CHAPTER VIII.
Although Dorriforth was the good man that he has been described, therewere in his nature shades of evil--there was an obstinacy which hehimself, and his friends termed firmness of mind; but had not religionand some opposite virtues weighed heavily in the balance, it wouldfrequently have degenerated into implacable stubbornness.
The child of a sister once beloved, who married a young officer againsther brother's consent, was at the age of three years left an orphan,destitute of all support but from his uncle's generosity: but thoughDorriforth maintained, he would never see him. Miss Milner, whose heartwas a receptacle for the unfortunate, no sooner was told the melancholyhistory of Mr. and Mrs. Rushbrook, the parents of the child, than shelonged 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 afew miles from town; and his extreme beauty and engaging manners, wantednot the sorrows to which he had been born, to give him fartherrecommendation to the kindness of her, who had come to visit him. Shelooked at him with admiration and pity, and having endeared herself tohim by the most affectionate words and caresses, on her bidding himfarewell, he cried most pitiously to go along with her. Unused at anytime to resist temptations, whether to reprehensible, or to laudableactions, she yielded to his supplications, and having overcome a fewscruples of Miss Woodley's, determined to take young Rushbrook to town,and present him to his uncle. This idea was no sooner formed thanexecuted. By making a present to the nurse, she readily gained herconsent to part with him for a day or two, and the signs of joy denotedby the child on being put into the carriage, repaid her beforehand forevery reproof she might receive from her guardian, for the liberty shehad taken.
"Besides," said she to Miss Woodley, who had still her fears, "do younot wish his uncle should have a warmer interest in his care thanduty?--it is duty alone which induces Mr. Dorriforth to provide for him;but it is proper that affection should have some share in hisbenevolence--and how, hereafter, will he be so fit an object of the lovewhich compassion excites, as he is at present?"
Miss Woodley acquiesced. But before they arrived at their own door itcame into Miss Milner's remembrance, that there was a grave sternness inthe manners of her guardian when provoked, the recollection of whichmade her a little apprehensive for what she had done--her friend, whoknew him better than she did, was more so. They both became silent asthey approached the street where they lived--for Miss Woodley having oncerepresented her fears, and having suppressed them in resignation to MissMilner's better judgment, would not repeat them--and Miss Milner wouldnot confess they were now troubling her.
Just, however, as the coach stopped at the door, she had the forecastand the humility to say, "We will not tell Mr. Dorriforth the child ishis nephew, unless he should appear fond, and pleased with him, and thenI think we may venture without any danger."
This was agreed; and when Dorriforth entered the room just beforedinner, poor Harry Rushbrook was introduced as the son of a lady whofrequently visited there. The deception passed--his uncle shook handswith him, and at length highly pleased with his engaging manner, andapplicable 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 hisfeet upon his knees; and at this reply he did not _throw_ him fromhim--but he removed his hands, which had supported him, so suddenly, thatthe child, to prevent falling on the floor, threw himself about hisuncle's neck. Miss Milner and Miss Woodley turned aside to conceal theirtears. "I had like to have been down," cried Harry, fearing no otherdanger. But his uncle took hold of each hand which had twined aroundhim, and placed him immediately on the ground. The dinner being thatinstant served, he gave no greater marks of his resentment than callingfor his hat, and walking instantly out of the house.
Miss Milner cried for anger; yet she did not shew less kindness to theobject of this vexatious circumstance: she held him in her arms whileshe sat at table, and repeatedly said to him, (though he had not thesense to thank her) "That she would always be his friend."
The first emotions of resentment against Dorriforth being passed, shereturned with her little charge to the farm house, before it was likelyhis uncle should come back; another instance of obedience, which MissWoodley was impatient her guardian should know; she therefore enquiredwhere he was, and sent him a note for the sole purpose of acquaintinghim with it, offering at the same time an apology for what had happened.He returned in the evening seemingly reconciled, nor was a wordmentioned of the incident which had occurred in the former part of theday; yet in his countenance remained a perfect remembrance of it,without one trait of compassion for his helpless nephew.
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