This behaviour of Mr. Sandford had its desired effect--it humbled her in her own opinion more than a thousand sermons would have done preached on the vanity of youth and beauty. She felt an inward shame at the insignificance of these qualities that she never knew before, and would have been cured of all her pride, had she not possessed a degree of spirit beyond the generality of her s.e.x--such a degree as even Mr.

Sandford, with all his penetration, did not expect. She determined to resent his treatment; and, entering the lists as his declared enemy, give to the world a reason why he did not acknowledge her sovereignty, as well as the rest of her devoted subjects.

She now commenced hostilities against all his arguments, his learning, and his favourite axioms; and by a happy talent of ridicule, in want of other weapons for this warfare, she threw in the way of the holy Father as great trials of his patience, as any that his order could have subst.i.tuted in penance. Many things he bore like a martyr--at others, his fort.i.tude would forsake him, and he would call on her guardian, his former pupil, to interpose with his authority: she would then declare that she only had acted thus "to try the good man's temper, and that if he had combated with his fretfulness a few moments longer, she would have acknowledged his claim to canonization; but that having yielded to the sallies of his anger, he must now go through numerous other probations."

If Miss Fenton was admired by Dorriforth, by Sandford she was adored--and, instead of placing her as an example to Miss Milner, he spoke of her as of one endowed beyond Miss Milner's power of imitation.

Often, with a shake of his head and a sigh, would he say,

"No; I am not so hard upon you as your guardian: I only desire you to love Miss Fenton; to resemble her, I believe, is above your ability."

This was too much to bear composedly--and poor Miss Woodley, who was generally a witness of these controversies, felt a degree of sorrow at every sentence which like the foregoing chagrined and distressed her friend. Yet as she suffered too for Mr. Sandford, the joy of her friend's reply was abated by the uneasiness it gave to _him._ But Mrs.

Horton felt for none but the right reverend priest; and often did she feel so violently interested in his cause, that she could not refrain giving an answer herself in his behalf--thus doing the duty of an adversary with all the zeal of an advocate.

CHAPTER X.

Mr. Sandford finding his friend Dorriforth frequently perplexed in the management of his ward, and he himself thinking her incorrigible, gave his counsel, that a suitable match should be immediately sought out for her, and the care of so dangerous a person given into other hands.

Dorriforth acknowledged the propriety of this advice, but lamented the difficulty of pleasing his ward as to the quality of her lover; for she had refused, besides Sir Edward Ashton, many others of equal pretensions. "Depend upon it then," cried Sandford, "that her affections are engaged; and it is proper that you should know to whom." Dorriforth thought he did know, and mentioned Lord Frederick; but said that he had no farther authority for the supposition than what his observation had given him, for that every explanation both upon his and her side had been evaded. "Take her then," cried Sandford, "into the country, and if Lord Frederick should not follow, there is an end of your suspicions."

"I shall not easily prevail upon Miss Milner to leave town," replied he, "while it is in the highest fashion."

"You can but try," returned Sandford; "and if you should not succeed now, at least fix the time you mean to go during the autumn, and be firm to your determination."

"But in the autumn," replied Dorriforth, "Lord Frederick will of course be in the country; and as his uncle's estate is near our residence, he will not then so evidently follow her, as he would if I could induce her to go now."

It was agreed the attempt should be made. Instead of receiving this abrupt proposal with uneasiness, Miss Milner, to the surprise of all present, immediately consented; and gave her guardian an opportunity of saying several of the kindest and politest things upon her ready compliance.

"A token of approbation from you, Mr. Dorriforth," returned she, "I always considered with high estimation--but your commendations are now become infinitely superior in value by their scarcity; for I do not believe that since Miss Fenton and Mr. Sandford came to town, I have received one testimony of your esteem."

Had these words been uttered with pleasantry, they might have pa.s.sed without observation; but at the conclusion of the period, resentment flew to Miss Milner's face, and she darted a piercing look at Mr.

