were gone,
+and yet a secret influence which governs the thoughts of all
+waiting-women and chambermaids, whispered to her that she ought not to
+tell the truth.
+
+"Where is your mistress?" repeated he, in a louder voice than before.
+
+"Gone out, my Lord," she replied.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"My Lady did not tell me."
+
+"And don't you know?"
+
+"No, my Lord:" she answered, and without blushing.
+
+"Is this the night of the masquerade?" said he.
+
+"I don't know, my Lord, upon my word; but, I believe, my Lord, it is
+not."
+
+Sandford, as soon as Lord Elmwood had asked the last question, ran
+hastily to the table, at the other side of the room, took something from
+it, and returned to his place again--and when the maid said, "It was not
+the night of the masquerade," he exclaimed, "But it is, my Lord, it
+is--yes, it is," and shewing a newspaper in his hand, pointed to the
+paragraph which contained the information.
+
+"Leave the room," said Lord Elmwood to the woman, "I have done with
+you." She withdrew.
+
+"Yes, yes, here it is," repeated Sandford, with the paper in his
+hand.----He then read the paragraph: "'_The masquerade at the honorable
+Mrs. G----'s this evening_'--This evening, my Lord, you find--'_it is
+expected will be the most brilliant, of any thing of the kind for these
+many years past._'"
+
+"They should not put such things in the papers," said Mrs. Horton, "to
+tempt young women to their ruin." The word ruin grated upon Lord
+Elmwood's ear, and he said to the servant who came to wait on him, while
+he supped, "Take the supper away." He had not attempted either to eat,
+or even to sit down; and he now walked backwards and forwards in the
+room, lost in thought and care.
+
+A little time after, one of Miss Milner's footmen came in upon some
+occasion, and Mr. Sandford said to him, "Pray did you attend your lady
+to the masquerade?"
+
+"Yes, Sir," replied the man.
+
+Lord Elmwood stopped himself short in his walk, and said to the servant,
+"You did?"
+
+"Yes, my Lord," replied he.
+
+He walked again.
+
+"I should like to know what she was dressed in," said Mrs. Horton: and
+turning to the servant, "Do you know what your lady had on?"
+
+"Yes, Madam," replied the man, "she was in men's clothes."
+
+"How!" cried Lord Elmwood.
+
+"You tell a story, to be sure," said Mrs. Horton to the servant.
+
+"No," cried Sandford, "I am sure he does not; for he is an honest good
+young man, and would not tell a lie upon any account--would you, George?"
+
+Lord Elmwood ordered Miss Milner's woman to be again sent up. She came.
+
+"In what dress did your lady go to the masquerade?" asked he, and with a
+look so extremely morose, it seemed to command the answer in a single
+word, and that word to be truth.
+
+A mind, with a spark of sensibility more than this woman possessed,
+could not have equivocated with such an interrogator, but her reply was,
+"She went in her own dress, my Lord."
+
+"Was it a man's or a woman's?" asked he, with a look of the same
+command.
+
+"Ha, ha, my Lord," (half laughing and half crying) "a woman's dress, to
+be sure, my Lord."
+
+On which Sandford cried----
+
+"Call the footman up, and let him confront her."
+
+He was called; but Lord Elmwood, now disgusted at the scene, withdrew to
+the further end of the room, and left Sandford to question them.
+
+With all the authority and consequence of a country magistrate,
+Sandford--his back to the fire, and the witnesses before him, began with
+the footman.
+
+"In what dress do you say, that you saw your lady, when you attended,
+and went along with her, to the masquerade?"
+
+"In men's clothes," replied the man, boldly and firmly as before.
+
+"Bless my soul, George, how can you say such a thing?" cried the woman.
+
+"What dress do _you_ say she went in?" cried Sandford to her.
+
+"In women's clothes, indeed, Sir."
+
+"This is very odd!" said Mrs. Horton.
+
+"Had she on, or had she not on, a coat?" asked Sandford.
+
+"Yes, Sir, a petticoat," replied the woman.
+
+"Do _you_ say she had on a petticoat?" said Sandford to the man.
+
+"I can't answer exactly for that," replied he, "but I know she had boots
+on."
+
+"They were not boots," replied the maid with vehemence--"indeed, Sir,
+(turning to Sandford) they were only half boots."
+
+"My girl," said Sandford kindly to her, "your own evidence convicts your
+mistress--What has a woman to do with _any_ boots?"
+
+Impatient at this mummery, Lord Elmwood rose, ordered the servants out
+of the room, and then, looking at his watch, found it was near one. "At
+what hour am I to expect her home?" said he.
+
+"Perhaps not till three in the morning," answered Mrs. Horton.
+
+"Three! more likely six," cried Sandford.
+
+"I can't wait with patience till that time," answered Lord Elmwood, with
+a most anxious sigh.
+
+"You had better go to bed, my Lord," said Mrs. Horton; "and, by
+sleeping, the time will pass away unperceived."
+
+"If I _could_ sleep, Madam."
+
+"Will you play a game of cards, my Lord?" said Sandford, "for I will not
+leave you till she comes home; and though I am not used to sit up all
+night----"
+
+"All night!" repeated Lord Elmwood; "she dares not stay all night."
+
+"And yet, after going," said Sandford, "in defiance to your commands, I
+should suppose she dared."
+
+"She is in good company, at least, my Lord," said Mrs. Horton.
+
+"She does not know herself what company she is in," replied he.
+
+"How should she," cried Sandford, "where every one hides his face?"
+
+Till five o'clock in the morning, in conversation such as this, the
+hours passed away. Mrs. Horton, indeed, retired to her chamber at two,
+and left the gentlemen to a more serious discourse; but a discourse
+still less advantageous to poor Miss Milner.
+
+She, during this time, was at the scene of pleasure she had painted to
+herself, and all the pleasure it gave her was, that she was sure she
+should never desire to go to a masquerade again. Its crowd and bustle
+fatigued her--its freedom offended her delicacy--and though she perceived
+that she was the first object of admiration in the place, yet there was
+one person still wanting to admire; and the remorse at having
+transgressed his injunctions for so trivial an entertainment, weighed
+upon her spirits, and added to its weariness. She would have come away
+sooner than she did, but she could not, with any degree of good manners,
+leave the company with whom she went; and not till half after four, were
+they prevailed on to return.
+
+Daylight just peeped through the shutters of the room in which Lord
+Elmwood and Sandford were sitting, when the sound of her carriage, and
+the sudden stop it made at the door, caused Lord Elmwood to start from
+his chair. He trembled extremely, and looked pale. Sandford was ashamed
+to seem to notice it, yet he could not help asking him, "To take a glass
+of wine." He took it--and for once, evinced he was reduced so low, as to
+be _glad_ of such a resource.
+
+What passion thus agitated Lord Elmwood at this crisis, it is hard to
+define--perhaps it was indignation at Miss Milner's imprudence, and
+exultation at being on the point of revenge--perhaps it was emotion
+arising from joy, to find that she was safe--perhaps it was perturbation
+at the regret he felt that he must upbraid her--perhaps it was not one
+alone of these sensations, but all of them combined.
+
+She, wearied out with the tedious night's dissipation, and far less
+joyous than melancholy, had fallen asleep as she rode home, and came
+half asleep out of her carriage. "Light me to my bed-chamber instantly,"
+said she to her maid, who waited in the hall to receive her. But one of
+Lord Elmwood's valets went up to her, and answered, "Madam, my Lord
+desires to see you before you retire."
+
+"Your Lord!" she cried, "Is he not out of town?"
+
+"No, Madam, my Lord has been at home ever since you went out; and has
+been sitting up with Mr. Sandford, waiting for you."
+
+She was wide awake immediately. The heaviness was removed from her eyes,
+but fear, grief, and shame, seized upon her heart. She leaned against
+her maid, as if unable to support herself under those feelings, and said
+to Miss Woodley,
+
+"Make my excuse--I cannot see him to-night--I am unfit--indeed I cannot."
+
+Miss Woodley was alarmed at the idea of going to him by herself, and
+thus, perhaps, irritating him still more: she, therefore, said, "He has
+sent for _you_; for heaven's sake, do not disobey him a second time."
+
+"No, dear Madam, don't," cried her woman, "for he is like a lion--he has
+been scolding me."
+
+"Good God!" (exclaimed Miss Milner, and in a tone that seemed prophetic)
+"Then he is not to be my husband, after all."
+
+"Yes," cried Miss Woodley, "if you will only be humble, and appear
+sorry. You know your power over him, and all may yet be well."
+
+She turned her speaking eyes upon her friend, the tears starting from
+them, her lips trembling--"Do I not appear sorry?" she cried.
+
+The bell at that moment rang furiously, and they hastened their steps to
+the door of the apartment where Lord Elmwood was.
+
+"No, this shuddering is only fright," replied Miss Woodley--"Say to him
+you are sorry, and beg his pardon."
+
+"I cannot," said she, "if Mr. Sandford is with him."
+
+The servant opened the door, and she and Miss Woodley went in. Lord
+Elmwood, by this time, was composed, and received her with a slight
+inclination of his head--she bowed to him in return, and said, with some
+marks of humility,
+
+"I suppose, my Lord, I have done wrong."
+
+"You have indeed, Miss Milner," answered he; "but do not suppose, that I
+mean to upbraid you: I am, on the contrary, going to release you from
+any such apprehension _for the future._"
+
+Those last three words he delivered with a countenance so serious and so
+determined, with an accent so firm and so decided, they pierced through
+her heart. Yet she did not weep, or even sigh; but her friend, knowing
+what she felt, exclaimed, "Oh?" as if for her.
+
+She herself strove with her anguish, and replied, (but with a faltering
+voice) "I expected as much, my Lord."
+
+"Then, Madam, you perhaps expect _all_ that I intend?"
+
+"In regard to myself," she replied, "I suppose I do."
+
+"Then," said he, "you may expect that in a few days we shall part."
+
+"I am prepared for it, my Lord," she answered, and, while she said so,
+sunk upon a chair.
+
+"My Lord, what you have to say farther," said Miss Woodley, in tears,
+"defer till the morning--Miss Milner, you see, is not able to bear it
+now."
+
+"I have nothing to _say_ further," replied he coolly--"I have now only to
+act."
+
+"Lord Elmwood," cried Miss Milner, divided between grief and anger, "you
+think to terrify me by your menaces--but I can part with you--heaven knows
+I can--your late behaviour has reconciled me to a separation."
+
+On this he was going out of the room--but Miss Woodley, catching hold of
+him, cried, "Oh! my Lord, do not leave her in this sorrow--pity her
+weakness, and forgive it." She was proceeding; and he seemed as if
+inclined to listen, when Sandford called out in a tone of voice so
+harsh,
+
+"Miss Woodley, what do you mean?"--She gave a start, and desisted.
+
+Lord Elmwood then turned to Sandford, and said, "Nay, Mr. Sandford, you
+need entertain no doubts of me--I have judged, and have deter----"
+
+He was going to say _determined_; but Miss Milner, who dreaded the word,
+interrupted the period, and exclaimed, "Oh! could my poor father know
+the days of sorrow I have experienced since his death, how would he
+repent his fatal choice of a protector!"
+
+This sentence, in which his friend's memory was recalled, with an
+additional allusion to her long and secret love for him, affected Lord
+Elmwood much--he was moved, but ashamed of being so, and as soon as
+possible conquered the propensity to forgive. Yet, for a short interval,
+he did not know whether to go out of the room, or to remain in it;
+whether to speak, or to be silent. At length he turned towards her, and
+said,
+
+"Appeal to your father in some other form--in that (pointing at her
+dress) he will not know you. Reflect upon him, too, in your moments of
+dissipation, and let his idea controul your indiscretions--not merely in
+an hour of contradiction call peevishly upon his name, only to wound the
+dearest friend you have."
+
+There was a degree of truth, and a degree of passionate feeling, in the
+conclusion of this speech, that alarmed Sandford--he caught up one of the
+candles, and, laying hold of his friend's elbow, drew him out of the
+room, crying, "Come, my Lord, come to your bed-chamber--it is very
+late--it is morning--it is time to rise." And by a continual repetition of
+these words, in a very loud voice, drowned whatever Lord Elmwood, or any
+other person might have wished either to have said or to have heard.
+
+In this manner, Lord Elmwood was forced out of the apartment, and the
+evening's entertainment concluded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Two whole days passed in the bitterest suspense on the part of Miss
+Milner, while neither one word or look from Lord Elmwood, denoted the
+most trivial change of the sentiments he had declared, on the night of
+the masquerade. Still those sentiments, or intentions, were not
+explicitly delivered; they were more like intimations, than solemn
+declarations--for though he had said, "He would never reproach her _for
+the future_," and that "She might expect they should part," he had not
+positively said they should; and upon this doubtful meaning of his
+words, she hung with the strongest agitation of hope and of fear.
+
+Miss Woodley seeing the distress of her mind, (much as she endeavoured
+to conceal it) entreated, nay implored of her, to permit her to be a
+mediator; to suffer her to ask for a private interview with Lord
+Elmwood, and if she found him inflexible, to behave with a proper spirit
+in return; but if he appeared not absolutely averse to a reconciliation,
+to offer it in so cautious a manner, that it might take place without
+farther uneasiness on either side. But Miss Milner peremptorily forbade
+this, and acknowledging to her friend every weakness she felt on the
+occasion, yet concluded with solemnly declaring, "That after what had
+passed between her and Lord Elmwood, _he_ must be the first to make a
+concession, before she herself would condescend to be reconciled."
+
+"I believe I know Lord Elmwood's temper," replied Miss Woodley, "and I
+do not think he will be easily induced to beg pardon for a fault which
+he thinks _you_ have committed."
+
+"Then he does not love me."
+
+"Pshaw! Miss Milner, this is the old argument. He may love you too well
+to spoil you--consider that he is your guardian as well as your lover, he
+means also to become your husband; and he is a man of such nice honour,
+that he will not indulge you with any power before marriage, to which he
+does not intend to submit hereafter."
+
+"But tenderness, affection, the politeness due from a lover to his
+mistress demands his submission; and as I now despair of enticing, I
+will oblige him to it--at least I'll make the trial, and know my fate at
+once."
+
+"What do you mean to do?"
+
+"Invite Lord Frederick to the house, and ask my guardian's consent for
+our immediate union; you will then see, what effect that will have upon
+his pride."
+
+"But you will then make it too late for him to be humble. If you
+resolve on this, my dear Miss Milner, you are undone at once--you may
+thus hurry yourself into a marriage with a man you do not love, and the
+misery of your whole future life may be the result. Or, would you force
+Mr. Dorriforth (I mean Lord Elmwood) to another duel with my Lord
+Frederick?"
+
+"No, call him Dorriforth," answered she, with the tears stealing from
+her eyes; "I thank you for calling him so; for by that name alone, is he
+dear to me."
+
+"Nay, Miss Milner, with what rapture did you not receive his love, as
+Lord Elmwood!"
+
+"But under this title he has been barbarous; under the first, he was all
+friendship and tenderness."
+
+Notwithstanding Miss Milner indulged herself in all these soft
+bewailings to her friend--before Lord Elmwood she maintained a degree of
+pride and steadiness, which surprised even him, who perhaps thought less
+of her love for him, than any other person. She now began to fear she
+had gone too far in discovering her affection, and resolved to make
+trial of a contrary method. She determined to retrieve that haughty
+character which had inspired so many of her admirers with passion, and
+take the chance of its effect upon this only one, to whom she ever
+acknowledged a mutual attachment. But although she acted this character
+well--so well, that every one but Miss Woodley thought her in
+earnest--yet, with nice and attentive anxiety, she watched even the
+slightest circumstances that might revive her hopes, or confirm her
+despair. Lord Elmwood's behaviour was calculated only to produce the
+latter--he was cold, polite, and perfectly indifferent. Yet, whatever his
+manners now were, they did not remove from her recollection what they
+had been--she recalled, with delight, the ardour with which he had first
+declared his passion to her, and the thousand proofs he had since given
+of its reality. From the constancy of his disposition, she depended that
+sentiments like these were not totally eradicated; and from the extreme
+desire which Mr. Sandford now, more than ever, discovered of
+depreciating her in his patron's esteem--from the now, more than common
+zeal, which urged him to take Lord Elmwood from her company, whenever
+he had it in his power, she was led to believe, that while his friend
+entertained such strong fears of his relapsing into love, she had reason
+to indulge the strongest hopes that he would.
+
+But the reserve, and even indifference, that she had so well assumed for
+a few days, and which might perhaps have effected her design, she had
+not the patience to persevere in, without calling levity to their aid.
+She visited repeatedly without saying where, or with whom--kept later
+hours than usual--appeared in the highest spirits--sung, laughed, and
+never heaved a sigh--but when she was alone.
+
+Still Lord Elmwood protracted a resolution, that he was determined he
+would never break when taken.
+
+Miss Woodley was excessively uneasy, and with cause; she saw her friend
+was providing herself with a weight of cares, that she would soon find
+infinitely too much for her strength to bear--she would have reasoned
+with her, but all her arguments had long since proved unavailing. She
+wished to speak to Lord Elmwood upon the subject, and (unknown to her)
+plead her excuse; but he apprehended Miss Woodley's intention, and
+evidently shunned her. Mr. Sandford was now the only person to whom she
+could speak of Miss Milner, and the delight he took to expatiate on her
+faults, was more sorrow to her friend, than not to speak of her at all.
+She, therefore, sat a silent spectator, waiting with dread for the time
+when she, who now scorned her advice, would fly to her in vain for
+comfort.
+
+Sandford had, however, said one thing to Miss Woodley, which gave her a
+ray of hope. During their conversation on the subject, (not by way of
+consolation to her, but as a reproach to Lord Elmwood) he one day
+angrily exclaimed, "And yet, notwithstanding all this provocation, he
+has not come to the determination that he will think no more of her--he
+lingers and he hesitates--I never saw him so weak upon any occasion
+before."
+
+This was joyful hearing to Miss Woodley; still, she could not but
+reflect, the longer he was in coming to this determination, the more
+irrevocable it would be, when once taken; and every moment that passed,
+she trembled lest it should be the very moment, in which Lord Elmwood
+should resolve to banish Miss Milner from his heart.
+
+Amongst her unpardonable indiscretions, during this trial upon the
+temper of her guardian, was the frequent mention of many gentlemen, who
+had been her professed admirers, and the mention of them with
+partiality. Teased, if not tortured, by this, Lord Elmwood still behaved
+with a manly evenness of temper, and neither appeared provoked on the
+subject, nor insolently careless. In a single instance, however, this
+calmness was near deserting him.
+
+Entering the drawing-room, one evening, he started, on seeing Lord
+Frederick Lawnly there, in earnest conversation with Miss Milner.
+
+Mrs. Horton and Miss Woodley were both indeed present, and Lord
+Frederick was talking in an audible voice, upon some indifferent
+subjects; but with that impressive manner, in which a man never fails to
+speak to the woman he loves, be the subject what it may. The moment Lord
+Elmwood started, which was the moment he entered, Lord Frederick arose.
+
+"I beg your pardon, my Lord," said Lord Elmwood, "I protest I did not
+know you."
+
+"I ought to entreat your Lordship's pardon," returned Lord Frederick,
+"for this intrusion, which an accident alone has occasioned. Miss Milner
+has been almost overturned by the carelessness of a lady's coachman, in
+whose carriage she was, and therefore suffered me to bring her home in
+mine."
+
+"I hope you are not hurt," said Lord Elmwood to Miss Milner, but his
+voice was so much affected by what he felt that he could scarce
+articulate the words. Not with the apprehension that she was hurt, was
+he thus agitated, for the gaiety of her manners convinced him _that_
+could not be the case, nor did he indeed suppose any accident, of the
+kind mentioned, had occurred; but the circumstance of unexpectedly
+seeing Lord Frederick had taken him off his guard, and being totally
+unprepared, he could not conceal indications of the surprise, and of the
+shock it had given him.
+
+Lord Frederick, who had heard nothing of his intended union with his
+ward, (for it was even kept a secret, at present, from every servant in
+the house) imputed this discomposure to the personal resentment he might
+bear him, in consequence of their duel; for though Lord Elmwood had
+assured the uncle of Lord Frederick, (who once waited upon him on the
+subject of Miss Milner) that all resentment was, on his part, entirely
+at an end; and that he was willing to consent to his ward's marriage
+with his nephew, if she would concur; yet Lord Frederick doubted the
+sincerity of this, and would still have had the delicacy not to have
+entered Lord Elmwood's house, had he not been encouraged by Miss Milner,
+and emboldened by his love. Personal resentment was therefore the
+construction he put upon Lord Elmwood's emotion on entering the room;
+but Miss Milner and Miss Woodley knew his agitation to arise from a far
+different cause.
+
+After his entrance, Lord Frederick did not attempt once to resume his
+seat, but having bowed most respectfully to all present, he took his
+leave; while Miss Milner followed him as far as the door, and repeated
+her thanks for his protection.
+
+Lord Elmwood was hurt beyond measure; but he had a second concern, which
+was, that he had not the power to conceal how much he was affected. He
+trembled--when he attempted to speak, he stammered--he perceived his face
+burning with confusion, and thus one confusion gave birth to another,
+till his state was pitiable.
+
+Miss Milner, with all her assumed gaiety and real insolence, had not,
+however, the insolence to seem as if she observed him; she had only the
+confidence to observe him by stealth. And Mrs. Horton and Miss Woodley,
+having opportunely begun a discourse upon some trivial occurrences, gave
+him time to recover himself by degrees--yet, still it was merely by
+degrees; for the impression which this incident had made, was deep, and
+not easily to be erased. The entrance of Mr. Sandford, who knew nothing
+of what had happened, was however, another relief; for he began a
+conversation with him, which they very soon retired into the library to
+terminate. Miss Milner, taking Miss Woodley with her, went directly to
+her own apartment, and there exclaimed in rapture,
+
+"He is mine--he loves me--and he is mine for ever."
+
+Miss Woodley congratulated her upon believing so, but confessed she
+herself "Had her fears."
+
+"What fears?" cried Miss Milner: "don't you perceive that he loves me?"
+
+"I do," said Miss Woodley, "but that I always believed; and, I think, if
+he loves you now, he has yet the good sense to know that he has reason
+to hate you."
+
+"What has good sense to do with love?" returned Miss Milner--"If a lover
+of mine suffers his understanding to get the better of his affection--"
+
+The same arguments were going to be repeated; but Miss Woodley
+interrupted her, by requiring an explanation of her conduct as to Lord
+Frederick, whom, at least, she was treating with cruelty, if she only
+made use of his affection to stimulate that of Lord Elmwood.
+
+"By no means, my dear Miss Woodley," returned she--"I have, indeed, done
+with my Lord Frederick from this day; and he has certainly given me the
+proof I wanted of Lord Elmwood's love; but then I did not engage him to
+this by the smallest ray of hope. No; do not suspect me of that, while
+my heart was another's: and I assure you, seriously, that it was from
+the circumstance we described he came with me home--yet, I must own, that
+if I had not had this design upon Lord Elmwood's jealousy in idea, I
+would have walked on foot through the streets, rather than have suffered
+his rival's civilities. But he pressed his services so violently, and my
+Lady Evans (in whose coach I was when the accident happened) pressed me
+so violently to accept them, that he cannot expect any farther meaning
+from this acquiescence than my own convenience."
+
+Miss Woodley was going to reply, when she resumed,
+
+"Nay, if you intend to say I have done wrong, still I am not sorry for
+it, when it has given me such convincing proofs of Lord Elmwood's love.
+Did you see him? I am afraid you did not see how he trembled? and that
+manly voice faltered, as mine does sometimes--his proud heart was humbled
+too, as mine is now and then. Oh! Miss Woodley, I have been
+counterfeiting indifference to _him_--I now find that all _his_
+indifference to _me_ has been counterfeit, and that we not only love,
+but love equally."
+
+"Suppose this all as you hope--I yet think it highly necessary that your
+guardian should be informed, seriously informed, it was mere accident
+(for, at present, that plea seems but as a subterfuge) which brought
+Lord Frederick hither."
+
+"No, that will be destroying the work so successfully begun. I will not
+suffer any explanation to take place, but let my Lord Elmwood act just
+as his love shall dictate; and now I have no longer a doubt of its
+excess, instead of stooping to him, I wait in the certain expectation of
+his submission to me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+In vain, for three long days, did Miss Milner wait impatiently for this
+submission; not a sign, not a symptom appeared--nay, Lord Elmwood had,
+since the evening of Lord Frederick's visit, (which, at the time it
+happened, seemed to affect him so exceedingly) become just the same man
+he was before the circumstance occurred; except, indeed, that he was
+less thoughtful, and now and then cheerful; but without any appearance
+that his cheerfulness was affected. Miss Milner was vext--she was
+alarmed--but was ashamed to confess those humiliating sensations, even to
+Miss Woodley--she supported, therefore, when in company, the vivacity she
+had so long assumed; but gave way, when alone, to a still greater degree
+of melancholy than usual. She no longer applauded her scheme of bringing
+Lord Frederick to the house, and trembled, lest, on some pretence, he
+should dare to call again. But as these were feelings which her pride
+would not suffer her to disclose even to her friend, who would have
+condoled with her, their effects were doubly poignant.
+
+Sitting in her dressing-room one forenoon with Miss Woodley, and
+burthened with a load of grief that she blushed to acknowledge, while
+her companion was charged with apprehensions that she too was loath to
+disclose, one of Lord Elmwood's valets tapped gently at the door, and
+delivered a letter to Miss Milner. By the person who brought it, as well
+as by the address, she knew it came from Lord Elmwood, and laid it down
+upon her toilet, as if she was fearful to unfold it.
+
+"What is that?" said Miss Woodley.
+
+"A letter from Lord Elmwood," replied Miss Milner.
+
+"Good Heaven!" exclaimed Miss Woodley.
+
+"Nay," returned she, "it is, I have no doubt, a letter to beg my
+pardon." But her reluctance to open it plainly evinced she did not think
+so.
+
+"Do not read it yet," said Miss Woodley.
+
+"I do not intend it," replied she, trembling extremely.
+
+"Will you dine first?" said Miss Woodley.
+
+"No--for not knowing its contents, I shall not know how to conduct myself
+towards him."
+
+Here a silence followed. Miss Milner took up the letter--looked earnestly
+at the handwriting on the outside--at the seal--inspected into its
+folds--and seemed to wish, by some equivocal method, to guess at the
+contents, without having the courage to come at the certain knowledge of
+them.
+
+Curiosity, at length, got the better of her fears--she opened the letter,
+and, scarce able to hold it while she read, she read the following
+words:--
+
+     "MADAM,
+
+     "While I considered you only as my ward, my friendship for you
+     was unbounded--when I looked upon you as a woman formed to grace
+     a fashionable circle, my admiration equalled my friendship--and
+     when fate permitted me to behold you in the tender light of my
+     betrothed wife, my soaring love left those humbler passions at a
+     distance.
+
+     "That you have still my friendship, my admiration, and even my
+     love, I will not attempt to deceive either myself or you by
+     disavowing; but still, with a firm assurance, I declare, that
+     prudence outweighs them all; and I have not, from henceforward, a
+     wish to be regarded by you, in any other respect than as one 'who
+     wishes you well.' That you ever beheld me in the endearing
+     quality of a destined and an affectionate husband, (such as I
+     would have proved) was a deception upon my hopes: they
+     acknowledge the mistake, and are humbled--but I entreat you to
+     spare their farther trial, and for a single week do not insult me
+     with the open preference of another. In the short space of that
+     period I shall have taken my leave of you--_for ever._
+
+     "I shall visit Italy, and some other parts of the Continent; from
+     whence I propose passing to the West Indies, in order to inspect
+     my possessions there: nor shall I return to England till after a
+     few years' absence; in which time I hope to become once more
+     reconciled to the change of state I am enjoined--a change I now
+     most fervently wish could be entirely dispensed with.
+
+     "The occasion of my remaining here a week longer, is to settle
+     some necessary affairs, among which the principal is, that of
+     delivering to a friend, a man of worth and of tenderness, all
+     those writings which have invested me with the power of my
+     guardianship--he will, the day after my departure, (without one
+     upbraiding word) resign them to you in my name; and even your
+     most respected father, could he behold the resignation, would
+     concur in its propriety.
+
+     "And now, my dear Miss Milner, let not affected resentment,
+     contempt, or levity, oppose that serenity, which, for the week to
+     come, I wish to enjoy. By complying with this request, give me to
+     believe, that, since you have been under my care, you think I
+     have, at least, faithfully discharged some part of my duty. And
+     wherever I have been inadequate to your wishes, attribute my
+     demerits to some infirmity of mind, rather than to a negligence
+     of your happiness. Yet, be the cause what it will, since these
+     faults have existed, I do not attempt to disavow or extenuate
+     them, and I beg your pardon.
+
+     "However time, and a succession of objects, may eradicate more
+     tender sentiments, I am sure _never_ to lose the liveliest
+     anxiety for your welfare--and with all that solicitude, which
+     cannot be described, I entreat for your own sake, for mine--when
+     we shall be far asunder--and for the sake of your dead father's
+     memory, that, _upon every important occasion, you will call your
+     serious judgment to direct you._
+
+     "I am, Madam,
+
+     "Your sincerest friend,
+
+     "ELMWOOD."
+
+After she had read every syllable of this letter, it dropped from her
+hands; but she uttered not a word. There was, however, a paleness in her
+face, a deadness in her eye, and a kind of palsy over her frame, which
+Miss Woodley, who had seen her in every stage of her uneasiness, never
+had seen before.
+
+"I do not want to read the letter," said Miss Woodley; "your looks tell
+me its contents."
+
+"They will then discover to Lord Elmwood," replied she, "what I feel;
+but Heaven forbid--that would sink me even lower than I am."
+
+Scarce able to move, she rose, and looked in her glass, as if to arrange
+her features, and impose upon him: alas! it was of no avail--a serenity
+of mind could alone effect what she desired.
+
+"You must endeavour," said Miss Woodley, "to feel the disposition you
+wish to make appear."
+
+"I will," replied she, "I will feel a proper pride--and a proper scorn of
+this treatment."
+
+And so desirous was she to attain the appearance of these sentiments,
+that she made the strongest efforts to calm her thoughts, in order to
+acquire it.
+
+"I have but a few days to remain with him," she said to herself, "and we
+part for ever--during those few days it is not only my duty to obey his
+commands, or rather comply with his request, but it is also my wish to
+leave upon his mind an impression, which may not add to the ill opinion
+he has formed of me, but, perhaps, serve to diminish it. If, in every
+other instance, my conduct has been blameable, he shall, at least in
+this, acknowledge its merit. The fate I have drawn upon myself, he shall
+find I can be resigned to; and he shall be convinced, that the woman, of
+whose weakness he has had so many fatal proofs, is yet in possession of
+some fortitude--fortitude, to bid him farewell, without discovering one
+affected or one real pang, though her death should be the immediate
+consequence."
+
+Thus she resolved, and thus she acted. The severest judge could not have
+arraigned her conduct, from the day she received Lord Elmwood's letter,
+to the day of his departure. She had, indeed, involuntary weaknesses,
+but none with which she did not struggle, and, in general, her struggles
+were victorious.
+
+The first time she saw him after the receipt of his letter, was on the
+evening of the same day--she had a little concert of amateurs of music,
+and was herself singing and playing when he entered the room: the
+connoisseurs immediately perceived she made a false cadence--but Lord
+Elmwood was no connoisseur in the art, and he did not observe it.
+
+They occasionally spoke to each other through the evening, but the
+subjects were general--and though their manners every time they spoke,
+were perfectly polite, they were not marked with the smallest degree of
+familiarity. To describe his behaviour exactly, it was the same as his
+letter, polite, friendly, composed, and resolved. Some of the company
+staid supper, which prevented the embarrassment that must unavoidably
+have arisen, had the family been by themselves.
+
+The next morning each breakfasted in his separate apartments--more
+company dined with them--in the evening, and at supper, Lord Elmwood was
+from home.
+
+Thus, all passed on as peaceably as he had requested, and Miss Milner
+had not betrayed one particle of frailty; when, the third day at dinner,
+some gentlemen of his acquaintance being at table, one of them said,
+
+"And so, my Lord, you absolutely set off on Tuesday morning?"
+
+This was Friday.
+
+Sandford and he both replied at the same time, "Yes." And Sandford, but
+not Lord Elmwood, looked at Miss Milner when he spoke. Her knife and
+fork gave a sudden spring in her hand, but no other emotion witnessed
+what she felt.
+
+"Aye, Elmwood," cried another gentleman at table, "you'll bring home, I
+am afraid, a foreign wife, and that I shan't forgive."
+
+"It is his errand abroad, I make no doubt," said another visitor.
+
+Before he could return an answer, Sandford cried, "And what objection to
+a foreigner for a wife? do not crowned heads all marry foreigners? and
+who happier in the married state than some kings?"
+
+Lord Elmwood directed his eyes to the side of the table, opposite to
+that where Miss Milner sat.
+
+"Nay," (answered one of the guests, who was a country gentleman) "what
+do you say, ladies--do you think my Lord ought to go out of his own
+nation for a wife?" and he looked at Miss Milner for the reply.
+
+Miss Woodley, uneasy at her friend's being thus forced to give an
+opinion upon so delicate a subject, endeavoured to satisfy the
+gentleman, by answering to the question herself: "Whoever my Lord
+Elmwood marries, Sir," said Miss Woodley, "he, no doubt, will be happy."
+
+"But what say you, Madam?" asked the visitor, still keeping his eyes on
+Miss Milner.
+
+"That whoever Lord Elmwood marries, he _deserves_ to be happy:" returned
+she, with the utmost command of her voice and looks; for Miss Woodley,
+by replying first, had given her time to collect herself.
+
+The colour flew to Lord Elmwood's face, as she delivered this short
+sentence; and Miss Woodley persuaded herself, she saw a tear start in
+his eye.
+
+Miss Milner did not look that way.
+
+In an instant he found means to change the subject, but that of his
+journey still employed the conversation; and what horses, servants, and
+carriages he took with him, was minutely asked, and so accurately
+answered, either by himself or by Mr. Sandford, that Miss Milner,
+although she had known her doom before, till now had received no
+circumstantial account of it--and as circumstances increase or diminish
+all we feel, the hearing these things told, increased the bitterness of
+their truth.
