CHAPTER V.
The next morning, when Lord Elmwood and Sandford met at breakfast, thelatter was pale with fear for the success of Lady Elmwood's letter--theEarl was pale too, but there was besides upon his face, something whichevidently marked he was displeased. Sandford observed it, and was allhumbleness, both in his words and looks, in order to soften him.
As soon as the breakfast was removed, Lord Elmwood drew the letter fromhis pocket, and holding it towards Sandford, said,
"That, may be of more value to you, than it is to me, therefore I giveit you."
Sandford called up a look of surprise, as if he did not know the letteragain.
"'Tis Lady Elmwood's letter," said Lord Elmwood, "and I return it to youfor two reasons."
Sandford took it, and putting it up, asked fearfully, "What those tworeasons were?"
"First," said he, "because I think it is a relick you may like topreserve--my second reason is, that you may shew it to her daughter, andlet her know why, and on what conditions, I grant her mother's request."
"You _do_ then grant it?" cried Sandford joyfully; "I thank you--you arekind--you are considerate."
"Be not hasty in your gratitude; you may have cause to recall it."
"I know what you have said;" replied Sandford, "you have said you grantLady Elmwood's request--you cannot recall these words, nor I mygratitude."
"Do you know what her request is?" returned he.
"Not exactly, my Lord--I told you before, I did not; but it is no doubtsomething in favour of her child."
"I think not," he replied: "such as it is, however, I grant it: but inthe strictest sense of the word--no farther--and one neglect of mycommands, releases me from this promise totally."
"We will take care, Sir, not to disobey them."
"Then listen to what they are, for to you I give the charge ofdelivering them again. Lady Elmwood has petitioned me in the name of herfather, (a name I reverence) to give his grandchild the sanction of myprotection. In the literal sense, to suffer that she may reside at oneof my seats; dispensing at the same time with my ever seeing her."
"And you will comply?"
"I will, till she encroaches on this concession, and dares to hope for agreater. I will, while she avoids my sight, or the giving me anyremembrance of her. But if, whether by design or by accident, I ever seeor hear from her, that moment, my compliance to her mother'ssupplication ceases, and I abandon her once more."
Sandford sighed. Lord Elmwood continued:
"I am glad her request stopped where it did. I would rather comply withher desires than not; and I rejoice they are such as I can grant withease and honour to myself. I am seldom now at Elmwood castle; let herdaughter go there; the few weeks or months I am down in the summer, shemay easily in that extensive house avoid me--while she does, she lives insecurity--when she does not--you know my resolution."
Sandford bowed--the Earl resumed:
"Nor can it be a hardship to obey this command--she cannot lament theseparation from a parent whom she never knew--" Sandford was goingeagerly to prove the error of that assertion, but he prevented him,saying, "In a word--without farther argument--if she obeys me in this, Iwill provide for her as my daughter during my life, and leave her afortune at my death--but if she dares--"
Sandford interrupted the menace prepared for utterance, saying, "and youstill mean, I suppose, to make Mr. Rushbrook your heir?"
"Have you not heard me say so? And do you imagine I have changed mydetermination? I am not given to alter my resolutions, Mr. Sandford; andI thought you knew I was not; besides, will not my title be extinct,whoever I make my heir? Could any thing but a son have preserved mytitle?"
"Then it is yet possible----"
"By marrying again, you mean? No--no--I have had enough of marriage--andHenry Rushbrook I shall leave my heir. Therefore, Sir----"
"My Lord, I do not presume--"
"Do not, Sandford, and we may still be good friends. But I am not to becontrolled as formerly; my temper is changed of late; changed to whatit was originally; till your religious precepts reformed it. You mayremember, how troublesome it was, to conquer my stubborn disposition inmy youth; _then_, indeed, you _did_; but in my more advanced age, youwill find the task too difficult."
Sandford again repeated, "He should not presume--"
To which Lord Elmwood again made answer, "Do not, Sandford;" and added,"for I have a sincere regard for you, and should be loath, at theseyears, to quarrel with you seriously."
Sandford turned away his head to conceal his feelings.
"Nay, if we do quarrel," resumed Lord Elmwood, "You know it must be yourown fault; and as this is a theme the most likely of any, nay, the onlyone on which we can have a difference (such as we cannot forgive) takecare never from this day to resume it; indeed that of itself, would bean offence I could not pardon. I have been clear and explicit in all Ihave said; there can be no fear of mistaking my meaning; therefore, allfuture explanation is unnecessary--nor will I permit a word, or a hint onthe subject from any one, without shewing my resentment even to the hourof my death." He was going out of the room.
"But before we bid adieu to the subject for ever, my Lord--there wasanother person whom I named to you--"
"Do you mean Miss Woodley? Oh, by all means let her live at ElmwoodHouse too. On consideration, I have no objection to see Miss Woodley atany time--I shall be glad to see her--do not let _her_ be frightened atme--to her I shall be the same, that I have always been."
"She is a good woman, my Lord," cried Sandford, pleased.
