"They will then discover to Lord Elmwood," replied she, "what I feel; but Heaven forbid--that would sink me even lower than I am."

Scarce able to move, she rose, and looked in her gla.s.s, as if to arrange her features, and impose upon him: alas! it was of no avail--a serenity of mind could alone effect what she desired.

"You must endeavour," said Miss Woodley, "to feel the disposition you wish to make appear."

"I will," replied she, "I will feel a proper pride--and a proper scorn of this treatment."

And so desirous was she to attain the appearance of these sentiments, that she made the strongest efforts to calm her thoughts, in order to acquire it.

"I have but a few days to remain with him," she said to herself, "and we part for ever--during those few days it is not only my duty to obey his commands, or rather comply with his request, but it is also my wish to leave upon his mind an impression, which may not add to the ill opinion he has formed of me, but, perhaps, serve to diminish it. If, in every other instance, my conduct has been blameable, he shall, at least in this, acknowledge its merit. The fate I have drawn upon myself, he shall find I can be resigned to; and he shall be convinced, that the woman, of whose weakness he has had so many fatal proofs, is yet in possession of some fort.i.tude--fort.i.tude, to bid him farewell, without discovering one affected or one real pang, though her death should be the immediate consequence."

Thus she resolved, and thus she acted. The severest judge could not have arraigned her conduct, from the day she received Lord Elmwood's letter, to the day of his departure. She had, indeed, involuntary weaknesses, but none with which she did not struggle, and, in general, her struggles were victorious.

The first time she saw him after the receipt of his letter, was on the evening of the same day--she had a little concert of amateurs of music, and was herself singing and playing when he entered the room: the connoisseurs immediately perceived she made a false cadence--but Lord Elmwood was no connoisseur in the art, and he did not observe it.

They occasionally spoke to each other through the evening, but the subjects were general--and though their manners every time they spoke, were perfectly polite, they were not marked with the smallest degree of familiarity. To describe his behaviour exactly, it was the same as his letter, polite, friendly, composed, and resolved. Some of the company staid supper, which prevented the embarra.s.sment that must unavoidably have arisen, had the family been by themselves.

The next morning each breakfasted in his separate apartments--more company dined with them--in the evening, and at supper, Lord Elmwood was from home.

Thus, all pa.s.sed on as peaceably as he had requested, and Miss Milner had not betrayed one particle of frailty; when, the third day at dinner, some gentlemen of his acquaintance being at table, one of them said,

"And so, my Lord, you absolutely set off on Tuesday morning?"

This was Friday.

Sandford and he both replied at the same time, "Yes." And Sandford, but not Lord Elmwood, looked at Miss Milner when he spoke. Her knife and fork gave a sudden spring in her hand, but no other emotion witnessed what she felt.

"Aye, Elmwood," cried another gentleman at table, "you'll bring home, I am afraid, a foreign wife, and that I shan't forgive."

"It is his errand abroad, I make no doubt," said another visitor.

Before he could return an answer, Sandford cried, "And what objection to a foreigner for a wife? do not crowned heads all marry foreigners? and who happier in the married state than some kings?"

Lord Elmwood directed his eyes to the side of the table, opposite to that where Miss Milner sat.

"Nay," (answered one of the guests, who was a country gentleman) "what do you say, ladies--do you think my Lord ought to go out of his own nation for a wife?" and he looked at Miss Milner for the reply.

Miss Woodley, uneasy at her friend's being thus forced to give an opinion upon so delicate a subject, endeavoured to satisfy the gentleman, by answering to the question herself: "Whoever my Lord Elmwood marries, Sir," said Miss Woodley, "he, no doubt, will be happy."

"But what say you, Madam?" asked the visitor, still keeping his eyes on Miss Milner.

"That whoever Lord Elmwood marries, he _deserves_ to be happy:" returned she, with the utmost command of her voice and looks; for Miss Woodley, by replying first, had given her time to collect herself.

The colour flew to Lord Elmwood's face, as she delivered this short sentence; and Miss Woodley persuaded herself, she saw a tear start in his eye.

Miss Milner did not look that way.

In an instant he found means to change the subject, but that of his journey still employed the conversation; and what horses, servants, and carriages he took with him, was minutely asked, and so accurately answered, either by himself or by Mr. Sandford, that Miss Milner, although she had known her doom before, till now had received no circ.u.mstantial account of it--and as circ.u.mstances increase or diminish all we feel, the hearing these things told, increased the bitterness of their truth.

Soon after dinner the ladies retired; and from that time, though Miss Milner's behaviour continued the same, yet her looks and her voice were totally altered--for the world, she could not have looked cheerfully; for the world, she could not have spoken with a sprightly accent; she frequently began in one, but not three words could she utter, before her tones sunk into dejection. Not only her colour, but her features became changed; her eyes lost their brilliancy, her lips seemed to hang without the power of motion, her head drooped, and her dress was neglected.

Conscious of this appearance, and conscious of the cause from whence it arose, it was her desire to hide herself from the only object she could have wished to have charmed. Accordingly, she sat alone, or with Miss Woodley in her own apartment as much as was consistent with that civility which her guardian had requested, and which forbade her totally absenting herself.

Miss Woodley felt so acutely the torments of her friend, that had not her reason told her, that the inflexible mind of Lord Elmwood, was fixed beyond her power to shake, she had cast herself at his feet, and implored the return of his affection and tenderness, as the only means to save his once-beloved ward from an untimely death. But her understanding--her knowledge of his firm and immoveable temper; and of all his provocations--her knowledge of his word, long since given to Sandford, "That if once resolved, he would not recall his resolution"--the certainty of the various plans arranged for his travels, all convinced her, that by any interference, she would only expose Miss Milner's love and delicacy, to a contemptuous rejection.