+
+Soon after dinner the ladies retired; and from that time, though Miss
+Milner's behaviour continued the same, yet her looks and her voice were
+totally altered--for the world, she could not have looked cheerfully; for
+the world, she could not have spoken with a sprightly accent; she
+frequently began in one, but not three words could she utter, before her
+tones sunk into dejection. Not only her colour, but her features became
+changed; her eyes lost their brilliancy, her lips seemed to hang without
+the power of motion, her head drooped, and her dress was neglected.
+Conscious of this appearance, and conscious of the cause from whence it
+arose, it was her desire to hide herself from the only object she could
+have wished to have charmed. Accordingly, she sat alone, or with Miss
+Woodley in her own apartment as much as was consistent with that
+civility which her guardian had requested, and which forbade her totally
+absenting herself.
+
+Miss Woodley felt so acutely the torments of her friend, that had not
+her reason told her, that the inflexible mind of Lord Elmwood, was fixed
+beyond her power to shake, she had cast herself at his feet, and
+implored the return of his affection and tenderness, as the only means
+to save his once-beloved ward from an untimely death. But her
+understanding--her knowledge of his firm and immoveable temper; and of
+all his provocations--her knowledge of his word, long since given to
+Sandford, "That if once resolved, he would not recall his
+resolution"--the certainty of the various plans arranged for his travels,
+all convinced her, that by any interference, she would only expose Miss
+Milner's love and delicacy, to a contemptuous rejection.
+
+If the conversation did not every day turn upon the subject of Lord
+Elmwood's departure--a conversation he evidently avoided himself--yet,
+every day, some new preparation for his journey, struck either the ear
+or the eye of Miss Milner--and had she beheld a frightful spectre, she
+could not have shuddered with more horror, than when she unexpectedly
+passed his large trunks in the hall, nailed and corded, ready to be sent
+off to meet him at Venice. At the sight, she flew from the company that
+chanced to be with her, and stole to the first lonely corner of the
+house to conceal her tears--she reclined her head upon her hands, and
+bedewed them with the sudden anguish, that had overcome her. She heard
+a footstep advancing towards the spot where she hoped to have been
+concealed; she lifted up her eyes, and saw Lord Elmwood. Pride, was the
+first emotion his presence inspired--pride, which arose from the humility
+into which she was plunged.
+
+She looked at him earnestly, as if to imply, "What now, my Lord?"
+
+He only answered with a bow, which expressed; "I beg your pardon." And
+immediately withdrew.
+
+Thus each understood the other's language, without either having uttered
+a word.
+
+The just construction she put upon his looks and behaviour upon this
+occasion, kept up her spirits for some little time; and she blessed
+heaven, repeatedly, for the singular favour of shewing to her, clearly,
+by this accident, his negligence of her sorrows, his total indifference.
+
+The next day was the eve of that on which he was to depart--of the day on
+which she was to bid adieu to Dorriforth, to her guardian, to Lord
+Elmwood; to all her hopes at once.
+
+The moment she awoke on Monday morning, the recollection, that this was,
+perhaps, the last day she was ever again to see him, softened all the
+resentment his yesterday's conduct had raised: forgetting his austerity,
+and all she had once termed cruelties, she now only remembered his
+friendship, his tenderness, and his love. She was impatient to see him,
+and promised herself, for this last day, to neglect no one opportunity
+of being with him. For that purpose she did not breakfast in her own
+room, as she had done for several mornings before, but went into the
+breakfast-room, where all the family in general met. She was rejoiced on
+hearing his voice as she opened the door, yet the sound made her tremble
+so much, that she could scarcely totter to the table.
+
+Miss Woodley looked at her as she entered, and was never so shocked at
+seeing her; for never had she yet seen her look so ill. As she
+approached, she made an inclination of her head to Mrs. Horton, then to
+her guardian, as was her custom, when she first saw them in a morning--he
+looked in her face as he bowed in return, then fixed his eyes upon the
+fire-place, rubbed his forehead, and began talking with Mr. Sandford.
+
+Sandford, during breakfast, by accident cast a glance upon Miss Milner;
+his attention was caught by her deadly countenance, and he looked
+earnestly. He then turned to Lord Elmwood to see if he was observing her
+appearance--he was not--and so much were her thoughts engaged on him
+alone, that she did not once perceive Sandford gazing at her.
+
+Mrs. Horton, after a little while observed, "It was a beautiful
+morning."
+
+Lord Elmwood said, "He thought he heard it rain in the night."
+
+Sandford cried, "For his part he slept too well to know." And then
+(unasked) held a plate with biscuits to Miss Milner--it was the first
+civility he had ever in his life offered her; she smiled at the
+whimsicality of the circumstance, but she took one in return for his
+attention. He looked grave beyond his usual gravity, and yet not with
+his usual ill temper. She did not eat what she had so politely taken,
+but laid it down soon after.
+
+Lord Elmwood was the first who rose from breakfast, and he did not
+return to dinner.
+
+At dinner, Mrs. Horton said, "She hoped he would, however, favour them
+with his company at supper."
+
+To which Sandford replied, "No doubt, for you will hardly any of you see
+him in the morning; as we shall be off by six, or soon after."
+
+Sandford was not going abroad with Lord Elmwood, but was to go with him
+as far as Dover.
+
+These words of his--"_Not see Lord Elmwood in the morning_"--[never again
+to see him after this evening,] were like the knell of death to Miss
+Milner. She felt the symptoms of fainting, and eagerly snatched a glass
+of water, which the servant was holding to Sandford, who had called for
+it, and drank it off;--as she returned the glass to the servant, she
+began to apologize to Mr. Sandford for her seeming rudeness, but before
+she could utter what she intended, he said, good-naturedly, "Never
+mind--you are very welcome--I am glad you took it." She looked at him to
+observe, whether he had really spoken kindly, or ironically; but before
+his countenance could satisfy her, her thoughts were called away from
+that trivial matter, and again fixed upon Lord Elmwood.
+
+The moments seemed tedious till he came home to supper, and yet, when
+she reflected how short the remainder of the evening would be after that
+time, she wished to defer the hour of his return for months. At ten
+o'clock he arrived; and at half after ten the family, without any
+visitor, met at supper.
+
+Miss Milner had considered, that the period for her to counterfeit
+appearances, was diminished now to a most contracted one; and she
+rigorously enjoined herself not to shrink from the little which
+remained. The certain end, that would be so soon put to this painful
+deception, encouraged her to struggle through it with redoubled zeal;
+and this was but necessary, as her weakness increased. She therefore
+listened, she talked, and even smiled with the rest of the company, nor
+did _their_ vivacity seem to arise, from a much less compulsive source
+than her own.
+
+It was past twelve, when Lord Elmwood looked at his watch, and rising
+from his chair, went up to Mrs. Horton, and taking her hand, said, "Till
+I see you again, Madam, I sincerely wish you every happiness."
+
+Miss Milner fixed her eyes upon the table before her.
+
+"My Lord," replied Mrs. Horton, "I sincerely wish you health and
+happiness likewise."
+
+He then went to Miss Woodley, and taking her hand, repeated much the
+same, as he had said to Mrs. Horton.
+
+Miss Milner now trembled beyond all power of concealment.
+
+"My Lord," replied Miss Woodley, a good deal affected, "I sincerely hope
+my prayers for your happiness may be heard."
+
+She and Mrs. Horton were both standing as well as Lord Elmwood; but Miss
+Milner kept her seat, till his eye was turned upon her, and he moved
+slowly towards her; she then rose:--every one who was present, attentive
+to what he would now say, and how she would receive what he said, here
+cast their eyes upon them, and listened with impatience. They were all
+disappointed--he did not utter a syllable. Yet he took her hand, and
+held it closely between his. He then bowed most respectfully and left
+her.
+
+No "I wish you well;--I wish you health and happiness." No "Prayers for
+blessings on her." Not even the word "Farewell," escaped his
+lips--perhaps, to have attempted any of these, might have choaked his
+utterance.
+
+She had behaved with fortitude the whole evening, and she continued to
+do so, till the moment he turned away from her. Her eyes then overflowed
+with tears, and in the agony of her mind, not knowing what she did, she
+laid her cold hand upon the person next to her--it happened to be
+Sandford; but not observing it was he, she grasped his hand with
+violence--yet he did not snatch it away, nor look at her with his wonted
+severity. And thus she stood, silent and motionless, while Lord Elmwood,
+now at the door, bowed once more to all the company, and retired.
+
+Sandford had still Miss Milner's hand fixed upon his; and when the door
+was shut after Lord Elmwood, he turned his head to look in her face, and
+turned it with some marks of apprehension for the grief he might find
+there. She strove to overcome that grief, and after a heavy sigh, sat
+down, as if resigned to the fate to which she was decreed.
+
+Instead of following Lord Elmwood, as usual, Sandford poured out a glass
+of wine, and drank it. A general silence ensued for near three minutes.
+At last, turning himself round on his seat, towards Miss Milner, who sat
+like a statue of despair at his side, "Will you breakfast with us
+to-morrow?" said he.
+
+She made no answer.
+
+"We shan't breakfast before half after six," continued he, "I dare say;
+and if you can rise so early--why do."
+
+"Miss Milner," said Miss Woodley, (for she caught eagerly at the hope of
+her passing this night in less unhappiness than she had foreboded) "pray
+rise at that hour to breakfast; Mr. Sandford would not invite you, if he
+thought it would displease Lord Elmwood."
+
+"Not I," replied Sandford, churlishly.
+
+"Then desire her maid to call her:" said Mrs. Horton to Miss Woodley.
+
+"Nay, she will be awake, I have no doubt;" returned her niece.
+
+"No;" replied Miss Milner, "since Lord Elmwood has thought proper to
+take his leave of me, without even speaking a word; by my own design,
+never will I see him again." And her tears burst forth, as if her heart
+burst at the same time.
+
+"Why did not _you_ speak to _him?_" cried Sandford--"Pray did _you_ bid
+_him_ farewell? and I don't see why one is not as much to be blamed, in
+that respect, as the other."
+
+"I was too weak to say I wished him happy," cried Miss Milner; "but,
+Heaven is my witness, I do wish him so from my soul."
+
+"And do you imagine he does not wish you so?" cried Sandford. "You
+should judge him by your own heart; and what you feel for him, imagine
+he feels for you, my dear."
+
+Though "_my dear_" is a trivial phrase, yet from certain people, and
+upon certain occasions, it is a phrase of infinite comfort and
+assurance. Mr. Sandford seldom said "my dear" to any one; to Miss Milner
+never; and upon this occasion, and from him, it was an expression most
+precious.
+
+She turned to him with a look of gratitude; but as she only looked, and
+did not speak, he rose up, and soon after said, with a friendly tone he
+had seldom used in her presence, "I sincerely wish you a good night."
+
+As soon as he was gone, Miss Milner exclaimed, "However my fate may have
+been precipitated by the unkindness of Mr. Sandford, yet, for that
+particle of concern which he has shown for me this night, I will always
+be grateful to him."
+
+"Ay," cried Mrs. Horton, "good Mr. Sandford may show his kindness now,
+without any danger from its consequences. Now Lord Elmwood is going away
+for ever, he is not afraid of your seeing him once again." And she
+thought she praised him by this suggestion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+When Miss Milner retired to her bed-chamber, Miss Woodley went with her,
+nor would leave her the whole night--but in vain did she persuade her to
+rest--she absolutely refused; and declared she would never, from that
+hour, indulge repose. "The part I undertook to perform," cried she, "is
+over--I will now, for my whole life, appear in my own character, and give
+a loose to the anguish I endure."
+
+As daylight showed itself--"And yet I might see him once again," said
+she--"I might see him within these two hours, if I pleased, for Mr.
+Sandford invited me."
+
+"If you think, my dear Miss Milner," said Miss Woodley, "that a second
+parting from Lord Elmwood would but give you a second agony, in the name
+of Heaven do not see him any more--but, if you hope your mind would be
+easier, were you to bid each other adieu in a more direct manner than
+you did last night, let us go down and breakfast with him. I'll go
+before, and prepare him for your reception--you shall not surprise
+him--and I will let him know, it is by Mr. Sandford's invitation you are
+coming."
+
+She listened with a smile to this proposal, yet objected to the
+indelicacy of her wishing to see him, after he had taken his leave--but
+as Miss Woodley perceived that she was inclined to infringe this
+delicacy, of which she had so proper a sense, she easily persuaded her,
+it was impossible for the most suspicious person (and Lord Elmwood was
+far from such a character) to suppose, that the paying him a visit at
+that period of time, could be with the most distant idea of regaining
+his heart, or of altering one resolution he had taken.
+
+But though Miss Milner acquiesced in this opinion, yet she had not the
+courage to form the determination that she would go.
+
+Daylight now no longer peeped, but stared upon them. Miss Milner went to
+the looking-glass, breathed upon her hands and rubbed them on her eyes,
+smoothed her hair and adjusted her dress; yet said, after all, "I dare
+not see him again."
+
+"You may do as you please," said Miss Woodley, "but I will. I that have
+lived for so many years under the same roof with him, and on the most
+friendly terms, and he going away, perhaps for these ten years, perhaps
+for ever, I should think it a disrespect not to see him to the last
+moment of his remaining in the house."
+
+"Then do you go," said Miss Milner, eagerly; "and if he should ask for
+me, I will gladly come, you know; but if he does not ask for me, I will
+not--and pray don't deceive me."
+
+Miss Woodley promised her not to deceive her; and soon after, as they
+heard the servants pass about the house, and the clock had struck six,
+Miss Woodley went to the breakfast room.
+
+She found Lord Elmwood there in his travelling dress, standing pensively
+by the fire-place--and, as he did not dream of seeing her, he started
+when she entered, and, with an appearance of alarm, said, "Dear Miss
+Woodley, what's the matter?" She replied, "Nothing, my Lord; but I could
+not be satisfied without seeing your Lordship once again, while I had it
+in my power."
+
+"I thank you," he returned with a sigh--the heaviest and most intelligent
+sigh she ever heard him condescend to give. She imagined, alas, that he
+looked as if he wished to ask how Miss Milner did, but would not allow
+himself the indulgence. She was half inclined to mention her to him, and
+was debating in her mind whether she should or not, when Mr. Sandford
+came into the room, saying, as he entered,
+
+"For Heaven's sake, my Lord, where did you sleep last night?"
+
+"Why do you ask!" said he.
+
+"Because," replied Sandford, "I went into your bed-chamber just now, and
+I found your bed made. You have not slept there to-night."
+
+"I have slept no where," returned he; "I could not sleep--and having some
+papers to look over, and to set off early, I thought I might as well not
+go to bed at all."
+
+Miss Woodley was pleased at the frank manner in which he made this
+confession, and could not resist the strong impulse to say, "You have
+done just then, my Lord, like Miss Milner, for she has not been in bed
+the whole night."
+
+Miss Woodley spoke this in a negligent manner, and yet, Lord Elmwood
+echoed back the words with solicitude, "Has not Miss Milner been in bed
+the whole night?"
+
+"If she is up, why does not she come and take some coffee?" said
+Sandford, as he began to pour it out.
+
+"If she thought it would be agreeable," returned Miss Woodley, "I dare
+say she would." And she looked at Lord Elmwood while she spoke, though
+she did not absolutely address him; but he made no reply.
+
+"Agreeable!" returned Sandford, angrily--"Has she then a quarrel with any
+body here? or does she suppose any body here bears enmity to _her?_ Is
+she not in peace and charity?"
+
+"Yes," replied Miss Woodley, "that I am sure she is."
+
+"Then bring her hither," cried Sandford, "directly. Would she have the
+wickedness to imagine we are not all friends with her?"
+
+Miss Woodley left the room, and found Miss Milner almost in despair,
+lest she should hear Lord Elmwood's carriage drive off before her
+friend's return.
+
+"Did he send for me?" were the words she uttered as soon as she saw her.
+
+"Mr. Sandford did, in his presence," returned Miss Woodley, "and you may
+go with the utmost decorum, or I would not tell you so."
+
+She required no protestations of this, but readily followed her beloved
+adviser, whose kindness never appeared in so amiable a light as at that
+moment.
+
+On entering the room, through all the dead white of her present
+complection, she blushed to a crimson. Lord Elmwood rose from his seat,
+and brought a chair for her to sit down.
+
+Sandford looked at her inquisitively, sipped his tea, and said, "He
+never made tea to his own liking."
+
+Miss Milner took a cup, but had scarce strength to hold it.
+
+It seemed but a very short time they were at breakfast, when the
+carriage, that was to take Lord Elmwood away, drove to the door. Miss
+Milner started at the sound--so did he--but she had nearly dropped her cup
+and saucer; on which Sandford took them out of her hand, saying,
+
+"Perhaps you had rather have coffee?"
+
+Her lips moved, but he could not hear what she said.
+
+A servant came in, and told Lord Elmwood, "The carriage was at the
+door."
+
+He replied, "Very well." But though he had breakfasted, he did not
+attempt to move.
+
+At last, rising briskly, as if it was necessary to go in haste when he
+did go; he took up his hat, which he had brought with him into the room,
+and was turning to Miss Woodley to take his leave, when Sandford cried,
+"My Lord, you are in a great hurry." And then, as if he wished to give
+poor Miss Milner every moment he could, added, (looking about) "I don't
+know where I have laid my gloves."
+
+Lord Elmwood, after repeating to Miss Woodley his last night's farewell,
+now went up to Miss Milner, and taking one of her hands, again held it
+between his, but still without speaking--while she, unable to suppress
+her tears as heretofore, suffered them to fall in torrents.
+
+"What is all this?" cried Sandford, going up to them in anger.
+
+They neither of them replied, or changed their situation.
+
+"Separate this moment," cried Sandford, "or resolve to be separated only
+by--death."
+
+The commanding and awful manner in which he spoke this sentence, made
+them both turn to him in amazement, and as it were, petrified with the
+sensation his words had caused.
+
+He left them for a moment, and going to a small bookcase in one corner
+of the room, took out of it a book, and returning with it in his hand,
+said,
+
+"Lord Elmwood, do you love this woman?"
+
+"More than my life." He replied, with the most heartfelt accents.
+
+He then turned to Miss Milner--"Can you say the same by him?"
+
+She spread her hands over her eyes, and exclaimed, "Oh, Heavens!"
+
+"I believe you _can_ say so," returned Sandford; "and in the name of
+God, and your own happiness, since this is the state of you both, let me
+put it out of your power to part."
+
+Lord Elmwood gazed at him with wonder! and yet, as if enraptured by the
+sudden change this conduct gave to his prospects.
+
+She, sighed with a kind of trembling ecstasy; while Sandford, with all
+the dignity of his official character, delivered these words----
+
+"My Lord, while I thought my counsel might save you from the worst of
+misfortunes, conjugal strife, I importuned you hourly, and set forth
+your danger in the light it appeared to me. But though old, and a
+priest, I can submit to think I have been in an error; and I now firmly
+believe, it is for the welfare of you both, to become man and wife. My
+Lord, take this woman's marriage vows--you can ask no fairer promises of
+her reform--she can give you none half so sacred, half so binding; and I
+see by her looks that she will mean to keep them. And my dear,"
+continued he, addressing himself to her, "act but under the dominion of
+those vows, to a husband of sense and virtue, like him, and you will be
+all that I, himself, or even Heaven can desire. Now, then, Lord Elmwood,
+this moment give her up for ever, or this moment constrain her by such
+ties from offending you, as she shall not _dare_ to violate."
+
+Lord Elmwood struck his forehead in doubt and agitation; but, still
+holding her hand, he cried, "I cannot part from her." Then feeling this
+reply as equivocal, he fell upon his knees, and cried, "Will you pardon
+my hesitation? and will you, in marriage, show me that tender love you
+have not shown me yet? Will you, in possessing all my affections, bear
+with all my infirmities?"
+
+She raised him from her feet, and by the expression of her countenance,
+by the tears that bathed his hands, gave him confidence.
+
+He turned to Sandford--then placing her by his own side, as the form of
+matrimony requires, gave this for a sign to Sandford that he should
+begin the ceremony. On which, he opened his book, and--married them.
+
+With voice and manners so serious, so solemn and so fervent, he
+performed these rites, that every idea of jest, or even of lightness,
+was absent from the mind of all who were present.
+
+Miss Milner, covered with shame, sunk on the bosom of Miss Woodley.
+
+When the ring was wanting, Lord Elmwood supplied it with one from his
+own hand, but throughout all the rest of the ceremony, appeared lost in
+zealous devotion to Heaven. Yet, no sooner was it finished, than his
+thoughts descended to this world. He embraced his bride with all the
+transport of the fondest, happiest bridegroom, and in raptures called
+her by the endearing name of "wife."
+
+"But still, my Lord," cried Sandford, "you are only married by your own
+church and conscience, not by your wife's, or by the law of the land;
+and let me advise you not to defer that marriage long, lest in the time
+you disagree, and she should refuse to become your legal spouse."
+
+"I think there is danger," returned Lord Elmwood, "and therefore our
+second marriage must take place to-morrow."
+
+To this the ladies objected, and Sandford was to fix their second
+wedding-day, as he had done their first. He, after consideration, gave
+them four days.
+
+Miss Woodley then recollected (for every one else had forgot it) that
+the carriage was still at the door to convey Lord Elmwood far away. It
+was of course dismissed--and one of those great incidents of delight
+which Miss Milner that morning tasted, was to look out of the window,
+and see this very carriage drive from the door unoccupied.
+
+Never was there a more rapid change from despair to happiness--to
+happiness perfect and supreme--than was that, which Miss Milner and Lord
+Elmwood experienced in one single hour.
+
+The few days that intervened between this and their lawful marriage,
+were passed in the delightful care of preparing for that happy day--yet,
+with all its delights inferior to the first, when every unexpected joy
+was doubled by the once expected sorrow.
+
+Nevertheless, on that first wedding-day, that joyful day, which restored
+her lost lover to her hopes again; even on that _very_ day, after the
+sacred ceremony was over, Miss Milner--(with all the fears, the tremors,
+the superstition of her sex)--felt an excruciating shock; when, looking
+on the ring Lord Elmwood had put upon her finger, in haste, when he
+married her, she perceived it was a--mourning ring.
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+SIMPLE STORY,
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES,
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+VOL. III.
+
+_THE FOURTH EDITION._
+
+LONDON:
+
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,
+
+PATERNOSTER ROW.
+
+1799.
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Not any event, throughout life, can arrest the reflection of a
+thoughtful mind more powerfully, or leave so lasting an impression, as
+that of returning to a place after a few years absence, and observing an
+entire alteration, in respect to all the persons who once formed the
+neighbourhood. To find that many, who but a few years before were left
+in their bloom of youth and health, are dead--to find that children left
+at school, are married and have children of their own--that some, who
+were left in riches, are reduced to poverty--that others, who were in
+poverty are become rich--to find, those once renowned for virtue, now
+detested for vice--roving husbands, grown constant--constant husbands,
+become rovers--the firmest friends, changed to the most implacable
+enemies--beauty faded. In a word, every change to demonstrate, that,
+
+     "All is transitory on this side the grave."
+
+Guided by a wish, that the reflecting reader may experience the
+sensation, which an attention to circumstances like these, must excite;
+he is desired to imagine seventeen years elapsed, since he has seen or
+heard of any of those persons who in the foregoing volumes have been
+introduced to his acquaintance--and then, supposing himself at the period
+of those seventeen years, follow the sequel of their history.
+
+To begin with the first female object of this story. The beautiful, the
+beloved Miss Milner--she is no longer beautiful--no longer beloved--no
+longer--tremble while you read it!--no longer--virtuous.
+
+Dorriforth, the pious, the good, the tender Dorriforth, is become a
+hard-hearted tyrant. The compassionate, the feeling, the just Lord
+Elmwood, an example of implacable rigour and injustice.
+
+Miss Woodley is grown old, but less with years than grief.
+
+The boy, Rushbrook, is become a man, and the apparent heir of Lord
+Elmwood's fortune; while his own daughter, his only child by his once
+adored Miss Milner, he refuses ever to see again, in vengeance to her
+mother's crimes.
+
+The least wonderful change, is, the death of Mrs. Horton. Except
+Sandford, who remains much the same as heretofore.
+
+We left Lady Elmwood in the last volume at the summit of human
+happiness; a loving and beloved bride. We begin this volume, and find
+her upon her death-bed.
+
+At thirty-five, her "Course was run"--a course full of perils, of hopes,
+of fears, of joys, and at the end, of sorrows; all exquisite of their
+kind, for exquisite were the feelings of her susceptible heart.
+
+At the commencement of this story, her father is described in the last
+moments of his life, with all his cares fixed upon her, his only
+child--how vain these cares! how vain every precaution that was taken for
+her welfare! She knows, she reflects upon this; and yet, impelled by
+that instinctive power which actuates a parent, Lady Elmwood on _her_
+dying day has no worldly thoughts, but that of the future happiness of
+an only child. To every other prospect in her view, "Thy will be done"
+is her continual exclamation; but where the misery of her daughter
+presents itself, the expiring penitent would there combat the will of
+Heaven.
+
+To detail the progression by which vice gains a predominancy in the
+heart, may be a useful lesson; but it is one so little to the
+satisfaction of most readers, that the degrees of misconduct by which
+Lady Elmwood fell, are not meant to be related here; but instead of
+picturing every occasion of her fall, to come briefly to the events that
+followed.
+
+There are, nevertheless, some articles under the former class, which
+ought not to be entirely omitted.
+
+Lord Elmwood, after four years enjoyment of the most perfect happiness
+that marriage could give, after becoming the father of a beautiful
+daughter, whom he loved with a tenderness almost equal to his love of
+her mother, was under the indispensable necessity of leaving them both
+for a time, in order to rescue from the depredation of his own steward,
+his very large estates in the West Indies. His voyage was tedious; his
+residence there, from various accidents, prolonged from time to time,
+till near three years had at length passed away. Lady Elmwood, at first
+only unhappy, became at last provoked; and giving way to that irritable
+disposition which she had so seldom governed, resolved, in spite of his
+injunctions, to divert the melancholy hours caused by his absence, by
+mixing in the gay circles of London.
+
+Lord Elmwood at this time, and for many months before, had been detained
+abroad by a severe and dangerous illness, which a too cautious fear of
+her uneasiness, had prompted him to conceal; and she received his
+frequent apologies for not returning, with a suspicion and resentment
+they were calculated, but not intended, to inspire.
+
+To violent anger, succeeded a degree of indifference still more
+fatal--Lady Elmwood's heart was not formed for such a state--there, where
+all the tumultuous passions harboured by turns, one among them soon
+found the means to occupy all vacancies: a passion, commencing
+innocently, but terminating in guilt. The dear object of her fondest,
+her truest affections, was away; and those affections, painted the time
+so irksome that was past; so wearisome, that, which was still to come;
+that she flew from the present tedious solitude, to the dangerous
+society of one, whose whole mind depraved by fashionable vices, could
+not repay her for a moment's loss of him, whose absence he supplied. Or,
+if the delirium gave her a moment's recompence, what were her
+sufferings, her remorse, when she was awakened from the fleeting joy, by
+the arrival of her husband? How happy, how transporting would have been
+that arrival a few months before! As it would then have been felicity
+unbounded, it was now--language affords no word that can describe Lady
+Elmwood's sensations, on being told her Lord was arrived, and that
+necessity alone had so long delayed his return.
+
+Guilty, but not hardened in her guilt, her pangs, her shame were the
+more excessive. She fled from the place at his approach; fled from his
+house, never again to return to a habitation where he was the master.
+She did not, however, elope with her paramour, but escaped to shelter
+herself in the most dreary retreat; where she partook of no one comfort
+from society, or from life, but the still unremitting friendship of Miss
+Woodley. Even her infant daughter she left behind, nor would allow
+herself the consolation of her innocent, though reproachful smiles--she
+left her in her father's house, that she might be under his protection;
+parted with her, as she thought, for ever, with all the agonies with
+which mothers part from their infant children: and yet, even a mother
+can scarce conceive how much more sharp those agonies were, on
+beholding--the child sent after her, as the perpetual outcast of its
+father.
+
+Lord Elmwood's love to his wife had been extravagant--the effect of his
+hate was the same. Beholding himself separated from her by a barrier
+never to be removed, he vowed in the deep torments of his revenge, never
+to be reminded of her by one individual object; much less, by one so
+near to her as her child. To bestow upon that child his affections,
+would be, he imagined, still, in some sort, to divide them with the
+mother. Firm in his resolution, the beautiful Matilda, was, at the age
+of six years, sent out of her father's house, and received by her mother
+with all the tenderness, but with all the anguish, of those parents, who
+behold their offspring visited by the punishment due only to their own
+offences.
+
+While this rigid act was executing by Lord Elmwood's agents at his
+command, himself was engaged in an affair of still weightier
+importance--that of life or death:--he determined upon his own death, or
+the death of the man who had wounded his honour and destroyed his
+happiness. A duel with his old antagonist was the result of this
+determination; nor was the Duke of Avon (who before the decease of his
+father and eldest brother, was Lord Frederick Lawnly) averse from giving
+him all the satisfaction he required. For it was no other than he, whose
+passion for Lady Elmwood had still subsisted, and whose address in
+gallantry left no means unattempted for the success of his designs;--no
+other than he, (who, next to Lord Elmwood, had been of all her lovers,
+the most favoured,) to whom Lady Elmwood sacrificed her own and her
+husband's future peace, and thus gave to his vanity a prouder triumph,
+than if she had never bestowed her hand in marriage on another. This
+triumph however was but short--a month only, after the return of Lord
+Elmwood, the Duke was called upon to answer for his conduct, and was
+left where they met, so defaced with scars, as never again to endanger
+the honour of a husband. As Lord Elmwood was inexorable to all
+accommodation, their engagement continued for a long space of time; nor
+could any thing but the assurance that his opponent was slain, have at
+last torn him from the field, though he himself was dangerously wounded.
+
+Yet even during the period of his danger, while for days he lay in the
+continual expectation of his own death, not all the entreaties of his
+dearest, most intimate, and most respected friends, could prevail upon
+him to pronounce forgiveness of his wife, or to suffer them to bring his
+daughter to him, for his last blessing.
+
+Lady Elmwood, who was made acquainted with the minutest circumstance as
+it passed, appeared to wait the news of her husband's decease with
+patience; but upon her brow, and in every lineament of her face was
+marked, that his death was an event she would not for a day survive: and
+she would have left her child an orphan, to have followed Lord Elmwood
+to the tomb. She was prevented the trial; he recovered; and from the
+ample vengeance he had obtained upon the irresistible person of the
+Duke, in a short time seemed to regain his usual tranquillity.
+
+He recovered, but Lady Elmwood fell sick and languished--possessed of
+youth to struggle with her woes, she lingered on, till ten years decline
+brought her to that period, with which the reader is now going to be
+presented.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+In a lonely country on the borders of Scotland, a single house by the
+side of a dreary heath, was the residence of the once gay, volatile Miss
+Milner. In a large gloomy apartment of this solitary habitation (the
+windows of which scarce rendered the light accessible) was laid upon her
+death-bed, the once lovely Lady Elmwood--pale, half suffocated with the
+loss of breath; yet her senses perfectly clear and collected, which
+served but to sharpen the anguish of dying.
+
+In one corner of the room, by the side of an old fashioned stool, kneels
+Miss Woodley, praying most devoutly for her still beloved friend, but in
+vain endeavouring to pray composedly--floods of tears pour down her
+furrowed cheeks, and frequent sobs of sorrow, break through each pious
+ejaculation.
+
+Close by her mother's side, one hand supporting her head, the other
+wiping from her face the cold dew of death, behold Lady Elmwood's
+daughter--Lord Elmwood's daughter too--yet he far away, negligent of what
+either suffers. Lady Elmwood turns to her often and attempts an embrace,
+but her feeble arms forbid, and they fall motionless. The daughter
+perceiving these ineffectual efforts, has her whole face convulsed with
+grief: kisses her mother; holds her to her bosom; and hangs upon her
+neck, as if she wished to cling there, not to be parted even by the
+grave.
+
+On the other side of the bed sits Sandford--his hair grown white--his face
+wrinkled with age--his heart the same as ever.--The reprover, the enemy of
+the vain, the idle, and the wicked; but the friend and comforter of the
+forlorn and miserable.
+
+Upon those features where sarcasm, reproach, and anger dwelt, to
+threaten and alarm the sinner; mildness, tenderness, and pity beamed, to
+support and console the penitent. Compassion changed his language, and
+softened all those harsh tones that used to denounce perdition.
+
+"In the name of God," said he to Lady Elmwood, "of that God, who
+suffered for you, and, suffering, knew and pitied all our weaknesses--By
+him, who has given his word to _take compassion on the sinner's tears_,
+I bid you hope for mercy. By that innocence in which you once lived, be
+comforted--By the sorrows you have known since your degradation, hope,
+that in some measure, you have atoned----By the sincerity that shone upon
+your youthful face when I joined your hands, and those thousand virtues
+you have since given proofs of, trust, that you were not born to die
+_the death of the wicked._"
+
+As he spoke these words of consolation, her trembling hand clasped
+his--her dying eyes darted a ray of brightness--but her failing voice
+endeavoured in vain, to articulate. At length, fixing her looks upon her
+daughter as their last dear object, she was just understood to utter the
+word "Father."
+
+"I understand you," replied Sandford, "and by all that influence I ever
+had over him, by my prayers, my tears," (and they flowed as he spoke) "I
+will implore him to own his child."
+
+She could now only smile in thanks.
+
+"And if I should fail," continued he, "yet while I live, she shall not
+want a friend or protector--all an old man, like me can answer for"----here
+his tears interrupted him.
