CHAPTER XI.
In vain, for three long days, did Miss Milner wait impatiently for thissubmission; not a sign, not a symptom appeared--nay, Lord Elmwood had,since the evening of Lord Frederick's visit, (which, at the time ithappened, seemed to affect him so exceedingly) become just the same manhe was before the circumstance occurred; except, indeed, that he wasless thoughtful, and now and then cheerful; but without any appearancethat his cheerfulness was affected. Miss Milner was vext--she wasalarmed--but was ashamed to confess those humiliating sensations, even toMiss Woodley--she supported, therefore, when in company, the vivacity shehad so long assumed; but gave way, when alone, to a still greater degreeof melancholy than usual. She no longer applauded her scheme of bringingLord Frederick to the house, and trembled, lest, on some pretence, heshould dare to call again. But as these were feelings which her pridewould not suffer her to disclose even to her friend, who would havecondoled with her, their effects were doubly poignant.
Sitting in her dressing-room one forenoon with Miss Woodley, andburthened with a load of grief that she blushed to acknowledge, whileher companion was charged with apprehensions that she too was loath todisclose, one of Lord Elmwood's valets tapped gently at the door, anddelivered a letter to Miss Milner. By the person who brought it, as wellas by the address, she knew it came from Lord Elmwood, and laid it downupon 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 mypardon." But her reluctance to open it plainly evinced she did not thinkso.
"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 myselftowards him."
Here a silence followed. Miss Milner took up the letter--looked earnestlyat the handwriting on the outside--at the seal--inspected into itsfolds--and seemed to wish, by some equivocal method, to guess at thecontents, without having the courage to come at the certain knowledge ofthem.
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 followingwords:--
"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 herhands; but she uttered not a word. There was, however, a paleness in herface, a deadness in her eye, and a kind of palsy over her frame, whichMiss Woodley, who had seen her in every stage of her uneasiness, neverhad seen before.
"I do not want to read the letter," said Miss Woodley; "your looks tellme 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 arrangeher features, and impose upon him: alas! it was of no avail--a serenityof mind could alone effect what she desired.
"You must endeavour," said Miss Woodley, "to feel the disposition youwish to make appear."
"I will," replied she, "I will feel a proper pride--and a proper scorn ofthis 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 toacquire it.
"I have but a few days to remain with him," she said to herself, "and wepart for ever--during those few days it is not only my duty to obey hiscommands, or rather comply with his request, but it is also my wish toleave upon his mind an impression, which may not add to the ill opinionhe has formed of me, but, perhaps, serve to diminish it. If, in everyother instance, my conduct has been blameable, he shall, at least inthis, acknowledge its merit. The fate I have drawn upon myself, he shallfind I can be resigned to; and he shall be convinced, that the woman, ofwhose weakness he has had so many fatal proofs, is yet in possession ofsome fortitude--fortitude, to bid him farewell, without discovering oneaffected or one real pang, though her death should be the immediateconsequence."
Thus she resolved, and thus she acted. The severest judge could not havearraigned 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 struggleswere victorious.
The first time she saw him after the receipt of his letter, was on theevening of the same day--she had a little concert of amateurs of music,and was herself singing and playing when he entered the room: theconnoisseurs immediately perceived she made a false cadence--but LordElmwood was no connoisseur in the art, and he did not observe it.
They occasionally spoke to each other through the evening, but thesubjects were general--and though their manners every time they spoke,were perfectly polite, they were not marked with the smallest degree offamiliarity. To describe his behaviour exactly, it w
as the same as hisletter, polite, friendly, composed, and resolved. Some of the companystaid supper, which prevented the embarrassment that must unavoidablyhave arisen, had the family been by themselves.
The next morning each breakfasted in his separate apartments--morecompany dined with them--in the evening, and at supper, Lord Elmwood wasfrom home.
Thus, all passed on as peaceably as he had requested, and Miss Milnerhad 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, butnot Lord Elmwood, looked at Miss Milner when he spoke. Her knife andfork gave a sudden spring in her hand, but no other emotion witnessedwhat she felt.
"Aye, Elmwood," cried another gentleman at table, "you'll bring home, Iam 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 toa foreigner for a wife? do not crowned heads all marry foreigners? andwho happier in the married state than some kings?"
Lord Elmwood directed his eyes to the side of the table, opposite tothat where Miss Milner sat.
"Nay," (answered one of the guests, who was a country gentleman) "whatdo you say, ladies--do you think my Lord ought to go out of his ownnation for a wife?" and he looked at Miss Milner for the reply.