"You need not tell me that, Mr. Sandford; I know her worth." And he leftthe room.
Sandford, to relieve Miss Woodley and her lovely charge from thesuspence in which he had left them, prepared to set off for theirhabitation, in order himself to conduct them from thence to ElmwoodCastle, and appoint some retired part of it for Lady Matilda, againstthe annual visit her father should pay there. But before he left London,Giffard, the steward, took an opportunity to wait upon him, and let himknow, that his Lord had acquainted him with the consent he had given forhis daughter to be admitted at Elmwood Castle, and upon whatrestrictions: that he had farther uttered the severest threats, shouldthese restrictions ever be infringed. Sandford thanked Giffard for hisfriendly information. It served him as a second warning of thecircumspection that was necessary; and having taken leave of his friendand patron, under the pretence that "He could not live in the smoke ofLondon," he set out for the North.
It is unnecessary to say with what delight Sandford was received by MissWoodley, and the hapless daughter of Lady Elmwood, even before he toldhis errand. They both loved him sincerely; more especially Lady Matilda,whose forlorn state, and innocent sufferings, had ever excited hiscompassion and caused him to treat her with affection, tenderness, andrespect. She knew, too, how much he had been her mother's friend; forthat, she also loved him; and for being honoured with the friendship ofher father, she looked up to him with reverence. For Matilda (with anexcellent understanding, a sedateness above her years, and earlyaccustomed to the most private converse between Lady Elmwood and MissWoodley) was perfectly acquainted with the whole fatal history of hermother; and was, by her, taught the respect and admiration of herfather's virtues which they justly merited.
Notwithstanding the joy of Mr. Sandford's presence, once more to cheertheir solitary dwelling; no sooner were the first kind greetings over,than the dread of what he might have to inform them of, possessed poorMatilda and Miss Woodley so powerfully, that all their gladness waschanged into affright. Their apprehensions were far more forcible thantheir curiosity; they dared not ask a question, and even began to wishhe would continue silent upon the subject on which they feared tolisten. For near two hours he was so.----At length, after a short intervalfrom speaking, (during which they waited with anxiety for what he mightnext say) he turned to Lady Matilda, and said,
"You don't ask for your father, my dear."
"I did not know it was proper:" she replied, timidly.
"It is always proper," answered Sandford, "for _you_ to think of him,though he should never think on you."
She burst into tears, and said that she "_Did_ think of him, but shefelt an apprehension of mentioning his name"--and she wept bitterly whileshe spoke.
"Do not think I reproved you," said Sandford; "I only told you what wasright."
"Nay," said Miss Woodley, "she does not weep for that--she fears herfather has not complied with her mother's request. Perhaps--not even readher letter?"
"Yes, he _has_ read it," returned Sandford.
"Oh Heavens!" exclaimed Matilda, clasping her hands together, and thetears falling still faster.
"Do not be so much alarmed, my dear," said Miss Woodley; "you know weare prepared for the worst; and you know you promised your mother,whatever your fate should be, to submit with patience."
"Yes," replied Matilda, "and I am prepared for every thing, but myfather's refusal to my dear mother."
"Your father has not refused your mother's request," replied Sandford.
She was leaping from her seat in ecstasy.
"But," continued he, "do you know what her request was?"
"Not entirely," replied Matilda, "and since it is granted, I amcareless. But she told me her letter concerned none but me."
To explain perfectly to Matilda, Lady Elmwood's letter, and that shemight perfectly understand upon what terms she was admitted into ElmwoodCastle, Sandford now read the letter to her; and repeated, as nearly ashe could remember, the whole of the conversation that passed betweenLord Elmwood and himself; not even sparing, through an erroneousdelicacy, any of those threats her father had denounced, should she dareto transgress the limits he prescribed--nor did he try to soften, in oneinstance, a word he uttered. She listened sometimes with tears,sometimes with hope, but always with awe, and with terror, to everysentence in which her father was concerned. Once she called himcruel--then exclaimed "He was kind;" but at the end of Sandford'sintelligence, concluded "that she was happy and grateful for the boonbestowed." Even her mother had not a more exalted idea of Lord Elmwood'sworth than his daughter had formed; and this little bounty justobtained, would not have been greater in her mother's estimation, thanit was now in hers. Miss Woodley, too, smiled at the prospect beforeher--she esteemed Lord Elmwood beyond any mortal living--she was proud tohear what he had said in her praise, and overjoyed at the prospect ofbeing once again in his company; painting at the same time a thousandbright hopes, from watching every emotion of his soul, and catchingevery proper occasion to excite or increase his paternal sentiments. Yetshe had the prudence to conceal those vague hopes from his child, lest adisappointment might prove fatal; and assuming a behaviour neither toomuch elated or depressed, she advised that they should hope for thebest, but yet, as usual, expect and prepare for the worst.----After takingmeasures for quitting their melancholy abode, within the fortnight, theyall departed for Elmwood Castle--Matilda, Miss Woodley, and evenSandford, first visiting Lady Elmwood's grave, and bedewing it withtheir tears.
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