+
+Lady Elmwood was sufficiently sensible of his words and their import, to
+make a sign as if she wished to embrace him: but finding her life
+leaving her fast, she reserved this last token of love for her
+daughter--with a struggle she lifted herself from her pillow, clung to
+her child--and died in her arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Lord Elmwood was by nature, and more from education, of a serious,
+thinking, and philosophic turn of mind. His religious studies had
+completely taught him to consider this world but as a passage to
+another; to enjoy with gratitude what Heaven in its bounty should
+bestow, and to bear with submission, whatever in its vengeance it might
+inflict. In a greater degree than most people he practised this
+doctrine; and as soon as the shock he received from Lady Elmwood's
+conduct was abated, an entire calmness and resignation ensued; but still
+of that sensible and feeling kind, that could never suffer him to forget
+the happiness he had lost; and it was this sensibility, which urged him
+to fly from its more keen recollection as much as possible--this, he
+alleged as the reason why he would never permit Lady Elmwood, or even
+her child, to be named in his hearing. But this injunction (which all
+his friends, and even the servants in the house who attended his person,
+had received) was, by many people, suspected rather to proceed from his
+resentment, than his tenderness; nor did he deny, that resentment
+co-operated with his prudence: for prudence he called it, not to remind
+himself of happiness he could never taste again, and of ingratitude that
+might impel him to hatred: and prudence he called it, not to form
+another attachment near to his heart, more especially so near as a
+parent's which might again expose him to all the torments of
+ingratitude, from an object whom he affectionately loved.
+
+Upon these principles he formed the unshaken resolution, never to
+acknowledge Lady Matilda as his child--or acknowledging her as such--never
+to see, to hear of, or take one concern whatever in her fate and
+fortune. The death of her mother appeared a favourable time, had he been
+so inclined, to have recalled this declaration which he had solemnly and
+repeatedly made--she was now destitute of the protection of her other
+parent, and it became his duty, at least, to provide her a guardian, if
+he did not chuse to take that tender title upon himself--but to mention
+either the mother or child to Lord Elmwood, was an equal offence, and
+prohibited in the strongest terms to all his friends and household; and
+as he was an excellent good master, a sincere friend, and a most
+generous patron, not one of his acquaintance or dependants, were hardy
+enough to draw upon themselves his certain displeasure, which was always
+violent in the extreme, by even the official intelligence of Lady
+Elmwood's death.
+
+Sandford himself, intimidated through age, or by the austere, and morose
+manners which Lord Elmwood had of late years adopted; Sandford wished,
+if possible, that some other would undertake the dangerous task of
+recalling to his memory there ever was such a person as his wife. He
+advised Miss Woodley to write a proper letter to him on the subject; but
+she reminded him that such a step would be more perilous to her, than to
+any other person, as she was the most destitute being on earth, without
+the benevolence of Lord Elmwood. The death of her aunt, Mrs. Horton,
+had left her solely relying on the bounty of Lady Elmwood, and now her
+death, had left her totally dependant upon the Earl--for Lady Elmwood
+though she had separate effects, had long before her death declared it
+was not her intention to leave a sentence behind her in the form of a
+will. She had no will, she said, but what she would wholly submit to
+Lord Elmwood's; and, if it were even his will, that her child should
+live in poverty, as well as banishment, it should be so. But, perhaps,
+in this implicit submission to him, there was a distant hope, that the
+necessitous situation of his daughter, might plead more forcibly than
+his parental love; and that knowing her bereft of every support but
+through himself, that idea might form some little tie between them, and
+be at least a token of the relationship.
+
+But as Lady Elmwood anxiously wished this principle upon which she
+acted, should be concealed from his suspicion, she included her friend,
+Miss Woodley, in the same fate; and thus, the only persons dear to her,
+she left, but at Lord Elmwood's pleasure, to be preserved from perishing
+in want. Her child was too young to advise her on this subject, her
+friend too disinterested; and at this moment they were both without the
+smallest means of subsistence, except through the justice or compassion
+of Lord Elmwood. Sandford had indeed promised his protection to the
+daughter; but his liberality had no other source than from his patron,
+with whom he still lived as usual, except during part of the winter,
+when the Earl resided in town; he then mostly stole a visit to Lady
+Elmwood.--On this last visit he staid to see her buried.
+
+After some mature deliberations, Sandford was now preparing to go to
+Lord Elmwood at his house in town, and there, to deliver himself the
+news that must sooner or later be told; and he meant also to venture, at
+the same time, to keep the promise he had made to his dying Lady--but the
+news reached his Lordship before Sandford arrived; it was announced in
+the public papers, and by that means first came to his knowledge.
+
+He was breakfasting by himself, when the newspaper that first gave the
+intelligence of Lady Elmwood's death, was laid before him--the paragraph
+contained these words:
+
+"On Wednesday last died, at Dring Park, a village in Northumberland, the
+right honourable Countess Elmwood.--This lady, who has not been heard of
+for many years in the fashionable world, was a rich heiress, and of
+extreme beauty; but although she received overtures from many men of the
+first rank, she preferred her guardian, the present Lord Elmwood (then
+Mr. Dorriforth) to them all--and it is said, their marriage was followed
+by an uncommon share of felicity, till his Lordship going abroad, and
+remaining there some time, the consequences (to a most captivating young
+woman left without a protector) were such as to cause a separation on
+his return. Her Ladyship has left one child by the Earl, a daughter,
+about fifteen."
+
+Lord Elmwood had so much feeling upon reading this, as to lay down the
+paper, and not take it up again for several minutes--nor did he taste his
+chocolate during this interval, but leaned his elbow on the table and
+rested his head upon his hand. He then rose up--walked two or three times
+across the room--sat down again--took up the paper--and read as usual.--Nor
+let the vociferous mourner, or the perpetual weeper, here complain of
+his want of sensibility--but let them remember that Lord Elmwood was a
+man--a man of understanding--of courage--of fortitude--above all, a man of
+the nicest feelings--and who shall say, but that at the time he leaned
+his head upon his hand, and rose to walk away the sense of what he felt,
+he might not feel as much as Lady Elmwood did in her last moments.
+
+Be this as it may, his susceptibility on the occasion was not suspected
+by any one--yet he passed that day the same as usual; the next day too,
+and the day after. On the morning of the fourth, he sent for his steward
+to his study, and after talking of other business, said to him;
+
+"Is it true that Lady Elmwood is dead?"
+
+"It is, my Lord."
+
+His Lordship looked unusually grave, and at this reply, fetched an
+involuntary sigh.
+
+"Mr. Sandford, my lord," continued the steward, "sent me word of the
+news, but left it to my own discretion, whether I would make your
+Lordship acquainted with it or not: I let him know I declined."
+
+"Where is Sandford?" asked Lord Elmwood.
+
+"He was with my Lady," replied the steward.
+
+"When she died?" asked he.
+
+"Yes, my Lord."
+
+"I am glad of it--he will see that every thing she desired is
+done--Sandford is a good man, and would be a friend to every body."
+
+"He is a very good man indeed, my Lord."
+
+There was now a silence.----Mr. Giffard then bowing, said, "Has your
+Lordship any further commands?"
+
+"Write to Sandford," said Lord Elmwood, hesitating as he spoke, "and
+tell him to have every thing performed as she desired. And whoever she
+may have selected for the guardian of her child, has my consent to act
+as such.--Nor in one instance, where I myself am not concerned, shall I
+oppose her will." The tears rushed into his eyes as he said this, and
+caused them to start in the steward's--observing which, he sternly
+resumed,
+
+"Do not suppose from this conversation, that any of those resolutions I
+have long since taken, are, or will be changed--they are the same; and
+shall continue inflexible."
+
+"I understand you, my Lord," replied Mr. Giffard, "your express orders,
+to me, as well as to every other person, remain just the same as
+formerly, never to mention this subject to you again."
+
+"They do, Sir."
+
+"My Lord, I always obeyed you, and hope I always shall."
+
+"I hope so too," he replied in a threatening accent--"Write to Sandford,"
+continued he, "to let him know my pleasure, and that is all you have to
+do."
+
+The steward bowed and withdrew.
+
+But before his letter arrived to Sandford, Sandford arrived in town; and
+Mr. Giffard related, word for word, what had passed between him and his
+Lord. Upon every occasion, and upon every topic, except that of Lady
+Elmwood and her child, Sandford was just as free with Lord Elmwood as
+he had ever been; and as usual (after his interview with the steward)
+went into his apartment without any previous notice. Lord Elmwood shook
+him by the hand, as upon all other meetings; and yet, whether his fear
+suggested it or not, Sandford thought he appeared more cool and reserved
+with him than formerly.
+
+During the whole day, the slightest mention of Lady Elmwood, or of her
+child, was cautiously avoided--and not till the evening, (after Sandford
+had risen to retire, and had wished Lord Elmwood good night) did he dare
+to mention the subject. He then, after taking leave, and going to the
+door--turned back and said, "My Lord,"--
+
+It was easy to guess on what he was preparing to speak--his voice failed,
+the tears began to trickle down his cheeks, he took out his
+handkerchief, and could proceed no farther.
+
+"I thought," said Lord Elmwood, angrily, "I thought I had given my
+orders upon the subject--did not my steward write them to you?"
+
+"He did, my Lord," said Sandford, humbly, "but I was set out before they
+arrived."
+
+"Has he not _told_ you my mind then?" cried he, more angrily still.
+
+"He has;" replied Sandford,--"But"----
+
+"But what, Sir?" cried Lord Elmwood.
+
+"Your Lordship," continued Sandford, "was mistaken in supposing that
+Lady Elmwood left a will, she left none."
+
+"No will? no will at all?" returned he, surprised.
+
+"No, my Lord," answered Sandford, "she wished every thing to be as you
+willed."
+
+"She left me all the trouble, then, you mean?"
+
+"No great trouble, Sir; for there are but two persons whom she has left
+behind her, to hope for your protection."
+
+"And who are those two?" cried he hastily.
+
+"One, my Lord, I need not name--the other is Miss Woodley."
+
+There was a delicacy and humility in the manner in which Sandford
+delivered this reply, that Lord Elmwood could _not_ resent, and he only
+returned,
+
+"Miss Woodley--is she yet living?"
+
+"She is--I left her at the house I came from."
+
+"Well then," answered he, "you must see that my steward provides for
+those two persons. That care I leave to you--and should there be any
+complaints, on you they fall."
+
+Sandford bowed and was going.
+
+"And now," resumed Lord Elmwood, in a more stern voice, "let me never
+hear again on this subject. You have power to act in regard to the
+persons you have mentioned; and upon you their situation, the care, the
+whole management of them depends--but be sure you never let them be named
+before me, from this moment."
+
+"Then," said Sandford, "as this must be the last time they are
+mentioned, I must now take the opportunity to disburden my mind of a
+charge"--
+
+"What charge?" cried Lord Elmwood, morosely interrupting him.
+
+"Though Lady Elmwood, my Lord, left no will behind her, she left a
+request."
+
+"A request!" said he, starting, "If it is for me to see her daughter, I
+tell you now before you ask, that I will not grant it--for by heaven (and
+he spoke and looked most solemnly) though I have no resentment against
+the innocent child, and wish her happy, yet I will never see her. Never,
+for her mother's sake, suffer my heart again to be softened by an object
+I might dote upon. Therefore, Sir, if that is the request, it is already
+answered; my will is fixed."
+
+"The request, my Lord," replied Sandford, (and he took out a pocket-book
+from whence he drew several papers) "is contained in this letter; nor do
+I rightly know what its contents are." And he held it out to him.
+
+"Is it Lady Elmwood's writing?" asked Lord Elmwood, extremely
+discomposed.
+
+"It is, my Lord.--She wrote it a few days before she died, and enjoined
+me to deliver it to you, with my own hands."
+
+"I refuse to read it:" cried he, putting it from him--and trembling while
+he did so.
+
+"She desired me," said Sandford, (still presenting the letter) "to
+conjure you to read it, _for her father's sake._"
+
+Lord Elmwood took it instantly. But as soon as it was in his hand, he
+seemed distressed to know what he should do with it--in what place to go
+and read it--or how to fortify himself against its contents. He appeared
+ashamed too, that he had been so far prevailed upon, and said, by way of
+excuse,
+
+"For Mr. Milner's sake I would do much--nay, any thing, but that to which
+I have just now sworn never to consent. For his sake I have borne a
+great deal--for his sake alone, his daughter died my wife. You know, no
+other motive than respect for him, prevented my divorcing her. Pray (and
+he hesitated) was she buried with him?"
+
+"No, my Lord--she expressed no such desire; and as that was the case, I
+did not think it necessary to carry the corpse so far."
+
+At the word corpse, Lord Elmwood shrunk, and looked shocked beyond
+measure--but recovering himself, said, "I am sorry for it; for he loved
+_her_ sincerely, if she did not love him--and I wish they had been buried
+together."
+
+"It is not then too late," said Sandford, and was going on--but the other
+interrupted him.
+
+"No, no--we will have no disturbing the dead."
+
+"Read her letter then," said Sandford, "and bid her rest in peace."
+
+"If it is in my power," returned he, "to grant what she asks, I will--but
+if her demand is what I apprehend, I cannot, I will not, bid her rest by
+complying. You know my resolution, my disposition, and take care how you
+provoke me. You may do an injury to the very person you are seeking to
+befriend--the very maintenance I mean to allow her daughter I can
+withdraw."
+
+Poor Sandford, all alarmed at this menace, replied with energy, "My
+Lord, unless you begin the subject, I never shall presume to mention it
+again."
+
+"I take you at your word, and in consequence of that, but of that alone,
+we are friends. Good night, Sir."
+
+Sandford bowed with humility, and they went to their separate
+bedchambers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+After Lord Elmwood had retired into his chamber, it was some time before
+he read the letter Sandford had given him. He first walked backwards and
+forwards in the room--he then began to take off some part of his dress,
+but he did it slowly. At length, he dismissed his valet, and sitting
+down, took the letter from his pocket. He looked at the seal, but not at
+the direction; for he seemed to dread seeing Lady Elmwood's handwriting.
+He then laid it on the table, and began again to undress. He did not
+proceed, but taking up the letter quickly, (with a kind of effort in
+making the resolution) broke it open. These were its contents:
+
+     "My Lord,
+
+     "Who writes this letter I well know--I well know also to whom it
+     is addressed--I feel with the most powerful force both our
+     situations; nor should I dare to offer you even this humble
+     petition, but that at the time you receive it, there will be no
+     such person as I am, in existence.
+
+     "For myself, then, all concern will be over--but there is a care
+     that pursues me to the grave, and threatens my want of repose
+     even there.
+
+     "I leave a child--I will not call her mine: that has undone
+     her--I will not call her yours; that will be of no avail--I
+     present her before you as the granddaughter of Mr. Milner. Oh! do
+     not refuse an asylum even in your own house, to the destitute
+     offspring of your friend; the last, and only remaining branch of
+     his family.
+
+     "Receive her into your household, be her condition there ever so
+     abject. I cannot write distinctly what I would--my senses are not
+     impaired, but the powers of expression are. The complaint of the
+     unfortunate child in the scriptures (a lesson I have studied) has
+     made this wish cling so fast to my heart, that without the
+     distant hope of its being fulfilled, death would have more
+     terrors than my weak mind could support.
+
+     "'_I will go to my father; how many servants live in my father's
+     house, and are fed with plenty, while I starve in a foreign
+     land?_'
+
+     "I do not ask a parent's festive rejoicing at her approach--I do
+     not even ask her father to behold her; but let her live under his
+     protection. For her grandfather's sake do not refuse this--to the
+     child of his child, whom he entrusted to your care, do not refuse
+     it.
+
+     "Be her host; I remit the tie of being her parent. Never see
+     her--but let her sometimes live under the same roof with you.
+
+     "It is Miss Milner, your ward, to whom you never refused a
+     request, who supplicates you--not now for your nephew, Rushbrook,
+     but for one so much more dear, that a denial----she dares not
+     suffer her thoughts to glance that way.--She will hope--and in
+     that hope, bids you farewell, with all the love she ever bore
+     you.
+
+     "Farewell Dorriforth--farewell Lord Elmwood--and before you throw
+     this letter from you with contempt or anger, cast your
+     imagination into the grave where I am lying. Reflect upon all the
+     days of my past life--the anxious moments I have known, and what
+     has been their end. Behold _me_, also--in my altered face there
+     is no anxiety--no joy or sorrow--all is over.----My whole frame
+     is motionless--my heart beats no more. Look at my horrid
+     habitation, too,--and ask yourself--whether I am an object of
+     resentment?"
+
+While Lord Elmwood read this letter, it trembled in his hand: he once or
+twice wiped the tears from his eyes as he read, and once laid the letter
+down for a few minutes. At its conclusion, the tears flowed fast down
+his face; but he seemed both ashamed and angry they did, and was going
+to throw the paper upon the fire--he however suddenly checked his hand,
+and putting it hastily into his pocket, went to bed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The next morning, when Lord Elmwood and Sandford met at breakfast, the
+latter was pale with fear for the success of Lady Elmwood's letter--the
+Earl was pale too, but there was besides upon his face, something which
+evidently marked he was displeased. Sandford observed it, and was all
+humbleness, both in his words and looks, in order to soften him.
+
+As soon as the breakfast was removed, Lord Elmwood drew the letter from
+his pocket, and holding it towards Sandford, said,
+
+"That, may be of more value to you, than it is to me, therefore I give
+it you."
+
+Sandford called up a look of surprise, as if he did not know the letter
+again.
+
+"'Tis Lady Elmwood's letter," said Lord Elmwood, "and I return it to you
+for two reasons."
+
+Sandford took it, and putting it up, asked fearfully, "What those two
+reasons were?"
+
+"First," said he, "because I think it is a relick you may like to
+preserve--my second reason is, that you may shew it to her daughter, and
+let her know why, and on what conditions, I grant her mother's request."
+
+"You _do_ then grant it?" cried Sandford joyfully; "I thank you--you are
+kind--you are considerate."
+
+"Be not hasty in your gratitude; you may have cause to recall it."
+
+"I know what you have said;" replied Sandford, "you have said you grant
+Lady Elmwood's request--you cannot recall these words, nor I my
+gratitude."
+
+"Do you know what her request is?" returned he.
+
+"Not exactly, my Lord--I told you before, I did not; but it is no doubt
+something in favour of her child."
+
+"I think not," he replied: "such as it is, however, I grant it: but in
+the strictest sense of the word--no farther--and one neglect of my
+commands, releases me from this promise totally."
+
+"We will take care, Sir, not to disobey them."
+
+"Then listen to what they are, for to you I give the charge of
+delivering them again. Lady Elmwood has petitioned me in the name of her
+father, (a name I reverence) to give his grandchild the sanction of my
+protection. In the literal sense, to suffer that she may reside at one
+of my seats; dispensing at the same time with my ever seeing her."
+
+"And you will comply?"
+
+"I will, till she encroaches on this concession, and dares to hope for a
+greater. I will, while she avoids my sight, or the giving me any
+remembrance of her. But if, whether by design or by accident, I ever see
+or hear from her, that moment, my compliance to her mother's
+supplication ceases, and I abandon her once more."
+
+Sandford sighed. Lord Elmwood continued:
+
+"I am glad her request stopped where it did. I would rather comply with
+her desires than not; and I rejoice they are such as I can grant with
+ease and honour to myself. I am seldom now at Elmwood castle; let her
+daughter go there; the few weeks or months I am down in the summer, she
+may easily in that extensive house avoid me--while she does, she lives in
+security--when she does not--you know my resolution."
+
+Sandford bowed--the Earl resumed:
+
+"Nor can it be a hardship to obey this command--she cannot lament the
+separation from a parent whom she never knew--" Sandford was going
+eagerly to prove the error of that assertion, but he prevented him,
+saying, "In a word--without farther argument--if she obeys me in this, I
+will provide for her as my daughter during my life, and leave her a
+fortune at my death--but if she dares--"
+
+Sandford interrupted the menace prepared for utterance, saying, "and you
+still mean, I suppose, to make Mr. Rushbrook your heir?"
+
+"Have you not heard me say so? And do you imagine I have changed my
+determination? I am not given to alter my resolutions, Mr. Sandford; and
+I thought you knew I was not; besides, will not my title be extinct,
+whoever I make my heir? Could any thing but a son have preserved my
+title?"
+
+"Then it is yet possible----"
+
+"By marrying again, you mean? No--no--I have had enough of marriage--and
+Henry Rushbrook I shall leave my heir. Therefore, Sir----"
+
+"My Lord, I do not presume--"
+
+"Do not, Sandford, and we may still be good friends. But I am not to be
+controlled as formerly; my temper is changed of late; changed to what
+it was originally; till your religious precepts reformed it. You may
+remember, how troublesome it was, to conquer my stubborn disposition in
+my youth; _then_, indeed, you _did_; but in my more advanced age, you
+will find the task too difficult."
+
+Sandford again repeated, "He should not presume--"
+
+To which Lord Elmwood again made answer, "Do not, Sandford;" and added,
+"for I have a sincere regard for you, and should be loath, at these
+years, to quarrel with you seriously."
+
+Sandford turned away his head to conceal his feelings.
+
+"Nay, if we do quarrel," resumed Lord Elmwood, "You know it must be your
+own fault; and as this is a theme the most likely of any, nay, the only
+one on which we can have a difference (such as we cannot forgive) take
+care never from this day to resume it; indeed that of itself, would be
+an offence I could not pardon. I have been clear and explicit in all I
+have said; there can be no fear of mistaking my meaning; therefore, all
+future explanation is unnecessary--nor will I permit a word, or a hint on
+the subject from any one, without shewing my resentment even to the hour
+of my death." He was going out of the room.
+
+"But before we bid adieu to the subject for ever, my Lord--there was
+another person whom I named to you--"
+
+"Do you mean Miss Woodley? Oh, by all means let her live at Elmwood
+House too. On consideration, I have no objection to see Miss Woodley at
+any time--I shall be glad to see her--do not let _her_ be frightened at
+me--to her I shall be the same, that I have always been."
+
+"She is a good woman, my Lord," cried Sandford, pleased.
+
+"You need not tell me that, Mr. Sandford; I know her worth." And he left
+the room.
+
+Sandford, to relieve Miss Woodley and her lovely charge from the
+suspence in which he had left them, prepared to set off for their
+habitation, in order himself to conduct them from thence to Elmwood
+Castle, and appoint some retired part of it for Lady Matilda, against
+the annual visit her father should pay there. But before he left London,
+Giffard, the steward, took an opportunity to wait upon him, and let him
+know, that his Lord had acquainted him with the consent he had given for
+his daughter to be admitted at Elmwood Castle, and upon what
+restrictions: that he had farther uttered the severest threats, should
+these restrictions ever be infringed. Sandford thanked Giffard for his
+friendly information. It served him as a second warning of the
+circumspection that was necessary; and having taken leave of his friend
+and patron, under the pretence that "He could not live in the smoke of
+London," he set out for the North.
+
+It is unnecessary to say with what delight Sandford was received by Miss
+Woodley, and the hapless daughter of Lady Elmwood, even before he told
+his errand. They both loved him sincerely; more especially Lady Matilda,
+whose forlorn state, and innocent sufferings, had ever excited his
+compassion and caused him to treat her with affection, tenderness, and
+respect. She knew, too, how much he had been her mother's friend; for
+that, she also loved him; and for being honoured with the friendship of
+her father, she looked up to him with reverence. For Matilda (with an
+excellent understanding, a sedateness above her years, and early
+accustomed to the most private converse between Lady Elmwood and Miss
+Woodley) was perfectly acquainted with the whole fatal history of her
+mother; and was, by her, taught the respect and admiration of her
+father's virtues which they justly merited.
+
+Notwithstanding the joy of Mr. Sandford's presence, once more to cheer
+their solitary dwelling; no sooner were the first kind greetings over,
+than the dread of what he might have to inform them of, possessed poor
+Matilda and Miss Woodley so powerfully, that all their gladness was
+changed into affright. Their apprehensions were far more forcible than
+their curiosity; they dared not ask a question, and even began to wish
+he would continue silent upon the subject on which they feared to
+listen. For near two hours he was so.----At length, after a short interval
+from speaking, (during which they waited with anxiety for what he might
+next say) he turned to Lady Matilda, and said,
+
+"You don't ask for your father, my dear."
+
+"I did not know it was proper:" she replied, timidly.
+
+"It is always proper," answered Sandford, "for _you_ to think of him,
+though he should never think on you."
+
+She burst into tears, and said that she "_Did_ think of him, but she
+felt an apprehension of mentioning his name"--and she wept bitterly while
+she spoke.
+
+"Do not think I reproved you," said Sandford; "I only told you what was
+right."
+
+"Nay," said Miss Woodley, "she does not weep for that--she fears her
+father has not complied with her mother's request. Perhaps--not even read
+her letter?"
+
+"Yes, he _has_ read it," returned Sandford.
+
+"Oh Heavens!" exclaimed Matilda, clasping her hands together, and the
+tears falling still faster.
+
+"Do not be so much alarmed, my dear," said Miss Woodley; "you know we
+are prepared for the worst; and you know you promised your mother,
+whatever your fate should be, to submit with patience."
+
+"Yes," replied Matilda, "and I am prepared for every thing, but my
+father's refusal to my dear mother."
+
+"Your father has not refused your mother's request," replied Sandford.
+
+She was leaping from her seat in ecstasy.
+
+"But," continued he, "do you know what her request was?"
+
+"Not entirely," replied Matilda, "and since it is granted, I am
+careless. But she told me her letter concerned none but me."
+
+To explain perfectly to Matilda, Lady Elmwood's letter, and that she
+might perfectly understand upon what terms she was admitted into Elmwood
+Castle, Sandford now read the letter to her; and repeated, as nearly as
+he could remember, the whole of the conversation that passed between
+Lord Elmwood and himself; not even sparing, through an erroneous
+delicacy, any of those threats her father had denounced, should she dare
+to transgress the limits he prescribed--nor did he try to soften, in one
+instance, a word he uttered. She listened sometimes with tears,
+sometimes with hope, but always with awe, and with terror, to every
+sentence in which her father was concerned. Once she called him
+cruel--then exclaimed "He was kind;" but at the end of Sandford's
+intelligence, concluded "that she was happy and grateful for the boon
+bestowed." Even her mother had not a more exalted idea of Lord Elmwood's
+worth than his daughter had formed; and this little bounty just
+obtained, would not have been greater in her mother's estimation, than
+it was now in hers. Miss Woodley, too, smiled at the prospect before
+her--she esteemed Lord Elmwood beyond any mortal living--she was proud to
+hear what he had said in her praise, and overjoyed at the prospect of
+being once again in his company; painting at the same time a thousand
+bright hopes, from watching every emotion of his soul, and catching
+every proper occasion to excite or increase his paternal sentiments. Yet
+she had the prudence to conceal those vague hopes from his child, lest a
+disappointment might prove fatal; and assuming a behaviour neither too
+much elated or depressed, she advised that they should hope for the
+best, but yet, as usual, expect and prepare for the worst.----After taking
+measures for quitting their melancholy abode, within the fortnight, they
+all departed for Elmwood Castle--Matilda, Miss Woodley, and even
+Sandford, first visiting Lady Elmwood's grave, and bedewing it with
+their tears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+It was on a dark evening in the month of March, that Lady Matilda,
+accompanied by Sandford and Miss Woodley, arrived at Elmwood Castle, the
+magnificent seat of her father. Sandford chose the evening, rather to
+steal into the house privately, than by any appearance of parade, to
+suffer Lord Elmwood to be reminded of their arrival by the public
+prints, or by any other accident. Nor would he give the neighbours or
+servants reason to suppose, the daughter of their Lord was admitted into
+his house, in any other situation than that, in which she really was
+permitted to be there.
+
+As the porter opened the gates of the avenue to the carriage that
+brought them, Matilda felt an awful, and yet gladsome sensation, which
+no terms can describe. As she entered the door of the house this
+sensation increased--and as she passed along the spacious hall, the
+splendid staircase, and many stately apartments, wonder, with a crowd of
+the tenderest, yet most afflicting sentiments, rushed to her heart. She
+gazed with astonishment!--she reflected with still more.
+
+"And is _my father_ the master of this house?" she cried--"and was my
+mother once the mistress of this castle?" Here tears relieved her from a
+part of that burthen, which was before insupportable.
+
+"Yes," replied Sandford, "and you are the mistress of it now, till your
+father arrives."
+
+"Good God!" exclaimed she, "and will he ever arrive? and shall I live to
+sleep under the same roof with my father?"
+
+"My dear," replied Miss Woodley, "have not you been told so?"
+
+"Yes," said she, "but though I heard it with extreme pleasure, yet the
+idea never so forcibly affected me as at this moment. I now feel, as the
+reality approaches, that to be admitted here, is kindness enough--I do
+not ask for more--I am now convinced, from what this trial makes me feel,
+that to see my father, would occasion emotions I could not survive."
+
+The next morning gave to Matilda, more objects of admiration and wonder,
+as she walked over the extensive gardens, groves, and other pleasure
+grounds belonging to the house. She, who had never been beyond the
+dreary, ruinous places which her deceased mother had made her residence,
+was naturally struck with amazement and delight at the grandeur of a
+seat, which travellers came for miles to see, nor thought their time
+mispent.
+
+There was one object, however, among all she saw, which attracted her
+attention above the rest, and she would stand for hours to look at it.
+This was a whole length portrait of Lord Elmwood, esteemed a very
+capital picture, and a perfect likeness--to this picture she would sigh
+and weep; though when it was first pointed out to her, she shrunk back
+with fear, and it was some time before she dared venture to cast her
+eyes completely upon it. In the features of her father she was proud to
+discern the exact mould in which her own appeared to have been modelled;
+yet Matilda's person, shape, and complexion were so extremely like what
+her mother's once were, that at the first glance she appeared to have a
+still greater resemblance of her, than of her father--but her mind and
+manners were all Lord Elmwood's; softened by the delicacy of her sex,
+the extreme tenderness of her heart, and the melancholy of her
+situation.
+
+She was now in her seventeenth year--of the same age, within a year and a
+few months, of her mother, when she became the ward of Dorriforth. She
+was just three years old when her father went abroad, and remembered
+something of bidding him farewell; but more of taking cherries from his
+hand, as he pulled them from the tree to give to her.
+
+Educated in the school of adversity, and inured to retirement from her
+infancy, she had acquired a taste for all those amusements which a
+recluse life affords. She was fond of walking and riding--was
+accomplished in the arts of music and drawing, by the most careful
+instructions of her mother--and as a scholar, she excelled most of her
+sex, from the pains which Sandford had taken with that part of her
+education, and the superior abilities he possessed for the task.
+
+In devoting certain hours of the day to study with him, others to music,
+riding, and such amusements, Matilda's time never appeared tedious at
+Elmwood Castle, although she received and paid no one visit--for it was
+soon divulged in the neighbourhood, upon what stipulation she resided at
+her father's, and studiously intimated, that the most prudent and
+friendly behaviour of her true friends, would be, to take no notice
+whatever that she lived among them: and as Lord Elmwood's will was a law
+all around, such was the consequence of that will, known, or merely
+supposed.
+
+Neither did Miss Woodley regret the want of visitors, but found herself
+far more satisfied in her present situation, than her most sanguine
+hopes could have formed. She had a companion whom she loved with an
+equal fondness, with which she had loved her deceased mother; and
+frequently, in this charming mansion, where she had so often beheld Lady
+Elmwood, her imagination represented Matilda as her friend risen from
+the grave, in her former youth, health, and exquisite beauty.
+
+In peace, in content, though not in happiness, the days and weeks passed
+away till about the middle of August, when preparations began to be made
+for the arrival of Lord Elmwood. The week in which he was to come was at
+length fixed, and some part of his retinue was arrived before him. When
+this was told Matilda, she started, and looked just as her mother at her
+age had often done, when in spite of her love, she was conscious that
+she had offended him, and was terrified at his approach. Sandford
+observing this, put out his hand, and taking hers, shook it kindly; and
+bade her (but it was not in a cheering tone) "not be afraid." This gave
+her no confidence; and she began, before her father's arrival, to
+seclude herself in the apartments allotted for her during the time of
+his stay; and in the timorous expectation of his coming, her appetite
+declined, and she lost all her colour. Even Miss Woodley, whose spirits
+had been for some time elated with the hopes she had formed, on drawing
+near to the test, found those hopes vanished; and though she endeavoured
+to conceal it, she was full of apprehensions. Sandford, had certainly
+fewer fears than either; yet upon the eve of the day on which his patron
+was to arrive, he was evidently cast down.
+
+Lady Matilda once asked him--"Are you certain, Mr. Sandford, you made no
+mistake in respect to what Lord Elmwood said, when he granted my
+mother's request? Are you sure he _did_ grant it? Was there nothing
+equivocal on which he may ground his displeasure should he be told that
+I am here? Oh do not let me hazard being once again turned out of his
+house! Oh! save me from provoking him perhaps to curse me." And here she
+clasped her hands together with the most fervent petition, in the dread
+of what might happen.
+
+"If you doubt my words or my senses," said Sandford, "call Giffard, and
+let him inform you; the same words were repeated to him as to me."
+
+Though from her reason, Matilda could not doubt of any mistake from Mr.
+Sandford, yet her fears suggested a thousand scruples; and this
+reference to the steward she received with the utmost satisfaction,
+(though she did not think it necessary to apply to him) as it perfectly
+convinced her of the folly of the suspicions she had entertained.
+
+"And yet, Mr. Sandford," said she, "if it is so, why are you less
+cheerful than you were? I cannot help thinking but it must be your
+expectation of Lord Elmwood, which has occasioned this change."
+
+"I don't know," replied Sandford, carelessly, "but I believe I am grown
+afraid of your father. His temper is a great deal altered from what it
+once was--he raises his voice, and uses harsh expressions upon the least
+provocation--his eyes flash lightning, and his face is distorted with
+anger upon the slightest motives--he turns away his old servants at a
+moment's warning, and no concession can make their peace. In a word, I
+am more at my ease when I am away from him--and I really believe," added
+he with a smile, but with a tear at the same time, "I really believe, I
+am more afraid of _him_ in my age, than he was of _me_ when he was a
+boy."
+
+Miss Woodley was present; she and Matilda looked at one another; and
+each of them saw the other turn pale at this description.
+
+The day at length came, on which Lord Elmwood was expected to dinner. It
+would have been a high gratification to his daughter to have gone to the
+topmost window of the house, and have only beheld his carriage enter the
+avenue; but it was a gratification which her fears, her tremor, her
+extreme sensibility would not permit her to enjoy.
+
+Miss Woodley and she, sat down that day to dinner in their retired
+apartments, which were detached from the other part of the house by a
+gallery; and of the door leading to the gallery, they had a key to
+impede any one from passing that way, without first ringing a bell; to
+answer which, was the sole employment of a servant, who was placed there
+during the Earl's residence, lest by any accident he might chance to
+come near that unfrequented part of the house, on which occasion the man
+was to give immediate notice to his Lady.
