A Simple Story

by Mrs. Inchbald

  CHAPTER III.

  Lord Elmwood was by nature, and more from education, of a serious,thinking, and philosophic turn of mind. His religious studies hadcompletely taught him to consider this world but as a passage toanother; to enjoy with gratitude what Heaven in its bounty shouldbestow, and to bear with submission, whatever in its vengeance it mightinflict. In a greater degree than most people he practised thisdoctrine; and as soon as the shock he received from Lady Elmwood'sconduct was abated, an entire calmness and resignation ensued; but stillof that sensible and feeling kind, that could never suffer him to forgetthe happiness he had lost; and it was this sensibility, which urged himto fly from its more keen recollection as much as possible--this, healleged as the reason why he would never permit Lady Elmwood, or evenher child, to be named in his hearing. But this injunction (which allhis friends, and even the servants in the house who attended his person,had received) was, by many people, suspected rather to proceed from hisresentment, than his tenderness; nor did he deny, that resentmentco-operated with his prudence: for prudence he called it, not to remindhimself of happiness he could never taste again, and of ingratitude thatmight impel him to hatred: and prudence he called it, not to formanother attachment near to his heart, more especially so near as aparent's which might again expose him to all the torments ofingratitude, from an object whom he affectionately loved.

  Upon these principles he formed the unshaken resolution, never toacknowledge Lady Matilda as his child--or acknowledging her as such--neverto see, to hear of, or take one concern whatever in her fate andfortune. The death of her mother appeared a favourable time, had he beenso inclined, to have recalled this declaration which he had solemnly andrepeatedly made--she was now destitute of the protection of her otherparent, and it became his duty, at least, to provide her a guardian, ifhe did not chuse to take that tender title upon himself--but to mentioneither the mother or child to Lord Elmwood, was an equal offence, andprohibited in the strongest terms to all his friends and household; andas he was an excellent good master, a sincere friend, and a mostgenerous patron, not one of his acquaintance or dependants, were hardyenough to draw upon themselves his certain displeasure, which was alwaysviolent in the extreme, by even the official intelligence of LadyElmwood's death.

  Sandford himself, intimidated through age, or by the austere, and morosemanners which Lord Elmwood had of late years adopted; Sandford wished,if possible, that some other would undertake the dangerous task ofrecalling to his memory there ever was such a person as his wife. Headvised Miss Woodley to write a proper letter to him on the subject; butshe reminded him that such a step would be more perilous to her, than toany other person, as she was the most destitute being on earth, withoutthe benevolence of Lord Elmwood. The death of her aunt, Mrs. Horton,had left her solely relying on the bounty of Lady Elmwood, and now herdeath, had left her totally dependant upon the Earl--for Lady Elmwoodthough she had separate effects, had long before her death declared itwas not her intention to leave a sentence behind her in the form of awill. She had no will, she said, but what she would wholly submit toLord Elmwood's; and, if it were even his will, that her child shouldlive in poverty, as well as banishment, it should be so. But, perhaps,in this implicit submission to him, there was a distant hope, that thenecessitous situation of his daughter, might plead more forcibly thanhis parental love; and that knowing her bereft of every support butthrough himself, that idea might form some little tie between them, andbe at least a token of the relationship.

  But as Lady Elmwood anxiously wished this principle upon which sheacted, 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 perishingin want. Her child was too young to advise her on this subject, herfriend too disinterested; and at this moment they were both without thesmallest means of subsistence, except through the justice or compassionof Lord Elmwood. Sandford had indeed promised his protection to thedaughter; 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 LadyElmwood.--On this last visit he staid to see her buried.

  After some mature deliberations, Sandford was now preparing to go toLord Elmwood at his house in town, and there, to deliver himself thenews that must sooner or later be told; and he meant also to venture, atthe same time, to keep the promise he had made to his dying Lady--but thenews reached his Lordship before Sandford arrived; it was announced inthe public papers, and by that means first came to his knowledge.

  He was breakfasting by himself, when the newspaper that first gave theintelligence of Lady Elmwood's death, was laid before him--the paragraphcontained these words:

  "On Wednesday last died, at Dring Park, a village in Northumberland, theright honourable Countess Elmwood.--This lady, who has not been heard offor many years in the fashionable world, was a rich heiress, and ofextreme beauty; but although she received overtures from many men of thefirst rank, she preferred her guardian, the present Lord Elmwood (thenMr. Dorriforth) to them all--and it is said, their marriage was followedby an uncommon share of felicity, till his Lordship going abroad, andremaining there some time, the consequences (to a most captivating youngwoman left without a protector) were such as to cause a separation onhis 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 thepaper, and not take it up again for several minutes--nor did he taste hischocolate during this interval, but leaned his elbow on the table andrested his head upon his hand. He then rose up--walked two or three timesacross the room--sat down again--took up the paper--and read as usual.--Norlet the vociferous mourner, or the perpetual weeper, here complain ofhis want of sensibility--but let them remember that Lord Elmwood was aman--a man of understanding--of courage--of fortitude--above all, a man ofthe nicest feelings--and who shall say, but that at the time he leanedhis 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 suspectedby 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 stewardto 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 aninvoluntary sigh.

