CHAPTER XII.
Rushbrook was detained at Elmwood House during all this time, more fromthe persuasions, nay prayers, of Sandford, than the commands of LordElmwood. He had, but for Sandford, followed his uncle, and exposedhimself to his anger, sooner than have endured the most piercinginquietude, which he was doomed to suffer, till the news arrived of LadyMatilda's safety. He indeed had little else to fear from the known firm,courageous character of her father, and the expedition with which heundertook his journey; but lovers' fears are like those of women,obstinate, and no argument could persuade either him or Miss Woodley(who had now ventured to come to Elmwood House) but that Matilda's peaceof mind might be for ever destroyed, before she was set at liberty.
The summons from Lord Elmwood for their coming to town, was received byeach of this party with delight; but the impatience to obey it, was inRushbrook so violent, it was painful to himself, and extremelytroublesome to Sandford; who wished, from his regard to Lady Matilda,rather to delay, than hurry their journey.
"You are to blame," said he to him and Miss Woodley, "to wish by yourarrival, to divide with Lord Elmwood that tender bond, which ties thegood who confer obligations, to the object of their benevolence. Atpresent there is no one with him to share in the care and protection ofhis daughter, and he is under the necessity of discharging that dutyhimself; this habit may become so powerful, that he _cannot_ throw itoff, even if his former resolutions should urge him to it. While weremain here, therefore, Lady Matilda is safe with her father; but itwould not surprise me, if on our arrival (especially if we areprecipitate) he should place her again with Miss Woodley at a distance."
To this forcible conjecture, they submitted for a few days, and thenmost gladly set out for town.
On their arrival, they were met, even at the street-door, by LadyMatilda; and with an expression of joy, they did not suppose herfeatures could have worn. She embraced Miss Woodley! hung upon Sandford!and to Mr. Rushbrook, who from his conscious love only bowed at anhumble distance, she held out her hand with every look and gesture ofthe tenderest esteem.
When Lord Elmwood joined them, he welcomed them all sincerely; butSandford the most, with whom he had not spoken for many days before heleft the country, for his allusion to the wretched situation of hisdaughter.--And Sandford (with his fellow-travellers) now saw him treatthat daughter with an easy, a natural fondness, as if she had lived withhim from her infancy. He appeared, however, at times, under theapprehension, that the propensity of man to jealousy, might giveRushbrook a pang at this dangerous rival in his love and fortune--forthough Lord Elmwood remembered well the hazard he had once ventured tobefriend Matilda, yet the present unlimited reconciliation was somethingso unlooked for, it might be a trial too much for his generosity, toremain wholly disinterested on the event. Slight as was this suspicion,it did Rushbrook injustice. He loved Lady Matilda too sincerely, heloved her father's happiness, and her mother's memory too faithfully,not to be rejoiced at all he witnessed; nor could the secret hope thatwhispered him, "Their blessings might one day be mutual," increase thepleasure he found, in beholding Matilda happy.
Unexpected affairs, in which Lord Elmwood had been for some timeengaged, had diverted his attention for awhile from the marriage of hisnephew; nor did he at this time find his disposition sufficientlysevere, to exact from the young man a compliance with his wishes, at socruel an alternative as that of being for ever discarded. He felt hismind, by the late incident, too much softened for such harshness; he yetwished for the alliance he had proposed; for he was more consistent inhis character than to suffer the tenderness his daughter's peril hadawakened, to derange those plans which he had long projected. Never evennow, for a moment did he indulge--for perhaps it would have been anindulgence--the idea of replacing her exactly in the rights of her birth,to the disappointment of all his nephew's expectations.
Yet, milder at this crisis in his temper than he had been for yearsbefore, and knowing he could be no longer irritated upon the subject ofhis daughter, he once more resolved to trust himself in a conferencewith Rushbrook on the subject of marriage; meaning at the same time tomention Matilda as an opponent from whom he had nothing to fear. Butfor some time before Rushbrook was called to this private audience, hehad, by his unwearied attention, endeavoured to impress upon Matilda'smind, the softest sentiments in his favour. He succeeded--but not as hewished. She loved him as her friend, her cousin, her foster-brother, butnot as a lover. The idea of love never once came to her thoughts; andshe would sport with Rushbrook like the most harmless child, while he,all impassioned, could with difficulty resist telling her, what she madehim suffer.
At the meeting between him and Lord Elmwood, to which he was called forhis final answer on that subject which had once nearly proved so fatalto him; after a thousand fears, much confusion and embarrassment, he atlength frankly confessed his "Heart was engaged, and had been so, longbefore his uncle offered to direct his choice."
Lord Elmwood desired to know, "On whom he had placed his affections."
"I dare not tell you, my Lord," returned he, infinitely confused; "butMr. Sandford can witness their sincerity and how long they have beenfixed."
"Fixed!" cried the Earl.
"Immoveably fixed, my Lord; and yet the object is as unconscious of mylove to this moment, as you yourself have been; and I swear ever shallbe so, without your permission."
"Name the object," said Lord Elmwood, anxiously.