+
+Matilda and Miss Woodley sat down to dinner, but did not dine. Sandford
+dined as usual, with Lord Elmwood. When tea was brought, Miss Woodley
+asked the servant, who attended, if he had seen his Lord. The man
+answered, "Yes, Madam; and he looks vastly well." Matilda wept with joy
+to hear it.
+
+About nine in the evening, Sandford rang at the bell, and was
+admitted--never had he been so welcome--Matilda hung upon him, as if his
+recent interview with her father, had endeared him to her more than
+ever; and staring anxiously in his face, seemed to enquire of him
+something about Lord Elmwood, and something that should not alarm her.
+
+"Well--how do you find yourself?" said he to her.
+
+"How are you, Mr. Sandford?" she returned, with a sigh.
+
+"Oh! very well," replied he.
+
+"Is my Lord in a good temper?" asked Miss Woodley.
+
+"Yes; very well," replied Sandford, with indifference.
+
+"Did he seem glad to see you?" asked Matilda.
+
+"He shook me by the hand," replied Sandford.
+
+"That was a sign he was glad to see you, was it not?" said Matilda.
+
+"Yes; but he could not do less."
+
+"Nor more:" replied she.
+
+"He looks very well, our servant tells us," said Miss Woodley.
+
+"Extremely well indeed," answered Sandford: "and to tell the truth, I
+never saw him in better spirits."
+
+"That is well--" said Matilda, and sighed a weight of fears from her
+heart.
+
+"Where is he now, Mr. Sandford?"
+
+"Gone to take a walk about his grounds, and I stole here in the mean
+time."
+
+"What was your conversation during dinner?" asked Miss Woodley.
+
+"Horses, hay, farming, and politics."
+
+"Won't you sup with him?"
+
+"I shall see him again before I go to bed."
+
+"And again to-morrow!" cried Matilda, "what happiness!"
+
+"He has visitors to-morrow," said Sandford, "coming for a week or two."
+
+"Thank Heaven," said Miss Woodley, "he will then be diverted from
+thinking on us."
+
+"Do you know," returned Sandford, "it is my firm opinion, that his
+thinking of ye at present, is the cause of his good spirits."
+
+"Oh, Heavens!" cried Matilda, lifting up her hands with rapture.
+
+"Nay, do not mistake me," said Sandford; "I would not have you build a
+foundation for joy upon this surmise; for if he is in spirits that you
+are in this house--so near him--positively under his protection--yet he
+will not allow himself to think it is the cause of his content--and the
+sentiments he has adopted, and which are now become natural to him, will
+remain the same as ever; nay, perhaps with greater force, should he
+suspect his weakness (as he calls it) acting in opposition to them."
+
+"If he does but think of me with tenderness," cried Matilda, "I am
+recompensed."
+
+"And what recompense would his kind thoughts be to you," said Sandford,
+"were he to turn you out to beggary?"
+
+"A great deal--a great deal," she replied.
+
+"But how are you to know he has these kind thoughts, if he gives you no
+proof of them?"
+
+"No, Mr. Sandford; but _supposing_ we could know them without proof."
+
+"But as that is impossible," answered he, "I shall suppose, till proof
+appears, that I have been mistaken in my conjectures."
+
+Matilda looked deeply concerned that the argument should conclude in her
+disappointment; for to have believed herself thought of with tenderness
+by her father, would have alone constituted her happiness.
+
+When the servant came up with something by way of supper, he told Mr.
+Sandford that his Lord was returned from his walk and had enquired for
+him; Sandford immediately bade his companions good night, and left them.
+
+"How strange is this!" cried Matilda, when Miss Woodley and she were
+alone, "My father within a few rooms of me, and yet I am debarred from
+seeing him! Only by walking a few paces I could be at his feet, and
+perhaps receive his blessing!"
+
+"You make me shudder," cried Miss Woodley; "but some spirits less timid
+than mine, might perhaps advise you to the experiment."
+
+"Not for worlds!" returned Matilda, "no counsel could tempt me to such
+temerity--and yet to entertain the thought that it is possible I could do
+this, is a source of infinite comfort."
+
+This conversation lasted till bed time, and later; for they sat up
+beyond their usual hour to indulge it.
+
+Miss Woodley slept little, but Matilda less--she awaked repeatedly during
+the night, and every time sighed to herself, "I sleep in the same house
+with my father! Blessed spirit of my mother, look down and rejoice."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+The next day the whole Castle appeared to Lady Matilda (though she was
+in some degree retired from it) all tumult and bustle, as was usually
+the case while Lord Elmwood was there. She saw from her windows, the
+servants running across the yards and park; horses and carriages driving
+with fury; all the suite of a nobleman; and it sometimes elated, at
+other times depressed her.
+
+These impressions however, and others of fear and anxiety, which her
+father's arrival had excited, by degrees wore off; and after some little
+time, she was in the same tranquil state that she enjoyed before he
+came.
+
+He had visitors, who passed a week or two with him; he paid visits
+himself for several days; and thus the time stole away, till it was
+about four weeks from the time that he had arrived; in which long
+period, Sandford, with all his penetration, could never clearly discover
+whether he had once called to mind that his daughter was living in the
+same house. He had not once named her (that was not extraordinary)
+consequently no one dared name her to him; but he had not even mentioned
+Miss Woodley, of whom he had so lately spoken in the kindest terms, and
+had said, "He should take pleasure in seeing her again." From these
+contradictions in Lord Elmwood's behaviour in respect to her, it was
+Miss Woodley's plan neither to throw herself in his way, nor avoid him.
+She therefore frequently walked about the house while he was in it, not
+indeed entirely without restraint, but at least with the show of
+liberty. This freedom, indulged for some time without peril, became at
+last less cautious; and as no ill consequences had arisen from its
+practice, her scruples gradually ceased.
+
+One morning, however, as she was crossing the large hall, thoughtless of
+danger, a footstep at a distance alarmed her almost without knowing why.
+She stopped for a moment, thinking to return; the steps approached
+quicker, and before she could retreat, she beheld Lord Elmwood at the
+other end of the hall, and perceived that he saw her. It was too late to
+hesitate what was to be done; she could not go back, and had not courage
+to go on; she therefore stood still. Disconcerted, and much affected at
+his sight, (their former intimacy coming to her mind with the many
+years, and many sad occurrences passed, since she last saw him) all her
+intentions, all her meditated plans how to conduct herself on such an
+occasion, gave way to a sudden shock--and to make the meeting yet more
+distressing, her very fright, she knew, would serve to recall more
+powerfully to his mind, the subject she most wished him to forget. The
+steward was with him, and as they came up close by her side, Giffard
+observing him look at her earnestly, said softly, but so as she heard
+him, "My Lord, it is Miss Woodley." Lord Elmwood took off his hat
+instantly--and, with an apparent friendly warmth, laying hold of her
+hand, he said, "Indeed, Miss Woodley, I did not know you--I am very glad
+to see you:" and while he spoke, shook her hand with a cordiality which
+her tender heart could not bear--and never did she feel so hard a
+struggle as to restrain her tears. But the thought of Matilda's fate--the
+idea of awakening in his mind a sentiment that might irritate him
+against his child, wrought more forcibly than every other effort; and
+though she could not reply distinctly, she replied without weeping.
+Whether he saw her embarrassment, and wished to release her from it, or
+was in haste to conceal his own, he left her almost instantly: but not
+till he had entreated she would dine that very day with him and Mr.
+Sandford, who were to dine without other company. She curtsied assent,
+and flew to tell Matilda what had occurred. After listening with anxiety
+and with joy to all she told, Matilda laid hold of that hand which she
+said Lord Elmwood had held, and pressed it to her lips with love and
+reverence.
+
+When Miss Woodley made her appearance at dinner, Sandford, (who had not
+seen her since the invitation, and did not know of it) looked amazed; on
+which Lord Elmwood said, "Do you know, Sandford, I met Miss Woodley this
+morning, and had it not been for Giffard, I should have passed her
+without knowing her--but Miss Woodley, if I am not so much altered but
+that you knew me, I take it unkind you did not speak first." She was
+unable to speak even now--he saw it, and changed the conversation; when
+Sandford eagerly joined in discourse, which relieved him from the pain
+of the former.
+
+As they advanced in their dinner, the embarrassment of Miss Woodley and
+of Mr. Sandford diminished; Lord Elmwood in his turn became, not
+embarrassed, but absent and melancholy. He now and then sighed
+heavily--and called for wine much oftener than he was accustomed.
+
+When Miss Woodley took her leave, he invited her to dine with him and
+Sandford whenever it was convenient to her; he said, besides, many
+things of the same kind, and all with the utmost civility, yet not with
+that warmth with which he had spoken in the morning--into _that_ he had
+been surprised--his coolness was the effect of reflection.
+
+When she came to Lady Matilda, and Sandford had joined them, they talked
+and deliberated on what had passed.
+
+"You acknowledge Mr. Sandford," said Miss Woodley, "that you think my
+presence affected Lord Elmwood, so as to make him much more thoughtful
+than usual; if you imagine these thoughts were upon Lady Elmwood, I
+will never intrude again; but if you suppose that I made him think upon
+his daughter, I cannot go too often."
+
+"I don't see how he can divide those two objects in his mind," replied
+Sandford, "therefore you must e'en visit him on, and take your chance,
+what reflections you may cause--but, be they what they will, time will
+steal away from you that power of affecting him."
+
+She concurred in the opinion, and occasionally she walked into Lord
+Elmwood's apartments, dined, or took her coffee with him, as the
+accident suited; and observed, according to Sandford's prediction, that
+time wore off the impression her visits first made. Lord Elmwood now
+became just the same before her as before others. She easily discerned,
+too, through all that politeness which he assumed--that he was no longer
+the considerate, the forbearing character he formerly was; but haughty,
+impatient, imperious, and more than ever, _implacable._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+When Lord Elmwood had been at his country seat about six weeks, Mr.
+Rushbrook, his nephew, and his adopted child--that friendless boy whom
+poor Lady Elmwood first introduced into his uncle's house, and by her
+kindness preserved there--arrived from his travels, and was received by
+his uncle with all the marks of affection due to the man he thought
+worthy to be his heir. Rushbrook had been a beautiful boy, and was now
+an extremely handsome young man; he had made unusual progress in his
+studies, had completed the tour of Italy and Germany, and returned home
+with the air and address of a perfect man of fashion--there was, besides,
+an elegance and persuasion in his manner almost irresistible. Yet with
+all those accomplishments, when he was introduced to Sandford, and put
+forth his hand to take his, Sandford, with evident reluctance, gave it
+to him; and when Lord Elmwood asked him, in the young man's presence,
+"If he did not think his nephew greatly improved?" He looked at him from
+head to foot, and muttered "He could not say he observed it." The
+colour heightened in Mr. Rushbrook's face upon the occasion, but he was
+too well bred not to be in perfect good humour.
+
+Sandford saw this young man treated, in the house of Lord Elmwood, with
+the same respect and attention as if he had been his son; and it was but
+probable the old priest would make a comparison between the situation of
+him, and of Lady Matilda Elmwood. Before her, it was Sandford's meaning
+to have concealed his thoughts upon the subject, and never to have
+mentioned it but with composure; that was, however, impossible--unused to
+hide his feelings, at the name of Rushbrook, his countenance would
+always change, and a sarcastic sneer, sometimes a frown of resentment,
+would force its way in spite of his resolution. Miss Woodley, too, with
+all her boundless charity and good will, was, upon this occasion,
+induced to limit their excess; and they did not extend so far as to
+reach poor Rushbrook. She even, and in _reality_, did not think him
+handsome or engaging in his manners--she thought his gaiety
+frivolousness, his complaisance affectation, and his good humour
+impertinence. It was impossible to conceal those unfavourable sentiments
+entirely from Matilda; for when the subject arose, as it frequently did,
+Miss Woodley's undisguised heart, and Sandford's undisguised
+countenance, told them instantly. Matilda had the understanding to
+imagine, that she was, perhaps, the object who had thus deformed Mr.
+Rushbrook, and frequently (though he was a stranger to her, and one who
+had caused her many a jealous heart-ache) frequently she would speak in
+his vindication.
+
+"You are very good," said Sandford, one day to her; "you like him,
+because you know your father loves him."
+
+This was a hard sentence for the daughter of Lord Elmwood to hear, to
+whom her father's love would have been more precious than any other
+blessing.--She, however, checked the assault of envy, and kindly replied,
+
+"My mother loved him too, Mr. Sandford."
+
+"Yes," answered Sandford, "he has been a _grateful_ man to your poor
+mother.--She did not suppose when she took him into the house; when she
+intreated your father to take him; and through her caresses and
+officious praises of him, first gave him that power which he now
+possesses over his uncle; she little foresaw, at that time, his
+ingratitude, and its effects."
+
+"Very true," said Miss Woodley, with a heavy sigh.
+
+"What ingratitude?" asked Matilda, "do you suppose Mr. Rushbrook is the
+cause that my father will not see me? Oh do not pay Lord Elmwood's
+motive so ill a compliment."
+
+"I do not say that he is the absolute cause," returned Sandford; "but if
+a parent's heart is void, I would have it remain so, till its lawful
+owner is replaced--usurpers I detest."
+
+"No one can take Lord Elmwood's heart by force," replied his daughter,
+"it must, I believe, be a free gift to the possessor; and as such,
+whoever has it, has a right to it."
+
+In this manner she would plead the young man's excuse--perhaps but to
+hear what could be said in his disfavour, for secretly his name was
+bitter to her--and once she exclaimed in vexation, on Sandford's saying
+Lord Elmwood and Mr. Rushbrook were gone out shooting together,
+
+"All that pleasure is now eclipsed which I used to take in listening to
+the report of my father's gun, for I cannot now distinguish his, from
+his parasite's."
+
+Sandford, (much as he disliked Rushbrook) for this expression which
+comprised her father in the reflection, turned to Matilda in extreme
+anger--but as he saw the colour mount into her face, for what, in the
+strong feelings of her heart had escaped her lips, he did not say a
+word--and by her tears that followed, he rejoiced to see how much she
+reproved _herself._
+
+Miss Woodley, vexed to the heart, and provoked every time she saw Lord
+Elmwood and Rushbrook together, and saw the familiar terms on which this
+young man lived with his benefactor, now made her visits to him very
+seldom. If Lord Elmwood observed this, he did not appear to observe it;
+and though he received her politely when she did pay him a visit, it was
+always very coldly; nor did she suppose if she never went, he would ever
+ask for her. For his daughter's sake, however, she thought it right
+sometimes to shew herself before him; for she knew it must be
+impossible that, with all his apparent indifference, he could ever see
+_her_ without thinking for a moment on his child; and what one fortunate
+thought might some time bring about, was an object much too serious for
+her to overlook. She therefore, after remaining confined to her
+apartments near three weeks, (excepting those anxious walks she and
+Matilda stole, while Lord Elmwood dined, or before he rose in a morning)
+went one forenoon into his apartments, where, as usual, she found him,
+with Mr. Sandford, and Mr. Rushbrook. After she had sat about half an
+hour, conversing with them all, though but very little with the latter,
+Lord Elmwood was called out of the room upon some business; presently
+after, Sandford; and now, by no means pleased with the companion with
+whom she was left, she rose, and was going likewise, when Rushbrook
+fixed his speaking eyes upon her, and cried,
+
+"Miss Woodley, will you pardon me what I am going to say?"
+
+"Certainly, Sir. You can, I am sure, say nothing but what I must
+forgive." But she made this reply with a distance and a reserve, very
+unlike the usual manners of Miss Woodley.
+
+He looked at her earnestly and cried, "Ah! Miss Woodley, you don't
+behave so kindly to me as you used to do!"
+
+"I do not understand you, Sir," she replied very gravely; "Times are
+changed, Mr. Rushbrook, since you were last here--you were then but a
+child."
+
+"Yet I love all those persons now, that I loved then," replied he; "and
+so I shall for ever."
+
+"But you mistake, Mr. Rushbrook; I was not even then so very much the
+object of your affections--there were other ladies you loved better.
+Perhaps you don't remember Lady Elmwood?"
+
+"Don't I," cried he, "Oh!" (clasping his hands and lifting up his eyes
+to heaven) "shall I ever forget her?"
+
+That moment Lord Elmwood opened the door; the conversation of course
+that moment ended; but confusion, at the sudden surprise, was on the
+face of both parties--he saw it, and looked at each of them by turns,
+with a sternness that made poor Miss Woodley ready to faint; while
+Rushbrook, with the most natural and happy laugh that ever was affected,
+cried, "No, don't tell my Lord, pray Miss Woodley." She was more
+confused than before, and Lord Elmwood turning to him, asked what the
+subject was. By this time he had invented one, and, continuing his
+laugh, said, "Miss Woodley, my Lord, will to this day protest that she
+saw my apparition when I was a boy; and she says it is a sign I shall
+die young, and is really much affected at it."
+
+Lord Elmwood turned away before this ridiculous speech was concluded;
+yet so well had it been acted, that he did not for an instant doubt its
+truth.
+
+Miss Woodley felt herself greatly relieved; and yet so little is it in
+the power of those we dislike to do any thing to please us, that from
+this very circumstance, she formed a more unfavourable opinion of Mr.
+Rushbrook than she had done before. She saw in this little incident the
+art of dissimulation, cunning, and duplicity in its most glaring shape;
+and detested the method by which they had each escaped Lord Elmwood's
+suspicion, and perhaps anger, the more, because it was so dexterously
+managed.
+
+Lady Matilda and Sandford were both in their turns informed of this
+trait in Mr. Rushbrook's character; and although Miss Woodley had the
+best of dispositions, and upon every occasion spoke the strictest truth,
+yet in relating this occurrence, she did not speak _all_ the truth; for
+every circumstance that would have told to the young man's advantage,
+_literally_ had slipped her memory.
+
+The twenty-ninth of October arrived; on which a dinner, a ball, and
+supper, was given by Lord Elmwood to all the neighbouring gentry--the
+peasants also dined in the park off a roasted bullock, several casks of
+ale were distributed, and the bells of the village rung. Matilda, who
+heard and saw some part of this festivity from her windows, inquired the
+cause; but even the servant who waited upon her had too much sensibility
+to tell her, and answered, "He did not know." Miss Woodley however, soon
+learned the reason, and groaning with the painful secret, informed her,
+"Mr. Rushbrook on that day was come of age."
+
+"_My_ birth-day was last week," replied Matilda; but not a word beside.
+
+In their retired apartments, this day passed away not only soberly, but
+almost silently; for to speak upon any subject that did not engage their
+thoughts had been difficult, and to speak upon the only one that did,
+had been afflicting.
+
+Just as they were sitting down to dinner their bell gently rung, and in
+walked Sandford.
+
+"Why are you not among the revellers, Mr. Sandford?" cried Miss Woodley,
+with an ironical sneer--(the first her features ever wore)--"Pray, were
+not you invited to dine with the company?"
+
+"Yes," replied Sandford; "but my head ached; and so I had rather come
+and take a bit with you."
+
+Matilda, as if she had seen his heart as he spoke, clung round his neck
+and sobbed on his bosom: he put her peevishly away, crying "Nonsense,
+nonsense--eat your dinner." But he did not eat himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+About a week after this, Lord Elmwood went out two days for a visit;
+consequently Rushbrook was for that time master of the house. The first
+morning he went a shooting, and returning about noon, enquired of
+Sandford, who was sitting in the room, if he had taken up a volume of
+plays left upon the table. "I read no such things," replied Sandford,
+and quitted the room abruptly. Rushbrook then rang for his servant, and
+desired him to look for the book, asking him angrily, "Who had been in
+the apartment? for he was sure he had left it there when he went out."
+The servant withdrew to enquire, and presently returned with the volume
+in his hand, and "Miss Woodley's compliments, she begs your pardon, Sir,
+she did not know the book was yours, and hopes you will excuse the
+liberty she took."
+
+"Miss Woodley!" cried Rushbrook with surprise, "she comes so seldom into
+these apartments, I did not suppose it was her who had it--take it back
+to her instantly, with my respects, and I beg she will keep it."
+
+The man went; but returned with the book again, and laying it on the
+table without speaking, was going away; when Rushbrook, hurt at
+receiving no second message, said, "I am afraid, Sir, you did very wrong
+when you first took this book from Miss Woodley."
+
+"It was not from her I took it, Sir," replied the man, "it was from Lady
+Matilda."
+
+Since he had entered the house, Rushbrook had never before heard the
+name of Lady Matilda, he was shocked--confounded more than ever--and to
+conceal what he felt, instantly ordered the man out of the room.
+
+In the mean time, Miss Woodley and Matilda were talking over this
+trifling occurrence; and frivolous as it was, drew from it strong
+conclusions of Rushbrook's insolence and power. In spite of her pride,
+the daughter of Lord Elmwood even wept at the insult she had received on
+this insignificant occasion; for the volume being merely taken from her
+at Mr. Rushbrook's command, she felt an insult; and the manner in which
+it was done by the servant, might contribute to the offence.
+
+While Miss Woodley and she were upon this conversation, a note came from
+Rushbrook to Miss Woodley, wherein he entreated he might be permitted to
+see her. She sent a verbal answer, "She was engaged." He sent again,
+begging she would name her own time. But sure of a second denial, he
+followed the servant who took the last message, and as Miss Woodley came
+out of her apartment into the gallery to speak to him, Rushbrook
+presented himself, and told the man to retire.
+
+"Mr. Rushbrook," said Miss Woodley, "this intrusion is insupportable;
+and destitute as you may think me of the friendship of Lord Elmwood"----
+
+In the ardour with which Rushbrook was waiting to express himself, he
+interrupted her, and caught hold of her hand.
+
+She immediately snatched it from him, and withdrew into her chamber.
+
+He followed, saying, in a low voice, "Dear Miss Woodley, hear me."
+
+At that juncture Lady Matilda, who was in an inner apartment, came out
+of it into Miss Woodley's. Perceiving a gentleman, she stopped short at
+the door.
+
+Rushbrook cast his eyes upon her, and stood motionless--his lips only
+moved. "Do not depart, Madam," said he, "without hearing my apology for
+being here."
+
+Though Matilda had never seen him since her infancy, there was no
+occasion to tell her who it was that addressed her--his elegant and
+youthful person, joined to the incident which had just occurred,
+convinced her it was Rushbrook: she looked at him with an air of
+surprise, but with still more, of dignity.
+
+"Miss Woodley is severe upon me, Madam," continued he, "she judges me
+unkindly; and I am afraid she will prepossess you with the same
+unfavourable sentiments."
+
+Still Matilda did not speak, but looked at him with the same air of
+dignity.
+
+"If, Lady Matilda," resumed he, "I have offended you, and must quit you
+without pardon, I am more unhappy than I should be with the loss of your
+father's protection--more forlorn, than when an orphan boy, your mother
+first took pity on me."
+
+At this last sentence, Matilda turned her eyes on Miss Woodley, and
+seemed in doubt what reply she was to give.
+
+Rushbrook immediately fell upon his knees--"Oh! Lady Matilda," cried he,
+"if you knew the sensations of my heart, you would not treat me with
+this disdain."
+
+"We can only judge of those sensations, Mr. Rushbrook," said Miss
+Woodley, "by the effect they have upon your conduct; and while you
+insult Lord and Lady Elmwood's daughter by an intrusion like this, and
+then ridicule her abject state by mockeries like these----"
+
+He rose from his knees instantly, and interrupted her, crying, "What can
+I do? What am I to say, to make you change your opinion of me? While
+Lord Elmwood has been at home, I have kept an awful distance; and though
+every moment I breathed was a wish to cast myself at his daughter's
+feet, yet as I feared, Miss Woodley, that you were incensed against me,
+by what means was I to procure an interview but by stratagem or force?
+This accident has given a third method, and I had not strength, I had
+not courage, to let it pass. Lord Elmwood will soon return, and we may
+both of us be hurried to town immediately--then how for a tedious winter
+could I endure the reflexion that I was despised, nay, perhaps
+considered as an object of ingratitude, by the only child of my deceased
+benefactress?"
+
+Matilda replied with all her father's haughtiness, "Depend upon it, Sir,
+if you should ever enter my thoughts, it will only be as an object of
+envy."
+
+"Suffer me then, Madam," said he, "as an earnest that you do not think
+worse of me than I merit, suffer me to be sometimes admitted into your
+presence--."
+
+She would scarce permit him to finish the period, before she replied,
+"This is the last time, Sir, we shall ever meet, depend upon it--unless,
+indeed, Lord Elmwood should delegate to you the controul of me--_his_
+commands I never dispute." And here she burst into tears.
+
+Rushbrook walked towards the window, and did not speak for some
+time--then turning himself to make a reply, both Matilda and Miss Woodley
+were somewhat surprised to see, that he had been shedding tears
+himself.--Having conquered them, he said, "I will not offend you, Madam,
+by remaining one moment longer; and I give you my honour, that, upon no
+pretence whatever, will I presume to intrude here again. Professions, I
+find, have no weight, and only by this obedience to your orders, can I
+give a proof of that respect which you inspire;--and let the agitation I
+now feel, convince you, Lady Matilda, that, with all my seeming good
+fortune, I am not happier than yourself." And so much was he agitated
+while he delivered this, that it was with difficulty he came to the
+conclusion. When he did, he bowed with reverence, as if leaving the
+presence of a deity, and retired.
+
+Matilda immediately entered the chamber she had left, and without
+casting a single look at Miss Woodley by which she might guess of the
+opinion she had formed of Mr. Rushbrook's conduct. The next time they
+met they did not even mention his name; for they were ashamed to own a
+partiality in his favour, and were too just to bring any accusation
+against him.
+
+But Miss Woodley, the day following, communicated the intelligence of
+this visit to Mr. Sandford, who not being present, and a witness of
+those marks of humility and respect which were conspicuous in the
+deportment of Mr. Rushbrook, was highly offended at his presumption, and
+threatened if he ever dared to force his company there again, he would
+acquaint Lord Elmwood with his arrogance, whatever might be the event.
+Miss Woodley, however, assured him, she believed he would have no cause
+for such a complaint, as the young man had made the most solemn promise
+never to commit the like offence; and she thought it her duty to enjoin
+Sandford, till he did repeat it, not to mention the circumstance, even
+to Rushbrook himself.
+
+Matilda could not but feel a regard for her father's heir, in return for
+that which he had so fervently declared for her; yet the more favourable
+her opinion of his mind and manners, the more he became an object of her
+jealousy for the affections of Lord Elmwood, and he was now
+consequently, an object of greater sorrow to her, than when she believed
+him less worthy. These sentiments were reversed on his part towards
+her--no jealousy intervened to bar his admiration and esteem--the beauty
+of her person, and grandeur of her mien, not only confirmed, but
+improved, the exalted idea he had formed of her previous to their
+meeting, and which his affection to both her parents had inspired. The
+next time he saw his benefactor, he began to feel a new esteem and
+regard for him, for his daughter's sake; as he had at first an esteem
+for her, on the foundation of his love for Lord and Lady Elmwood. He
+gazed with wonder at his uncle's insensibility to his own happiness, and
+would gladly have led him to the jewel he cast away, though even his own
+expulsion should be the fatal consequence. Such was the youthful, warm,
+generous, grateful, but unreflecting mind of Rushbrook.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+After this incident, Miss Woodley left her apartments less frequently
+than before--she was afraid, though till now mistrust had been a stranger
+to her heart, she was afraid that duplicity might be concealed under the
+apparent friendship of Rushbrook; it did not indeed appear so from any
+part of his behaviour, but she was apprehensive for the fate of Matilda;
+she disliked him too, and therefore she suspected him. Near three weeks
+she had not now paid a visit to Lord Elmwood, and though to herself
+every visit was a pain, yet as Matilda took a delight in hearing of her
+father, what he said, what he did, what his attention seemed most
+employed on, and a thousand other circumstantial informations, in which
+Sandford would scorn to be half so particular, it was a deprivation to
+her, that Miss Woodley did not go oftener. Now too, the middle of
+November was come, and it was expected her father would soon quit the
+country.
+
+Partly therefore to indulge her hapless companion, and partly because it
+was a duty, Miss Woodley once again paid Lord Elmwood a morning visit,
+and staid dinner. Rushbrook was officiously polite, (for that was the
+epithet she gave his attention in relating it to Lady Matilda) yet she
+owned he had not that forward impertinence she had formerly discovered
+in him, but appeared much more grave and sedate.
+
+"But tell me of my father," said Matilda.
+
+"I was going, my dear--but don't be concerned--don't let it vex you."
+
+"What? what?" cried Matilda, frightened by the preface.
+
+"Why, on my observing that I thought Mr. Rushbrook looked paler than
+usual, and appeared not to be in perfect health, (which was really the
+case) your father expressed the greatest anxiety imaginable; he said he
+could not bear to see him look so ill, begged him, with all the
+tenderness of a parent, to take the advice of a physician, and added a
+thousand other affectionate things."
+
+"I detest Mr. Rushbrook," said Matilda, with her eyes flashing
+indignation.
+
+"Nay, for shame," returned Miss Woodley; "do you suppose I told you
+this, to make you hate him?"
+
+"No, there was no occasion for that," replied Matilda; "my sentiments
+(though I have never before avowed them) were long ago formed; he was
+always an object which added to my unhappiness; but since his daring
+intrusion into my apartments, he has been an object of my hatred."
+
+"But now, perhaps, I may tell you something to please you," cried Miss
+Woodley.
+
+"And what is that?" said Matilda, with indifference; for the first
+intelligence had hurt her spirits too much to suffer her to listen with
+pleasure to anything.
+
+"Mr. Rushbrook," continued Miss Woodley, "replied to your father, that
+his indisposition was but a slight nervous fever, and he would defer a
+physician's advice till he went to London"--on which Lord Elmwood said,
+"And when do you expect to be there?"--he replied, "Within a week or two,
+I suppose, my Lord." But your father answered, "I do not mean to go
+myself till after Christmas." "No indeed, my Lord!" said Mr. Sandford,
+with surprise: "you have not passed your Christmas here these many
+years." "No," returned your father; "but I think I feel myself more
+attached to this house at present, than ever I did in my life."
+
+"You imagine, then, my father thought of me, when he said this?" cried
+Matilda eagerly.
+
+"But I may be mistaken," replied Miss Woodley. "I leave you to judge.
+Though I am sure Mr. Sandford imagined he thought of you, for I saw a
+smile over his whole face immediately."
+
+"Did you, Miss Woodley?"
+
+"Yes; it appeared on every feature except his lips; those he kept fast
+closed, for fear Lord Elmwood should perceive it."
+
+Miss Woodley, with all her minute intelligence, did not however acquaint
+Matilda, that Rushbrook followed her to the window when the Earl was out
+of the room, and Sandford half asleep at the other end of it, and
+inquired respectfully but anxiously for _her_; adding, "It is my
+concern for Lady Matilda which makes me thus indisposed: I suffer more
+than she does; but I am not permitted to tell her so, nor can I hope,
+Miss Woodley, you will." She replied, "You are right, Sir." Nor did she
+reveal this conversation, while not a sentence that passed except that,
+was omitted.
+
+When Christmas arrived, Lord Elmwood had many convivial days at Elmwood
+House, but Matilda was never mentioned by one of his guests, and most
+probably was never thought of. During all those holidays, she was
+unusually melancholy, but sunk into the deepest dejection when she was
+told the day was fixed, on which her father was to return to town. On
+the morning of that day she wept incessantly; and all her consolation
+was, "She would go to the chamber window that was fronting the door
+through which he was to pass to his carriage, and for the first time,
+and most probably for the last time in her life, behold him."
+
+This design was soon forgot in another:--"She would rush boldly into the
+apartment where he was, and at his feet take leave of him for ever--she
+would lay hold of his hands, clasp his knees, provoke him to spurn her,
+which would be joy in comparison to this cruel indifference." In the
+bitterness of her grief, she once called upon her mother, and reproached
+her memory--but the moment she recollected this offence, (which was
+almost instantaneously) she became all mildness and resignation. "What
+have I said?" cried she; "Dear, dear saint, forgive me; and for your
+sake I will bear all with patience--I will not groan, I will not even
+sigh again--this task I set myself to atone for what I have dared to
+utter."
+
+While Lady Matilda laboured under this variety of sensations, Miss
+Woodley was occupied in bewailing and endeavouring to calm her
+sorrows--and Lord Elmwood, with Rushbrook, was ready to set off. The
+Earl, however, loitered, and did not once seem in haste to be gone. When
+at last he got up to depart, Sandford thought he pressed his hand, and
+shook it with more warmth than ever he had done in his life. Encouraged
+by this supposition, Sandford said, "My Lord, won't you condescend to
+take your leave of Miss Woodley?"
+
+"Certainly, Sandford," replied he, and seemed glad of an excuse to sit
+down again.
+
+Impressed with the idea of the state in which she had left his only
+child, Miss Woodley, when she came before Lord Elmwood to bid him
+farewell, was pale, trembling, and in tears. Sandford, notwithstanding
+his patron's apparently kind humour, was shocked at the construction he
+must put upon her appearance, and cried, "What, Miss Woodley, are you
+not recovered of your illness yet?" Lord Elmwood, however, took no
+notice of her looks, but after wishing her her health, walked slowly out
+of the house; turning back frequently and speaking to Sandford, or to
+some other person who was behind him, as if part of his thoughts were
+left behind, and he went with reluctance.
+
+When he had quitted the room where Miss Woodley was, Rushbrook, timid
+before her, as she had been before her benefactor, went up to her, all
+humility, and said, "Miss Woodley, we ought to be friends: our concern,
+our devotion is paid to the same objects, and one common interest should
+teach us to be friendly."
+
+She made no reply.--"Will you permit me to write to you when I am away?"
+said he; "You may wish to hear of Lord Elmwood's health, and of what
+changes may take place in his resolutions.--Will you permit me?" At that
+moment a servant came and said, "Sir, my Lord is in the carriage, and
+waiting for you." He hastened away, and Miss Woodley was relieved from
+the pain of giving him a denial.
