A Simple Story

by Mrs. Inchbald

  CHAPTER XVI.

  The power delegated by the confidential to those entrusted with theirsecrets, Miss Woodley was the last person on earth to abuse--but she wasalso the last, who, by an accommodating complacency, would participatein the guilt of her friend--and there was no guilt, except that ofmurder, which she thought equal to the crime in question, if it was everperpetrated. Adultery, reason would perhaps have informed her, was amore pernicious evil to society; but to a religious mind, what sound isso horrible as _sacrilege?_ Of vows made to God or to man, the formermust weigh the heaviest. Moreover, the sin of infidelity in the marriedstate, is not a little softened to common understandings, by itsfrequency; whereas, of religious vows broken by a devotee she had neverheard; unless where the offence had been followed by such examples ofdivine vengeance, such miraculous punishments in this world, (as well aseternal punishment in the other) as served to exaggerate thewickedness.

  She, who could, and who did pardon Miss Milner, was the person who sawher 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 befixed, it would never be returned. Yet this confidence did not preventher taking every precaution, lest Dorriforth should come to theknowledge of it. She would not have his composed mind disturbed withsuch a thought--his steadfast principles so much as shaken by theimagination--nor overwhelm him with those self-reproaches which his fatalattraction, unpremeditated as it was, would still have drawn upon him.

  With this plan of concealment, in which the natural modesty of MissMilner acquiesced, there was but one effort for which this unhappy wardwas not prepared; and that was an entire separation from her guardian.She had, from the first, cherished her passion without the most remoteprospect of a return--she was prepared to see Dorriforth, without everseeing 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 measurebefore she made the proposal; and then made it with a firmness thatmight have done honour to the inflexibility of Dorriforth himself.

  During the few days that intervened between her open confession of apassion for Lord Frederick and this proposed plan of separation, themost intricate incoherence appeared in the character of Miss Milner--andin 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 onthe 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 positivelyrefused to return it; by which he had kept his promise not to endangerhis Lordship's life, and had reconciled Sandford, in great measure, tohis behaviour--and Sandford now (his resolution once broken) no longerrefused entering Miss Milner's house, but came whenever it wasconvenient, though he yet avoided the mistress of it as much aspossible; or showed by every word and look, when she was present, thatshe was still less in his favour than she had ever been.

  He visited Dorriforth on the evening of his engagement with LordFrederick, and the next morning breakfasted with him in his own chamber;nor did Miss Milner see her guardian after his first return from thatengagement before the following noon. She enquired, however, of hisservant how he did, and was rejoiced to hear that his wound was butslight--yet this enquiry she durst not make before Miss Woodley.

  When Dorriforth made his appearance the next day, it was evident that hehad thrown from his heart a load of cares; and though they had left alanguor upon his face, content was in his voice, in his manners, inevery word and action. Far from seeming to retain any resentment againsthis ward, for the danger into which her imprudence had led him, heappeared rather to pity her indiscretion, and to wish to soothe theperturbation which the recollection of her own conduct had evidentlyraised in her mind. His endeavours were successful--she was soothed everytime he spoke to her; and had not the watchful eye of Miss Woodley stoodguard over her inclinations, she had plainly discovered, that she wasenraptured with the joy of seeing him again himself, after the danger towhich he had been exposed.

  These emotions, which she laboured to subdue, passed, however, thebounds of her ineffectual resistance, when at the time of retiring afterdinner, he said to her in a low voice, but such as it was meant thecompany should hear, "Do me the favour, Miss Milner, to call at my studysome time in the evening; I have to speak with you upon business."

  She answered, "I will, Sir." And her eyes swam with delight, inexpectation of the interview.

  Let not the reader, nevertheless, imagine, there was in that ardentexpectation, one idea which the most spotless mind, in love, might nothave indulged without reproach. Sincere love (at least among thedelicate of the female sex) is often gratified by that degree ofenjoyment, or rather forbearance, which would be torture in the pursuitof any other passion. Real, delicate, and restrained love, such as MissMilner's, was indulged in the sight of the object only; and havingbounded her wishes by her hopes, the height of her happiness was limitedto a conversation, in which no other but themselves took a part.

  Miss Woodley was one of those who heard the appointment, but the onlyone who conceived with what sensation it was received.

  While the ladies remained in the same room with Dorriforth, Miss Milnerthought of little, except of him. As soon as they withdrew into anotherapartment, she remembered Miss Woodley; and turning her head suddenly,saw her friend's face imprinted with suspicion and displeasure: this atfirst was painful to her--but recollecting that in a couple of hours shewas to meet her guardian alone--to speak to him, and hear him speak toher only--every other thought was absorbed in that one, and sheconsidered with indifference, the uneasiness, or the anger of herfriend.

  Miss Milner, to do justice to her heart, did not wish to beguileDorriforth into the snares of love: could any supernatural power haveendowed her with the means, and at the same time have shewn to her theills that must arise from such an effect of her charms, she hadassuredly virtue enough to have declined the conquest; but withoutenquiring what she proposed, she never saw him, without previouslyendeavouring to look more attractive, than she would have desired,before any other person. And now, without listening to the thousandexhortations that spoke in every feature of Miss Woodley, she flew to alooking-glass, to adjust her dress in a manner that she thought mostenchanting.

  Time stole away, and the time of going to her guardian arrived. In hispresence, unsupported by the presence of any other, every grace that shehad practised, every look that she had borrowed to set off her charms,were annihilated; and she became a native beauty, with the artlessarguments of reason only for her aid. Awed thus by his power, fromevery thing but what she really was, she never was perhaps half sobewitching, as in those timid, respectful, and embarrassed moments shepassed alone with him. He caught at those times her respect, herdiffidence, nay, even her embarrassment; and never would one word ofanger pass on either side.