Miss Woodley, uneasy at her friend's being thus forced to give anopinion upon so delicate a subject, endeavoured to satisfy thegentleman, by answering to the question herself: "Whoever my LordElmwood marries, Sir," said Miss Woodley, "he, no doubt, will be happy."
"But what say you, Madam?" asked the visitor, still keeping his eyes onMiss Milner.
"That whoever Lord Elmwood marries, he _deserves_ to be happy:" returnedshe, 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 shortsentence; and Miss Woodley persuaded herself, she saw a tear start inhis eye.
Miss Milner did not look that way.
In an instant he found means to change the subject, but that of hisjourney still employed the conversation; and what horses, servants, andcarriages he took with him, was minutely asked, and so accuratelyanswered, either by himself or by Mr. Sandford, that Miss Milner,although she had known her doom before, till now had received nocircumstantial account of it--and as circumstances increase or diminishall we feel, the hearing these things told, increased the bitterness oftheir truth.
Soon after dinner the ladies retired; and from that time, though MissMilner's behaviour continued the same, yet her looks and her voice weretotally altered--for the world, she could not have looked cheerfully; forthe world, she could not have spoken with a sprightly accent; shefrequently began in one, but not three words could she utter, before hertones sunk into dejection. Not only her colour, but her features becamechanged; her eyes lost their brilliancy, her lips seemed to hang withoutthe power of motion, her head drooped, and her dress was neglected.Conscious of this appearance, and conscious of the cause from whence itarose, it was her desire to hide herself from the only object she couldhave wished to have charmed. Accordingly, she sat alone, or with MissWoodley in her own apartment as much as was consistent with thatcivility which her guardian had requested, and which forbade her totallyabsenting herself.
Miss Woodley felt so acutely the torments of her friend, that had nother reason told her, that the inflexible mind of Lord Elmwood, was fixedbeyond her power to shake, she had cast herself at his feet, andimplored the return of his affection and tenderness, as the only meansto save his once-beloved ward from an untimely death. But herunderstanding--her knowledge of his firm and immoveable temper; and ofall his provocations--her knowledge of his word, long since given toSandford, "That if once resolved, he would not recall hisresolution"--the certainty of the various plans arranged for his travels,all convinced her, that by any interference, she would only expose MissMilner's love and delicacy, to a contemptuous rejection.
If the conversation did not every day turn upon the subject of LordElmwood's departure--a conversation he evidently avoided himself--yet,every day, some new preparation for his journey, struck either the earor the eye of Miss Milner--and had she beheld a frightful spectre, shecould not have shuddered with more horror, than when she unexpectedlypassed his large trunks in the hall, nailed and corded, ready to be sentoff to meet him at Venice. At the sight, she flew from the company thatchanced to be with her, and stole to the first lonely corner of thehouse to conceal her tears--she reclined her head upon her hands, andbedewed them with the sudden anguish, that had overcome her. She hearda footstep advancing towards the spot where she hoped to have beenconcealed; she lifted up her eyes, and saw Lord Elmwood. Pride, was thefirst emotion his presence inspired--pride, which arose from the humilityinto 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." Andimmediately withdrew.
Thus each understood the other's language, without either having uttereda word.
The just construction she put upon his looks and behaviour upon thisoccasion, kept up her spirits for some little time; and she blessedheaven, 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 onwhich she was to bid adieu to Dorriforth, to her guardian, to LordElmwood; 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 theresentment his yesterday's conduct had raised: forgetting his austerity,and all she had once termed cruelties, she now only remembered hisfriendship, his tenderness, and his love. She was impatient to see him,and promised herself, for this last day, to neglect no one opportunityof being with him. For that purpose she did not breakfast in her ownroom, as she had done for several mornings before, but went into thebreakfast-room, where all the family in general met. She was rejoiced onhearing his voice as she opened the door, yet the sound made her trembleso much, that she could scarcely totter to the table.
Miss Woodley looked at her as she entered, and was never so shocked atseeing her; for never had she yet seen her look so ill. As sheapproached, she made an inclination of her head to Mrs. Horton, then toher guardian, as was her custom, when she first saw them in a morning--helooked in her face as he bowed in return, then fixed his eyes upon thefire-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 lookedearnestly. He then turned to Lord Elmwood to see if he was observing herappearance--he was not--and so much were her thoughts engaged on himalone, that she did not once perceive Sandford gazing at her.
Mrs. Horton, after a little while observed, "It was a beautifulmorning."