+
+No sooner was the chaise, with all its attendants, out of sight, than
+Lady Matilda was conducted by Miss Woodley from her lonely retreat, into
+that part of the house from whence her father had just departed--and she
+visited every spot where he had so long resided, with a pleasing
+curiosity that for a while diverted her grief. In the breakfast and
+dining rooms, she leaned over those seats with a kind of filial piety,
+on which she was told he had been accustomed to sit. And, in the
+library, she took up with filial delight, the pen with which he had been
+writing; and looked with the most curious attention into those books
+that were laid upon his reading desk. But a hat, lying on one of the
+tables, gave her a sensation beyond any other she experienced on this
+occasion--in that trifling article of his dress, she thought she saw
+himself, and held it in her hand with pious reverence.
+
+In the mean time, Lord Elmwood and Rushbrook were proceeding on the
+road, with hearts not less heavy than those which they had left at
+Elmwood House; though neither of them could so well define the cause of
+this oppression, as Matilda could account for the weight which oppressed
+her's.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Young as Lady Matilda was during the life of her mother, neither her
+youth, nor the recluse state in which she lived, had precluded her from
+the notice and solicitations of a nobleman who had professed himself her
+lover. Viscount Margrave had an estate not far distant from the retreat
+Lady Elmwood had chosen; and being devoted to the sports of the country,
+he seldom quitted it for any of those joys which the town offered. He
+was a young man, of a handsome person, and was, what his neighbours
+called, "A man of spirit." He was an excellent fox-hunter, and as
+excellent a companion over his bottle at the end of the chace--he was
+prodigal of his fortune, where his pleasures were concerned, and as
+those pleasures were chiefly social, his sporting companions and his
+mistresses (for these were also of the plural number) partook largely of
+his wealth.
+
+Two months previous to Lady Elmwood's death, Miss Woodley and Lady
+Matilda were taking their usual walk in some fields and lanes near to
+their house, when chance threw Lord Margrave in their way during a
+thunder storm in which they were suddenly caught; and he had the
+satisfaction to convey his new acquaintances to their home in his coach,
+safe from the fury of the elements. Grateful for the service he had
+rendered them, Miss Woodley and her charge, permitted him to enquire
+occasionally after their health, and would sometimes see him. The story
+of Lady Elmwood was known to Lord Margrave, and as he beheld her
+daughter with a passion such as he had been unused to overcome, he
+indulged it with the probable hope, that on the death of the mother Lord
+Elmwood would receive his child, and perhaps accept him as his
+son-in-law. Wedlock was not the plan which Lord Margrave had ever
+proposed to himself for happiness; but the excess of his love on this
+new occasion, subdued all the resolutions he had formed against the
+married state; and not daring to hope for the consummation of his wishes
+by any other means, he suffered himself to look forward to that, as his
+only resource. No sooner was the long expected death of Lady Elmwood
+arrived, than he waited with impatience to hear that Lady Matilda was
+sent for and acknowledged by her father; for he meant to be the first to
+lay before Lord Elmwood his pretensions as a suitor. But those
+pretensions were founded on the vague hopes of a lover only; and Miss
+Woodley, to whom he first declared them, said every thing possible to
+convince him of their fallacy. As to the object of his passion, she was
+not only insensible, but wholly inattentive to all that was said to her
+on the subject. Lady Elmwood died without ever being disturbed with it;
+for her daughter did not even remember his proposals so as to repeat
+them again, and Miss Woodley thought it prudent to conceal from her
+friend, every new incident which might give her cause for new anxieties.
+
+When Sandford and the ladies left the north and came to Elmwood House,
+so much were their thoughts employed with other ideas, that Lord
+Margrave did not occupy a place; and during the whole time they had been
+at their new abode, they had never once heard of him. He had,
+nevertheless, his whole mind fixed upon Lady Matilda, and had placed
+spies in the neighbourhood to inform him of every circumstance relating
+to her situation. Having imbibed an aversion to matrimony, he heard with
+but little regret, that there was no prospect of her ever becoming her
+father's heir, while such an information gave him the hope of obtaining
+her, upon the terms of a mistress.
+
+Lord Elmwood's departure to town forwarded this hope, and flattering
+himself that the humiliating state in which Matilda must feel herself in
+the house of her father might gladly induce her to take shelter under
+any other protection, he boldly advanced as soon as the Earl was gone,
+to make such overture as his wishes and his vanity told him, could not
+be rejected.
+
+Inquiring for Miss Woodley, he easily gained admittance; but at the
+sight of so much modesty and dignity in the person of Matilda, the
+appearance of so much good will, and yet such circumspection in her
+companion; and charmed at the good sense and proper spirit which were
+always apparent in the manners of Sandford, he fell once more into the
+despondency of never becoming to Lady Matilda any thing of more
+importance to his reputation, than a husband.
+
+Even that humble hope was sometimes denied him, while Sandford set forth
+the impropriety of troubling Lord Elmwood on such a subject at present;
+and while the Viscount's penetration, small as it was, discovered in his
+fair one, more to discourage, than to favour his wishes. Plunged,
+however, too deep in his passion to emerge from it in haste, he meant
+still to visit, and wait for a change to happier circumstances, when he
+was peremptorily desired by Mr. Sandford to desist from ever coming
+again.
+
+"And why, Mr. Sandford?" cried he.
+
+"For two reasons, my Lord;--in the first place, your visits might be
+displeasing to Lord Elmwood; in the next place, I know they are so to
+his daughter."
+
+Unaccustomed to be addressed so plainly, particularly in a case where
+his heart was interested, he nevertheless submitted with patience; but
+in his own mind determined how long this patience should continue--no
+longer than it served as the means to prove his obedience, and by that
+artifice, to secure his better reception at some future period.
+
+On his return home, cheered with the huzzas of his jovial companions, he
+began to consult those friends, what scheme was best to be adopted for
+the accomplishment of his desires. Some, boldly advised application to
+the father in defiance to the old priest; but that was the very last
+method his Lordship himself approved, as marriage must inevitably have
+followed Lord Elmwood's consent: besides, though a Peer, Lord Margrave
+was unused to rank with Peers; and even the formality of an interview
+with one of his equals, carried along with it a terror, or at least a
+fatigue, to a rustic Baron. Others of his companions advised seduction;
+but happily the Viscount possessed no arts of this kind, to affect a
+heart joined with such an understanding as Matilda's. There were not
+wanting among his most favourite counsellors some, who painted the
+superior triumph and gratification of force; those assured him there was
+nothing to apprehend under this head, as from the behaviour of Lord
+Elmwood to his child, it was more than probable, he would be utterly
+indifferent as to any violence that might be offered her. This last
+advice seemed inspired by the aid of wine; and no sooner had the wine
+freely circulated, than this was always the expedient, which appeared by
+far the best.
+
+While Lord Margrave alternately cherished his hopes and his fears in the
+country, Rushbrook in town gave way to his fears only. Every day of his
+life made him more acquainted with the firm, unshaken temper of Lord
+Elmwood, and every day whispered more forcibly to him, that pity,
+gratitude, and friendship, strong and affectionate as these passions
+are, were weak and cold to that, which had gained the possession of his
+heart--he doubted, but he did not long doubt, that, which he felt was
+love. "And yet," said he to himself, "it is love of such a kind, as
+arising from causes independent of the object itself can scarce deserve
+that sacred name. Did I not love Lady Matilda before I beheld her?--for
+her mother's sake I loved her--and even for her father's. Should I have
+felt the same affection for her, had she been the child of other
+parents? No. Or should I have felt that sympathetic tenderness which now
+preys upon my health, had not her misfortunes excited it? No." Yet the
+love which is the result of gratitude and pity only, he thought had
+little claim to rank with his; and after the most deliberate and deep
+reflection, he concluded with this decisive opinion--He had loved Lady
+Matilda, in _whatever state_, in _whatever circumstances_; and that the
+tenderness he felt towards her, and the anxiety for her happiness before
+he knew her, extreme as they were, were yet cool and dispassionate
+sensations, compared to those which her person and demeanour had
+incited--and though he acknowledged, that by the preceding sentiments,
+his heart was softened, prepared, and moulded, as it were, to receive
+this last impression, yet the violence of his passion told him that
+genuine love, if not the basis on which it was founded, had been the
+certain consequence. With a strict scrutiny into his heart he sought
+this knowledge, but arrived at it with a regret that amounted to
+despair.
+
+To shield him from despondency, he formed in his mind a thousand
+visions, displaying the joys of his union with Lady Matilda; but her
+father's implacability confounded them all. Lord Elmwood was a man who
+made few resolutions--but those were the effect of deliberation; and as
+he was not the least capricious or inconstant in his temper, they were
+resolutions which no probable event could shake. Love, that produces
+wonders, that seduces and subdues the most determined and rigid spirits,
+had in two instances overcome the inflexibility of Lord Elmwood; he
+married Lady Elmwood contrary to his determination, because he loved;
+and for the sake of this beloved object, he had, contrary to his
+resolution, taken under his immediate care young Rushbrook; but the
+magic which once enchanted away this spirit of immutability was no
+more--Lady Elmwood was no more, and the charm was broken.
+
+As Miss Woodley was deprived of the opportunity of desiring Rushbrook
+not to write, when he asked her the permission, he passed one whole
+morning, in the gratification of forming and writing a letter to her,
+which he thought might possibly be shewn to Matilda. As he dared not
+touch upon any of those circumstances in which he was the most
+interested, this, joined to the respect he wished to pay the lady to
+whom he wrote, limited his letter to about twenty lines; yet the
+studious manner with which these lines were dictated, the hope that they
+might, and the fear that they might not, be seen and regarded by Lady
+Matilda, rendered the task an anxiety so pleasing, that he could have
+wished it might have lasted for a year; and in this tendency to magnify
+trifles, was discoverable, the never-failing symptom of ardent love.
+
+A reply to this formal address, was a reward he wished for with
+impatience, but he wished in vain; and in the midst of his chagrin at
+the disappointment, a sorrow, little thought of, occurred, and gave him
+a perturbation of mind he had never before experienced. Lord Elmwood
+proposed a wife to him; and in a way so assured of his acquiescence,
+that if Rushbrook's life had depended upon his daring to dispute his
+benefactor's will, he would not have had the courage to have done so.
+There was, however, in his reply, and his embarrassment, something which
+his uncle distinguished from a free concurrence; and looking stedfastly
+at him, he said, in that stern manner which he now almost invariably
+adopted,
+
+"You have no engagements, I suppose! Have made no previous promises!"
+
+"None on earth, my Lord," replied Rushbrook candidly.
+
+"Nor have you disposed of your heart?"
+
+"No, my Lord," replied he; but not candidly--nor with any appearance of
+candour: for though he spoke hastily, it was rather like a man
+frightened than assured. He hurried to tell the falsehood he thought
+himself obliged to tell, that the pain and shame might be over; but
+there he was deceived--the lie once told was as troublesome as in the
+conception, and added another confusion to the first.
+
+Lord Elmwood now fixed his eyes upon him with a sullen contempt, and
+rising from his chair, said, "Rushbrook, if you have been so
+inconsiderate as to give away your heart, tell me so at once, and tell
+me the object."
+
+Rushbrook shuddered at the thought.
+
+"I here," continued the Earl, "tolerate the first untruth you ever told
+me, as the false assertion of a lover; and give you an opportunity of
+recalling it--but after this moment, it is a lie between man and man--a
+lie to your friend and father, and I will not forgive it."
+
+Rushbrook stood silent, confused, alarmed, and bewildered in his
+thoughts. Lord Elmwood proceeded:
+
+"Name the person, if there is any, on whom you have bestowed your heart;
+and though I do not give you the hope that I shall not censure your
+folly, I will at least not reproach you for having at first denied it."
+
+To repeat these words in writing, the reader must condemn the young man
+that he could hesitate to own he loved, if he was even afraid to name
+the object of his passion; but his interrogator had made the two answers
+inseparable, so that all evasions of the second, Rushbrook knew would be
+fruitless, after having avowed the first--and how could he confess the
+latter? The absolute orders he received from the steward on his first
+return from his travels, were, "Never to mention his daughter, any more
+than his late wife, before Lord Elmwood." The fault of having rudely
+intruded into Lady Matilda's presence, rushed also upon his mind; for he
+did not even dare to say, by what means he had beheld her. But more than
+all, the threatening manner in which this rational and apparently
+conciliating speech was uttered, the menaces, the severity which sat
+upon the Earl's countenance while he delivered those moderate words,
+might have intimidated a man wholly independent, and less used to fear
+than his nephew had been.
+
+"You make no answer, Sir," said Lord Elmwood, after waiting a few
+moments for his reply.
+
+"I have only to say, my Lord," returned Rushbrook, "that although my
+heart may be totally disengaged, I may yet be disinclined to marriage."
+
+"May! May! Your heart _may_ be disengaged," repeated he. "Do you dare to
+reply to me equivocally, when I have asked a positive answer?"
+
+"Perhaps I am not positive myself, my Lord; but I will enquire into the
+state of my mind, and make you acquainted with it very soon."
+
+As the angry demeanour of his uncle affected Rushbrook with fear, so
+that fear, powerfully (but with proper manliness) expressed, again
+softened the displeasure of Lord Elmwood; and seeing and pitying his
+nephew's sensibility, he now changed his austere voice, and said mildly,
+but firmly,
+
+"I give you a week to consult with yourself; at the expiration of that
+time I shall talk with you again, and I command you to be then prepared
+to speak, not only without deceit, but without hesitation." He left the
+room at these words, and left Rushbrook released from a fate, which his
+apprehensions had beheld impending that moment.
+
+He had now a week to call his thoughts together, to weigh every
+circumstance, and to determine whether implicitly to submit to Lord
+Elmwood's recommendation of a wife, or to revolt from it, and see
+another, with more subserviency to his will, appointed his heir.
+
+Undetermined how to act upon this trial which was to decide his future
+destiny, Rushbrook suffered so poignant an uncertainty, that he became
+at length ill, and before the end of the week that was allotted him for
+his reply, he was confined to his bed in a high fever. Lord Elmwood was
+extremely affected at his indisposition; he gave him every care he could
+bestow, and even much of his personal attendance. This last favour had a
+claim upon the young man's gratitude, superior to every other obligation
+which since his infancy his benefactor had conferred; and he was at
+times so moved by those marks of kindness he received, that he would
+form the intention of tearing from his heart every trace that Lady
+Matilda had left there, and as soon as his health would permit him,
+obey, to the utmost of his views, every wish his uncle had conceived.
+Yet again, her pitiable situation presented itself to his compassion,
+and her beauteous person to his love. Divided between the claims of
+obligation to the father, and tender attachment to the daughter, his
+illness was increased by the tortures of his mind, and he once sincerely
+wished for that death, of which he was in danger, to free him from the
+dilemma in which his affections had involved him.
+
+At the time his disorder was at the height, and he lay complaining of
+the violence of his fever, Lord Elmwood, taking his hand, asked him, "If
+there was any thing he could do for him?"
+
+"Yes, yes, my Lord, a great deal:" he replied eagerly.
+
+"What is it, Harry?"
+
+"Oh! my Lord," replied he, "that is what I must not tell you."
+
+"Defer it then till you are well:" said Lord Elmwood; afraid of being
+surprised, or affected by the state of his health, into any promises
+which he might hereafter find the impropriety of granting.
+
+"And when I recover, my Lord, you give me leave to reveal to you my
+wishes, let them be what they will?"
+
+His uncle hesitated----but seeing an anxiety for the answer, by his
+raising himself upon his elbow in the bed and staring wildly, Lord
+Elmwood at last said, "Certainly--Yes, yes," as a child is answered for
+its quiet.
+
+That Lord Elmwood could have no idea what the real petition was, which
+Rushbrook meant to present him is certain; but it is certain he expected
+he had some request to make, with which it might be wrong for him to
+comply, and therefore he avoided hearing what it was; for great as his
+compassion for him was in his present state, it was not of sufficient
+force to urge him to give a promise he did not mean to perform.
+Rushbrook, on his part was pleased with the assurance he might speak
+when he was restored to health; but no sooner was his fever abated, and
+his senses perfectly recovered from the slight derangement his malady
+had occasioned, than the lively remembrance of what he had hinted,
+alarmed him, and he was even afraid to look his kind, but awful relation
+in the face. Lord Elmwood's cheerfulness, however, on his returning
+health, and his undiminished attention, soon convinced him that he had
+nothing to fear. But, alas! he found too, that he had nothing to hope.
+As his health re-established, his wishes re-established also, and with
+his wishes, his despair.
+
+Convinced now, that his nephew had something on his mind which he feared
+to reveal, the Earl no longer doubted but that some youthful attachment
+had armed him against any marriage he should propose; but he had so much
+pity for his present weak state, to delay that further inquiry which he
+had threatened before his illness, to a time when he should be entirely
+restored.
+
+It was the end of May before Rushbrook was able to partake in the usual
+routine of the day--the country was now prescribed him as the means of
+complete restoration; and as Lord Elmwood designed to leave London some
+time in June, he advised him to go to Elmwood House a week or two before
+him; this advice was received with delight, and a letter was sent to Mr.
+Sandford to prepare for Mr. Rushbrook's arrival.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+During the illness of Rushbrook, news had been sent of his danger, from
+the servants in town to those at Elmwood House, and Lady Matilda
+expressed compassion when she was told of it--she began to conceive, the
+instant she thought he would soon die, that his visit to her had merit
+rather than impertinence in its design, and that he might possibly be a
+more deserving man, than she had supposed him to be. Even Sandford and
+Miss Woodley, began to recollect qualifications he possessed, which they
+never had reflected on before, and Miss Woodley in particular,
+reproached herself that she had been so severe and inattentive to him.
+Notwithstanding the prospects his death pointed out to her, it was with
+infinite joy she heard he was recovered; nor was Sandford less
+satisfied; for he had treated the young man too unkindly not to dread,
+lest any ill should befall him; but although he was glad to hear of his
+restored health, when he was informed he was coming down to Elmwood
+House for a few weeks in the style of its master, Sandford, with all his
+religious and humane principles, could not help thinking, "That if the
+lad had been properly preps well out of the world as in it."
+
+He was still less his friend when he saw him arrive with his usual
+florid complexion: had he come pale and sickly, Sandford had been kind
+to him; but in apparently good health and spirits, he could not form his
+lips to tell him he was "Glad to see him."
+
+On his arrival, Matilda, who for five months had been at large, secluded
+herself as she would have done upon the arrival of Lord Elmwood; but
+with far different sensations. Notwithstanding her restriction on the
+latter occasion, the residence of her father in that house had been a
+source of pleasure, rather than of sorrow to her; but from the abode of
+Rushbrook she derived punishment alone.
+
+When, from inquiries, Rushbrook found that on his approach, Matilda had
+retired to her own confined apartments, the thought was torture to him;
+it was the hope of seeing and conversing with her, of being admitted at
+all times to her society as the mistress of the house, that had raised
+his spirits, and effected his perfect cure beyond any other cause; and
+he was hurt to the greatest degree at this respect, or rather contempt,
+shown to him by her retreat.
+
+It was, nevertheless, a subject too delicate for him to touch upon in
+any one sense--an invitation for her company on his part, might carry the
+appearance of superior authority, and an affected condescension, which
+he justly considered as the worst of all insults. And yet, how could he
+support the idea that his visit had placed the daughter of his
+benefactor, as a dependent stranger in that house, where in reality _he_
+was the dependent, and she the lawful heir? For two or three days he
+suffered the torment of these reflections, hoping that he should come to
+an explanation of all he felt, by a fortunate meeting with Miss Woodley;
+but when that meeting occurred, though he observed she talked to him
+with less reserve than she had formerly done, and even gave some proofs
+of the native goodness of her disposition, yet she scrupulously avoided
+naming Lady Matilda; and when he diffidently inquired of her health, a
+cold restraint overspread Miss Woodley's face, and she left him
+instantly. To Sandford it was still more difficult for him to apply; for
+though frequently together, they were never sociable; and as Sandford
+seldom disguised his feelings, to Rushbrook he was always extremely
+severe, and sometimes unmannerly.
+
+In this perplexed situation, the country air was rather of detriment
+than service to the invalid; and had he not, like a true lover, clung
+fast to hope, while he could perceive nothing but despair, he would have
+returned to town, rather than by his stay have placed in a subordinate
+state, the object of his adoration. Persisting in his hopes, he one
+morning met Miss Woodley in the garden, and engaging her a longer time
+than usual in conversation, at last obtained her promise "She would that
+day dine with him and Mr. Sandford." But no sooner had she parted from
+him, than she repented of her consent; and upon communicating it,
+Matilda, for the first time in her life, darted upon her kind companion,
+a look of the most cutting reproach and haughty resentment. Miss
+Woodley's own sentiments had upbraided her before; but she was not
+prepared to receive so pointed a mark of disapprobation from her young
+friend, till now duteous and humble to her as to a mother, and not less
+affectionate. Her heart was too susceptible to bear this disrespectful
+and contumelious frown, from the object of her long-devoted care and
+concern; the tears instantly covered her face, and she laid her hands
+upon her heart, as if she thought it would break. Matilda was moved, but
+she possessed too much of the manly resentment of her father, to
+discover what she felt for the first few minutes. Miss Woodley, who had
+given so many tears to her sorrows, but never till now, one to her
+anger, had a deeper sense of this indifference, than of the anger
+itself, and to conceal what she suffered, left the room. Matilda, who
+had been till this time working at her needle, seemingly composed, now
+let her work drop from her hand, and sat for a while in a deep reverie.
+At length she rose up, and followed Miss Woodley to the other apartment.
+She entered grave, majestic and apparently serene, while her poor heart
+fluttered with a thousand distressing sensations. She approached Miss
+Woodley (who was still in tears) with silence; and awed by her manners,
+the faithful friend of her deceased mother exclaimed, "Dear Lady
+Matilda, think no more on what I have done--do not resent it any longer,
+and on my knees I'll beg your pardon." Miss Woodley rose as she uttered
+these last words; but Matilda laid fast hold of her to prevent the
+posture she offered to take, and instantly assumed it herself. "Oh, let
+this be my atonement!" she cried with the most earnest supplication.
+
+They interchanged forgiveness; and as this reconciliation was sincere,
+they each, without reserve, gave their opinion upon the subject that had
+caused the misunderstanding; and it was agreed an apology should be sent
+to Mr. Rushbrook, "That Miss Woodley had been suddenly indisposed:" nor
+could this be said to differ from the truth, for since what had passed
+she was unfit to pay a visit.
+
+Rushbrook, who had been all the morning elated with the advance he
+supposed he had made in that lady's favour, was highly disappointed,
+vexed, and angry, when this apology was delivered; nor did he, nor
+perhaps could he, conceal what he felt, although his severe observer,
+Mr. Sandford, was present.
+
+"I am a very unfortunate man!" said he, as soon as the servant was gone
+who brought the message.
+
+Sandford cast his eyes upon him with a look of surprise and contempt.
+
+"A very unfortunate man indeed, Mr. Sandford," repeated he, "although
+you treat my complaint contemptuously."
+
+Sandford made no reply, and seemed above making one.
+
+They sat down to dinner;--Rushbrook eat scarce any thing, but drank
+frequently; Sandford took no notice of either, but had a book (which was
+his custom when he dined with persons whose conversation was not
+interesting to him) laid by the side of his plate, which he occasionally
+looked into, as the dishes were removing, or other opportunities served.
+
+Rushbrook, just now more hopeless than ever of forming an acquaintance
+with Lady Matilda, began to give way to symptoms of despondency; and
+they made their first attack, by urging him, to treat on the same level
+of familiarity that he himself was treated, Mr. Sandford, to whom he
+had, till now, ever behaved with the most profound tokens of respect.
+
+"Come," said he to him as soon as the dinner was removed, "lay aside
+your book and be good company."
+
+Sandford lifted up his eyes upon him--stared in his face--and cast them on
+the book again.
+
+"Pshaw," continued Rushbrook, "I want a companion; and as Miss Woodley
+has disappointed me, I must have your company."
+
+Sandford now laid his book down upon the table; but still holding his
+fingers in the pages he was reading, said, "And why are you disappointed
+of Miss Woodley's company? When people expect what they have no right to
+hope, 'tis impertinent assurance to complain they are disappointed."
+
+"I had a right to hope she would come," answered Rushbrook, "for she
+promised she would."
+
+"But what right had you to ask her?"
+
+"The right every one has, to make his time pass as agreeably as he can."
+
+"But not at the expence of another."
+
+"I believe, Mr. Sandford, it would be a heavy expence to you, to see me
+happy; I believe it would cost you even your own happiness."
+
+"That is a price I have not now to give:" replied Sandford, and began
+reading again.
+
+"What, you have already paid it away? No wonder that at your time of
+life it should be gone. But what do you think of my having already
+squandered mine?"
+
+"I don't think about you;" returned Sandford, without taking his eyes
+from the book.
+
+"Can you look me in the face and say that, Mr. Sandford? No, you
+cannot--for you know you _do_ think of me, and you know you hate
+me."--Here he drank two glasses of wine one after another; "And I can
+tell you why you hate me," continued he: "It is from a cause for which I
+often hate myself."
+
+Sandford read on.
+
+"It is on Lady Matilda's account you hate me, and use me thus."
+
+Sandford put down the book hastily, and put both his hands by his side.
+
+"Yes," resumed Rushbrook, "you think I am wronging her."
+
+"I think you insult her," exclaimed Sandford, "by this rude mention of
+her name; and I command you at your peril to desist."
+
+"At my peril! Mr. Sandford? Do you assume the authority of my Lord
+Elmwood?"
+
+"I do on this occasion; and if you dare to give your tongue a freedom"----
+
+Rushbrook interrupted him--"Why then I boldly say, (and as her friend you
+ought rather to applaud than resent it) I boldly say, that my heart
+suffers so much for her situation, that I am regardless of my own. I
+love her father--I loved her mother more--but I love _her_ beyond
+either."
+
+"Hold your licentious tongue," cried Sandford, "or quit the room."
+
+"Licentious! Oh! the pure thoughts that dwell in her innocent mind, are
+not less sensual than mine towards her. Do you upbraid me with my
+respect, my pity for her? They are the sensations which impel me to
+speak thus undisguised, even to you, my open--no, even worse--my secret
+enemy!"
+
+"Insult _me_ as you please, Mr. Rushbrook,--but beware how you mention
+Lord Elmwood's daughter."
+
+"Can it be to her dishonour that I pity her? that I would quit the house
+this moment never to return, so that she supplied the place I with-hold
+from her."
+
+"Go, then;" cried Sandford.
+
+"It would be of no use to her, or I would. But come, Mr. Sandford, I
+will dare do as much as you. Only second me, and I will entreat Lord
+Elmwood to be reconciled--to see and own her."
+
+"Your vanity would be equal to your temerity--_you_ entreat? She must
+greatly esteem those paternal favours which _your_ entreaties gained
+her! Do you forget, young man, how short a time it is, since you were
+_entreated for?_"
+
+"I prove that I do not, while this anxiety for Lady Matilda, arises,
+from what I feel on that account."
+
+"Remove your anxiety, then, from her to yourself; for were I to let Lord
+Elmwood know what has now passed"--
+
+"It is for your own sake, not for mine, if you do not."
+
+"You shall not dare me to it, Mr. Rushbrook." And he rose from his seat:
+"You shall not dare me to do you an injury. But to avoid the temptation,
+I will never again come into your company, unless my friend, Lord
+Elmwood, be present, to protect me and his child from your insults."
+
+Rushbrook rose in yet more warmth than Sandford
+
+"Have you the injustice to say that I have insulted Lady Matilda?"
+
+"To speak of her at all, is in you an insult. But you have done more--you
+have dared to visit her--to force into her presence and shock her with
+your offers of services which she scorns; and with your compassion,
+which she is above."
+
+"Did she complain to you?"
+
+"She or her friend did."
+
+"I rather suppose, Mr. Sandford, that you have bribed some of the
+servants to reveal this."
+
+"The suspicion becomes Lord Elmwood's heir."
+
+"It becomes the man, who lives in a house with you."
+
+"I thank you, Mr. Rushbrook, for what has passed this day--it has taken a
+weight off my mind. I thought my disinclination to you, might perhaps
+arise from prejudice--this conversation has relieved me from those fears,
+and--I thank you." Saying this he calmly walked out of the room, and left
+Rushbrook to reflect on what he had been doing.
+
+Heated with the wine he had drank (and which Sandford, engaged on his
+book, had not observed) no sooner was he alone, than he became by
+degrees cool and repentant. "What had he done?" was the first question
+to himself--"He had offended Sandford."--The man, whom reason as well as
+prudence had ever taught him to respect, and even to revere. He had
+grossly offended the firm friend of Lady Matilda, by the unreserved and
+wanton use of her name. All the retorts he had uttered came now to his
+memory; with a total forgetfulness of all that Sandford had said to
+provoke them.
+
+He once thought to follow him and beg his pardon; but the contempt with
+which he had been treated, more than all the anger, with-held him.
+
+As he sat forming plans how to retrieve the opinion, ill as it was,
+which Sandford formerly entertained of him, he received a letter from
+Lord Elmwood, kindly enquiring after his health, and saying that he
+should be down early in the following week. Never were the friendly
+expressions of his uncle half so welcome to him; for they served to
+sooth his imagination, racked with Sandford's wrath, and his own
+displeasure.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+When Sandford acted deliberately, he always acted up to his duty; it was
+his duty to forgive Rushbrook, and he did so--but he had declared he
+would never "Be again in his company unless Lord Elmwood was present;"
+and with all his forgiveness, he found an unforgiving gratification, in
+the duty, of being obliged to keep his word.
+
+The next day Rushbrook dined alone, while Sandford gave his company to
+the ladies. Rushbrook was too proud to seek to conciliate Sandford by
+abject concessions, but he endeavoured to meet him as by accident, and
+meant to try what, in such a case, a submissive apology might effect.
+For two days all the schemes he formed on that head proved fruitless; he
+could never procure even a sight of him. But on the evening of the third
+day, taking a lonely walk, he turned the corner of a grove, and saw in
+the very path he was going, Sandford accompanied by Miss Woodley; and,
+what agitated him infinitely more, Lady Matilda was with them. He knew
+not whether to proceed, or to quit the path and palpably shun them--to
+one, who seemed to put an unkind construction upon all he said and did,
+he knew that to do either, would be to do wrong. In spite of the
+propensity he felt to pass so near to Matilda, could he have known what
+conduct would have been deemed the most respectful, whatever painful
+denial it had cost him, _that_, he would have adopted. But undetermined
+whether to go forward, or to cross to another path, he still walked on
+till he came too nigh to recede: he then, with a diffidence not
+affected, but most powerfully felt, pulled off his hat; and without
+bowing, stood respectfully silent while the company passed. Sandford
+walked on some paces before, and took no further notice as he went by
+him, than just touching the fore part of his hat with his finger. Miss
+Woodley curtsied as she followed. But Lady Matilda made a full stop, and
+said, in the gentlest accents, "I hope, Mr. Rushbrook, you are perfectly
+recovered."
+
+It was the sweetest music he had ever listened to; and he replied with
+the most reverential bow, "I am better a great deal, Ma'am." Then
+instantly pursued his way as if he did not dare to utter another
+syllable.
+
+Sandford seldom found fault with Lady Matilda; not because he loved her,
+but because she seldom did wrong--upon this occasion, however, he was
+half inclined to reprimand her; but yet he did not know what to say--the
+subsequent humility of Rushbrook, had taken from the indiscretion of her
+speaking to him, and the event could by no means justify his censure. On
+hearing her begin to speak, Sandford had stopped; and as Rushbrook after
+replying, walked away, Sandford called to her crossly, "Come, come
+along." But at the same time he put out his elbow for her to take hold
+of his arm.
+
+She hastened her steps, and did so--then turning to Miss Woodley, she
+said, "I expected you would have spoken to Mr. Rushbrook; it might have
+prevented me."
+
+Miss Woodley replied, "I was at a loss what to do;--when we met formerly,
+he always spoke first."
+
+"And he ought now," cried Sandford angrily--and then added, with a
+sarcastic smile, "It is certainly proper that the _superior_, should be
+the first who speaks."
+
+"He did not look as if he thought himself our superior," replied
+Matilda.
+
+"No," returned Sandford, "some people can put on what looks they
+please."
+
+"Then while he looks so pale," replied Matilda, "and so dejected, I can
+never forbear speaking to him when we meet, whatever he may think of
+it."
+
+"And were he and I to meet a hundred, nay a thousand times," returned
+Sandford, "I don't think I should ever speak to him again."
+
+"Bless me! what for, Mr. Sandford?" cried Matilda--for Sandford, who was
+not a man that repeated little incidents, had never mentioned the
+circumstance of their quarrel.
+
+"I have taken such a resolution," answered he, "yet I bear him no
+enmity."
+
+As this short reply indicated that he meant to say no more, no more was
+asked; and the subject was dropped.
+
+In the mean time, Rushbrook, happier than he had been for months,
+intoxicated with joy at that voluntary mark of civility he had received
+from Lady Matilda, felt his heart so joyous, and so free from every
+particle of malice, that he resolved, in the humblest manner, to make
+atonement for the violation of decorum he had lately committed against
+Mr. Sandford.
+
+Too happy, at this time, to suffer a mortification from any indignities
+he might receive, he sent his servant to him into his study, as soon as
+he was returned home, to beg to know "If he might be permitted to wait
+upon him, with a message he had to deliver from Lord Elmwood."
+
+The servant returned--"Mr. Sandford desired he would send the message by
+him, or the house-steward." This was highly affronting; but Rushbrook
+was not in a humour to be offended, and he sent again, begging he would
+admit him; but the answer was, "He was busy."
+
+Thus wholly defeated in his hopes of reconciliation, his new transports
+felt an allay, and the few days that remained before Lord Elmwood came,
+he passed in solitary musing, and ineffectual walks and looks towards
+that path in which he had met Matilda--she came that way no more--indeed
+scarce quitted her apartment, in the practice of that confinement she
+was to experience on the arrival of her father.
+
+All her former agitations now returned. On the day he arrived she
+wept--all the night she did not sleep--and the name of Rushbrook again
+became hateful to her. The Earl came in extremely good health and
+spirits, but appeared concerned to find Rushbrook less well than when he
+went from town. Sandford was now under the necessity of being in
+Rushbrook's company, yet he would never speak to him but when he was
+obliged; or look at him, but when he could not help it. Lord Elmwood
+observed this conduct, yet he neither wondered, or was offended at it--he
+had perceived what little esteem Sandford showed his nephew from his
+first return; but he forgave, in Sandford's humour, a thousand faults he
+would not forgive in any other; nor did he deem this one of his greatest
+faults, knowing the demand upon his partiality from another object.
