Miss Milner now trembled beyond all power of concealment.

"My Lord," replied Miss Woodley, a good deal affected, "I sincerely hope my prayers for your happiness may be heard."

She and Mrs. Horton were both standing as well as Lord Elmwood; but Miss Milner kept her seat, till his eye was turned upon her, and he moved slowly towards her; she then rose:--every one who was present, attentive to what he would now say, and how she would receive what he said, here cast their eyes upon them, and listened with impatience. They were all disappointed--he did not utter a syllable. Yet he took her hand, and held it closely between his. He then bowed most respectfully and left her.

No "I wish you well;--I wish you health and happiness." No "Prayers for blessings on her." Not even the word "Farewell," escaped his lips--perhaps, to have attempted any of these, might have choaked his utterance.

She had behaved with fort.i.tude the whole evening, and she continued to do so, till the moment he turned away from her. Her eyes then overflowed with tears, and in the agony of her mind, not knowing what she did, she laid her cold hand upon the person next to her--it happened to be Sandford; but not observing it was he, she grasped his hand with violence--yet he did not s.n.a.t.c.h it away, nor look at her with his wonted severity. And thus she stood, silent and motionless, while Lord Elmwood, now at the door, bowed once more to all the company, and retired.

Sandford had still Miss Milner's hand fixed upon his; and when the door was shut after Lord Elmwood, he turned his head to look in her face, and turned it with some marks of apprehension for the grief he might find there. She strove to overcome that grief, and after a heavy sigh, sat down, as if resigned to the fate to which she was decreed.

Instead of following Lord Elmwood, as usual, Sandford poured out a gla.s.s of wine, and drank it. A general silence ensued for near three minutes.

At last, turning himself round on his seat, towards Miss Milner, who sat like a statue of despair at his side, "Will you breakfast with us to-morrow?" said he.

She made no answer.

"We shan't breakfast before half after six," continued he, "I dare say; and if you can rise so early--why do."

"Miss Milner," said Miss Woodley, (for she caught eagerly at the hope of her pa.s.sing this night in less unhappiness than she had foreboded) "pray rise at that hour to breakfast; Mr. Sandford would not invite you, if he thought it would displease Lord Elmwood."

"Not I," replied Sandford, churlishly.

"Then desire her maid to call her:" said Mrs. Horton to Miss Woodley.

"Nay, she will be awake, I have no doubt;" returned her niece.

"No;" replied Miss Milner, "since Lord Elmwood has thought proper to take his leave of me, without even speaking a word; by my own design, never will I see him again." And her tears burst forth, as if her heart burst at the same time.

"Why did not _you_ speak to _him?_" cried Sandford--"Pray did _you_ bid _him_ farewell? and I don't see why one is not as much to be blamed, in that respect, as the other."

"I was too weak to say I wished him happy," cried Miss Milner; "but, Heaven is my witness, I do wish him so from my soul."

"And do you imagine he does not wish you so?" cried Sandford. "You should judge him by your own heart; and what you feel for him, imagine he feels for you, my dear."

Though "_my dear_" is a trivial phrase, yet from certain people, and upon certain occasions, it is a phrase of infinite comfort and a.s.surance. Mr. Sandford seldom said "my dear" to any one; to Miss Milner never; and upon this occasion, and from him, it was an expression most precious.

She turned to him with a look of grat.i.tude; but as she only looked, and did not speak, he rose up, and soon after said, with a friendly tone he had seldom used in her presence, "I sincerely wish you a good night."

As soon as he was gone, Miss Milner exclaimed, "However my fate may have been precipitated by the unkindness of Mr. Sandford, yet, for that particle of concern which he has shown for me this night, I will always be grateful to him."

"Ay," cried Mrs. Horton, "good Mr. Sandford may show his kindness now, without any danger from its consequences. Now Lord Elmwood is going away for ever, he is not afraid of your seeing him once again." And she thought she praised him by this suggestion.

CHAPTER XII.

When Miss Milner retired to her bed-chamber, Miss Woodley went with her, nor would leave her the whole night--but in vain did she persuade her to rest--she absolutely refused; and declared she would never, from that hour, indulge repose. "The part I undertook to perform," cried she, "is over--I will now, for my whole life, appear in my own character, and give a loose to the anguish I endure."