  On the present occasion, he first expressed the high satisfaction thatshe had given him, by at length revealing to him the real state of hermind.

  "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 wishedfor your perfect happiness; yet, in the state of human perfection andhuman happiness, you might have fixed your affections with perhaps lesspropriety; and still, where my unwillingness to thwart your inclinationsmight not have permitted me to contend with them."

  Not a word of reply did this demand; or if it had, not a word could shehave given.

  "And now, Madam, the reason of my desire to speak with you--is, to knowthe means you think most proper to pursue, in order to acquaint LordFrederick, that notwithstanding this late repulse, there are hopes ofyour partiality in his favour."

  "Defer the explanation," she replied eagerl
y.

  "I beg your pardon--it cannot be. Besides, how can you indulge adisposition thus unpitying? Even so ardently did I desire to render theman who loves you happy, that though he came armed against my life, hadI not reflected, that previous to our engagement it would appear likefear, and the means of bartering for his forgiveness, I should haverevealed your sentiments the moment I had seen him. When the engagementwas over, I was too impatient to acquaint you with his safety, to thinkthen on gratifying him. And indeed, the delicacy of the declaration,after the many denials which you have no doubt given him, should beconsidered. I therefore consult your opinion upon the manner in which itshall be made."

  "Mr. Dorriforth, can you allow nothing to the moments of surprise, andthat pity, which the fate impending inspired? and which might urge me toexpress myself of Lord Frederick, in a manner my cooler thoughts willnot warrant?"

  "There was nothing in your expressions, my dear Miss Milner, the leastequivocal--if you were off your guard when you pleaded for LordFrederick, as I believe you were, you said more sincerely what youthought; and no discreet, or rather indiscreet attempts to retract, canmake 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 notbe too hard upon you--a hint from me will do. Hope is ever apt tointerpret the slightest words to its own use, and a lover's hope isbeyond 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, yetI must own, Miss Milner, that I did expect when a case of thisimportance came seriously before you, you would have discovered a properstability in your behaviour."

  "I do, Sir; and it was only when I was affected with a weakness, whicharose from accident, that I have betrayed inconsistency."

  "You then assert again, that you have no affection for my LordFrederick?"

  "Not enough to become his wife."

  "You are alarmed at marriage, and I do not wonder you should be so; itshews a prudent foresight which does you honour--but, my dear, are thereno dangers in a single state? If I may judge, Miss Milner, there aremany more to a young lady of your accomplishments, than if you wereunder 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 thecause of your not choosing at all. Give me leave to point out anobservation which, perhaps, I have too frequently made before, but uponthis occasion I must intrude it once again. Miss Fenton is itsobject--her fortune is inferior to your's, her personal attractions areless"----

  Here the powerful glow of joy, and of gratitude, for an opinion sonegligently, and yet so sincerely expressed, flew to Miss Milner's face,neck, and even to her hands and fingers; the blood mounted to every partof her skin that was visible, for not a fibre but felt the secrettransport, that Dorriforth thought her more beautiful than the beautifulMiss Fenton.

  If he observed her blushes, he was unsuspicious of the cause, and wenton.

  "There is, besides, in the temper of Miss Fenton, a sedateness thatmight with less hazard ensure her safety in an unmarried life; and yetshe very properly thinks it her duty, as she does not mean to secludeherself by any vows to the contrary, to become a wife--and in obedienceto 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 toreason, and on which my sentiments, such as they are, are formed onlyfrom theory, (and even there, more cautioned than instructed) it is thesubject of love. And yet, even that little which I know, tells me,without a doubt, that what you said yesterday, pleading for LordFrederick'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 atall, 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 mustonly be the judge even there."

  "Then from all you have said, Madam, on this occasion, I am to concludethat 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 startedback on seeing Miss Milner, and was going away; but Dorriforth called tohim to stay, and said with warmth,

  "Tell me, Mr. Sandford, by what power, by what persuasion, I can prevailupon 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 theadvice 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 itcontinues the same."

  "But instruct me how I am to inspire her with confidence," returnedDorriforth; "how I am to impress her with a sense of that, which is forher advantage?"

  "You can work no miracles," replied Sandford, "you are not holy enough."

  "And yet my ward," answered Dorriforth, "appears to be acquainted withthat mystery; for what but the force of a miracle can induce her tocontradict to-day, what before you, and several other witnesses, shepositively acknowledged yesterday?"

  "Do you call that miraculous?" cried Sandford; "the miracle had been ifshe had _not_ done so--for did she not yesterday contradict what sheacknowledged the day before? and will she not to-morrow disavow whatshe says to-day?"

  "I wish that she may--" replied Dorriforth mildly, for he saw the tearsflowing down her face at the rough and severe manner in which Sandfordhad spoken, and he began to feel for her uneasiness.

  "I beg pardon," cried Sandford, "for speaking so rudely to the mistressof 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 tocome."

  Miss Milner curtsied, as much as to say, he was welcome to come. Hecontinued,

  "I was to blame, that upon a nice punctilio, I left you so long withoutmy visits, and without my counsel; in that time, you have run the hazardof being murdered, and what is worse, of being excommunicated; for hadyou been so rash as to have returned your opponent's fire, not all myinterest 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 canonly save you from their scalping knives--from the miseries which thatlady is preparing for you, I am rewarded."

  Sandford spoke this with great fervour, and the offence of her lovenever 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 likethe notes of a raven, and sounded equally ominous. The words "_murder_"and "_excommunication_" he had likewise uttered; all the fatal effectsof 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 withthe utmost tenderness went towards her, and supporting her, said, "I begyour pardon--I invited you
hither with a far different intention thanyour 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 isnot requisite that you should apologize to her, and to me, for what youhave 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 anotheropportunity of renewing the subject."