This conversation lasted till bed time, and later; for they sat up beyond their usual hour to indulge it.

Miss Woodley slept little, but Matilda less--she awaked repeatedly during the night, and every time sighed to herself, "I sleep in the same house with my father! Blessed spirit of my mother, look down and rejoice."

CHAPTER VII.

The next day the whole Castle appeared to Lady Matilda (though she was in some degree retired from it) all tumult and bustle, as was usually the case while Lord Elmwood was there. She saw from her windows, the servants running across the yards and park; horses and carriages driving with fury; all the suite of a n.o.bleman; and it sometimes elated, at other times depressed her.

These impressions however, and others of fear and anxiety, which her father's arrival had excited, by degrees wore off; and after some little time, she was in the same tranquil state that she enjoyed before he came.

He had visitors, who pa.s.sed a week or two with him; he paid visits himself for several days; and thus the time stole away, till it was about four weeks from the time that he had arrived; in which long period, Sandford, with all his penetration, could never clearly discover whether he had once called to mind that his daughter was living in the same house. He had not once named her (that was not extraordinary) consequently no one dared name her to him; but he had not even mentioned Miss Woodley, of whom he had so lately spoken in the kindest terms, and had said, "He should take pleasure in seeing her again." From these contradictions in Lord Elmwood's behaviour in respect to her, it was Miss Woodley's plan neither to throw herself in his way, nor avoid him.

She therefore frequently walked about the house while he was in it, not indeed entirely without restraint, but at least with the show of liberty. This freedom, indulged for some time without peril, became at last less cautious; and as no ill consequences had arisen from its practice, her scruples gradually ceased.

One morning, however, as she was crossing the large hall, thoughtless of danger, a footstep at a distance alarmed her almost without knowing why.

She stopped for a moment, thinking to return; the steps approached quicker, and before she could retreat, she beheld Lord Elmwood at the other end of the hall, and perceived that he saw her. It was too late to hesitate what was to be done; she could not go back, and had not courage to go on; she therefore stood still. Disconcerted, and much affected at his sight, (their former intimacy coming to her mind with the many years, and many sad occurrences pa.s.sed, since she last saw him) all her intentions, all her meditated plans how to conduct herself on such an occasion, gave way to a sudden shock--and to make the meeting yet more distressing, her very fright, she knew, would serve to recall more powerfully to his mind, the subject she most wished him to forget. The steward was with him, and as they came up close by her side, Giffard observing him look at her earnestly, said softly, but so as she heard him, "My Lord, it is Miss Woodley." Lord Elmwood took off his hat instantly--and, with an apparent friendly warmth, laying hold of her hand, he said, "Indeed, Miss Woodley, I did not know you--I am very glad to see you:" and while he spoke, shook her hand with a cordiality which her tender heart could not bear--and never did she feel so hard a struggle as to restrain her tears. But the thought of Matilda's fate--the idea of awakening in his mind a sentiment that might irritate him against his child, wrought more forcibly than every other effort; and though she could not reply distinctly, she replied without weeping.

Whether he saw her embarra.s.sment, and wished to release her from it, or was in haste to conceal his own, he left her almost instantly: but not till he had entreated she would dine that very day with him and Mr.

Sandford, who were to dine without other company. She curtsied a.s.sent, and flew to tell Matilda what had occurred. After listening with anxiety and with joy to all she told, Matilda laid hold of that hand which she said Lord Elmwood had held, and pressed it to her lips with love and reverence.

When Miss Woodley made her appearance at dinner, Sandford, (who had not seen her since the invitation, and did not know of it) looked amazed; on which Lord Elmwood said, "Do you know, Sandford, I met Miss Woodley this morning, and had it not been for Giffard, I should have pa.s.sed her without knowing her--but Miss Woodley, if I am not so much altered but that you knew me, I take it unkind you did not speak first." She was unable to speak even now--he saw it, and changed the conversation; when Sandford eagerly joined in discourse, which relieved him from the pain of the former.

As they advanced in their dinner, the embarra.s.sment of Miss Woodley and of Mr. Sandford diminished; Lord Elmwood in his turn became, not embarra.s.sed, but absent and melancholy. He now and then sighed heavily--and called for wine much oftener than he was accustomed.

When Miss Woodley took her leave, he invited her to dine with him and Sandford whenever it was convenient to her; he said, besides, many things of the same kind, and all with the utmost civility, yet not with that warmth with which he had spoken in the morning--into _that_ he had been surprised--his coolness was the effect of reflection.

When she came to Lady Matilda, and Sandford had joined them, they talked and deliberated on what had pa.s.sed.

