CHAPTER XIV.
This melancholy incident, perhaps affected Matilda and all the friendsof the deceased Lady Elmwood, beyond any other that had occurred sinceher death. A few days after this circumstance, Miss Woodley, in order todivert the disconsolate mind of Lady Matilda, (and in the hope ofbringing her some little anecdotes, to console her for that which hadgiven her so much pain) waited upon Lord Elmwood in his library, andborrowed some books out of it. He was now perfectly well from his fall,and received her with his usual politeness, but, of course, not withthat peculiar warmth which he had discovered when he received her justafter his illness. Rushbrook was in the library at the same time; heshewed her several beautiful prints which Lord Elmwood had just receivedfrom London, and appeared anxious to entertain and give tokens of hisesteem and respect for her. But what gave her pleasure beyond any otherattention, was, that after she had taken (by the aid of Rushbrook) abouta dozen volumes from different shelves, and had laid them together,saying she would send her servant to fetch them; Lord Elmwood wenteagerly to the place where they were, and taking up each book, examinedminutely what it was. One author he complained was too light, anothertoo depressing, and put them on the shelves again: another waserroneous, and he changed it for a better: thus, he warned her againstsome, and selected other authors, as the most cautious preceptor cullsfor his pupil, or a fond father for his darling Child. She thanked himfor his attention to her, but her heart thanked him for his attention tohis daughter. For as she had herself never received such a proof of hiscare since all their long acquaintance, she reasonably supposed,Matilda's reading, and not hers, was the object of his solicitude.
Having in these books store of comfort for poor Matilda, she eagerlyreturned with them; and in reciting every particular circumstance, madeher consider the volumes, almost like presents from her father.
The month of September was now arrived; and Lord Elmwood, accompanied byRushbrook, went to a small shooting seat, near twenty miles distant fromElmwood Castle, for a week's particular sport. Matilda was once more atlarge; and one beautiful morning, about eleven o'clock, seeing MissWoodley walking on the lawn before the house, she hastily took her hatto join her; and not waiting to put it on, went nimbly down the greatstaircase, with it hanging on her arm. When she had descended a fewstairs, she heard a footstep walking slowly up; and, (from what emotionshe could not tell,) she stopped short, half resolved to turn back. Shehesitated a single instant whether she should or not--then went a fewsteps further till she came to the second landing place; when, by thesudden winding of the staircase,--Lord Elmwood was immediately beforeher!
She had felt something like affright before she saw him; but her reasontold her she had nothing to fear, as he was away. But now, theappearance of a stranger whom she had never before seen; the authorityin his looks, as well as in the sound of his steps; a resemblance to theportrait she had been shown of him; a start of astonishment which hegave on beholding her; but above all--her _fears_ confirmed her that itwas him. She gave a scream of terror--put out her trembling hands tocatch the balustrades for support--missed them--and fell motionless intoher father's arms.
He caught her, as by the same impulse, he would have caught any otherperson falling for want of aid. Yet when he found her in his arms, hestill held her there--gazed on her attentively--and once pressed her tohis bosom.
At length trying to escape the snare into which he had been led, he wasgoing to leave her on the spot where she fell, when her eyes opened andshe uttered, "Save me." Her voice unmanned him. His long-restrainedtears now burst forth--and seeing her relapsing into the swoon, he criedout eagerly to recall her. Her name did not, however, come to hisrecollection--nor any name but this--"Miss Milner--Dear Miss Milner."
That sound did not awaken her; and now again he wished to leave her inthis senseless state, that not remembering what had passed, she mightescape the punishment.
But at this instant, Giffard, with another servant, passed by the footof the stairs: on which, Lord Elmwood called to them--and into Giffard'shands delivered his apparently dead child; without one commandrespecting her, or one word of any kind; while his face was agitatedwith shame, with pity, with anger, with paternal tenderness.
As Giffard stood trembling, while he relieved his Lord from this haplessburthen, her father had to unloose her hand from the side of his coat,which she had caught fast hold of as she fell, and grasped so closely,it was with difficulty released.--On attempting to take the hand away hetrembled--faltered--then bade Giffard do it.
"Who, I, my Lord! I separate you!" cried he. But recollecting himself,"My Lord, I will obey your commands whatever they are." And seizing herhand, pulled it with violence--it fell--and her father went away.
Matilda was carried to her own apartments, laid upon the bed, and MissWoodley hasted to attend her, after listening to the recital of what hadpassed.
When Lady Elmwood's old and affectionate friend entered the room, andsaw her youthful charge lying pale and speechless, yet no father by tocomfort or sooth her, she lifted up her hands to Heaven exclaiming, witha burst of tears, "And is this the end of thee, my poor child? Is thisthe end of all our hopes?--of thy own fearful hopes--and of thy mother'ssupplications! Oh! Lord Elmwood! Lord Elmwood!"
At that name Matilda started, and cried, "Where is he? Is it a dream, orhave I seen him?"
"It is all a dream, my dear," said Miss Woodley.
"And yet I thought he held me in his arms," she replied--"I thought Ifelt his hands press mine.--Let me sleep and dream again."
Now thinking it best to undeceive her, "It is no dream, my dear,"returned Miss Woodley.
"Is it not?" cried she, starting up and leaning on her elbow--"Then Isuppose I must go away--go for ever away."
Sandford now entered. Having been told the news, he came to condole--butat the sight of him Matilda was terrified, and cried, "Do not reproachme, do not upbraid me--I know I have done wrong--I know I had but onecommand from my father, and that I have disobeyed."
Sandford could not reproach her, for he could not speak; he thereforeonly walked to the window and concealed his tears.
That whole day and night was passed in sympathetic grief, in alarm atevery sound, lest it should be a messenger to pronounce Matilda'sdestiny.
Lord Elmwood did not stay upon this visit above three hours at ElmwoodHouse; he then set off again for the seat he had left; where Rushbrookstill remained, and from whence his Lordship had merely come byaccident, to look over some writings which he wanted dispatched to town.
During his short continuance here, Sandford cautiously avoided hispresence; for he thought, in a case like this, what nature would not ofherself effect, no art, no arguments of his, could accomplish: to Natureand Providence he left the whole. What these two powerful principlesbrought about, the reader will judge, when he peruses the followingletter, received early the next morning by Miss Woodley.
A
SIMPLE STORY,
IN FOUR VOLUMES,
BY
MRS. INCHBALD.
VOL. IV.
_THE FOURTH EDITION._
LONDON:
Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON,
PATERNOSTER ROW.
1799.
A SIMPLE STORY.
A Simple Story Page 45