+
+Miss Woodley waited on Lord Elmwood as formerly; dined with him, and
+related, as heretofore, to the attentive Matilda, all that passed.
+
+About this time Lord Margrave, deprived by the season of all the sports
+of the field, felt his love for Matilda (which had been violent, even
+though divided with the love of hunting) now too strong to be subdued;
+and he resolved, though reluctantly, to apply to her father for his
+consent to their union; but writing to Sandford this resolution, he was
+once more repulsed, and charged as a man of honour, to forbear to
+disturb the tranquillity of the family by any application of the kind.
+To this, Sandford received no answer; for the peer, highly incensed at
+his mistress's repugnance to him, determined more firmly than ever to
+consult his own happiness alone; and as that depended merely upon his
+obtaining her, he cared not by what method it was effected.
+
+About a fortnight after Lord Elmwood came into the country, as he was
+riding one morning, his horse fell with him, and crushed his leg in so
+unfortunate a manner, as to be at first pronounced of dangerous
+consequence. He was brought home in a post chaise, and Matilda heard of
+the accident with more grief than would, perhaps, on such an occasion,
+appertain to the most fondled child.
+
+In consequence of the pain he suffered, his fever was one night very
+high; and Sandford, who seldom quitted his apartment, went frequently to
+his bedside, every time with the secret hope he should hear him ask to
+see his daughter--he was every time disappointed--yet he saw him shake,
+with a cordial friendship, the hand of Rushbrook, as if he delighted in
+seeing those he loved.
+
+The danger in which Lord Elmwood was supposed to be, was but of short
+duration, and his sudden recovery succeeded. Matilda, who had wept,
+moaned, and watched during the crisis of his illness, when she heard he
+was amending, exclaimed, (with a kind of surprise at the novelty of the
+sensation) "And this is joy that I feel! Oh! I never till now knew, what
+those persons felt who experienced joy."
+
+Nor did she repine, like Mr. Sandford and Miss Woodley, at her father's
+inattention to her during his malady, for she did not hope like them--she
+did not hope he would behold her, even in dying.
+
+But notwithstanding his seeming indifference, while his indisposition
+continued, no sooner was he recovered so as to receive the
+congratulations of his friends, than there was no one person he
+evidently showed so much satisfaction at seeing, as Miss Woodley. She
+waited upon him timorously, and with more than ordinary distaste at his
+late conduct, when he put out his hand with the utmost warmth to receive
+her; drew her to him; saluted her, (an honour he had never in his life
+conferred before) with signs of the sincerest friendship and affection.
+Sandford was present; and ever associating the idea of Matilda with Miss
+Woodley, felt his heart bound with a triumph it had not enjoyed for many
+a day.
+
+Matilda listened with delight to the recital Miss Woodley gave on her
+return, and many times while it lasted exclaimed, "She was happy." But
+poor Matilda's sudden transports of joy, which she termed happiness,
+were not made for long continuance; and if she ever found cause for
+gladness, she far oftener had motives for grief.
+
+As Mr. Sandford was sitting with her and Miss Woodley, one evening about
+a week after, a person rang at the bell and inquired for him: on being
+told of it by the servant, he went to the door of the apartment, and
+cried, "Oh! is it you? Come in." An elderly man entered, who had been
+for many years the head gardener at Elmwood House; a man of honesty and
+sobriety, and with an indigent family of aged parents, children, and
+other relations, who subsisted wholly on the income arising from his
+place. The ladies, as well as Sandford, knew him well, and they all,
+almost at once, asked, "What was the matter?" for his looks told them
+something distressful had befallen him.
+
+"Oh, Sir!" said he to Sandford, "I come to intreat your interest."
+
+"In what, Edwards?" said Sandford with a mild voice; for when his
+assistance was supplicated in distress, his rough tones always took a
+plaintive key.
+
+"My Lord has discharged me from his service!" (returned Edwards
+trembling, and the tears starting in his eyes) "I am undone, Mr.
+Sandford, unless you plead for me."
+
+"I will," said Sandford, "I will."
+
+"And yet I am almost afraid of your success," replied the man, "for my
+Lord has ordered me out of his house this moment; and though I knelt
+down to him to be heard, he had no pity."
+
+Matilda sighed from the bottom of her heart, and yet she envied this
+poor man, who had been kneeling to her father.
+
+"What was your offence?" cried Sandford.
+
+The man hesitated; then looking at Matilda, said, "I'll tell you, Sir,
+some other time."
+
+"Did you name me, before Lord Elmwood?" cried she eagerly, and
+terrified.
+
+"No, Madam," replied he, "but I unthinkingly spoke of my poor Lady who
+is dead and gone."
+
+Matilda burst into tears.
+
+"How came you to do so mad a thing?" cried Sandford; and the
+encouragement which his looks had once given him, now fled from his
+face.
+
+"It was unthinkingly," repeated Edwards; "I was showing my Lord some
+plans for the new walks, and told him, among other things, that her
+Ladyship had many years ago approved of them. 'Who?' cried he. Still I
+did not call to mind, but said, 'Lady Elmwood, Sir, while you were
+abroad.'--As soon as these words were delivered, I saw my doom in his
+looks, and he commanded me to quit his house and service that instant."
+
+"I am afraid," said Sandford, shaking his head, "I can do nothing for
+you."
+
+"Yes, Sir, you know you have more power over my Lord than any body--and
+perhaps you may be able to save me and all mine from misery."
+
+"I would, if I could," replied Sandford quickly.
+
+"You can but try, Sir."
+
+Matilda was all this while bathed in tears; nor was Miss Woodley much
+less affected--Lady Elmwood was before their eyes--Matilda beheld her in
+her dying moments; Miss Woodley saw her as the gay ward of Dorriforth.
+
+"Ask Mr. Rushbrook," said Sandford, "prevail on him to speak for you; he
+has more power than I have."
+
+"He has not enough, then," replied Edwards, "for he was in the room with
+my Lord when what I have told you happened."
+
+"And did he say nothing?" asked Sandford.
+
+"Yes, Sir; he offered to speak in my behalf, but my Lord interrupted
+him, and ordered him out of the room--he instantly went."
+
+Sandford, now observing the effect which this narration had on the two
+ladies, led the man to his own apartments, and there assured him he
+dared not undertake his cause; but that if time or chance should happily
+make an alteration in his Lord's disposition, he would be the first who
+would endeavour to replace him.--Edwards was obliged to submit; and
+before the next day at noon, his pleasant house by the side of the park,
+his garden, and his orchard, which he had occupied above twenty years,
+were cleared of their old inhabitant, and all his wretched family.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+This melancholy incident, perhaps affected Matilda and all the friends
+of the deceased Lady Elmwood, beyond any other that had occurred since
+her death. A few days after this circumstance, Miss Woodley, in order to
+divert the disconsolate mind of Lady Matilda, (and in the hope of
+bringing her some little anecdotes, to console her for that which had
+given her so much pain) waited upon Lord Elmwood in his library, and
+borrowed some books out of it. He was now perfectly well from his fall,
+and received her with his usual politeness, but, of course, not with
+that peculiar warmth which he had discovered when he received her just
+after his illness. Rushbrook was in the library at the same time; he
+shewed her several beautiful prints which Lord Elmwood had just received
+from London, and appeared anxious to entertain and give tokens of his
+esteem and respect for her. But what gave her pleasure beyond any other
+attention, was, that after she had taken (by the aid of Rushbrook) about
+a dozen volumes from different shelves, and had laid them together,
+saying she would send her servant to fetch them; Lord Elmwood went
+eagerly to the place where they were, and taking up each book, examined
+minutely what it was. One author he complained was too light, another
+too depressing, and put them on the shelves again: another was
+erroneous, and he changed it for a better: thus, he warned her against
+some, and selected other authors, as the most cautious preceptor culls
+for his pupil, or a fond father for his darling Child. She thanked him
+for his attention to her, but her heart thanked him for his attention to
+his daughter. For as she had herself never received such a proof of his
+care since all their long acquaintance, she reasonably supposed,
+Matilda's reading, and not hers, was the object of his solicitude.
+
+Having in these books store of comfort for poor Matilda, she eagerly
+returned with them; and in reciting every particular circumstance, made
+her consider the volumes, almost like presents from her father.
+
+The month of September was now arrived; and Lord Elmwood, accompanied by
+Rushbrook, went to a small shooting seat, near twenty miles distant from
+Elmwood Castle, for a week's particular sport. Matilda was once more at
+large; and one beautiful morning, about eleven o'clock, seeing Miss
+Woodley walking on the lawn before the house, she hastily took her hat
+to join her; and not waiting to put it on, went nimbly down the great
+staircase, with it hanging on her arm. When she had descended a few
+stairs, she heard a footstep walking slowly up; and, (from what emotion
+she could not tell,) she stopped short, half resolved to turn back. She
+hesitated a single instant whether she should or not--then went a few
+steps further till she came to the second landing place; when, by the
+sudden winding of the staircase,--Lord Elmwood was immediately before
+her!
+
+She had felt something like affright before she saw him; but her reason
+told her she had nothing to fear, as he was away. But now, the
+appearance of a stranger whom she had never before seen; the authority
+in his looks, as well as in the sound of his steps; a resemblance to the
+portrait she had been shown of him; a start of astonishment which he
+gave on beholding her; but above all--her _fears_ confirmed her that it
+was him. She gave a scream of terror--put out her trembling hands to
+catch the balustrades for support--missed them--and fell motionless into
+her father's arms.
+
+He caught her, as by the same impulse, he would have caught any other
+person falling for want of aid. Yet when he found her in his arms, he
+still held her there--gazed on her attentively--and once pressed her to
+his bosom.
+
+At length trying to escape the snare into which he had been led, he was
+going to leave her on the spot where she fell, when her eyes opened and
+she uttered, "Save me." Her voice unmanned him. His long-restrained
+tears now burst forth--and seeing her relapsing into the swoon, he cried
+out eagerly to recall her. Her name did not, however, come to his
+recollection--nor any name but this--"Miss Milner--Dear Miss Milner."
+
+That sound did not awaken her; and now again he wished to leave her in
+this senseless state, that not remembering what had passed, she might
+escape the punishment.
+
+But at this instant, Giffard, with another servant, passed by the foot
+of the stairs: on which, Lord Elmwood called to them--and into Giffard's
+hands delivered his apparently dead child; without one command
+respecting her, or one word of any kind; while his face was agitated
+with shame, with pity, with anger, with paternal tenderness.
+
+As Giffard stood trembling, while he relieved his Lord from this hapless
+burthen, her father had to unloose her hand from the side of his coat,
+which she had caught fast hold of as she fell, and grasped so closely,
+it was with difficulty released.--On attempting to take the hand away he
+trembled--faltered--then bade Giffard do it.
+
+"Who, I, my Lord! I separate you!" cried he. But recollecting himself,
+"My Lord, I will obey your commands whatever they are." And seizing her
+hand, pulled it with violence--it fell--and her father went away.
+
+Matilda was carried to her own apartments, laid upon the bed, and Miss
+Woodley hasted to attend her, after listening to the recital of what had
+passed.
+
+When Lady Elmwood's old and affectionate friend entered the room, and
+saw her youthful charge lying pale and speechless, yet no father by to
+comfort or sooth her, she lifted up her hands to Heaven exclaiming, with
+a burst of tears, "And is this the end of thee, my poor child? Is this
+the end of all our hopes?--of thy own fearful hopes--and of thy mother's
+supplications! Oh! Lord Elmwood! Lord Elmwood!"
+
+At that name Matilda started, and cried, "Where is he? Is it a dream, or
+have I seen him?"
+
+"It is all a dream, my dear," said Miss Woodley.
+
+"And yet I thought he held me in his arms," she replied--"I thought I
+felt his hands press mine.--Let me sleep and dream again."
+
+Now thinking it best to undeceive her, "It is no dream, my dear,"
+returned Miss Woodley.
+
+"Is it not?" cried she, starting up and leaning on her elbow--"Then I
+suppose I must go away--go for ever away."
+
+Sandford now entered. Having been told the news, he came to condole--but
+at the sight of him Matilda was terrified, and cried, "Do not reproach
+me, do not upbraid me--I know I have done wrong--I know I had but one
+command from my father, and that I have disobeyed."
+
+Sandford could not reproach her, for he could not speak; he therefore
+only walked to the window and concealed his tears.
+
+That whole day and night was passed in sympathetic grief, in alarm at
+every sound, lest it should be a messenger to pronounce Matilda's
+destiny.
+
+Lord Elmwood did not stay upon this visit above three hours at Elmwood
+House; he then set off again for the seat he had left; where Rushbrook
+still remained, and from whence his Lordship had merely come by
+accident, to look over some writings which he wanted dispatched to town.
+
+During his short continuance here, Sandford cautiously avoided his
+presence; for he thought, in a case like this, what nature would not of
+herself effect, no art, no arguments of his, could accomplish: to Nature
+and Providence he left the whole. What these two powerful principles
+brought about, the reader will judge, when he peruses the following
+letter, received early the next morning by Miss Woodley.
+
+
+
+
+A
+
+SIMPLE STORY,
+
+IN FOUR VOLUMES,
+
+BY
+
+MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+VOL. IV.
+
+_THE FOURTH EDITION._
+
+LONDON:
+
+Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,
+
+PATERNOSTER ROW.
+
+1799.
+
+
+
+
+A SIMPLE STORY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+_A letter from Giffard, Lord Elmwood's House Steward, to Miss Woodley._
+
+     "MADAM,
+
+     "My Lord, above a twelvemonth ago, acquainted me he had permitted his
+     daughter to reside in his house; but at the same time he informed me,
+     the grant was under a certain restriction, which, if ever broken, I
+     was to see his then determination (of which he also acquainted me)
+     put in execution. In consequence of Lady Matilda's indisposition,
+     Madam, I have ventured to delay this notice till morning.--I need not
+     say with what concern I now give it, or mention to you, I believe,
+     what is forfeited. My Lord staid but a few hours yesterday, after the
+     unhappy circumstance on which I write, took place; nor did I see him
+     after, till he was in his carriage; he then sent for me to the
+     carriage door, and told me he should be back in two days time, and
+     added, 'Remember your duty.' That duty, I hope, Madam, you will not
+     require me to explain in more direct terms.--As soon as my Lord
+     returns, I have no doubt but he will ask me if it is fulfilled, and I
+     shall be under the greatest apprehension, should his commands not be
+     obeyed.
+
+     "If there is any thing wanting for the convenience of your and Lady
+     Matilda's departure, you have but to order it, and it is at your
+     service--I mean likewise any cash you may have occasion for. I should
+     presume to add my opinion where you might best take up your abode; but
+     with such advice as you will have from Mr. Sandford, mine would be but
+     assuming.
+
+     "I would also have waited upon you, Madam, and have delivered myself
+     the substance of this letter; but I am an old man, and the changes I
+     have been witness to in my Lord's house since I first lived in it,
+     has encreased my age many years; and I have not the strength to see
+     you upon this occasion. I loved my deceased Lady--I love my Lord--and
+     I love their child--nay, so I am sure does my Lord himself; but there
+     is no accounting for his resolutions, or for the alteration his
+     disposition has lately undergone.
+
+     "I beg pardon, Madam, for this long intrusion, and am, and ever will
+     be, (while you and my Lord's daughter are so) your afflicted humble
+     servant,
+
+     "ROBERT GIFFARD.
+
+     "Elmwood House,
+
+     "Sept. 12."
+
+When this letter was brought to Miss Woodley, she knew what it contained
+before she opened it, and therefore took it with an air of
+resignation--yet though she guessed the momentous part of its contents,
+she dreaded in what words it might be related; and having now no
+essential good to expect, hope, that will never totally expire, clung at
+this crisis to little circumstances, and she hoped most fervently, the
+terms of the letter might not be harsh, but that Lord Elmwood had
+delivered his commands in gentle language. The event proved he had; and
+lost to every important comfort, she felt grateful to him for this small
+one.
+
+Matilda, too, was cheered by this letter, for she expected something
+worse; and the last line, in which Giffard said he knew "His Lordship
+loved her," she thought repaid her for the purport of the other part.
+
+Sandford was not so easily resigned or comforted--he walked about the
+room when the letter was shewn to him--called it cruel--stifled his tears,
+and wished to show his resentment only--but the former burst through all
+his endeavours, and he sunk into grief.
+
+Nor was the fortitude of Matilda, which came to her assistance on the
+first onset of this trial, sufficient to arm her, when the moment came
+she was to quit the house--her father's house--never to see that, or him
+again.
+
+When word was brought that the carriage was at the door, which was to
+convey her from all she held so dear, and she saw before her the
+prospect of a long youthful and healthful life, in which misery and
+despair were all she could discern; that despair seized her at once, and
+gaining courage from it, she cried,
+
+"What have I to fear if I disobey my father's commands once more?--he
+cannot use me worse. I'll stay here till he returns--again throw myself
+in his way, and then I will not faint, but plead for mercy. Perhaps were
+I to kneel to him--kneel, like other children to their parents, and beg
+his blessing, he would not refuse it me."
+
+"You must not try:" said Sandford, mildly.
+
+"Who," cried she, "shall prevent me flying to my father? Have I another
+friend on earth? Have I one relation in the world but him? This is the
+second time I have been turned out of his house. In my infant state my
+cruel father turned me out; but then, he sent me to a mother--now I have
+none; and I will stay with him."
+
+Again the steward sent to let them know the coach was waiting.
+
+Sandford, now, with a determined countenance, went coolly up to Lady
+Matilda, and taking her hand, seemed resolved to lead her to the
+carriage.
+
+Accustomed to be awed by every serious look of his, she yet resisted
+this; and cried, "Would _you_ be the minister of my father's cruelty?"
+
+"Then," said Sandford solemnly to her, "farewell--from this moment you
+and I part. I will take my leave, and do you remain where you are--at
+least till you are forced away. But I'll not stay to be driven hence--for
+it is impossible your father will suffer any friend of yours to continue
+here, after this disobedience. Adieu."
+
+"I'll go this moment," said she, and rose hastily.
+
+Miss Woodley took her at her word, and hurried her immediately out of
+the room.
+
+Sandford followed slow behind, as if he had followed at her funeral.
+
+When she came to that spot on the stairs where she had met her father,
+she started back, and scarce knew how to pass it. When she had--"There he
+held me in his arms," said she, "and I thought I felt him press me to
+his heart, but I now find I was mistaken."
+
+As Sandford came forward, to hand her into the coach, "Now you behave
+well;" said he, "by this behaviour, you do not entirely close all
+prospect of reconciliation with your father."
+
+"Do you think it is not yet impossible?" cried she, clasping his hand.
+"Giffard says he loves me," continued she, "and do you think he might
+yet be brought to forgive me?"
+
+"Forgive you!" cried Sandford.
+
+"Suppose I was to write to him, and entreat his forgiveness?"
+
+"Do not write yet," said Sandford, with no cheering accent.
+
+The carriage drove off--and as it went, Matilda leaned her head from the
+window, to survey Elmwood House from the roof to the bottom. She cast
+her eyes upon the gardens too--upon the fish ponds--even the coach houses,
+and all the offices adjoining--which, as objects that she should never
+see again--she contemplated, as objects of importance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Rushbrook, who, at twenty miles distance, could have no conjecture what
+had passed at Elmwood House, during the short visit Lord Elmwood made
+there, went that way with his dogs and gun in order to meet him on his
+return, and accompany him in the chaise back--he did so--and getting into
+the carriage, told him eagerly the sport he had had during the day;
+laughed at an accident that had befallen one of his dogs; and for some
+time did not perceive but that his uncle was perfectly attentive. At
+length, observing he answered more negligently than usual to what he
+said, Rushbrook turned his eyes quickly upon him, and cried,
+
+"My Lord, are you not well?"
+
+"Yes; perfectly well, I thank you, Rushbrook," and he leaned back
+against the carriage.
+
+"I thought, Sir," returned Rushbrook, "you spoke languidly--I beg your
+pardon."
+
+"I have the head-ache a little," answered he:--then taking off his hat,
+brushed the powder from it, and as he put it on again, fetched a most
+heavy sigh; which no sooner had escaped him, than, to drown its sound,
+he said briskly,
+
+"And so you tell me you have had good sport to-day?"
+
+"No, my Lord, I said but indifferent."
+
+"True, so you did. Bid the man drive faster--it will be dark before we
+get home."
+
+"You will shoot to-morrow, my Lord?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"How does Mr. Sandford do, Sir?"
+
+"I did not see him."
+
+"Not see Mr. Sandford, My Lord? but he was out I suppose--for they did
+not expect you at Elmwood House."
+
+"No, they did not."
+
+In such conversation Rushbrook and his uncle continued to the end of
+their journey. Dinner was then immediately served, and Lord Elmwood
+appeared much in his usual spirits; at least, not suspecting any cause
+for their abatement, Rushbrook did not observe any alteration.
+
+Lord Elmwood went, however, earlier to bed than ordinary, or rather to
+his bed-chamber; for though he retired some time before his nephew, when
+Rushbrook passed his chamber door it was open, and he not in bed, but
+sitting in a musing posture, as if he had forgot to shut it.
+
+When Rushbrook's valet came to attend his master, he said to him,
+
+"I suppose, Sir, you do not know what has happened at the Castle?"
+
+"For heaven's sake what?" cried Rushbrook.
+
+"My Lord has met Lady Matilda:" replied the man.
+
+"How? Where? What's the consequence?"
+
+"We don't know yet, Sir; but all the servants suppose her Ladyship will
+not be suffered to remain there any longer."
+
+"They all suppose wrong," returned Rushbrook hastily--"My Lord loves her
+I am certain, and this event may be the happy means of his treating her
+as his child from this day."
+
+The servant smiled and shook his head.
+
+"Why, what more do you know?"
+
+"Nothing more than I have told you, Sir; except that his Lordship took
+no kind of notice of her Ladyship that appeared like love."
+
+Rushbrook was all uneasiness and anxiety to know the particulars of what
+had passed; and now Lord Elmwood's inquietude, which he had but slightly
+noticed before, came full to his observation. He was going to ask more
+questions; but he recollected Lady Matilda's misfortunes were too
+sacred, to be talked of thus familiarly by the servants of the
+family;--besides, it was evident this man thought, and but naturally, it
+might not be for his master's interest the father and the daughter
+should be united; and therefore would certainly give to all he said the
+opposite colouring.
+
+In spite of his prudence, however, and his delicacy towards Matilda,
+Rushbrook could not let his valet leave him till he had inquired, and
+learned all the circumstantial account of what had happened; except,
+indeed, the order received by Giffard, which being given after Lord
+Elmwood was in his carriage and in concise terms, the domestics who
+attended him (and from whom this man had gained his intelligence) were
+unacquainted with it.
+
+When the servant had left Rushbrook alone, the perturbation of his mind
+was so great, that he was, at length, undetermined whether to go to bed,
+or to rush into his uncle's apartment, and at his feet beg for that
+compassion upon his daughter, which he feared he had denied her. But
+then, to what peril would he not expose himself by such a step? Nay, he
+might perhaps even injure her whom he wished to serve; for if his uncle
+was at present unresolved, whether to forgive or to resent this
+disobedience to his commands, another's interference might enrage, and
+precipitate him on the latter.
+
+This consideration was so weighty, it resigned Rushbrook to the suspense
+he was compelled to endure till the morning; when he flattered himself,
+that by watching every look and motion of Lord Elmwood, his penetration
+would be able to discover the state of his heart, and how he meant to
+act.
+
+But the morning came, and he found all his prying curiosity was of no
+avail; Lord Elmwood did not drop one word, give one look, or use one
+action that was not customary.
+
+On first seeing him, Rushbrook blushed at the secret with which he was
+entrusted; then, as he gazed on the Earl, contemplated the joy he ought
+to have known in clasping in his arms a child like Matilda, whose
+tenderness, reverence, and duty, had deprived her of all sensation at
+his sight; which was in Rushbrook's mind an honour, that rendered him
+superior to what he was before.
+
+They were in the fields all the day as usual; Lord Elmwood now cheerful,
+and complaining no more of the head-ache. Yet once being separated from
+his nephew, Rushbrook crossed over a stile into another field, and found
+him sitting by the side of a bank, his gun lying by him, and himself
+lost in thought. He rose on seeing him, and proceeded to the sport as
+before.
+
+At dinner, he said he should not go to Elmwood House the next day, as he
+had appointed, but stay where he was, three or four days longer. From
+these two small occurrences, Rushbrook would fain have extracted
+something by which to judge the state of his mind; but upon the test,
+that was impossible--he had caught him so musing many a time before; and
+as to his prolonging his stay, that might arise from the sport--or,
+indeed, had any thing more material swayed him, who could penetrate
+whether it was the effect of the lenity, or the severity, he had dealt
+towards his child? whether his continuance there was to shun her, or to
+shun the house from whence he had banished her?
+
+The three or four days for their temporary abode being passed, they both
+returned together to Elmwood House. Rushbrook thought he saw his uncle's
+countenance change as they entered the avenue, yet he did not appear
+less in spirits; and when Sandford joined them at dinner, the Earl went
+with his usual alacrity to him, and (as was his custom after any
+separation) put out his hand cheerfully to take his. Sandford said, "How
+do you do, my Lord?" cheerfully in return; but put both his hands into
+his bosom, and walked to the other side of the room. Lord Elmwood did
+not seem to observe this affront--nor was it done as an affront--it was
+merely what poor Sandford felt; and he felt he could _not_ shake hands
+with him.
+
+Rushbrook soon learned the news that Matilda was gone, and Elmwood House
+was to him a desert--he saw there no real friend of her's, except poor
+Sandford, and to him, Rushbrook knew himself now, more displeasing than
+ever; and all his overtures of atonement, he, at this time, found more
+and more ineffectual. Matilda was exiled; and her supposed triumphant
+rival was, to Sandford, more odious than he had ever been.
+
+In alleviation of their banishment, Miss Woodley, with her charge, had
+not returned to their old retreat; but were gone to a farm house, not
+farther than thirty miles from Lord Elmwood's: here Sandford, with
+little inconvenience, visited them; nor did his patron ever take notice
+of his occasional absence; for as he had before given his daughter, in
+some measure, to his charge; so honour, delicacy, and the common ties of
+duty, made him approve, rather than condemn his attention to her.
+
+Though Sandford's frequent visits soothed Matilda, they could not
+comfort her; for he had no consolation to bestow that was suited to her
+mind--her father had given no one token of regret for what he had done.
+He had even inquired sternly of Giffard on his returning home,
+
+"If Miss Woodley had left the house?"
+
+The steward guessing the whole of his meaning, answered, "Yes, my Lord;
+and _all_ your commands in that respect have been obeyed."
+
+He replied, "I am satisfied." And, to the grief of the old man, appeared
+really so.
+
+To the farm-house, the place of Matilda's residence, there came, besides
+Sandford, another visitor far less welcome--Viscount Margrave. He had
+heard with surprise, and still greater joy, that Lord Elmwood had once
+more shut his doors against his daughter. In this her discarded state,
+he no longer burthened his lively imagination with the dull thoughts of
+marriage, but once more formed the idea of making her his mistress.
+
+Ignorant of a certain decorum which attended all Lord Elmwood's actions,
+he suspected that his child might be in want; and an acquaintance with
+the worst part of her sex informed him, that relief from poverty was the
+sure bargain for his success. With these hopes, he again paid Miss
+Woodley and her a visit; but the coldness of the former, and the
+haughtiness of the latter, still kept him at a distance, and again made
+him fear to give one allusion to his purpose: but he returned home
+resolved to write what he durst not speak--he did so--he offered his
+services, his purse, his house--they were rejected with contempt, and a
+stronger prohibition than ever given to his visits.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Lord Elmwood had now allowed Rushbrook a long vacation, in respect to
+his answer upon the subject of marriage; and the young man vainly
+imagined, his intentions upon that subject were entirely given up. One
+morning, however, as he was attending him in the library,
+
+"Henry,"----said his uncle, with a pause at the beginning of his speech,
+which indicated that he was going to say something of importance,
+"Henry----you have not forgot the discourse I had with you a little time
+previous to your illness?"
+
+Henry hesitated--for he wished to have forgotten it--but it was too
+strongly impressed upon his memory. Lord Elmwood resumed,
+
+"What! equivocating again, Sir? Do you remember it, or do you not?"
+
+"Yes, my Lord, I do."
+
+"And are you prepared to give me an answer?"
+
+Rushbrook paused again.
+
+"In our former conversation," continued the Earl, "I gave you but a week
+to determine--there has, I think, elapsed since that time, half a year."
+
+"About as much, Sir."
+
+"Then surely you have now made up your mind?"
+
+"I had done that at first, my Lord--if it had met with your concurrence."
+
+"You wished to lead a bachelor's life, I think you said?"
+
+Rushbrook bowed.
+
+"Contrary to my will?"
+
+"No, my Lord, I wished to have your approbation."
+
+"And you wished for my approbation of the very opposite thing to that I
+proposed? But I am not surprised--such is the gratitude of the world--and
+such is yours."
+
+"My Lord, if you doubt my gratitude----"
+
+"Give me a proof of it, Harry, and I will doubt no longer."
+
+"Upon every other subject but this, my Lord, Heaven is my witness your
+happiness----"
+
+Lord Elmwood interrupted him. "I understand you--upon every other
+subject, but the only one, my content requires, you are ready to obey
+me. I thank you."
+
+"My Lord, do not torture me with this suspicion; it is so contrary to my
+deserts, that I cannot bear it."
+
+"Suspicion of your ingratitude!--you judge too favourably of my
+opinion--it amounts to certainty."
+
+"Then to convince you, Sir, I am not ungrateful, tell me who the Lady is
+you have chosen for me, and here I give you my word, I will sacrifice
+all my future prospects of happiness--all, for which I would wish to
+live--and become her husband as soon as you shall appoint."
+
+This was spoken with a tone so expressive of despair, that Lord Elmwood
+replied,
+
+"And while you obey me, you take care to let me know, it will cost you
+your future peace. This is, I suppose, to enhance the merit of the
+obligation--but I shall not accept your acquiescence on these terms."
+
+"Then in dispensing with it, I hope for your pardon."
+
+"Do you suppose, Rushbrook, I can pardon an offence, the sole foundation
+of which, arises from a spirit of disobedience?--for you have declared to
+me your affections are disengaged. In our last conversation did you not
+say so?"
+
+"At first I did, my Lord--but you permitted me to consult my heart more
+closely; and I have since found that I was mistaken."
+
+"You then own you at first told me a falsehood, and yet have all this
+time, kept me in suspense without confessing it."
+
+"I waited, my Lord, till you should enquire----"
+
+"You have then, Sir, waited too long;" and the fire flashed from his
+eyes.
+
+Rushbrook now found himself in that perilous state, that admitted of no
+medium of resentment, but by such dastardly conduct on his part, as
+would wound both his truth and courage; and thus, animated by his
+danger, he was resolved to plunge boldly at once into the depth of his
+patron's anger.
+
+"My Lord," said he, (but he did not undertake this task without
+sustaining the trembling and convulsion of his whole frame) "My
+Lord--waving for a moment the subject of my marriage--permit me to remind
+you, that when I was upon my sick bed, you promised, that on my
+recovery, you would listen to a petition I should offer to you."
+
+"Let me recollect," replied he. "Yes--I do remember something of it. But
+I said nothing to warrant any improper petition."
+
+"Its impropriety was not named, my Lord."
+
+"No matter--that, you must judge of, and answer for the consequences."
+
+"I would answer with my life, willingly--but I own that I shrink from
+your anger."
+
+"Then do not provoke it."
+
+"I have already gone too far to recede--and you would of course demand an
+explanation, if I attempted to stop here."
+
+"I should."
+
+"Then, my Lord, I am bound to speak--but do not interrupt me--hear me out,
+before you banish me from your presence for ever."
+
+"I will, Sir," replied he, prepared to hear something that would
+displease him, and yet determined to hear with patience to the
+conclusion.
+
+"Then, my Lord,"--(cried Rushbrook, in the greatest agitation of mind and
+body) "Your daughter"----
+
+The resolution Lord Elmwood had taken (and on which he had given his
+word to his nephew not to interrupt him) immediately gave way. The
+colour rose in his face--his eye darted lightning--and his hand was lifted
+up with the emotion, that word had created.
+
+"You promised to hear me, my Lord!" cried Rushbrook, "and I claim your
+promise."
+
+He now suddenly overcame his violence of passion, and stood silent and
+resigned to hear him; but with a determined look, expressive of the
+vengeance that should ensue.
+
+"Lady Matilda," resumed Rushbrook, "is an object that wrests from me the
+enjoyment of every blessing your kindness bestows. I cannot but feel
+myself as her adversary--as one, who has supplanted her in your
+affections--who supplies her place, while she is exiled, a wanderer, and
+an orphan."
+
+The Earl took his eyes from Rushbrook, during this last sentence, and
+cast them on the floor.
+
+"If I feel gratitude towards you, my Lord," continued he, "gratitude is
+innate in my heart, and I must also feel it towards her, who first
+introduced me to your protection."
+
+Again the colour flew to Lord Elmwood's face; and again he could hardly
+restrain himself from uttering his indignation.
+
+"It was the mother of Lady Matilda," continued Rushbrook, "who was this
+friend to me; nor will I ever think of marriage, or any other joyful
+prospect, while you abandon the only child of my beloved patroness, and
+load me with rights, which belong to her."
+
+Here Rushbrook stopped--Lord Elmwood was silent too, for near half a
+minute; but still his countenance continued fixed, with his unvaried
+resolves.
+
+After this long pause, the Earl said with composure, but with firmness,
+"Have you finished, Mr. Rushbrook?"
+
+"All that I dare to utter, my Lord; and I fear, I have already said too
+much."
+
+Rushbrook now trembled more than ever, and looked pale as death; for the
+ardour of speaking being over, he waited his sentence, with less
+constancy of mind than he expected he should.
+
+"You disapprove my conduct, it seems;" said Lord Elmwood, "and in that,
+you are but like the rest of the world--and yet, among all my
+acquaintance, you are the only one who has dared to insult me with your
+opinion. And this you have not done inadvertently; but willingly, and
+deliberately. But as it has been my fate to be used ill, and severed
+from all those persons to whom my soul has been most attached; with less
+regret I can part from you, than if this were my first trial."
