CHAPTER VII.
Sir Edward, not wholly discouraged by the denial with which Dorriforthhad, with delicacy, acquainted him, still hoped for a kind reception,and was so often at the house of Mrs. Horton, that Lord Frederick'sjealousy was excited, and the tortures he suffered in consequence,convinced him, beyond a doubt, of the sincerity of his affection. Everytime he beheld the object of his passion, (for he still continued hisvisits, though not so frequently as heretofore) he pleaded his causewith such ardour, that Miss Woodley, who was sometimes present, and evercompassionate, could not resist wishing him success. He nowunequivocally offered marriage, and entreated that he might lay hisproposals before Mr. Dorriforth, but this was positively forbidden.
Her reluctance he imputed, however, more to the known partiality of herguardian for the addresses of Sir Edward, than to any motive whichdepended upon herself; and to Mr. Dorriforth he conceived a greaterdislike than ever; believing that through his interposition, in spite ofhis ward's attachment, he might yet be deprived of her. But Miss Milnerdeclared both to him and to her friend, that love had, at present,gained no influence over her mind. Yet did the watchful Miss Woodleyoftentimes hear a sigh escape from her unknown to herself, till she wasreminded of it, and then a sudden blush would instantly overspread herface. This seeming struggle with her passion, endeared her more thanever to Miss Woodley, and she would even risk the displeasure ofDorriforth by her compliance with every new pursuit that might amuse thetime, which else her friend passed in heaviness of heart.
Balls, plays, incessant company, at length roused her guardian from thatmildness with which he had been accustomed to treat her. Night afternight his sleep had been disturbed by fears for her when abroad; morningafter morning it had been broken by the clamour of her return. Hetherefore gravely said to her one forenoon as he met her accidentallyupon 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, forwhich her milliner had been consulted a whole week.
She, however, flattered herself that what she had said might be excusedas a mistake, the lapse of memory, or some other trifling fault, when heshould know the truth. The truth was earlier divulged than sheexpected--for just as dinner was removed, her footman delivered a messageto 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 thisevening 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 firstpromise; 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, bybeing 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 castdown; and she trembled--either with shame or with resentment.
Mrs. Horton rose from her seat--moved the decanters and fruit round thetable--stirred the fire--and came back to her seat again, before anotherword was uttered. Nor had this good woman's officious labours taken theleast from the awkwardness of the silence, which, as soon as the bustleshe had made was over, returned in its full force.
At last, Miss Milner rising with alacrity, was preparing to go out ofthe room, when Dorriforth raised his voice, and in a tone of authoritysaid,
"Miss Milner, you shall not leave the house this evening."
"Sir!" she exclaimed with a kind of doubt of what she had heard--asurprise, which fixed her hand on the door she had half opened, butwhich now she shewed herself irresolute whether to open wide indefiance, or to shut submissively. Before she could resolve, he rosefrom his chair, and said, with a force and warmth she had never heardhim use before,
"I command you to stay at home this evening." And he walked immediatelyout of the apartment by another door.
Her hand fell motionless from that which she held--she appearedmotionless herself--till Mrs. Horton, "Beseeching her not to be uneasy atthe treatment she had received," made her tears flow as if her heart wasbreaking.
Miss Woodley would have said something to comfort her, but she hadcaught the infection, and could not utter a word. It was not from anyreal cause of grief that she wept; but there was a magnetic quality intears, which always attracted her's.
Mrs. Horton secretly enjoyed this scene, though the real well meaning ofher heart, and ease of her conscience, did not suffer her to think so.She, however, declared she had "long prognosticated it would come tothis;" and she "only thanked heaven it was no worse."
"What could be worse, Madam?" cried Miss Milner; "am not I disappointedof 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 thatfor 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." Andshe flung out of the room as if she had resolved to disobey him. Thisalarmed poor Miss Woodley.
"My dear aunt," she cried to Mrs. Horton, "follow and prevail upon MissMilner to give up her design; she means to be at the ball in oppositionto her guardian's will."