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 firstcivility he had ever in his life offered her; she smiled at thewhimsicality of the circumstance, but she took one in return for hisattention. He looked grave beyond his usual gravity, and yet not withhis 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 notreturn to dinner.
At dinner, Mrs. Horton said, "She hoped he would, however, favour themwith his company at supper."
To which Sandford replied, "No doubt, for you will hardly any of you
seehim 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 himas far as Dover.
These words of his--"_Not see Lord Elmwood in the morning_"--[never againto see him after this evening,] were like the knell of death to MissMilner. She felt the symptoms of fainting, and eagerly snatched a glassof water, which the servant was holding to Sandford, who had called forit, and drank it off;--as she returned the glass to the servant, shebegan to apologize to Mr. Sandford for her seeming rudeness, but beforeshe could utter what she intended, he said, good-naturedly, "Nevermind--you are very welcome--I am glad you took it." She looked at him toobserve, whether he had really spoken kindly, or ironically; but beforehis countenance could satisfy her, her thoughts were called away fromthat trivial matter, and again fixed upon Lord Elmwood.
The moments seemed tedious till he came home to supper, and yet, whenshe reflected how short the remainder of the evening would be after thattime, she wished to defer the hour of his return for months. At teno'clock he arrived; and at half after ten the family, without anyvisitor, met at supper.
Miss Milner had considered, that the period for her to counterfeitappearances, was diminished now to a most contracted one; and sherigorously enjoined herself not to shrink from the little whichremained. The certain end, that would be so soon put to this painfuldeception, encouraged her to struggle through it with redoubled zeal;and this was but necessary, as her weakness increased. She thereforelistened, she talked, and even smiled with the rest of the company, nordid _their_ vivacity seem to arise, from a much less compulsive sourcethan her own.
It was past twelve, when Lord Elmwood looked at his watch, and risingfrom his chair, went up to Mrs. Horton, and taking her hand, said, "TillI 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 andhappiness likewise."
He then went to Miss Woodley, and taking her hand, repeated much thesame, 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 hopemy prayers for your happiness may be heard."
She and Mrs. Horton were both standing as well as Lord Elmwood; but MissMilner kept her seat, till his eye was turned upon her, and he movedslowly towards her; she then rose:--every one who was present, attentiveto what he would now say, and how she would receive what he said, herecast their eyes upon them, and listened with impatience. They were alldisappointed--he did not utter a syllable. Yet he took her hand, andheld it closely between his. He then bowed most respectfully and lefther.
No "I wish you well;--I wish you health and happiness." No "Prayers forblessings on her." Not even the word "Farewell," escaped hislips--perhaps, to have attempted any of these, might have choaked hisutterance.
She had behaved with fortitude the whole evening, and she continued todo so, till the moment he turned away from her. Her eyes then overflowedwith tears, and in the agony of her mind, not knowing what she did, shelaid her cold hand upon the person next to her--it happened to beSandford; but not observing it was he, she grasped his hand withviolence--yet he did not snatch it away, nor look at her with his wontedseverity. 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 doorwas shut after Lord Elmwood, he turned his head to look in her face, andturned it with some marks of apprehension for the grief he might findthere. She strove to overcome that grief, and after a heavy sigh, satdown, as if resigned to the fate to which she was decreed.
Instead of following Lord Elmwood, as usual, Sandford poured out a glassof wine, and drank it. A general silence ensued for near three minutes.At last, turning himself round on his seat, towards Miss Milner, who satlike a statue of despair at his side, "Will you breakfast with usto-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 ofher passing this night in less unhappiness than she had foreboded) "prayrise at that hour to breakfast; Mr. Sandford would not invite you, if hethought 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 totake 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 heartburst 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, inthat 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. "Youshould judge him by your own heart; and what you feel for him, imaginehe feels for you, my dear."
Though "_my dear_" is a trivial phrase, yet from certain people, andupon certain occasions, it is a phrase of infinite comfort andassurance. Mr. Sandford seldom said "my dear" to any one; to Miss Milnernever; and upon this occasion, and from him, it was an expression mostprecious.
She turned to him with a look of gratitude; but as she only looked, anddid not speak, he rose up, and soon after said, with a friendly tone hehad 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 havebeen precipitated by the unkindness of Mr. Sandford, yet, for thatparticle of concern which he has shown for me this night, I will alwaysbe 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 awayfor ever, he is not afraid of your seeing him once again." And shethought she praised him by this suggestion.
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