+
+There was a truth and a pathetic sound in the utterance of these words,
+that struck Rushbrook to the heart--and he beheld himself as a barbarian,
+who had treated his benevolent and only friend, with insufferable
+liberty; void of respect for those corroding sorrows which had
+imbittered so many years of his life, and in open violation of his most
+peremptory commands. He felt that he deserved all he was going to
+suffer, and he fell upon his knees; not so much to deprecate the doom he
+saw impending, as thus humbly to acknowledge, it was his due.
+
+Lord Elmwood, irritated by this posture, as a sign of the presumptuous
+hope that he might be forgiven, suffered now his anger to burst all
+bounds; and raising his voice, he exclaimed in a rage,
+
+"Leave my house, Sir. Leave my house instantly, and seek some other
+home."
+
+Just as these words were begun, Sandford opened the library door, was
+witness to them, and to the imploring situation of Rushbrook. He stood
+silent with amazement!
+
+Rushbrook arose, and feeling in his mind a presage, that he might never
+from that hour, behold his benefactor more; as he bowed in token of
+obedience to his commands, a shower of tears covered his face; but Lord
+Elmwood, unmoved, fixed his eyes upon him, which pursued him with
+enraged looks to the end of the room. Here he had to pass Sandford; who,
+for the first time in his life, took hold of him by the hand, and said
+to Lord Elmwood, "My Lord, what's the matter?"
+
+"That ungrateful villain," cried he, "has dared to insult me.--Leave my
+house this moment, Sir."
+
+Rushbrook made an effort to go, but Sandford still held his hand; and
+meekly said to Lord Elmwood,
+
+"He is but a boy, my Lord, and do not give him the punishment of a man."
+
+Rushbrook now snatched his hand from Sandford's, and threw it with
+himself upon his neck; where he indeed sobbed like a boy.
+
+"You are both in league," exclaimed Lord Elmwood.
+
+"Do you suspect me of partiality to Mr. Rushbrook?" said Sandford,
+advancing nearer to the Earl.
+
+Rushbrook had now gained the point of remaining in the room; but the
+hope that privilege inspired (while he still harboured all the just
+apprehensions for his fate) gave birth, perhaps, to a more exquisite
+sensation of pain, than despair would have done. He stood
+silent--confounded--hoping that he was forgiven--fearing that he was not.
+
+As Sandford approached still nearer to Lord Elmwood, he continued, "No,
+my Lord, I know you do not suspect me, of partiality to Mr.
+Rushbrook--has any part of my behaviour ever discovered it?"
+
+"You now then only interfere to provoke me."
+
+"If that were the case," returned Sandford, "there have been occasions,
+when I might have done it more effectually--when my own heart-strings
+were breaking, because I would not provoke, or add to what you
+suffered."
+
+"I am obliged to you, Mr. Sandford:" he returned, mildly.
+
+"And if, my Lord, I have proved any merit in a late forbearance, reward
+me for it now; and take this young man from the depth of despair in
+which I see he is sunk, and say you pardon him."
+
+Lord Elmwood made no answer--and Rushbrook, drawing strong inferences of
+hope from his silence, lifted up his eyes from the ground, and ventured
+to look in his face: he found it composed to what it had been, but still
+strongly marked with agitation. He cast his eyes away again, in
+confusion.
+
+On which his uncle said to him--"I shall postpone executing your
+obedience to my late orders, till you think fit once more to provoke
+them--and then, not even Sandford, shall dare to plead your excuse."
+
+Rushbrook bowed.
+
+"Go, leave the room, Sir."
+
+He instantly obeyed.
+
+Then Sandford, turning to Lord Elmwood, shook him by the hand, and
+cried, "My Lord, I thank you--I thank you very kindly, my Lord--I shall
+now begin to think I have some weight with you."
+
+"You might indeed think so, did you know how much I have pardoned."
+
+"What was his offence, my Lord?"
+
+"Such as I would not have forgiven you, or any earthly being besides
+himself--but while you were speaking in his behalf, I recollected there
+was a gratitude so extraordinary in the hazards he ran, that almost made
+him pardonable."
+
+"I guess the subject then," cried Sandford; and yet I could not have
+supposed"----
+
+"It is a subject we cannot speak on, Sandford, therefore let us drop
+it."
+
+At these words the discourse concluded.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+To the relief of Rushbrook, Lord Elmwood that day dined from home, and
+he had not the confusion to see him again till the evening. Previous to
+this, Sandford and he met at dinner; but as the attendants were present,
+nothing passed on either side respecting the incident in the morning.
+Rushbrook, from the peril which had so lately threatened him, was now in
+his perfectly cool, and dispassionate senses; and notwithstanding the
+real tenderness which he bore to the daughter of his benefactor, he was
+not insensible to the comfort of finding himself, once more in the
+possession of all those enjoyments he had forfeited, and for a moment
+lost.
+
+As he reflected on this, to Sandford he felt the first tie of
+acknowledgement--but for his compassion, he knew he should have been at
+that very time of their meeting at dinner, away from Elmwood House for
+ever; and bearing on his mind a still more painful recollection, the
+burthen of his kind patron's continual displeasure. Filled with these
+thoughts, all the time of dinner, he could scarce look at his companion,
+without tears of gratitude; and whenever he attempted to speak to him,
+gratitude choaked his utterance.
+
+Sandford, on his part, behaved just the same as ever; and to show he did
+not wish to remind Rushbrook of what he had done, he was just as uncivil
+as ever.
+
+Among other things, he said, "He did not know Lord Elmwood dined from
+home, for if he had, he should have dined in his own apartment."
+
+Rushbrook was still more obliged to him for all this; and the weight of
+obligations with which he was oppressed, made him long for an
+opportunity to relieve himself by expressions. As soon, therefore, as
+the servants were all withdrawn, he began:
+
+"Mr. Sandford, whatever has been your opinion of _me_, I take pride to
+myself, that in my sentiments towards _you_, I have always distinguished
+you for that humane, disinterested character, you have this day proved."
+
+"Humane, and disinterested," replied Sandford, "are flattering epithets
+indeed, for an old man going out of the world, and who can have no
+temptation to be otherwise."
+
+"Then suffer me to call your actions generous and compassionate, for
+they have saved me----"
+
+"I know, young man," cried Sandford, interrupting him, "you are glad at
+what I have done, and that you find a gratification in telling me you
+are; but it is a gratification I will not indulge you with--therefore,
+say another sentence on the subject, and" (rising from his seat) "I'll
+leave the room, and never come into your company again, whatever your
+uncle may say to it."
+
+Rushbrook saw by the solemnity of his countenance, he was serious, and
+positively assured him he would never thank him more: on which Sandford
+took his seat again, but he still frowned, and it was many minutes
+before he conquered his ill humour. As his countenance became less sour,
+Rushbrook fell from some general topics he had eagerly started in order
+to appease him, and said,
+
+"How hard is it to restrain conversation from the subject of our
+thoughts; and yet amidst our dearest friends, and among persons who have
+the same dispositions and sentiments as our own, their minds, too, fixed
+upon the self-same objects, is this constraint practised--and thus,
+society, which was meant for one of our greatest blessings, becomes
+insipid, nay, often more wearisome than solitude."
+
+"I think, young man," replied Sandford, "you have made pretty free with
+your speech to-day, and ought not to complain of the want of toleration
+on that score."
+
+"I do complain;" replied Rushbrook, "for if toleration was more
+frequent, the favour of obtaining it would be less."
+
+"And your pride, I suppose, is above receiving a favour."
+
+"Never from those I esteem; and to convince you of it, I wish this
+moment to request a favour of you."
+
+"I dare say I shall refuse it. However what is it?"
+
+"Permit me to speak to you upon the subject of Lady Matilda?"
+
+Sandford made no answer, consequently did not forbid him--and he
+proceeded.
+
+"For her sake--as I suppose Lord Elmwood may have told you--I this morning
+rashly threw myself into the predicament from whence you released me--for
+her sake, I have suffered much--for her sake I have hazarded a great
+deal, and am still ready to hazard more."
+
+"But for your own sake, do not," returned Sandford, drily.
+
+"You may laugh at these sentiments as romantic, Mr. Sandford, but if
+they are, to me they are nevertheless natural."
+
+"But of what service are they to be either to her, or to yourself?"
+
+"To me they are painful, and to her would be but impertinent, were she
+to know them."
+
+"I shan't inform her of them, so do not trouble yourself to caution me
+against it."
+
+"I was not going--you know I was not--but I was going to say, that from no
+one so well as from you, could she be told my sentiments, without the
+danger of receiving offence."
+
+"And what impression do you wish to give her, from her becoming
+acquainted with them?"
+
+"The impression, that she has one sincere friend: that upon every
+occurrence in life, there is a heart so devoted to all she feels, that
+she never can suffer without the sympathy of another: or can ever
+command him, and all his fortunes to unite for her welfare, without his
+ready, his immediate compliance."
+
+"And do you imagine, that any of your professions, or any of her
+necessities, would ever prevail upon her to put you to the trial?"
+
+"Perhaps not."
+
+"What, then, are the motives which induce you to wish her to be told of
+this?"
+
+Rushbrook paused.
+
+"Do you think," continued Sandford, "the intelligence will give her any
+satisfaction?"
+
+"Perhaps not."
+
+"Will it be of any to yourself?"
+
+"The highest in the world."
+
+"And so all you have been urging upon this occasion, is, at last, only
+to please yourself."
+
+"You wrong my meaning--it is her merit which inspires me with the desire
+of being known to her--it is her sufferings, her innocence, her beauty----"
+
+Sandford stared--Rushbrook proceeded: "It is her----"
+
+"Nay, stop where you are," cried Sandford; "you are arrived at the
+zenith of perfection in a woman, and to add one qualification more,
+would be an anti-climax."
+
+"Oh!" cried Rushbrook with warmth, "I loved her, before I ever beheld
+her."
+
+"Loved her!" cried Sandford, with astonishment, "You are talking of what
+you did not intend."
+
+"I am, indeed:" returned he in confusion, "I fell by accident on the
+word love."
+
+"And by the same accident stumbled on the word beauty; and thus by
+accident, am I come to the truth of all your professions."
+
+Rushbrook knew that he loved; and though his affection had sprung from
+the most laudable motives, yet was he ashamed of it, as of a vice--he
+rose, he walked about the room, and he did not look Sandford in the
+face for a quarter of an hour: Sandford, satisfied that he had judged
+rightly, and yet unwilling to be too hard upon a passion, which he
+readily believed must have had many noble virtues for its foundation,
+now got up and went away, without saying a word in censure, though not a
+word in approbation.
+
+It was in the month of October, and just dark, at the time Rushbrook was
+left alone, yet in the agitation of his mind, arising from the subject
+on which he had been talking, he found it impossible to remain in the
+house, and therefore walked into the fields; but there was another
+instigation, more powerful than the necessity of walking--it was the
+allurement of passing along that path where he had last seen Lady
+Matilda, and where, for the only time, she had condescended to speak to
+him divested of haughtiness; and with a gentleness that dwelt upon his
+memory beyond all her other endowments.
+
+Here, he retraced his own steps repeatedly, his whole imagination
+engrossed with her idea, till the sound of her father's carriage
+returning from his visit, roused him from the delusion of his trance, to
+the dread of the confusion and embarrassment he should endure, on next
+meeting him. He hoped Sandford might be present, and yet he was now,
+almost as much ashamed of seeing him, as his uncle, whom he had so
+lately offended.
+
+Loath to leave the spot where he was, as to enter the house, he remained
+there, till he considered it would be ill manners, in his present
+humiliated situation, not to show himself at the usual supper hour,
+which was immediately.
+
+As he laid his hand upon the door of the apartment to open it, he was
+sorry to hear by Lord Elmwood's voice, he was in the room before him;
+for there was something much more conspicuously distressing, in entering
+where he already was, than had his uncle come in after him. He found
+himself, however, re-assured, by overhearing the Earl laugh and speak in
+a tone expressive of the utmost good humour to Sandford, who was with
+him.
+
+Yet again, he felt all the awkwardness of his own situation; but making
+one courageous effort, opened the door and entered. Lord Elmwood had
+been away half the day, had dined abroad, and it was necessary to take
+some notice of his return; Rushbrook, therefore, bowed humbly, and what
+was more to his advantage, he looked humbly. His uncle made a slight
+return to the salutation, but continued the recital he had begun to
+Sandford; then sat down to the supper table--supped--and passed the whole
+evening without saying a syllable, or even casting a look, in
+remembrance of what had passed in the morning. Or if there was any
+token, that shewed he remembered the circumstance at all, it was the
+putting his glass to his nephew's, when Rushbrook called for wine, and
+drinking at the time he did.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The repulse Lord Margrave received, did not diminish the ardour of his
+pursuit; for as he was no longer afraid of resentment from the Earl,
+whatever treatment his daughter might receive, he was determined the
+anger of Lady Matilda, or of her female friend, should not impede his
+pretensions.
+
+Having taken this resolution, he laid the plan of an open violation of
+all right; and determined to bear away that prize by force, which no art
+was likely to procure. He concerted with two of his favourite
+companions, but their advice was, "One struggle more of fair means."
+This was totally against his inclination; for, he had much rather have
+encountered the piercing cries of a female in the last agonies of
+distress, than the fatigue of her sentimental harangues, or elegant
+reproofs, such as he had the sense to understand, but not the capacity
+to answer.
+
+Stimulated, however, by his friends to one more trial, in spite of the
+formal dismission he had twice received, he intruded another visit on
+Lady Matilda at the Farm. Provoked beyond bearing at such unfeeling
+assurance, Matilda refused to come into the room where he was, and Miss
+Woodley alone received him, and expressed her surprise at the little
+attention he had paid to her explicit desire.
+
+"Madam," replied the nobleman, "to be plain with you, I am in love."
+
+"I do not the least doubt it, my Lord," replied Miss Woodley: "nor ought
+you to doubt the truth of what I advance, when I assure you, that you
+have not the smallest reason to hope your love will be returned; for
+Lady Matilda is resolved _never_ to listen to your passion."
+
+"That man," he replied, "is to blame, who can relinquish his hopes, upon
+the mere resolution of a lady."
+
+"And that lady would be wrong," replied Miss Woodley, "who should
+entrust her happiness in the care of a man, who can think thus meanly of
+her and of her sex."
+
+"I think highly of them all," he replied; "and to convince you in how
+high an estimation I hold _her_ in particular, my whole fortune is at
+her command."
+
+"Your entire absence from this house, my Lord, she would consider as a
+much greater mark of your respect."
+
+A long conversation, as uninteresting as this, ensued: the unexpected
+arrival of Mr. Sandford, put an end to it. He started at the sight of
+Lord Margrave; but the Viscount was much more affected at the sight of
+him.
+
+"My Lord," said Sandford boldly to him, "have you received any
+encouragement from Lady Matilda to authorize this visit?"
+
+"None, upon my honour, Mr. Sandford; but I hope you know how to pardon a
+lover!"
+
+"A rational one I do--but you, my Lord, are not of that class while you
+persecute the pretended object of your affection."
+
+"Do you call it persecution that I once offered her a share of my title
+and fortune--and even now, declare my fortune is at her disposal?"
+
+Sandford was uncertain whether he understood his meaning--but Lord
+Margrave, provoked at his ill reception, felt a triumph in removing his
+doubts, and proceeded thus:
+
+"For the discarded daughter of Lord Elmwood, cannot expect the same
+proposals, which I made, while she was acknowledged, and under the
+protection of her father."
+
+"What proposals then, my Lord?" asked Sandford hastily.
+
+"Such," replied he, "as the Duke of Avon made to her mother."
+
+Miss Woodley quitted the room that instant. But Sandford, who never felt
+resentment but against those in whom he saw some virtue, calmly replied,
+
+"My Lord, the Duke of Avon was a gentleman, a man of elegance and
+breeding; and what have you to offer in recompense for your defects in
+qualities like these?"
+
+"My wealth," replied he, "opposed to her indigence." Sandford smiled,
+and answered,
+
+"Do you suppose _that_ wealth can be esteemed, which has not been able
+to make you respectable? What is it makes wealth valuable? Is it the
+pleasures of the table? the pleasure of living in a fine house? or of
+wearing fine cloaths? These are pleasures, a Lord enjoys, but in common
+with his valet. It is the pleasure of being conspicuous, which makes
+riches desirable; but if we are conspicuous only for our vice and folly,
+had we not better remain in poverty?"
+
+"You are beneath my notice."
+
+"I trust I shall continue so--and that your Lordship will never again
+condescend to come where I am."
+
+"A man of rank condescends to mix with any society, when a pretty woman
+is the object."
+
+"My Lord, I have a book here in my pocket, which I am eager to read; it
+is an author who speaks sense and reason--will you pardon the impatience
+I feel for such company; and permit me to call your carriage?"
+
+Saying this, he went hastily and beckoned to the coachman; the carriage
+drove up, the door was opened, and Lord Margrave, ashamed to be exposed
+before his attendants, and convinced of the inutility of remaining any
+longer where he was, departed.
+
+Sandford was soon joined by the ladies; and the conversation falling, of
+course, upon the nobleman who had just taken his leave, Sandford
+unwarily exclaimed, "I wish Rushbrook had been here."
+
+"Who?" cried Lady Matilda.
+
+"I do believe," said Miss Woodley, "that young man has some good
+qualities."
+
+"A great many," returned Sandford, mutteringly.
+
+"Happy young man!" cried Matilda: "he is beloved by all those, whose
+affection it would be my choice to possess, beyond any other blessing
+this world could bestow."
+
+"And yet I question, if Rushbrook is happy," said Sandford.
+
+"He cannot be otherwise," returned Matilda, "if he is a man of
+understanding."
+
+"He does not want understanding neither," replied Sandford; "although he
+has certainly many indiscretions."
+
+"But which Lord Elmwood, I suppose," said Matilda, "looks upon with
+tenderness."
+
+"Not upon all his faults," answered Sandford; "for I have seen him in
+very dangerous circumstances with your father."
+
+"Have you indeed?" cried Matilda: "then I pity him."
+
+"And I believe," said Miss Woodley, "that from his heart, he
+compassionates you. Now, Mr. Sandford," continued she, "though this is
+the first time I ever heard you speak in his favour, (and I once thought
+as indifferently of Mr. Rushbrook as you can do) yet now I will venture
+to ask you, whether you do not think he wishes Lady Matilda much happier
+than she is?"
+
+"I have heard him say so," answered Sandford.
+
+"It is a subject," returned Lady Matilda, "which I did not imagine you,
+Mr. Sandford, would have permitted him to have mentioned lightly, in
+your presence."
+
+"Lightly! Do you suppose, my dear, we turned your situation into
+ridicule?"
+
+"No, Sir,--but there is a sort of humiliation in the grief to which I am
+doomed, that ought surely to be treated with the highest degree of
+delicacy by my friends."
+
+"I don't know on what point you fix real delicacy; but if it consists in
+sorrow, the young man gives a proof he possesses it, for he shed tears
+when I last heard him mention your name."
+
+"I have more cause to weep at the mention of his."
+
+"Perhaps so.--But let me tell you, Lady Matilda, that your father might
+have preferred a more unworthy object."
+
+"Still had he been to me," she cried, "an object of envy. And as I
+frankly confess my envy of Mr. Rushbrook, I hope you will pardon my
+malice, which is, you know, but a consequent crime."
+
+The subject now turned again upon Lord Margrave; and all of them being
+firmly persuaded, this last reception would put an end to every further
+intrusion from him, they treated his pretensions, and himself, with the
+contempt they inspired--but not with the caution that was requisite.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+The next morning early, Mr. Sandford returned to Elmwood House, but with
+his spirits depressed, and his heart overcharged with sorrow. He had
+seen Lady Matilda, the object of his visit, but he had beheld her
+considerably altered in her looks and in her health; she was become very
+thin, and instead of the vivid bloom that used to adorn her cheeks, her
+whole complexion was of a deadly pale--her countenance no longer
+expressed hope or fear, but a fixed melancholy--she shed no tears, but
+was all sadness. He had beheld this, and he had heard her insulted by
+the licentious proposals of a nobleman, from whom there was no
+satisfaction to be demanded, because she had no friend to vindicate her
+honour.
+
+Rushbrook, who suspected where Sandford was gone, and imagined he would
+return that day, took his morning's ride, so as to meet him on the road,
+at the distance of a few miles from the Castle; for, since his perilous
+situation with Lord Elmwood, he was so fully convinced of the general
+philanthropy of Sandford's character, that in spite of his churlish
+manners, he now addressed him, free from that reserve to which his rough
+behaviour had formerly given birth. And Sandford, on his part, believing
+he had formed an illiberal opinion of Lord Elmwood's heir, though he
+took no pains to let him know that his opinion was changed, yet resolved
+to make him restitution upon every occasion that offered.
+
+Their mutual greetings when they met, were unceremonious, but cordial;
+and Rushbrook turned his horse and rode back with Sandford; yet,
+intimidated by his respect and tenderness for Lady Matilda, rather than
+by fear of the rebuffs of his companion, he had not the courage to name
+her, till the ride was just finished, and they came within a few yards
+of the house--incited then by the apprehension, he might not soon again
+enjoy so fit an opportunity, he said,
+
+"Pardon me, Mr. Sandford, if I guess where you have been, and if my
+curiosity forces me to inquire for Miss Woodley's and Lady Matilda's
+health?"
+
+He named Miss Woodley first, to prolong the time before he mentioned
+Matilda; for though to name her gave him extreme pleasure, yet it was a
+pleasure accompanied by confusion and pain.
+
+"They are both very well," replied Sandford, "at least they did not
+complain they were sick."
+
+"They are not in spirits, I suppose?" said Rushbrook.
+
+"No, indeed:" replied Sandford, shaking his head.
+
+"No new misfortune has happened, I hope?" cried Rushbrook; for it was
+plain to see Sandford's spirits were unusually cast down.
+
+"Nothing new," returned he, "except the insolence of a young nobleman."
+
+"What nobleman?" cried Rushbrook.
+
+"A lover of Lady Matilda's," replied Sandford.
+
+Rushbrook was petrified. "Who? What lover, Mr. Sandford?--explain?"
+
+They were now arrived at the house; and Sandford, without making any
+reply to this question, said to the servant who took his horse, "She has
+come a long way this morning; take care of her."
+
+This interruption was torture to Rushbrook, who kept close to his side,
+in order to obtain a further explanation; but Sandford, without
+attending to him, walked negligently into the hall, and before they
+advanced many steps, they were met by Lord Elmwood.
+
+All further information was put an end to for the present.
+
+"How do you do, Sandford?" said Lord Elmwood with extreme kindness; as
+if he thanked him for the journey which, it was likely, he suspected he
+had been taking.
+
+"I am indifferently well, my Lord:" replied he, with a face of deep
+concern, and a tear in his eye, partly in gratitude for his patron's
+civility, and partly in reproach for his cruelty.
+
+It was not now till the evening, that Rushbrook had an opportunity of
+renewing the conversation, which had been so barbarously interrupted.
+
+In the evening, no longer able to support the suspense into which he was
+thrown; without fear or shame, he followed Sandford into his chamber at
+the time of his retiring, and entreated of him, with all the anxiety he
+suffered, to explain his allusion when he talked of a lover, and of
+insolence to Lady Matilda.
+
+Sandford, seeing his emotion, was angry with himself that he had
+inadvertently mentioned the subject; and putting on an air of surly
+importance, desired,--if he had any business with him, that he would call
+in the morning.
+
+Exasperated at so unexpected a reception, and at the pain of his
+disappointment, Rushbrook replied, "He treated him cruelly, nor would he
+stir out of his room, till he had received a satisfactory answer to his
+question."
+
+"Then bring your bed," replied Sandford, "for you must pass your whole
+night here."
+
+He found it vain to think of obtaining any intelligence by threats, he
+therefore said in a timid and persuasive manner,
+
+"Did you, Mr. Sandford, hear Lady Matilda mention my name?"
+
+"Yes," replied Sandford, a little better reconciled to him.
+
+"Did you tell her what I lately declared to you?" he asked with still
+more diffidence.
+
+"No," replied Sandford.
+
+"It is very well, Sir," returned he, vexed to the heart--yet again
+wishing to sooth him--
+
+"You certainly, Mr. Sandford, know what is for the best--yet I entreat
+you will give me some further account of the nobleman you named?"
+
+"I know what is for the best," replied Sandford, "and I won't."
+
+Rushbrook bowed, and immediately left the room. He went apparently
+submissive, but the moment he showed this submission, he took the
+resolution of paying a visit himself to the farm at which Lady Matilda
+resided; and of learning, either from Miss Woodley, the people of the
+house, the neighbours, or perhaps from Lady Matilda's own lips, the
+secret which the obstinacy of Sandford had with-held.
+
+He saw all the dangers of this undertaking, but none appeared so great
+as the danger of losing her he loved, by the influence of a rival--and
+though Sandford had named "insolence," he was in doubt whether what had
+appeared so to him, was so in reality, or would be so considered by her.
+
+To prevent the cause of his absence being suspected by Lord Elmwood, he
+immediately called his groom, ordered his horse, and giving those
+servants concerned, a strict charge of secrecy, with some frivolous
+pretence to apologize for his not being present at breakfast (resolving
+to be back by dinner) he set off that night, and arrived at an inn about
+a mile from the farm at break of day.
+
+The joy he felt when he found himself so near to the beloved object of
+his journey, made him thank Sandford in his heart, for the unkindness
+which had sent him thither. But new difficulties arose, how to
+accomplish the end for which he came; he learned from the people of the
+inn, that a Lord, with a fine equipage, had visited at the farm, but who
+he was, or for what purpose he went, no one could inform him.
+
+Dreading to return with his doubts unsatisfied, and yet afraid of
+proceeding to extremities that might be construed into presumption, he
+walked disconsolately (almost distractedly) about the fields, looking
+repeatedly at his watch, and wishing the time would stand still, till he
+was ready to go back with his errand compleated.
+
+Every field he passed, brought him nearer to the house on which his
+imagination was fixed; but how, without forfeiting every appearance of
+that respect which he so powerfully felt, could he attempt to enter
+it?--he saw the indecorum, resolved not to be guilty of it, and yet
+walked on till he was within but a small orchard of the door. Could he
+then retreat?--he wished he could; but he found that he had proceeded too
+far to be any longer master of himself. The time was urgent; he must
+either behold her, and venture her displeasure, or by diffidence during
+one moment, give up all his hopes perhaps for ever.
+
+With that same disregard to consequences, which actuated him when he
+dared to supplicate Lord Elmwood in his daughter's behalf, he at length
+went eagerly to the door and rapped.
+
+A servant came--he asked to "Speak with Miss Woodley, if she was quite
+alone."
+
+He was shown into an apartment, and Miss Woodley entered to him.
+
+She started when she beheld who it was; but as he did not see a frown
+upon her face, he caught hold of her hand, and said persuasively,
+
+"Do not be offended with me. If I mean to offend you, may I forfeit my
+life in atonement."
+
+Poor Miss Woodley, glad in her solitude to see any one from Elmwood
+House, forgot his visit was an offence, till he put her in mind of it;
+she then said, with some reserve,
+
+"Tell me the purport of your coming, Sir, and perhaps I may have no
+reason to complain?"
+
+"It was to see Lady Matilda," he replied, "or to hear of her health. It
+was to offer her my services--it was, Miss Woodley, to convince her, if
+possible, of my esteem."
+
+"Had you no other method, Sir?" said Miss Woodley, with the same
+reserve.
+
+"None;" replied he, "or with joy I should have embraced it; and if you
+can inform me of any other, tell me I beseech you instantly, and I will
+immediately be gone, and pursue your directions."
+
+Miss Woodley hesitated.
+
+"You know of no other means, Miss Woodley," he cried.
+
+"And yet I cannot commend this," said she.
+
+"Nor do I. Do not imagine because you see me here, that I approve my
+conduct; but reduced to this necessity, pity the motives that have urged
+it."
+
+Miss Woodley did pity them; but as she would not own that she did, she
+could think of nothing else to say.
+
+At this instant a bell rung from the chamber above.
+
+"That is Lady Matilda's bell," said Miss Woodley; "she is coming to take
+a short walk. Do you wish to see her?"
+
+Though it was the first wish of his heart, he paused, and said, "Will
+you plead my excuse?"
+
+As the flight of stairs was but short, which Matilda had to come down,
+she was in the room with Miss Woodley and Mr. Rushbrook, just as that
+sentence ended.
+
+She had stepped beyond the door of the apartment, when perceiving a
+visitor, she hastily withdrew.
+
+Rushbrook, animated, though trembling at her presence, cried, "Lady
+Matilda, do not avoid me, till you know that I deserve such a
+punishment."
+
+She immediately saw who it was, and returned back with a proper pride,
+and yet a proper politeness in her manner.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Sir," said she, "I did not know you; I was afraid I
+intruded upon Miss Woodley and a stranger."
+
+"You do not then consider me as a stranger, Lady Matilda? and that you
+do not, requires my warmest acknowledgements."
+
+She sat down, as if overcome by ill spirits and ill health.
+
+Miss Woodley now asked Rushbrook to sit--for till now she had not.
+
+"No, Madam," replied he, with confusion, "not unless Lady Matilda gives
+me permission."
+
+She smiled, and pointed to a chair--and all the kindness which Rushbrook
+during his whole life had received from Lord Elmwood, never inspired
+half the gratitude, which this one instance of civility from his
+daughter excited.
+
+He sat down, with the confession of the obligation upon every feature of
+his face.
+
+"I am not well, Mr. Rushbrook," said Matilda, languidly; "and you must
+excuse any want of etiquette at this house."
+
+"While you excuse me, Madam, what can I have to complain of?"
+
+She appeared absent while he was speaking, and turning to Miss Woodley,
+said, "Do you think I had better walk to-day?"
+
+"No, my dear," answered Miss Woodley; "the ground is damp, and the air
+cold."
+
+"You are not well, indeed, Lady Matilda," said Rushbrook, gazing upon
+her with the most tender respect.
+
+She shook her head; and the tears, without any effort either to impel or
+to restrain them, ran down her face.
+
+Rushbrook rose from his seat, and with an accent and manner the most
+expressive, said, "We are cousins, Lady Matilda--in our infancy we were
+brought up together--we were beloved by the same mother--fostered by the
+same father"----
+
+"Oh!" cried she, interrupting him, with a tone which indicated the
+bitterest anguish.
+
+"Nay, do not let me add to your uneasiness," he resumed, "while I am
+attempting to alleviate it. Instruct me what I can do to show my esteem
+and respect, rather than permit me thus unguided, to rush upon what you
+may construe into insult and arrogance."
+
+Miss Woodley went to Matilda, took her hand, then wiped the tears from
+her eyes, while Matilda reclined against her, entirely regardless of
+Rushbrook's presence.
+
+"If I have been in the least instrumental to this sorrow,"--said
+Rushbrook, with a face as much agitated as his mind.
+
+"No," said Miss Woodley, in a low voice, "you have not--she is often
+thus."
+
+"Yes," said Matilda, raising her head, "I am frequently so weak that I
+cannot resist the smallest incitement to grief. But do not make your
+visit long, Mr. Rushbrook," she continued, "for I was just then
+thinking, that should Lord Elmwood hear of this attention you have paid
+me, it might be fatal to you." Here she wept again, as bitterly as
+before.
+
+"There is no probability of his hearing of it, Madam," Rushbrook
+replied; "or if there was, I am persuaded that he would not resent it;
+for yesterday, when I am confident he knew that Mr. Sandford had been to
+see you, he received him on his return, with unusual marks of
+kindness."
+
+"Did he?" said she--and again she lifted up her head; her eyes for a
+moment beaming with hope and joy.
+
+"There is something which we cannot yet define," said Rushbrook, "that
+Lord Elmwood struggles with; but when time shall have eradicated"----
+
+Before he could proceed further, Matilda was once more sunk into
+despondency, and scarce attended to what he was saying.
+
+Miss Woodley observing this, said, "Mr. Rushbrook, let it be a token we
+shall be glad to see you hereafter, that I now use the freedom to beg
+you will put an end to your visit."
+
+"You send me away, Madam," returned he, "with the warmest thanks for the
+reception you have give me; and this last assurance of your kindness, is
+beyond any other favour you could have bestowed. Lady Matilda," added
+he, "suffer me to take your hand at parting, and let it be a testimony
+that you acknowledge me for a relation."
+
+She put out her hand--which he knelt to receive, but did not raise it to
+his lips--he held the boon too sacred--and looking earnestly upon it, as
+it lay pale and wan in his, he breathed one sigh over it, and withdrew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Sorrowful and affecting as this interview had been, Rushbrook, as he
+rode home, reflected upon it with the most inordinate delight; and had
+he not seen decline of health, in the looks and behaviour of Lady
+Matilda, his felicity had been unbounded. Entranced in the happiness of
+her society, the thought of his rival never came once to his mind while
+he was with her; a want of recollection, however, he by no means
+regretted, as her whole appearance contradicted every suspicion he could
+possibly entertain, that she favoured the addresses of any man
+living--and had he remembered, he would not have dared to name the
+subject.
+
+The time ran so swiftly while he was away, that it was beyond the dinner
+hour at Elmwood House, when he returned. Heated, his dress and his hair
+disordered, he entered the dining room just as the dessert was put upon
+the table. He was confounded at his own appearance, and at the
+falsehoods he should be obliged to fabricate in his excuse: there was
+yet, that which engaged his attention, beyond any circumstance relating
+to himself--the features of Lord Elmwood--of which his daughter's, whom he
+had just beheld, had the most striking resemblance; though her's were
+softened by sorrow, while his were made austere by the self-same cause.
+
+"Where have you been?" said his uncle, with a frown.
+
+"A chace, my Lord--I beg your pardon--but a pack of dogs I
+unexpectedly met." For in the hacknied art of lying without injury to
+any one, Rushbrook, to his shame, was proficient.
+
+His excuses were received, and the subject ceased.