"Then," said Mrs. Horton, "I'll not be instrumental in detering her--ifshe does it may be for the best; it may give Mr. Dorriforth a clearerknowledge what means are proper to convert her from evil."
"But, my dear Madam, she must be preserved from the evil ofdisobedience; and as you tempted, you will be the most likely todissuade 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 werein 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:--heentered with a countenance which evinced the remains of anger; his eyegave testimony of his absent thoughts; and though he took up a pamphletaffecting to read, it was plain to discern that he scarcely knew he heldit in his hand.
Mrs. Horton began to make tea with a mind as intent upon something elseas Dorriforth's--she longed for the event of this misunderstanding; andthough she wished no ill to Miss Milner, yet with an inclination bentupon seeing something new--without the fatigue of going out of her ownhouse--she was not over scrupulous what that novelty might be. But forfear she should have the imprudence to speak a word upon the subjectwhich employed her thoughts, or even to look as if she thought of it atall; she pinched her lips close together, and cast her eyes on vacancy,lest their significant regards might expose her to detection. And forfear any noise should intercept even the sound of what might happen, shewalked across the room more softly than usual, and more softly touchedevery thing she was obliged to lay her hand on.
Miss Woodley thought it her duty to be mute; and now the gingle of a teaspoon was like a deep-toned bell, all was so quiet.
Mrs. Horton, too, in the self-approving reflection that she was not in aquarrel or altercation of any kind, felt herself at this momentremarkably peaceful and charitable. Miss Woodley did not recollect_herself_ so, but was so in reality--in her, peace and charity wereinstinctive virtues, accident coul
d not increase them.
The tea had scarce been made, when a servant came with Miss Milner'scompliments, and she "did not mean to have any tea." The pamphlet shookin Dorriforth's hand while this message was delivered--he believed her tobe dressing for her evening's entertainment, and now studied in whatmanner he should prevent, or resent her disobedience to his commands. Hecoughed--drank his tea--endeavoured to talk, but found itdifficult--sometimes read--and in this manner near two hours were passedaway, when Miss Milner came into the room.--Not dressed for a ball, butas she had risen from dinner. Dorriforth read on, and seemed afraid oflooking up, lest he should see what he could not have pardoned. Shedrew 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 ofMrs. Horton, at the disappointment she had to encounter from thisunexpected dutiful conduct, she asked Miss Milner, "if she would nowhave any tea?" She replied, "No, I thank you, Ma'am," in a voice solanguid, compared with her usual one, that Dorriforth lifted up his eyesfrom the book; and seeing her in the same dress that she had worn allthe day, turned them hastily away from her again--not with a look oftriumph, but of confusion.
Whatever he might have suffered if he had seen her decorated, andprepared to bid defiance to his commands, yet even upon that trial, hewould not have endured half the painful sensations he now for a momentfelt--he felt himself to blame.
He feared that he had treated her with too much severity--he admired hercondescension, accused himself for having exacted it--he longed to askher pardon--he did not know how.
A cheerful reply from her, to a question of Miss Woodley's, embarrassedhim still more--he wished that she had been sullen, he then would havehad 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 aservant came into the room and asked Miss Milner at what time she shouldwant 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 theservant had left the room, thus began:
"Miss Milner, I give you, I fear, some unkind proofs of my regard. It isoften the ungrateful task of a friend to be troublesome--sometimesunmannerly. Forgive the duties of my office, and believe that no one ishalf so much concerned if it robs you of any degree of happiness, as Imyself am."
What he said, he looked with so much sincerity, that had she beenburning with rage at his late behaviour, she must have forgiven him,for the regret which he so forcibly exprest. She was going to reply, butfound 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 shewyour submission by obeying me a second time to-day. Keep yourappointment, and be assured that I shall issue my commands with morecircumspection for the future, as I find how strictly they are compliedwith."
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 wascharmed to find her disposition so tractable--prophesied to himself thefuture success of his guardianship, and her eternal as well as temporalhappiness from this specimen.
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