A Simple Story

by Mrs. Inchbald

  CHAPTER XIII.

  When Sandford acted deliberately, he always acted up to his duty; it washis duty to forgive Rushbrook, and he did so--but he had declared hewould never "Be again in his company unless Lord Elmwood was present;"and with all his forgiveness, he found an unforgiving gratification, inthe duty, of being obliged to keep his word.

  The next day Rushbrook dined alone, while Sandford gave his company tothe ladies. Rushbrook was too proud to seek to conciliate Sandford byabject concessions, but he endeavoured to meet him as by accident, andmeant to try what, in such a case, a submissive apology might effect.For two days all the schemes he formed on that head proved fruitless; hecould never procure even a sight of him. But on the evening of the thirdday, taking a lonely walk, he turned the corner of a grove, and saw inthe very path he was going, Sandford accompanied by Miss Woodley; and,what agitated him infinitely more, Lady Matilda was with them. He knewnot whether to proceed, or to quit the path and palpably shun them--toone, who seemed to put an unkind construction upon all he said and did,he knew that to do either, would be to do wrong. In spite of thepropensity he felt to pass so near to Matilda, could he have known whatconduct would have been deemed the most respectful, whatever painfuldenial it had cost him, _that_, he would have adopted. But undeterminedwhether to go forward, or to cross to another path, he still walked ontill he came too nigh to recede: he then, with a diffidence notaffected, but most powerfully felt, pulled off his hat; and withoutbowing, stood respectfully silent while the company passed. Sandfordwalked on some paces before, and took no further notice as he went byhim, than just touching the fore part of his hat with his finger. MissWoodley curtsied as she followed. But Lady Matilda made a full stop, andsaid, in the gentlest accents, "I hope, Mr. Rushbrook, you are perfectlyrecovered."

  It was the sweetest music he had ever listened to; and he replied withthe most reverential bow, "I am better a great deal, Ma'am." Theninstantly pursued his way as if he did not dare to utter anothersyllable.

  Sandford seldom found fault with Lady Matilda; not because he loved her,but because she seldom did wrong--upon this occasion, however, he washalf inclined to reprimand her; but yet he did not know what to say--thesubsequent humility of Rushbrook, had taken from the indiscretion of herspeaking to him, and the event could by no means justify his censure. Onhearing her begin to speak, Sandford had stopped; and as Rushbrook afterreplying, walked away, Sandford called to her crossly, "Come, comealong." But at the same time he put out his elbow for her to take holdof his arm.

  She hastened her steps, and did so--then turning to Miss Woodley, shesaid, "I expected you would have spoken to Mr. Rushbrook; it might haveprevented me."

  Miss Woodley replied, "I was at a loss what to do;--when we met formerly,he always spoke first."

  "And he ought now," cried Sandford angrily--and then added, with asarcastic smile, "It is certainly proper that the _superior_, should bethe first who speaks."

  "He did not look as if he thought himself our superior," repliedMatilda.

  "No," returned Sandford, "some people can put on what looks theyplease."

  "Then while he looks so pale," replied Matilda, "and so dejected, I cannever forbear speaking to him when we meet, whatever he may think ofit."

  "And were he and I to meet a hundred, nay a thousand times," returnedSandford, "I don't think I should ever speak to him again."

  "Bless me! what for, Mr. Sandford?" cried Matilda--for Sandford, who wasnot a man that repeated little incidents, had never mentioned thecircumstance of their quarrel.

  "I have taken such a resolution," answered he, "yet I bear him noenmity."

  As this short reply indicated that he meant to say no more, no more wasasked; and the subject was dropped.

  In the mean time, Rushbrook, happier than he had been for months,intoxicated with joy at that voluntary mark of civility he had receivedfrom Lady Matilda, felt his heart so joyous, and so free from everyparticle of malice, that he resolved, in the humblest manner, to makeatonement for the violation of decorum he had lately committed againstMr. Sandford.