As daylight showed itself--"And yet I might see him once again," said she--"I might see him within these two hours, if I pleased, for Mr.

Sandford invited me."

"If you think, my dear Miss Milner," said Miss Woodley, "that a second parting from Lord Elmwood would but give you a second agony, in the name of Heaven do not see him any more--but, if you hope your mind would be easier, were you to bid each other adieu in a more direct manner than you did last night, let us go down and breakfast with him. I'll go before, and prepare him for your reception--you shall not surprise him--and I will let him know, it is by Mr. Sandford's invitation you are coming."

She listened with a smile to this proposal, yet objected to the indelicacy of her wishing to see him, after he had taken his leave--but as Miss Woodley perceived that she was inclined to infringe this delicacy, of which she had so proper a sense, she easily persuaded her, it was impossible for the most suspicious person (and Lord Elmwood was far from such a character) to suppose, that the paying him a visit at that period of time, could be with the most distant idea of regaining his heart, or of altering one resolution he had taken.

But though Miss Milner acquiesced in this opinion, yet she had not the courage to form the determination that she would go.

Daylight now no longer peeped, but stared upon them. Miss Milner went to the looking-gla.s.s, breathed upon her hands and rubbed them on her eyes, smoothed her hair and adjusted her dress; yet said, after all, "I dare not see him again."

"You may do as you please," said Miss Woodley, "but I will. I that have lived for so many years under the same roof with him, and on the most friendly terms, and he going away, perhaps for these ten years, perhaps for ever, I should think it a disrespect not to see him to the last moment of his remaining in the house."

"Then do you go," said Miss Milner, eagerly; "and if he should ask for me, I will gladly come, you know; but if he does not ask for me, I will not--and pray don't deceive me."

Miss Woodley promised her not to deceive her; and soon after, as they heard the servants pa.s.s about the house, and the clock had struck six, Miss Woodley went to the breakfast room.

She found Lord Elmwood there in his travelling dress, standing pensively by the fire-place--and, as he did not dream of seeing her, he started when she entered, and, with an appearance of alarm, said, "Dear Miss Woodley, what's the matter?" She replied, "Nothing, my Lord; but I could not be satisfied without seeing your Lordship once again, while I had it in my power."

"I thank you," he returned with a sigh--the heaviest and most intelligent sigh she ever heard him condescend to give. She imagined, alas, that he looked as if he wished to ask how Miss Milner did, but would not allow himself the indulgence. She was half inclined to mention her to him, and was debating in her mind whether she should or not, when Mr. Sandford came into the room, saying, as he entered,

"For Heaven's sake, my Lord, where did you sleep last night?"

"Why do you ask!" said he.

"Because," replied Sandford, "I went into your bed-chamber just now, and I found your bed made. You have not slept there to-night."

"I have slept no where," returned he; "I could not sleep--and having some papers to look over, and to set off early, I thought I might as well not go to bed at all."

Miss Woodley was pleased at the frank manner in which he made this confession, and could not resist the strong impulse to say, "You have done just then, my Lord, like Miss Milner, for she has not been in bed the whole night."

Miss Woodley spoke this in a negligent manner, and yet, Lord Elmwood echoed back the words with solicitude, "Has not Miss Milner been in bed the whole night?"

"If she is up, why does not she come and take some coffee?" said Sandford, as he began to pour it out.

"If she thought it would be agreeable," returned Miss Woodley, "I dare say she would." And she looked at Lord Elmwood while she spoke, though she did not absolutely address him; but he made no reply.

"Agreeable!" returned Sandford, angrily--"Has she then a quarrel with any body here? or does she suppose any body here bears enmity to _her?_ Is she not in peace and charity?"

"Yes," replied Miss Woodley, "that I am sure she is."

"Then bring her hither," cried Sandford, "directly. Would she have the wickedness to imagine we are not all friends with her?"

Miss Woodley left the room, and found Miss Milner almost in despair, lest she should hear Lord Elmwood's carriage drive off before her friend's return.

"Did he send for me?" were the words she uttered as soon as she saw her.

"Mr. Sandford did, in his presence," returned Miss Woodley, "and you may go with the utmost decorum, or I would not tell you so."