  "Mr. Sandford, my lord," continued the steward, "sent me word of thenews, but left it to my own discretion, whether I would make yourLordship 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 isdone--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 yourLordship any further commands?"

  "Write to Sandford," said Lord Elmwood, hesitating as he spoke, "andtell him to have every thing performed as she desired. And whoever shemay have selected for the guardian of her child, has my consent to actas such.--Nor in one instance, where I myself am not concerned, shall Ioppose her will." The tears rushed into his eyes as he said this, andcaused them to start in the steward's--observing which, he sternlyresumed,

  "Do not suppose from this conversation, that any of those resolutions Ihave long since taken, are, or will be changed--they are the same; andshall 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 asformerly, never to mention this subject to you again."
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  "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 todo."

  The steward bowed and withdrew.

  But before his letter arrived to Sandford, Sandford arrived in town; andMr. Giffard related, word for word, what had passed between him and hisLord. Upon every occasion, and upon every topic, except that of LadyElmwood and her child, Sandford was just as free with Lord Elmwood ashe had ever been; and as usual (after his interview with the steward)went into his apartment without any previous notice. Lord Elmwood shookhim by the hand, as upon all other meetings; and yet, whether his fearsuggested it or not, Sandford thought he appeared more cool and reservedwith him than formerly.

  During the whole day, the slightest mention of Lady Elmwood, or of herchild, was cautiously avoided--and not till the evening, (after Sandfordhad risen to retire, and had wished Lord Elmwood good night) did he dareto mention the subject. He then, after taking leave, and going to thedoor--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 hishandkerchief, and could proceed no farther.

  "I thought," said Lord Elmwood, angrily, "I thought I had given myorders upon the subject--did not my steward write them to you?"

  "He did, my Lord," said Sandford, humbly, "but I was set out before theyarrived."

  "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 thatLady 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 youwilled."

  "She left me all the trouble, then, you mean?"

  "No great trouble, Sir; for there are but two persons whom she has leftbehind 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 Sandforddelivered this reply, that Lord Elmwood could _not_ resent, and he onlyreturned,

  "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 forthose two persons. That care I leave to you--and should there be anycomplaints, on you they fall."

  Sandford bowed and was going.

  "And now," resumed Lord Elmwood, in a more stern voice, "let me neverhear again on this subject. You have power to act in regard to thepersons you have mentioned; and upon you their situation, the care, thewhole management of them depends--but be sure you never let them be namedbefore me, from this moment."

  "Then," said Sandford, "as this must be the last time they arementioned, I must now take the opportunity to disburden my mind of acharge"--

  "What charge?" cried Lord Elmwood, morosely interrupting him.

  "Though Lady Elmwood, my Lord, left no will behind her, she left arequest."

  "A request!" said he, starting, "If it is for me to see her daughter, Itell you now before you ask, that I will not grant it--for by heaven (andhe spoke and looked most solemnly) though I have no resentment againstthe 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 objectI might dote upon. Therefore, Sir, if that is the request, it is alreadyanswered; my will is fixed."

  "The request, my Lord," replied Sandford, (and he took out a pocket-bookfrom whence he drew several papers) "is contained in this letter; nor doI rightly know what its contents are." And he held it out to him.

  "Is it Lady Elmwood's writing?" asked Lord Elmwood, extremelydiscomposed.

  "It is, my Lord.--She wrote it a few days before she died, and enjoinedme to deliver it to you, with my own hands."

  "I refuse to read it:" cried he, putting it from him--and trembling whilehe did so.

  "She desired me," said Sandford, (still presenting the letter) "toconjure you to read it, _for her father's sake._"

  Lord Elmwood took it instantly. But as soon as it was in his hand, heseemed distressed to know what he should do with it--in what place to goand read it--or how to fortify himself against its contents. He appearedashamed too, that he had been so far prevailed upon, and said, by way ofexcuse,

  "For Mr. Milner's sake I would do much--nay, any thing, but that to whichI have just now sworn never to consent. For his sake I have borne agreat deal--for his sake alone, his daughter died my wife. You know, noother motive than respect for him, prevented my divorcing her. Pray (andhe hesitated) was she buried with him?"

  "No, my Lord--she expressed no such desire; and as that was the case, Idid not think it necessary to carry the corpse so far."

  At the word corpse, Lord Elmwood shrunk, and looked shocked beyondmeasure--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 buriedtogether."

  "It is not then too late," said Sandford, and was going on--but the otherinterrupted 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--butif her demand is what I apprehend, I cannot, I will not, bid her rest bycomplying. You know my resolution, my disposition, and take care how youprovoke me. You may do an injury to the very person you are seeking tobefriend--the very maintenance I mean to allow her daughter I canwithdraw."

  Poor Sandford, all alarmed at this menace, replied with energy, "MyLord, unless you begin the subject, I never shall presume to mention itagain."

  "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 separatebedchambers.