"You acknowledge Mr. Sandford," said Miss Woodley, "that you think my presence affected Lord Elmwood, so as to make him much more thoughtful than usual; if you imagine these thoughts were upon Lady Elmwood, I will never intrude again; but if you suppose that I made him think upon his daughter, I cannot go too often."

"I don't see how he can divide those two objects in his mind," replied Sandford, "therefore you must e'en visit him on, and take your chance, what reflections you may cause--but, be they what they will, time will steal away from you that power of affecting him."

She concurred in the opinion, and occasionally she walked into Lord Elmwood's apartments, dined, or took her coffee with him, as the accident suited; and observed, according to Sandford's prediction, that time wore off the impression her visits first made. Lord Elmwood now became just the same before her as before others. She easily discerned, too, through all that politeness which he a.s.sumed--that he was no longer the considerate, the forbearing character he formerly was; but haughty, impatient, imperious, and more than ever, _implacable._

CHAPTER VIII.

When Lord Elmwood had been at his country seat about six weeks, Mr.

Rushbrook, his nephew, and his adopted child--that friendless boy whom poor Lady Elmwood first introduced into his uncle's house, and by her kindness preserved there--arrived from his travels, and was received by his uncle with all the marks of affection due to the man he thought worthy to be his heir. Rushbrook had been a beautiful boy, and was now an extremely handsome young man; he had made unusual progress in his studies, had completed the tour of Italy and Germany, and returned home with the air and address of a perfect man of fashion--there was, besides, an elegance and persuasion in his manner almost irresistible. Yet with all those accomplishments, when he was introduced to Sandford, and put forth his hand to take his, Sandford, with evident reluctance, gave it to him; and when Lord Elmwood asked him, in the young man's presence, "If he did not think his nephew greatly improved?" He looked at him from head to foot, and muttered "He could not say he observed it." The colour heightened in Mr. Rushbrook's face upon the occasion, but he was too well bred not to be in perfect good humour.

Sandford saw this young man treated, in the house of Lord Elmwood, with the same respect and attention as if he had been his son; and it was but probable the old priest would make a comparison between the situation of him, and of Lady Matilda Elmwood. Before her, it was Sandford's meaning to have concealed his thoughts upon the subject, and never to have mentioned it but with composure; that was, however, impossible--unused to hide his feelings, at the name of Rushbrook, his countenance would always change, and a sarcastic sneer, sometimes a frown of resentment, would force its way in spite of his resolution. Miss Woodley, too, with all her boundless charity and good will, was, upon this occasion, induced to limit their excess; and they did not extend so far as to reach poor Rushbrook. She even, and in _reality_, did not think him handsome or engaging in his manners--she thought his gaiety frivolousness, his complaisance affectation, and his good humour impertinence. It was impossible to conceal those unfavourable sentiments entirely from Matilda; for when the subject arose, as it frequently did, Miss Woodley's undisguised heart, and Sandford's undisguised countenance, told them instantly. Matilda had the understanding to imagine, that she was, perhaps, the object who had thus deformed Mr.

Rushbrook, and frequently (though he was a stranger to her, and one who had caused her many a jealous heart-ache) frequently she would speak in his vindication.

"You are very good," said Sandford, one day to her; "you like him, because you know your father loves him."

This was a hard sentence for the daughter of Lord Elmwood to hear, to whom her father's love would have been more precious than any other blessing.--She, however, checked the a.s.sault of envy, and kindly replied,

"My mother loved him too, Mr. Sandford."

"Yes," answered Sandford, "he has been a _grateful_ man to your poor mother.--She did not suppose when she took him into the house; when she intreated your father to take him; and through her caresses and officious praises of him, first gave him that power which he now possesses over his uncle; she little foresaw, at that time, his ingrat.i.tude, and its effects."

"Very true," said Miss Woodley, with a heavy sigh.

"What ingrat.i.tude?" asked Matilda, "do you suppose Mr. Rushbrook is the cause that my father will not see me? Oh do not pay Lord Elmwood's motive so ill a compliment."

"I do not say that he is the absolute cause," returned Sandford; "but if a parent's heart is void, I would have it remain so, till its lawful owner is replaced--usurpers I detest."

"No one can take Lord Elmwood's heart by force," replied his daughter, "it must, I believe, be a free gift to the possessor; and as such, whoever has it, has a right to it."

In this manner she would plead the young man's excuse--perhaps but to hear what could be said in his disfavour, for secretly his name was bitter to her--and once she exclaimed in vexation, on Sandford's saying Lord Elmwood and Mr. Rushbrook were gone out shooting together,

"All that pleasure is now eclipsed which I used to take in listening to the report of my father's gun, for I cannot now distinguish his, from his parasite's."