Sandford, which more pointedly expressed that she was angry with him, than if she had spoken volumes in her usual strain of raillery.

Dorriforth was confused--but the concern which she had so plainly evinced for his good opinion throughout all that she had been saying, silenced any rebuke he might else have given her, for this unwarrantable charge against his friend. Mrs. Horton was shocked at the irreverent manner in which Mr. Sandford was treated--and Miss Woodley turned to him with a benevolent smile upon her face, hoping to set him an example of the manner in which he should receive the reproach. Her good wishes did not succeed--yet he was perfectly unruffled, and replied with coolness,

"The air of the country has affected the lady already--but it is a comfortable thing," continued he, "that in the variety of humours to which some women are exposed, they cannot be uniform even in deceit."

"Deceit!" cried Miss Milner, "in what am I deceitful? did I ever pretend that I had an esteem for you?"

"That would not have been deceit, Madam, but merely good manners."

"I never, Mr. Sandford, sacrificed truth to politeness."

"Except when the country has been proposed, and you thought it politeness to appear satisfied."

"And I _was_ satisfied, till I recollected that you might probably be of the party--then, every grove was changed into a wilderness, every rivulet into a stagnated pool, and every singing bird into a croaking raven."

"A very poetical description," returned he calmly. "But, Miss Milner, you need not have had any apprehensions of _my_ company in the country, for I understand the seat to which your guardian means to go, belongs to you; and you may depend upon it, Madam, that I shall never enter a house in which you are the mistress."

"Nor any house, I am certain, Mr. Sandford, but in which you are yourself the master."

"What do you mean, Madam? (and for the first time he elevated his voice,) am I the master here?"

"Your servants," replied she, looking at the company, "will not tell you so; but I do."

"You condescend, Mr. Sandford," cried Mrs. Horton, "in talking so much to a young heedless woman; but I know you do it for her good."

"Well, Miss Milner," cried Dorriforth, (and the most cutting thing he could say,) "since I find my proposal of the country has put you out of humour, I shall mention it no more."

With all that quant.i.ty of resentment, anger, or rage, which sometimes boiled in the veins of Miss Milner, she was yet never wanting in that respect towards her guardian, which with-held her from ever uttering one angry sentence, directed immediately to him; and a severe word of his, instead of exasperating, was sure to subdue her. This was the case at present--his words wounded her to the heart, but she had not the asperity to reply to them as she thought they merited, and she burst into tears.

Dorriforth, instead of being concerned, as he usually was at seeing her uneasy, appeared on the present occasion provoked. He thought her weeping was a new reproach to his friend Mr. Sandford, and that to suffer himself to be moved by it, would be a tacit condemnation of his friend's conduct. She understood his thoughts, and getting the better of her tears, apologised for her weakness; adding,

"She could never bear with indifference an unjust accusation."

"To prove that mine was unjust, Madam," replied Dorriforth; "be prepared to quit London, without any marks of regret, in a few days."

She bowed a.s.sent; the necessary preparations were agreed upon; and while with apparent satisfaction she adjusted the plan of her journey, (like those who behave well, not so much to please themselves as to vex their enemies,) she secretly triumphed in the mortification she hoped that Mr.

Sandford would receive from her obedient behaviour.

The news of this intended journey was of course soon made public. There is a secret charm in being pitied, when the misfortune is but ideal; and Miss Milner found infinite gratification in being told, "That her's was a cruel case, and that it was unjust and barbarous to force so much beauty into concealment while London was filled with her admirers; who, like her, would languish in consequence of her solitude." These things, and a thousand such, a thousand times repeated, she still listened to with pleasure; yet preserved the constancy not to shrink from her resolution of submitting.