+
+During his absence that day, Lord Elmwood had called Sandford apart, and
+said to him,--that as the malevolence which he once observed between him
+and Rushbrook, had, he perceived, subsided, he advised him, if he was a
+well-wisher to the young man, to sound his heart, and counsel him not to
+act against the will of his nearest relation and friend. "I myself am
+too hasty," continued Lord Elmwood, "and, unhappily, too much determined
+upon what I have once (though, perhaps, rashly) said, to speak upon a
+topic where it is probable I shall meet with opposition. You, Sandford,
+can reason with moderation. For after all that I have done for my
+nephew, it would be a pity to forsake him at last; and yet, that is but
+too likely, if he provokes me."
+
+"Sir," replied Sandford, "I will speak to him."
+
+"Yet," added Lord Elmwood, sternly, "do not urge what you say for my
+sake, but for his--I can part from him with ease--but he may then repent,
+and, you know, repentance always comes too late with me."
+
+"My Lord, I will exert all the efforts in my power for his welfare. But
+what is the subject on which he has refused to comply with your
+desires?"
+
+"Matrimony--have not I told you?"
+
+"Not a word."
+
+"I wish him to marry, that I may then conclude the deeds in respect to
+my estate,--and the only child of Sir William Winterton (a rich heiress)
+was the wife I meant to propose; but from his indifference to all I have
+said on the occasion, I have not yet mentioned her name to him; you
+may."
+
+"I will, my Lord, and use all my persuasion to engage his obedience; and
+you shall have, at least, a faithful account of what he says."
+
+Sandford the next morning sought an opportunity of being alone with
+Rushbrook--he then plainly repeated to him what Lord Elmwood had said,
+and saw him listen to it all, and heard him answer with the most
+tranquil resolution, "That he would do any thing to preserve the
+friendship and patronage of his uncle--but marry."
+
+"What can be your reason?" asked Sandford--though he guessed.
+
+"A reason, I cannot give to Lord Elmwood."
+
+"Then do not give it to me, for I have promised to tell him every thing
+you say to me."
+
+"And every thing I _have_ said?" asked Rushbrook hastily.
+
+"As to what you have said, I don't know whether it has made impression
+enough on my memory, to enable me to repeat it."
+
+"I am glad it has not."
+
+"And my answer to your uncle, is to be simply, that you will not obey
+him?"
+
+"I should hope, Mr. Sandford, that you would express it in better
+terms."
+
+"Tell me the terms, and I will be exact."
+
+Rushbrook struck his forehead, and walked about the room.
+
+"Am I to give him any reason for your disobeying him?"
+
+"I tell you again, that I dare not name the cause."
+
+"Then why do you submit to a power you are ashamed to own?"
+
+"I am not ashamed--I glory in it.--Are you ashamed of your esteem for Lady
+Matilda?"
+
+"Oh! if she is the cause of your disobedience, be assured I shall not
+mention it, for I am forbid to name her."
+
+"And surely, as that is the case, I need not fear to speak plainly to
+you. I love Lady Matilda--or, perhaps, unacquainted with love, what I
+feel may be only pity--and if so, pity is the most pleasing passion that
+ever possessed a human heart, and I would not change it for all her
+father's estates."
+
+"Pity, then, gives rise to very different sensations--for I pity you, and
+that sensation I would gladly exchange for approbation."
+
+"If you really feel compassion for me, and I believe you do, contrive
+some means by your answers to Lord Elmwood to pacify him, without
+involving me in ruin. Hint at my affections being engaged, but not to
+whom; and add, that I have given my word, if he will allow me a short
+time, a year or two only, I will, during that period, try to disengage
+them, and use all my power to render myself worthy of the union for
+which he designs me."
+
+"And this is not only your solemn promise--but your fixed determination?"
+
+"Nay, why will you search my heart to the bottom, when the surface ought
+to content you?"
+
+"If you cannot resolve on what you have proposed, why do you ask this
+time of your uncle? For should he allow it you, at the expiration, your
+disobedience to his commands will be less pardonable than it is now."
+
+"Within a year, Mr. Sandford, who can tell what strange events may not
+occur, to change all our prospects? Even my passion may decline."
+
+"In that expectation, then--the failure of which yourself must answer
+for--I will repeat as much of this discourse as shall be proper."
+
+Here Rushbrook communicated his having been to see Lady Matilda, for
+which Sandford reproved him, but in less rigorous terms than he
+generally used in his reproofs; and Rushbrook, by his entreaties, now
+gained the intelligence who the nobleman was who addressed Matilda, and
+on what views; but was restrained to patience, by Sandford's arguments
+and threats.
+
+Upon the subject of this marriage, Sandford met his patron, without
+having determined exactly what to say, but rested on the temper in which
+he should find him.
+
+At the commencement of the conversation he said, "Rushbrook begged for
+time."
+
+"I have given him time, have I not?" cried Lord Elmwood: "What can be
+the meaning of his thus trifling with me?"
+
+Sandford replied, "My Lord, young men are frequently romantic in their
+notions of love, and think it impossible to have a sincere affection,
+where their own inclinations do not first point out the choice."
+
+"If he is in love," answered Lord Elmwood, "let him take the object, and
+leave my house and me for ever. Nor under this destiny can he have any
+claim to pity; for genuine love will make him happy in banishment, in
+poverty, or in sickness: it makes the poor man happy as the rich, the
+fool blest as the wise." The sincerity with which Lord Elmwood had
+loved, was expressed more than in words, as he said this.
+
+"Your Lordship is talking," replied Sandford, "of the passion in its
+most refined and predominant sense; while I may possibly be speaking of
+a mere phantom, that has led this young man astray."
+
+"Whatever it be," returned Lord Elmwood, "let him and his friends weigh
+the case well, and act for the best--so shall I."
+
+"His friends, my Lord?--What friends, or what friend has he upon earth
+but you?"
+
+"Then why will he not submit to my advice; or himself give me a proper
+reason why he cannot?"
+
+"Because there may be friendship without familiarity--and so it is
+between him and you."
+
+"That cannot be; for I have condescended to talk to him in the most
+familiar terms."
+
+"To condescend, my Lord, is _not_ to be familiar."
+
+"Then come, Sir, let us be on an equal footing through you. And now
+speak out _his_ thoughts freely, and hear mine in return."
+
+"Why, then, he begs a respite for a year or two."
+
+"On what pretence?"
+
+"To me, it was preference of a single life--but I suspect it is--what he
+imagines to be love--and for some object whom he thinks your Lordship
+would disapprove."
+
+"He has not, then, actually confessed this to you?"
+
+"If he has, it was drawn from him by such means, that I am not warranted
+to say it in direct words."
+
+"I have entered into no contract, no agreement on his account with the
+friends of the lady I have pointed out," said Lord Elmwood; "nothing
+beyond implications have passed betwixt her family and myself at
+present; and if the person on whom he has fixed his affections, should
+not be in a situation absolutely contrary to my wishes, I may, perhaps,
+confirm his choice."
+
+That moment Sandford's courage prompted him to name Lady Matilda, but
+his discretion opposed--however, in the various changes of his
+countenance from the conflict, it was plain to discern that he wished to
+say more than he dared.
+
+On which Lord Elmwood cried,
+
+"Speak on, Sandford--what are you afraid of?"
+
+"Of you, my Lord."
+
+He started.
+
+Sandford went on----"I know no tie--no bond--no innocence, that is a
+protection when you feel resentment."
+
+"You are right," he replied, significantly.
+
+"Then how, my Lord, can you encourage me to _speak on_, when that which
+I perhaps would say, might offend you to hear?"
+
+"To what, and whither are you changing our subject?" cried Lord Elmwood.
+"But, Sir, if you know my resentful and relentless temper, you surely
+know how to shun it."
+
+"Not, and speak plainly."
+
+"Then dissemble."
+
+"No, I'll not do that--but I'll be silent."
+
+"A new parade of submission. You are more tormenting to me than any one
+I have about me. Constantly on the verge of disobeying my commands, that
+you may recede, and gain my good will by your forbearance. But know, Mr.
+Sandford, that I will not suffer this much longer. If you chuse in every
+conversation we have together (though the most remote from such a
+subject) to think of my daughter, you must either banish your thoughts,
+or conceal them--nor by one sign, one item, remind me of her."
+
+"Your daughter did you call her? Can you call yourself her father?"
+
+"I do, Sir--but I was likewise the husband of her mother. And, as that
+husband, I solemnly swear."----He was proceeding with violence.
+
+"Oh! my Lord," cried Sandford, interrupting him, with his hands clasped
+in the most fervent supplication--"Oh! do not let me draw upon her one
+oath more of your eternal displeasure--I'll kneel to beg that you will
+drop the subject."
+
+The inclination he made with his knees bent towards the ground, stopped
+Lord Elmwood instantly. But though it broke in upon his words, it did
+not alter one angry look--his eyes darted, and his lips trembled with,
+indignation.
+
+Sandford, in order to appease him, bowed and offered to withdraw, hoping
+to be recalled. He wished in vain--Lord Elmwood's eyes followed him to
+the door, expressive of rejoicing at his absence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+The companions and counsellors of Lord Margrave, who had so prudently
+advised gentle methods in the pursuit of his passion, while there was
+left any hope of their success; now, convinced there was none, as
+strenuously commended open violence;--and sheltered under the
+consideration, that their depredations were to be practised upon a
+defenceless woman, who had not one protector, except an old priest, the
+subject of their ridicule;--assured likewise from the influence of Lord
+Margrave's wealth, that all inferior consequences could be overborne,
+they saw no room for fears on any side, and what they wished to execute,
+with care and skill premeditated.
+
+When their scheme was mature for performance, three of his chosen
+companions, and three servants, trained in all the villainous exploits
+of their masters, set off for the habitation of poor Matilda, and
+arrived there about the twilight of the evening.
+
+Near four hours after that time (just as the family were going to bed)
+they came up to the doors of the house, and rapping violently, gave the
+alarm of fire, conjuring all the inhabitants to make their way out
+immediately, as they would save their lives.
+
+The family consisted of few persons, all of whom ran instantly to the
+doors and opened them; on which two men rushed in, and with the plea of
+saving Lady Matilda from the pretended flames, caught her in their arms,
+and carried her off; while all the deceived people of the house, running
+eagerly to save themselves, paid no regard to her, till looking for the
+cause for which they had been terrified, they perceived the stratagem,
+and the fatal consequences.
+
+Amidst the complaints, the sorrow, and the affright of the people of the
+farm, Miss Woodley's sensations wanted a name--terror and anguish give
+but a faint description of what she suffered--something like the approach
+of death stole over her senses, and she sat like one petrified with
+horror. She had no doubt who was the perpetrator of this wickedness; but
+how was she to follow? how effect a rescue?
+
+The circumstances of this event, as soon as the people had time to call
+up their recollection, were sent to a neighbouring magistrate; but
+little could be hoped from that. Who was to swear to the robber? Who,
+undertake to find him out! Miss Woodley thought of Rushbrook, of
+Sandford, of Lord Elmwood--but what could she hope from the want of power
+in the two former?--what from the latter, for the want of will? Now
+stupified, and now distracted, she walked about the house incessantly,
+begging for instructions how to act, or how to forget her misery.
+
+A tenant of Lord Elmwood's, who occupied a little farm near to that
+where Lady Matilda lived, and who was well acquainted with the whole
+history of her's and her mother's misfortunes, was returning from a
+neighbouring fair, just as this inhuman plan was put in execution. He
+heard the cries of a woman in distress, and followed the sound, till he
+arrived at a chaise in waiting, and saw Matilda placed in it, by the
+side of two men, who presented pistols to him, as he offered to approach
+and expostulate.
+
+The farmer, uncertain who this female was, yet went to the house she
+had been taken from (as the nearest) with the tale of what he had seen;
+and there, being informed it was Lady Matilda whom he had beheld, this
+intelligence, joined to the powerful effect her screams had on him, made
+him resolve to take horse immediately, and with some friends, follow the
+carriage till they should trace the place to which she was conveyed.
+
+The anxiety, the firmness discovered in determining on this
+understanding, somewhat alleviated the agony Miss Woodley endured, and
+she began to hope, timely assistance might yet be given to her beloved
+charge.
+
+The man set out, meaning at all events to attempt her release; but
+before he had proceeded far, the few friends that accompanied him, began
+to reflect on the improbability of their success, against a nobleman,
+surrounded by servants, with other attendants likewise, and, perhaps,
+even countenanced by the father of the lady, whom they presumed to take
+from him; or if not, while Lord Elmwood beheld the offence with
+indifference, that indifference gave it a sanction, they might in vain
+oppose. These cool reflections tending to their safety, had their weight
+with the companions of the farmer; they all rode back, rejoicing at
+their second thoughts, and left him to pursue his journey and prove his
+valour by himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+It was not with Sandford, as it had lately been with Rushbrook under the
+displeasure of Lord Elmwood--to the latter he behaved, as soon as their
+dissension was past, as if it had never happened--but to Sandford it was
+otherwise--the resentment which he had repressed at the time of the
+offence, lurked in his heart, and dwelt upon his mind for several days;
+during which, he carefully avoided exchanging a word with him, and gave
+every other demonstration of his anger.
+
+Sandford, though experienced in the cruelty and ingratitude of the
+world, yet could not without difficulty brook this severity, this
+contumely, from a man, for whose welfare, ever since his infancy, he
+had laboured; and whose happiness was more dear to him, in spite of all
+his faults, than that of any other person. Even Lady Matilda was not so
+dear to Sandford as her father--and he loved her more that she was Lord
+Elmwood's child, than for any other cause.
+
+Sometimes the old Priest, incensed beyond bearing, was on the point of
+saying to his patron, "How, in my age, dare you thus treat the man, whom
+in his youth you respected and revered?"
+
+Sometimes instead of anger, he felt the tear, he was ashamed to own,
+steal to his eye, and even fall down his cheek. Sometimes he left the
+room half determined to leave the house--but these were all half
+determinations; for he knew him with whom he had to deal too well, not
+to know that he might be provoked into yet greater anger; and that
+should he once rashly quit his house, the doors most probably would be
+shut against him for ever.
+
+In this humiliating state (for even many of the domestics could not but
+observe their Lord's displeasure) Sandford passed three days, and was
+beginning the fourth, when sitting with Lord Elmwood and Rushbrook just
+after breakfast, a servant entered, saying, as he opened the door, to
+somebody who followed, "You must wait till you have my Lord's
+permission."
+
+This attracted their eyes to the door, and a man meanly dressed, walked
+in, following close to the servant.
+
+The latter turned, and seemed again to desire the person to retire, but
+in vain; he rushed forward regardless of his opposer, and in great
+agitation, cried,
+
+"My Lord, if you please, I have business with you, provided you will
+chuse to be alone."
+
+Lord Elmwood, struck with the intruder's earnestness, bade the servant
+leave the room; and then said to the stranger,
+
+"You may speak before these gentlemen."
+
+The man instantly turned pale, and trembled--then, to prolong the time
+before he spoke, went to the door to see if it was shut--returned--yet
+still trembling, seemed unwilling to say his errand.
+
+"What have you done," cried Lord Elmwood, "that you are in this terror?
+What have you done, man?"
+
+"Nothing, my Lord," replied he, "but I am afraid I am going to offend
+you."
+
+"Well, no matter;" (he answered carelessly) "only go on, and let me know
+your business."
+
+The man's distress increased--and he cried in a voice of grief and
+affright--"Your child, my Lord!"----
+
+Rushbrook and Sandford started; and looking at Lord Elmwood, saw him
+turn white as death. In a tremulous voice he instantly cried,
+
+"What of her?" and rose from his seat.
+
+Encouraged by the question, and the agitation of him who asked it, the
+poor man gave way to his feelings, and answered with every sign of
+sorrow,
+
+"I saw her, my Lord, taken away by force--two ruffians seized and carried
+her away, while she screamed in vain to me for help, and tore her hair
+in distraction."
+
+"Man, what do you mean?" cried the Earl.
+
+"Lord Margrave," replied the stranger, "we have no doubt, has formed
+this plot--he has for some time past beset the house where she lived; and
+when his visits were refused, he threatened this. Besides, one of his
+servants attended the carriage; I saw, and knew him."
+
+Lord Elmwood listened to the last part of this account with seeming
+composure--then turning hastily to Rushbrook, he said,
+
+"Where are my pistols, Harry?"
+
+Sandford rose from his seat, and forgetting all the anger between them,
+caught hold of the Earl's hand, and cried, "Will you then prove yourself
+a father?"
+
+Lord Elmwood only answered, "Yes," and left the room.
+
+Rushbrook followed, and begged with all the earnestness he felt, to be
+permitted to accompany his uncle.
+
+While Sandford shook hands with the farmer a thousand times; and he, in
+his turn, rejoiced, as if he had already seen Lady Matilda restored to
+liberty.
+
+Rushbrook in vain entreated Lord Elmwood; he laid his commands upon him
+not to go a step from the Castle; while the agitation of his own mind,
+was too great, to observe the rigour of this sentence on his nephew.
+
+During the hasty preparations for the Earl's departure, Sandford
+received from Miss Woodley the sad intelligence of what had happened;
+but he returned an answer to recompence her for all she had suffered on
+the occasion.
+
+Within a few hours Lord Elmwood set off, accompanied by his guide, the
+farmer, and other attendants furnished with every requisite to ascertain
+the success of their enterprise--while poor Matilda little thought of a
+deliverer nigh, much less, that her deliverer should prove her father.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Lord Margrave, black as this incident of his life must make him appear
+to the reader, still nursed in his conscience a reserve of specious
+virtue, to keep him in peace with himself. It was his design to plead,
+to argue, to implore, nay even to threaten, long before he put his
+threats in force; and with this and the following reflection, he
+reconciled--as most bad men can--what he had done, not only to the laws of
+humanity, but to the laws of honour.
+
+"I have stolen a woman certainly;" said he to himself, "but I will make
+her happier than she was in that humble state from which I have taken
+her. I will even," said he, "now that she is in my power, win her
+affections--and when, in fondness, hereafter she hangs upon me, how will
+she thank me for this little trial, through which I shall have conducted
+her to happiness!"
+
+Thus did he hush his remorse, while he waited impatiently at home, in
+expectation of his prize.
+
+Half expiring with her sufferings, of body as well as of mind, about
+twelve o'clock the next night, after she was borne away, Matilda
+arrived; and felt her spirits revive by the superior sufferings that
+awaited her--for her increasing terrors roused her from the death-like
+weakness, brought on by fatigue.
+
+Lord Margrave's house, to which he had gone previous to this occasion,
+was situated in the lonely part of a well-known forest, not more than
+twenty miles distant from London: this was an estate he rarely visited;
+and as he had but few servants here, it was a place which he supposed
+would be less the object of suspicion in the present case, than any
+other of his seats. To this, then, Lady Matilda was conveyed--a superb
+apartment allotted her--and one of his confidential females placed to
+attend upon her, with all respect, and assurances of safety.
+
+Matilda looked in this woman's face, and seeing she bore the features of
+her sex, while her own knowledge reached none of those worthless
+characters of which this person was a specimen, she imagined that none
+of those could look as she did, and therefore found consolation in her
+seeming tenderness. She was even prevailed upon (by her promises to sit
+by her side and watch) to throw herself on the bed, and suffer sleep for
+a few minutes--for sleep to her was suffering; her fears giving birth to
+dreams terrifying as her waking thoughts.
+
+More wearied than refreshed with her sleep, she rose at break of day,
+and refusing to admit of the change of an article in her dress, she
+persisted to sit in the torn disordered habit in which she had been
+dragged away; nor would she taste a morsel, of all the delicacies that
+were prepared for her.
+
+Her attendant, for some time observed the most reverential awe; but
+finding this had not the effect of gaining compliance with her advice,
+she varied her manners, and began by less submissive means to attempt an
+influence. She said her orders were to be obedient, while she herself
+was obeyed--at least in circumstances so material as the lady's health,
+of which she had the charge as a physician, and expected equal
+compliance from her patient--food and fresh apparel she prescribed as the
+only means to prevent death; and even threatened her invalid with
+something worse, a visit from Lord Margrave, if she continued obstinate.
+
+Now loathing her for the deception she had practised, more, than had she
+received her thus at first, Matilda hid her eyes from the sight of her;
+and when she was obliged to look, she shuddered.
+
+This female at length thought it her duty to wait upon her worthy
+employer, and inform him the young lady in her trust would certainly
+die, unless there were means employed to oblige her to take some
+nourishment.
+
+Lord Margrave, glad of an opportunity that might apologize for his
+intrusion upon Lady Matilda, went with eagerness to her apartment, and
+throwing himself at her feet, conjured her if she would save his life,
+as well as her own, to submit to be consoled.
+
+The extreme disgust and horror his presence inspired, caused Matilda for
+a moment to forget all her want of power, her want of health, her
+weakness; and rising from the place where she sat, she cried, with her
+voice elevated,
+
+"Leave me, my Lord, or I'll die in spite of all your care; I'll
+instantly expire with grief, if you do not leave me."
+
+Accustomed to the tears and reproaches of the sex--though not of those
+like her--he treated with contempt these menaces of anger, and seizing
+her hand, carried it to his lips.
+
+Enraged, and overwhelmed with sorrow at the affront, she cried,
+(forgetting every other friend she had,) "Oh! my dear Miss Woodley, why
+are you not here to protect me?"
+
+"Nay," returned Lord Margrave, stifling a fit of laughter, "I should
+think the old Priest would be as good a champion as the lady."
+
+The remembrance of Sandford, with all his kindness, now rushed so
+forcibly on Matilda's mind, that she shed a shower of tears, on thinking
+how much he felt, and would continue to feel, for her situation. Once
+she thought on Rushbrook, and thought even _he_ would be sorry for her.
+Of her father she did not think--she dared not--one single moment that
+thought intruded, but she hurried it away--it was too bitter.
+
+It was now again quite night; and near to that hour when she came first
+to the house. Lord Margrave, though at some distance from her, remained
+still in her apartment, while her female companion had stolen away. His
+insensibility to her lamentations--the agitated looks he sometimes cast
+upon her--her weak and defenceless state, all conspired to fill her mind
+with horror.
+
+He saw her apprehensions in her distracted face, disheveled hair, and
+the whole of her forlorn appearance--yet, notwithstanding his former
+resolutions, he could not resist the desire of fulfilling all her
+dreadful expectations.
+
+He once again approached her, and again was going to seize her hand;
+when the report of a pistol, and a confused noise of persons assembling
+towards the apartment prevented him.
+
+He started--but looked more surprised than alarmed--her alarm was
+augmented; for she supposed this tumult was some experiment to
+intimidate her into submission. She wrung her hands, and lifted up her
+eyes to Heaven, in the last agony of despair, when one of Lord
+Margrave's servants entered hastily and announced,
+
+"Lord Elmwood!"
+
+That moment her father entered--and with all the unrestrained fondness of
+a parent, folded her in his arms.
+
+Her extreme, her excess of joy on such a meeting, and from such anguish
+rescued, was, in part, repressed by his awful presence. The
+apprehensions to which she had been accustomed, kept her timid and
+doubtful--she feared to speak, or clasp him in return for his embrace,
+but falling on her knees, clung round his legs, and bathed his feet with
+her tears.----These were the happiest moments that she had ever
+known--perhaps, the happiest _he_ had ever known.
+
+Lord Margrave, on whom Lord Elmwood had not even cast a look, now left
+the room; but as he quitted it, called out,
+
+"My Lord Elmwood, if you have any demands on me,"--
+
+The Earl interrupted him, "Would you make me an executioner? The law
+shall be your only antagonist."
+
+Matilda, quite exhausted, yet upheld by the sudden transport she had
+felt, was led by her father out of this wretched dwelling--more
+despicable than the beggar's hovel.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Rushbrook was detained at Elmwood House during all this time, more from
+the persuasions, nay prayers, of Sandford, than the commands of Lord
+Elmwood. He had, but for Sandford, followed his uncle, and exposed
+himself to his anger, sooner than have endured the most piercing
+inquietude, which he was doomed to suffer, till the news arrived of Lady
+Matilda's safety. He indeed had little else to fear from the known firm,
+courageous character of her father, and the expedition with which he
+undertook his journey; but lovers' fears are like those of women,
+obstinate, and no argument could persuade either him or Miss Woodley
+(who had now ventured to come to Elmwood House) but that Matilda's peace
+of mind might be for ever destroyed, before she was set at liberty.
+
+The summons from Lord Elmwood for their coming to town, was received by
+each of this party with delight; but the impatience to obey it, was in
+Rushbrook so violent, it was painful to himself, and extremely
+troublesome to Sandford; who wished, from his regard to Lady Matilda,
+rather to delay, than hurry their journey.
+
+"You are to blame," said he to him and Miss Woodley, "to wish by your
+arrival, to divide with Lord Elmwood that tender bond, which ties the
+good who confer obligations, to the object of their benevolence. At
+present there is no one with him to share in the care and protection of
+his daughter, and he is under the necessity of discharging that duty
+himself; this habit may become so powerful, that he _cannot_ throw it
+off, even if his former resolutions should urge him to it. While we
+remain here, therefore, Lady Matilda is safe with her father; but it
+would not surprise me, if on our arrival (especially if we are
+precipitate) he should place her again with Miss Woodley at a distance."
+
+To this forcible conjecture, they submitted for a few days, and then
+most gladly set out for town.
+
+On their arrival, they were met, even at the street-door, by Lady
+Matilda; and with an expression of joy, they did not suppose her
+features could have worn. She embraced Miss Woodley! hung upon Sandford!
+and to Mr. Rushbrook, who from his conscious love only bowed at an
+humble distance, she held out her hand with every look and gesture of
+the tenderest esteem.
+
+When Lord Elmwood joined them, he welcomed them all sincerely; but
+Sandford the most, with whom he had not spoken for many days before he
+left the country, for his allusion to the wretched situation of his
+daughter.--And Sandford (with his fellow-travellers) now saw him treat
+that daughter with an easy, a natural fondness, as if she had lived with
+him from her infancy. He appeared, however, at times, under the
+apprehension, that the propensity of man to jealousy, might give
+Rushbrook a pang at this dangerous rival in his love and fortune--for
+though Lord Elmwood remembered well the hazard he had once ventured to
+befriend Matilda, yet the present unlimited reconciliation was something
+so unlooked for, it might be a trial too much for his generosity, to
+remain wholly disinterested on the event. Slight as was this suspicion,
+it did Rushbrook injustice. He loved Lady Matilda too sincerely, he
+loved her father's happiness, and her mother's memory too faithfully,
+not to be rejoiced at all he witnessed; nor could the secret hope that
+whispered him, "Their blessings might one day be mutual," increase the
+pleasure he found, in beholding Matilda happy.
+
+Unexpected affairs, in which Lord Elmwood had been for some time
+engaged, had diverted his attention for awhile from the marriage of his
+nephew; nor did he at this time find his disposition sufficiently
+severe, to exact from the young man a compliance with his wishes, at so
+cruel an alternative as that of being for ever discarded. He felt his
+mind, by the late incident, too much softened for such harshness; he yet
+wished for the alliance he had proposed; for he was more consistent in
+his character than to suffer the tenderness his daughter's peril had
+awakened, to derange those plans which he had long projected. Never even
+now, for a moment did he indulge--for perhaps it would have been an
+indulgence--the idea of replacing her exactly in the rights of her birth,
+to the disappointment of all his nephew's expectations.
+
+Yet, milder at this crisis in his temper than he had been for years
+before, and knowing he could be no longer irritated upon the subject of
+his daughter, he once more resolved to trust himself in a conference
+with Rushbrook on the subject of marriage; meaning at the same time to
+mention Matilda as an opponent from whom he had nothing to fear. But
+for some time before Rushbrook was called to this private audience, he
+had, by his unwearied attention, endeavoured to impress upon Matilda's
+mind, the softest sentiments in his favour. He succeeded--but not as he
+wished. She loved him as her friend, her cousin, her foster-brother, but
+not as a lover. The idea of love never once came to her thoughts; and
+she would sport with Rushbrook like the most harmless child, while he,
+all impassioned, could with difficulty resist telling her, what she made
+him suffer.
+
+At the meeting between him and Lord Elmwood, to which he was called for
+his final answer on that subject which had once nearly proved so fatal
+to him; after a thousand fears, much confusion and embarrassment, he at
+length frankly confessed his "Heart was engaged, and had been so, long
+before his uncle offered to direct his choice."
+
+Lord Elmwood desired to know, "On whom he had placed his affections."
+
+"I dare not tell you, my Lord," returned he, infinitely confused; "but
+Mr. Sandford can witness their sincerity and how long they have been
+fixed."
+
+"Fixed!" cried the Earl.
+
+"Immoveably fixed, my Lord; and yet the object is as unconscious of my
+love to this moment, as you yourself have been; and I swear ever shall
+be so, without your permission."
+
+"Name the object," said Lord Elmwood, anxiously.
+
+"My Lord, I dare not.--The last time I named her to you, you threatened
+to abandon me for my arrogance."
+
+Lord Elmwood started.----"My daughter! Would you marry her?"
+
+"But with your approbation, my Lord; and that----"
+
+Before he could proceed a word further, his uncle left the room
+hastily--and left Rushbrook all terror for his approaching fate.
+
+Lord Elmwood went immediately into the apartment where Sandford, Miss
+Woodley, and Matilda, were sitting, and cried with an angry voice, and
+with his countenance disordered,
+
+"Rushbrook has offended me beyond forgiveness.--Go, Sandford, to the
+library, where he is, and tell him this instant to quit my house, and
+never dare to return."
+
+Miss Woodley lifted up her hands and sighed.
+
+Sandford rose slowly from his seat to execute the office.
+
+While Lady Matilda, who was arranging her music books upon the
+instrument, stopped from her employment suddenly, with her face bathed
+in tears.
+
+A general silence ensued, till Lord Elmwood, resuming his angry tone,
+cried, "Did you hear me, Mr. Sandford?"
+
+Sandford now, without a word in reply, made for the door--but there
+Matilda impeded him, and throwing her arms about his neck, cried,
+
+"Dear Mr. Sandford, do not."
+
+"How!" exclaimed her father.
+
+She saw the impending frown, and rushing towards him, took his hand
+fearfully, and knelt at his feet. "Mr. Rushbrook is my relation," she
+cried in a pathetic voice, "my companion, my friend--before you loved me
+he was anxious for my happiness, and often visited me to lament with,
+and console me. I cannot see him turned out of your house without
+feeling for _him_, what he once felt for _me._"
+
+Lord Elmwood turned aside to conceal his sensations--then raising her
+from the floor, he said, "Do you know what he has asked of me?"
+
+"No," answered she in the utmost ignorance, and with the utmost
+innocence painted on her face; "but whatever it is, my Lord, though you
+do not grant it, yet pardon him for asking."
+
+"Perhaps _you_ would grant him what he has requested?" said her father.
+
+"Most willingly--was it in my gift."
+
+"It is," replied he. "Go to him in the library, and hear what he has to
+say; for on your will his fate shall depend."
+
+Like lightning she flew out of the room; while even the grave Sandford
+smiled at the idea of their meeting.
+
+Rushbrook, with his fears all verified by the manner in which his uncle
+had left him, sat with his head reclined against a bookcase, and every
+limb extended with the despair that had seized him.
+
+Matilda nimbly opened the door and cried, "Mr. Rushbrook, I am come to
+comfort you."
+
+"That you have always done," said he, rising in rapture to receive her,
+even in the midst of all his sadness.
+
+"What is it you want?" said she. "What have you asked of my father that
+he has denied you?"
+
+"I have asked for that," replied he, "which is dearer to me than my
+life."
+
+"Be satisfied then," returned she, "for you shall have it."
+
+"Dear Matilda! it is not in your power to bestow."
+
+"But he has told me it _shall_ be in my power; and has desired me to
+give, or to refuse it you, at my own pleasure."
+
+"O Heavens!" cried Rushbrook in transport, "Has he?"
+
+"He has indeed--before Mr. Sandford and Miss Woodley. Now tell me what
+you petitioned for?"
+
+"I asked him," cried Rushbrook, trembling, "for a wife."
+
+Her hand, which had just then taken hold of his, in the warmth of her
+wish to serve him, now dropped down as with the stroke of death--her face
+lost its colour--and she leaned against the desk by which they were
+standing, without uttering a word.
+
+"What means this change?" said he; "Do you not wish me happy?"
+
+"Yes," she exclaimed: "Heaven is my witness. But it gives me concern to
+think we must part."
+
+"Then let us be joined," cried he, falling at her feet, "till death
+alone can part us."
+
+All the sensibility--the reserve--the pride, with which she was so amply
+possessed, returned to her that moment. She started and cried, "Could
+Lord Elmwood know for what he sent me?"
+
+"He did," replied Rushbrook--"I boldly told him of my presumptuous love,
+and he has given to you alone, the power over my happiness or misery.
+Oh! do not doom me to the latter."
+
+Whether the heart of Matilda, such as it has been described, _could_
+sentence him to misery, the reader is left to surmise--and if he supposes
+that it could _not_, he has every reason to suppose that their wedded
+life, was--a life of happiness.
+
+He has beheld the pernicious effects of an _improper education_ in the
+destiny which attended the unthinking Miss Milner.--On the opposite side,
+what may not be hoped from that school of prudence--though of
+adversity--in which Matilda was bred?
+
+And Mr. Milner, Matilda's grandfather, had better have given his
+_fortune_ to a distant branch of his family--as Matilda's father once
+meant to do--so that he had given to his daughter
+
+A PROPER EDUCATION.
+
+
+
+
+PLAYS written by MRS. INCHBALD, and published by G. G. and J. ROBINSON,
+Paternoster Row.
+
+
+LOVER'S VOWS;
+
+A Play in five Acts, from the German of
+KOTZEBUE.
+
+WIVES AS THEY WERE, AND MAIDS
+AS THEY ARE.
+
+EVERY ONE HAS HIS FAULT.
+
+I'LL TELL YOU WHAT,
+Comedies in five Acts.
+
+SUCH THINGS ARE,
+A Play in five Acts.
+
+THE MARRIED MAN,
+A Comedy, Price 1s. 6d. each.
+
+THE CHILD OF NATURE.
+
+APPEARANCE IS AGAINST THEM.
+
+THE WIDOW'S VOW.
+
+THE MIDNIGHT HOUR,
+A Comedy.
+
+THE WEDDING DAY,
+Price One Shilling each.
+
+NATURE AND ART,
+The Second Edition, in Two Volumes, Price
+7s. sewed.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Simple Story, by Mrs. Inchbald
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SIMPLE STORY ***
+
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