If the conversation did not every day turn upon the subject of Lord Elmwood's departure--a conversation he evidently avoided himself--yet, every day, some new preparation for his journey, struck either the ear or the eye of Miss Milner--and had she beheld a frightful spectre, she could not have shuddered with more horror, than when she unexpectedly pa.s.sed his large trunks in the hall, nailed and corded, ready to be sent off to meet him at Venice. At the sight, she flew from the company that chanced to be with her, and stole to the first lonely corner of the house to conceal her tears--she reclined her head upon her hands, and bedewed them with the sudden anguish, that had overcome her. She heard a footstep advancing towards the spot where she hoped to have been concealed; she lifted up her eyes, and saw Lord Elmwood. Pride, was the first emotion his presence inspired--pride, which arose from the humility into which she was plunged.

She looked at him earnestly, as if to imply, "What now, my Lord?"

He only answered with a bow, which expressed; "I beg your pardon." And immediately withdrew.

Thus each understood the other's language, without either having uttered a word.

The just construction she put upon his looks and behaviour upon this occasion, kept up her spirits for some little time; and she blessed heaven, repeatedly, for the singular favour of shewing to her, clearly, by this accident, his negligence of her sorrows, his total indifference.

The next day was the eve of that on which he was to depart--of the day on which she was to bid adieu to Dorriforth, to her guardian, to Lord Elmwood; to all her hopes at once.

The moment she awoke on Monday morning, the recollection, that this was, perhaps, the last day she was ever again to see him, softened all the resentment his yesterday's conduct had raised: forgetting his austerity, and all she had once termed cruelties, she now only remembered his friendship, his tenderness, and his love. She was impatient to see him, and promised herself, for this last day, to neglect no one opportunity of being with him. For that purpose she did not breakfast in her own room, as she had done for several mornings before, but went into the breakfast-room, where all the family in general met. She was rejoiced on hearing his voice as she opened the door, yet the sound made her tremble so much, that she could scarcely totter to the table.

Miss Woodley looked at her as she entered, and was never so shocked at seeing her; for never had she yet seen her look so ill. As she approached, she made an inclination of her head to Mrs. Horton, then to her guardian, as was her custom, when she first saw them in a morning--he looked in her face as he bowed in return, then fixed his eyes upon the fire-place, rubbed his forehead, and began talking with Mr. Sandford.

Sandford, during breakfast, by accident cast a glance upon Miss Milner; his attention was caught by her deadly countenance, and he looked earnestly. He then turned to Lord Elmwood to see if he was observing her appearance--he was not--and so much were her thoughts engaged on him alone, that she did not once perceive Sandford gazing at her.

Mrs. Horton, after a little while observed, "It was a beautiful morning."

Lord Elmwood said, "He thought he heard it rain in the night."

Sandford cried, "For his part he slept too well to know." And then (unasked) held a plate with biscuits to Miss Milner--it was the first civility he had ever in his life offered her; she smiled at the whimsicality of the circ.u.mstance, but she took one in return for his attention. He looked grave beyond his usual gravity, and yet not with his usual ill temper. She did not eat what she had so politely taken, but laid it down soon after.

Lord Elmwood was the first who rose from breakfast, and he did not return to dinner.

At dinner, Mrs. Horton said, "She hoped he would, however, favour them with his company at supper."

To which Sandford replied, "No doubt, for you will hardly any of you see him in the morning; as we shall be off by six, or soon after."

Sandford was not going abroad with Lord Elmwood, but was to go with him as far as Dover.

These words of his--"_Not see Lord Elmwood in the morning_"--[never again to see him after this evening,] were like the knell of death to Miss Milner. She felt the symptoms of fainting, and eagerly s.n.a.t.c.hed a gla.s.s of water, which the servant was holding to Sandford, who had called for it, and drank it off;--as she returned the gla.s.s to the servant, she began to apologize to Mr. Sandford for her seeming rudeness, but before she could utter what she intended, he said, good-naturedly, "Never mind--you are very welcome--I am glad you took it." She looked at him to observe, whether he had really spoken kindly, or ironically; but before his countenance could satisfy her, her thoughts were called away from that trivial matter, and again fixed upon Lord Elmwood.

The moments seemed tedious till he came home to supper, and yet, when she reflected how short the remainder of the evening would be after that time, she wished to defer the hour of his return for months. At ten o'clock he arrived; and at half after ten the family, without any visitor, met at supper.

Miss Milner had considered, that the period for her to counterfeit appearances, was diminished now to a most contracted one; and she rigorously enjoined herself not to shrink from the little which remained. The certain end, that would be so soon put to this painful deception, encouraged her to struggle through it with redoubled zeal; and this was but necessary, as her weakness increased. She therefore listened, she talked, and even smiled with the rest of the company, nor did _their_ vivacity seem to arise, from a much less compulsive source than her own.

It was past twelve, when Lord Elmwood looked at his watch, and rising from his chair, went up to Mrs. Horton, and taking her hand, said, "Till I see you again, Madam, I sincerely wish you every happiness."

Miss Milner fixed her eyes upon the table before her.

"My Lord," replied Mrs. Horton, "I sincerely wish you health and happiness likewise."

He then went to Miss Woodley, and taking her hand, repeated much the same, as he had said to Mrs. Horton.