Those involuntary sighs, however, that Miss Woodley had long ago observed, became still more frequent; and a tear half starting in her eye was an additional subject of her friend's observation. Yet though Miss Milner at those times was softened into melancholy, she by no means appeared unhappy. Her friend was acquainted with love only by name; yet she was confirmed from these increased symptoms, in what she before only suspected, that _love_ must be the foundation of her care. "Her senses have been captivated by the person and accomplishments of Lord Frederick," said Miss Woodley to herself, "but her understanding compels her to see his faults, and reproaches her pa.s.sion.--And, oh!" cried she, "could her guardian and Mr. Sandford know of this conflict, how much would they have to admire; how little to condemn!"

With such friendly thoughts, and with the purest intentions, Miss Woodley did not fail to give both gentlemen reason to believe, a contention of this nature was the actual state of Miss Milner's mind.

Dorriforth was affected at the description, and Sandford urged more than ever the necessity of leaving town. In a few days they departed; Mrs.

Horton, Miss Woodley, Miss Milner, and Mr. Dorriforth, accompanied by Miss Fenton, whom Miss Milner, knowing it to be the wish of her guardian, invited, for three months before her marriage, to her country seat. Elmwood House, or rather Castle, the seat of Lord Elmwood, was only a few miles distant from this residence, and he was expected to pa.s.s great part of the summer there, with his tutor, Mr. Sandford.

In the neighbourhood was also (as it has been already said) an estate belonging to an uncle of Lord Frederick's, and most of the party suspected they should soon see him on a visit there. To that expectation they in great measure attributed Miss Milner's visible content.

CHAPTER XI.

With this party Miss Milner arrived at her country house, and for near six weeks, all around was the picture of tranquillity; her satisfaction was as evident as every other person's; and all severe admonition being at this time unnecessary, either to exhort her to her duty, or to warn her against her folly, she was even in perfect good humour with Miss Fenton, and added friendship to hospitality.

Mr. Sandford, who came with Lord Elmwood to the neighbouring seat, about a week after the arrival of Miss Milner at her's, was so scrupulously exact in the observance of his word, "_Never to enter a house of Miss Milner's,_" that he would not even call upon his friend Dorriforth there--but in their walks, and at Lord Elmwood's, the two parties would occasionally join, and of course Sandford and she at those times met--yet so distant was the reserve on either side, that not a single word upon any occasion was ever exchanged between them.

Miss Milner did not like Mr. Sandford; yet as there was no cause of inveterate rancour, admiring him too as a man who meant well, and being besides of a most forgiving temper, she frequently felt concerned that he did not speak to her, although it had been to find fault as usual--and one morning as they were all, after a long ramble, drawing towards her house, where Lord Elmwood was invited to dine, she could not restrain dropping a tear at seeing Sandford turn back and wish them a "Good day."

But though she had the generosity to forgive an affront, she had not the humility to make a concession; and she foresaw that nothing less than some very humble atonement on her part would prevail upon the haughty priest to be reconciled. Dorriforth saw her concern upon this last trifling occasion with a secret pleasure, and an admiration that she had never before excited. She once insinuated to him to be a mediator between them; but before any accommodation could take place, the peace and composure of their abode were disturbed by the arrival of Sir Edward Ashton at Lord Elmwood's, where it appeared as if he had been invited in order to pursue his matrimonial plan.

At a dinner given by Lord Elmwood, Sir Edward was announced as an unexpected visitor; Miss Milner did not suppose him such, and she turned pale when his name was uttered. Dorriforth fixed his eyes upon her with some tokens of compa.s.sion, while Sandford seemed to exult, and by his repeated "Welcomes" to the Baronet, gave proofs how much he was rejoiced to see him. All the declining enmity of Miss Milner was renewed at this behaviour, and suspecting Sandford as the instigator of the visit, she could not overcome her displeasure, but gave way to it in a manner she thought the most mortifying. Sir Edward, in the course of conversation, enquired "What neighbours were in the country;" and she, with an appearance of high satisfaction, named Lord Frederick Lawnly as being hourly expected at his uncle's. The colour spread over Sir Edward's face--Dorriforth was confounded--and Mr. Sandford looked enraged.

"Did Lord Frederick tell _you_ he should be down?" Sandford asked of Dorriforth.

To which he replied, "No."