  Too happy, at this time, to suffer a mortification from any indignitieshe might receive, he sent his servant to him into his study, as soon ashe was returned home, to beg to know "If he might be permitted to waitupon him, with a message he had to deliver from Lord Elmwood."

  The servant returned--"Mr. Sandford desired he would send the message byhim, or the house-steward." This was highly affronting; but Rushbrookwas not in a humour to be offended, and he sent again, begging he wouldadmit him; but the answer was, "He was busy."

  Thus wholly defeated in his hopes of reconciliation, his new transportsfelt an allay, and the few days that remained before Lord Elmwood came,he passed in solitary musing, and ineffectual walks and looks towardsthat path in which he had met Matilda--she came that way no more--indeedscarce quitted her apartment, in the practice of that confinement shewas to experience on the arrival of her father.

  All her former agitations now returned. On the day he arrived shewept--all the night she did not sleep--and the name of Rushbrook againbecame hateful to her. The Earl came in extremely good health andspirits, but appeared concerned to find Rushbrook less well than when hewent from town. Sandford was now under the necessity of being inRushbrook's company, yet he would never speak to him but when he wasobliged; or look at him, but when he could not help it. Lord Elmwoodobserved this conduct, yet he neither wondered, or was offended at it--hehad perceived what little esteem Sandford showed his nephew from hisfirst return; but he forgave, in Sandford's humour, a thousand faults hewould not forgive in any other; nor did he deem this one of his greatestfaults, knowing the demand upon his partiality from another object.

  Miss Woodley waited on Lord Elmwood as formerly; dined with him, andrelated, as heretofore, to the attentive Matilda, all that passed.

  About this time Lord Margrave, deprived by the season of all the sportsof the field, felt his love for Matilda (which had been violent, eventhough divided with the love of hunting) now too strong to be subdued;and he resolved, though reluctantly, to apply to her father for hisconsent to their union; but writing to Sandford this resolution, he wasonce more repulsed, and charged as a man of honour, to forbear todisturb the tranquillity of the family by any application of the kind.To this, Sandford received no answer; for the peer, highly incensed athis mistress's repugnance to him, determined more firmly than ever toconsult his own happiness alone; and as that depended merely upon hisobtaining her, he cared not by what method it was effected.

  About a fortnight after Lord Elmwood came into the country, as he wasriding one morning, his horse fell with him, and crushed his leg in sounfortunate a manner, as to be at first pronounced of dangerousconsequence. He was brought home in a post chaise, and Matilda heard ofthe accident with more grief than would, perhaps, on such an occasion,appertain to the most fondled child.

  In consequence of the pain he suffered, his fever was one night veryhigh; and Sandford, who seldom quitted his apartment, went frequently tohis bedside, every time with the secret hope he should hear him ask tosee his daughter--he was every time disappointed--yet he saw him shake,with a cordial friendship, the hand of Rushbrook, as if he delighted inseeing those he loved.

  The danger in which Lord Elmwood was supposed to be, was but of shortduration, and his sudden recovery succeeded. Matilda, who had wept,moaned, and watched during the crisis of his illness, when she heard hewas amending, exclaimed, (with a kind of surprise at the novelty of thesensation) "And this is joy that I feel! Oh! I never till now knew, whatthose persons felt who experienced joy."

  Nor did she repine, like Mr. Sandford and Miss Woodley, at her father'sinattention to her during his malady, for she did not hope like them--shedid not hope he would behold her, even in dying.

  But notwithstanding his seeming indifference, while his indispositioncontinued, no sooner was he recovered so as to receive thecongratulations of his friends, than there was no one person heevidently showed so much satisfaction at
seeing, as Miss Woodley. Shewaited upon him timorously, and with more than ordinary distaste at hislate conduct, when he put out his hand with the utmost warmth to receiveher; drew her to him; saluted her, (an honour he had never in his lifeconferred before) with signs of the sincerest friendship and affection.Sandford was present; and ever associating the idea of Matilda with MissWoodley, felt his heart bound with a triumph it had not enjoyed for manya day.