"My Lord, I dare not.--The last time I named her to you, you threatenedto abandon me for my arrogance."
Lord Elmwood started.----"My daughter! Would you marry her?"
"But with your approbation, my Lord; and that----"
Before he could proceed a word further, his uncle left the roomhastily--and left Rushbrook all terror for his approaching fate.
Lord Elmwood went immediately into the apartment where Sandford, MissWoodley, and Matilda, were sitting, and cried with an angry voice, andwith his countenance disordered,
"Rushbrook has offended me beyond forgiveness.--Go, Sandford, to thelibrary, where he is, and tell him this instant to quit my house, andnever dare to return."
Miss Woodley lifted up her hands and sighed.
Sandford rose slowly from his seat to execute the office.
While Lady Matilda, who was arranging her music books upon theinstrument, stopped from her employment suddenly, with her face bathedin tears.
A general silence ensued, till Lord Elmwood, resuming his angry tone,cried, "Did you hear me, Mr. Sandford?"
Sandford now, without a word in reply, made for the door--but thereMatilda impeded him, and throwing her arms about his neck, cried,
"Dear Mr. Sandford, do not."
"How!" exclaimed her father.
She saw the impending frown, and rushing towards him, took his handfearfully, and knelt at his feet. "Mr. Rushbrook is my relation," shecried in a pathetic voice, "my companion, my friend--before you loved mehe was anxious for my happiness, and often visited me to lament with,and console me. I cannot see him turned out of your house withoutfeeling for _him_, what he once felt for _me._"
Lord Elmwood turned aside to conceal his sensations--then raising herfrom the floor, he said, "Do you know what he has asked of me?"
"No," answered she in the utmost ignorance, and with the utmostinnocence painted on her face; "but whatever it is, my Lord, though youdo not grant it, yet pardon him for asking."
"Perhaps _you_ would grant him what he has requested?" said her father.
"Most willingly--was it in my gift."
"It is," replied he. "Go to him in the library, and hear what he has tosay; for on your will his fate shall depend."
Like lightning she flew out of the room; while even the grave Sandfordsmiled at the idea of their meeting.
Rushbrook, with his fears all verified by the manner in which his unclehad left him, sat with his head reclined against a bookcase, and everylimb extended with the despair that had seized him.
Matilda nimbly opene
d the door and cried, "Mr. Rushbrook, I am come tocomfort you."
"That you have always done," said he, rising in rapture to receive her,even in the midst of all his sadness.
"What is it you want?" said she. "What have you asked of my father thathe has denied you?"
"I have asked for that," replied he, "which is dearer to me than mylife."
"Be satisfied then," returned she, "for you shall have it."
"Dear Matilda! it is not in your power to bestow."
"But he has told me it _shall_ be in my power; and has desired me togive, or to refuse it you, at my own pleasure."
"O Heavens!" cried Rushbrook in transport, "Has he?"
"He has indeed--before Mr. Sandford and Miss Woodley. Now tell me whatyou petitioned for?"
"I asked him," cried Rushbrook, trembling, "for a wife."
Her hand, which had just then taken hold of his, in the warmth of herwish to serve him, now dropped down as with the stroke of death--her facelost its colour--and she leaned against the desk by which they werestanding, without uttering a word.
"What means this change?" said he; "Do you not wish me happy?"
"Yes," she exclaimed: "Heaven is my witness. But it gives me concern tothink we must part."
"Then let us be joined," cried he, falling at her feet, "till deathalone can part us."
All the sensibility--the reserve--the pride, with which she was so amplypossessed, returned to her that moment. She started and cried, "CouldLord Elmwood know for what he sent me?"
"He did," replied Rushbrook--"I boldly told him of my presumptuous love,and he has given to you alone, the power over my happiness or misery.Oh! do not doom me to the latter."
Whether the heart of Matilda, such as it has been described, _could_sentence him to misery, the reader is left to surmise--and if he supposesthat it could _not_, he has every reason to suppose that their weddedlife, was--a life of happiness.
He has beheld the pernicious effects of an _improper education_ in thedestiny which attended the unthinking Miss Milner.--On the opposite side,what may not be hoped from that school of prudence--though ofadversity--in which Matilda was bred?
And Mr. Milner, Matilda's grandfather, had better have given his_fortune_ to a distant branch of his family--as Matilda's father oncemeant to do--so that he had given to his daughter
A PROPER EDUCATION.
PLAYS written by MRS. INCHBALD, and published by G. G. and J. ROBINSON,Paternoster Row.
LOVER'S VOWS;
A Play in five Acts, from the German ofKOTZEBUE.
WIVES AS THEY WERE, AND MAIDSAS THEY ARE.
EVERY ONE HAS HIS FAULT.
I'LL TELL YOU WHAT,Comedies in five Acts.
SUCH THINGS ARE,A Play in five Acts.
THE MARRIED MAN,A Comedy, Price 1s. 6d. each.
THE CHILD OF NATURE.
APPEARANCE IS AGAINST THEM.
THE WIDOW'S VOW.
THE MIDNIGHT HOUR,A Comedy.
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