Sandford, (much as he disliked Rushbrook) for this expression which comprised her father in the reflection, turned to Matilda in extreme anger--but as he saw the colour mount into her face, for what, in the strong feelings of her heart had escaped her lips, he did not say a word--and by her tears that followed, he rejoiced to see how much she reproved _herself._

Miss Woodley, vexed to the heart, and provoked every time she saw Lord Elmwood and Rushbrook together, and saw the familiar terms on which this young man lived with his benefactor, now made her visits to him very seldom. If Lord Elmwood observed this, he did not appear to observe it; and though he received her politely when she did pay him a visit, it was always very coldly; nor did she suppose if she never went, he would ever ask for her. For his daughter's sake, however, she thought it right sometimes to shew herself before him; for she knew it must be impossible that, with all his apparent indifference, he could ever see _her_ without thinking for a moment on his child; and what one fortunate thought might some time bring about, was an object much too serious for her to overlook. She therefore, after remaining confined to her apartments near three weeks, (excepting those anxious walks she and Matilda stole, while Lord Elmwood dined, or before he rose in a morning) went one forenoon into his apartments, where, as usual, she found him, with Mr. Sandford, and Mr. Rushbrook. After she had sat about half an hour, conversing with them all, though but very little with the latter, Lord Elmwood was called out of the room upon some business; presently after, Sandford; and now, by no means pleased with the companion with whom she was left, she rose, and was going likewise, when Rushbrook fixed his speaking eyes upon her, and cried,

"Miss Woodley, will you pardon me what I am going to say?"

"Certainly, Sir. You can, I am sure, say nothing but what I must forgive." But she made this reply with a distance and a reserve, very unlike the usual manners of Miss Woodley.

He looked at her earnestly and cried, "Ah! Miss Woodley, you don't behave so kindly to me as you used to do!"

"I do not understand you, Sir," she replied very gravely; "Times are changed, Mr. Rushbrook, since you were last here--you were then but a child."

"Yet I love all those persons now, that I loved then," replied he; "and so I shall for ever."

"But you mistake, Mr. Rushbrook; I was not even then so very much the object of your affections--there were other ladies you loved better.

Perhaps you don't remember Lady Elmwood?"

"Don't I," cried he, "Oh!" (clasping his hands and lifting up his eyes to heaven) "shall I ever forget her?"

That moment Lord Elmwood opened the door; the conversation of course that moment ended; but confusion, at the sudden surprise, was on the face of both parties--he saw it, and looked at each of them by turns, with a sternness that made poor Miss Woodley ready to faint; while Rushbrook, with the most natural and happy laugh that ever was affected, cried, "No, don't tell my Lord, pray Miss Woodley." She was more confused than before, and Lord Elmwood turning to him, asked what the subject was. By this time he had invented one, and, continuing his laugh, said, "Miss Woodley, my Lord, will to this day protest that she saw my apparition when I was a boy; and she says it is a sign I shall die young, and is really much affected at it."

Lord Elmwood turned away before this ridiculous speech was concluded; yet so well had it been acted, that he did not for an instant doubt its truth.

Miss Woodley felt herself greatly relieved; and yet so little is it in the power of those we dislike to do any thing to please us, that from this very circ.u.mstance, she formed a more unfavourable opinion of Mr.

Rushbrook than she had done before. She saw in this little incident the art of dissimulation, cunning, and duplicity in its most glaring shape; and detested the method by which they had each escaped Lord Elmwood's suspicion, and perhaps anger, the more, because it was so dexterously managed.

Lady Matilda and Sandford were both in their turns informed of this trait in Mr. Rushbrook's character; and although Miss Woodley had the best of dispositions, and upon every occasion spoke the strictest truth, yet in relating this occurrence, she did not speak _all_ the truth; for every circ.u.mstance that would have told to the young man's advantage, _literally_ had slipped her memory.

The twenty-ninth of October arrived; on which a dinner, a ball, and supper, was given by Lord Elmwood to all the neighbouring gentry--the peasants also dined in the park off a roasted bullock, several casks of ale were distributed, and the bells of the village rung. Matilda, who heard and saw some part of this festivity from her windows, inquired the cause; but even the servant who waited upon her had too much sensibility to tell her, and answered, "He did not know." Miss Woodley however, soon learned the reason, and groaning with the painful secret, informed her, "Mr. Rushbrook on that day was come of age."

"_My_ birth-day was last week," replied Matilda; but not a word beside.