  Matilda listened with delight to the recital Miss Woodley gave on herreturn, and many times while it lasted exclaimed, "She was happy." Butpoor Matilda's sudden transports of joy, which she termed happiness,were not made for long continuance; and if she ever found cause forgladness, she far oftener had motives for grief.

  As Mr. Sandford was sitting with her and Miss Woodley, one evening abouta week after, a person rang at the bell and inquired for him: on beingtold of it by the servant, he went to the door of the apartment, andcried, "Oh! is it you? Come in." An elderly man entered, who had beenfor many years the head gardener at Elmwood House; a man of honesty andsobriety, and with an indigent family of aged parents, children, andother relations, who subsisted wholly on the income arising from hisplace. The ladies, as well as Sandford, knew him well, and they all,almost at once, asked, "What was the matter?" for his looks told themsomething distressful had befallen him.

  "Oh, Sir!" said he to Sandford, "I come to intreat your interest."

  "In what, Edwards?" said Sandford with a mild voice; for when hisassistance was supplicated in distress, his rough tones always took aplaintive key.

  "My Lord has discharged me from his service!" (returned Edwardstrembling, and the tears starting in his eyes) "I am undone, Mr.Sandford, unless you plead for me."

  "I will," said Sandford, "I will."

  "And yet I am almost afraid of your success," replied the man, "for myLord has ordered me out of his house this moment; and though I kneltdown to him to be heard, he had no pity."

  Matilda sighed from the bottom of her heart, and yet she envied thispoor man, who had been kneeling to her father.

  "What was your offence?" cried Sandford.

  The man hesitated; then looking at Matilda, said, "I'll tell you, Sir,some other time."

  "Did you name me, before Lord Elmwood?" cried she eagerly, andterrified.

  "No, Madam," replied he, "but I unthinkingly spoke of my poor Lady whois dead and gone."

  Matilda burst into tears.

  "How came you to do so mad a thing?" cried Sandford; and theencouragement which his looks had once given him, now fled from hisface.

  "It was unthinkingly," repeated Edwards; "I was showing my Lord someplans for the new walks, and told him, among other things, that herLadyship had many years ago approved of them. 'Who?' cried he. Still Idid not call to mind, but said, 'Lady Elmwood, Sir, while you wereabroad.'--As soon as these words were delivered, I saw my doom in hislooks, and he commanded me to quit his house and service that instant."

  "I am afraid," said Sandford, shaking his head, "I can do nothing foryou."

  "Yes, Sir, you know you have more power over my Lord than any body--andperhaps you may be able to save me and all mine from misery."

  "I would, if I could," replied Sandford quickly.

  "You can but try, Sir."

  Matilda was all this while bathed in tears; nor was Miss Woodley muchless affected--Lady Elmwood was before their eyes--Matilda beheld her inher dying moments; Miss Woodley saw her as the gay ward of Dorriforth.

  "Ask Mr. Rushbrook," said Sandford, "prevail on him to speak for you; hehas more power than I have."

  "He has not enough, then," replied Edwards, "for he was in the room withmy Lord when what I have told you happened."

  "And did he say nothing?" asked Sandford.

  "Yes, Sir; he offered to speak in my behalf, but my Lord interruptedhim, and ordered him out of the room--he instantly went."

  Sandford, now observing the effect which this narration had on the twoladies, led the man to his own apartments, and there assured him hedared not undertake his cause; but that if time or chance should happilymake an alteration in his Lord's disposition, he would be the first whowould endeavour to replace him.--Edwards was obliged to submit; andbefore the next day at noon, his pleasant house by the side of the park,his garden, and his orchard, which he had occupied above twenty years,were cleared of their old inhabitant, and all his wretched family.