CHAPTER XVII.
When Dorriforth was alone with Sandford, he explained to him what beforehe had only hinted; and this learned Jesuit frankly confessed, "That themind of woman was far above, or rather beneath, his comprehension." Itwas so, indeed--for with all his penetration, and few even of that schoolhad more, he had not yet penetrated into the recesses of Miss Milner'sheart.
Miss Woodley, to whom she repeated all that had passed between herself,her guardian, and Sandford, took this moment, in the agitation of herspirits, to alarm her still more by prophetic insinuations; and atlength represented to her here, for the first time, the necessity, "ThatMr. Dorriforth and she no longer should remain under the same roof."This was like the stroke of sudden death to Miss Milner, and clinging tolife, she endeavoured to avert the blow by prayers, and by promises. Herfriend loved her too sincerely to be prevailed upon.
"But in what manner can I accomplish the separation?" cried she, "fortill I marry we are obliged, by my father's request, to live in the samehouse."
"Miss Milner," answered Miss Woodley, "much as I respect the will of adying man, I regard your and Mr. Dorriforth's present and eternalhappiness much more; and it is my resolution that you _shall part._ If_you_ will not contrive the means, that duty falls on me, and withoutany invention I see the measure at once."
"What is it?" cried Miss Milner eagerly.
"I will reveal to Mr. Dorriforth, without hesitation, the real state ofyour heart; which your present inconsistency of conduct will but tooreadily confirm."
"You would not plunge me into so much shame, into so much anguish!"cried she, distractedly.
"No," replied Miss Woodley, "not for the world, if you will separatefrom him by any mode of your own--but that you _shall_ separate is mydetermination; and in spite of all your sufferings, this shall be theexpedient, unless you instantly agree to some other."
"Good Heaven, Miss Woodley! is this your friendship?"
"Yes--and the truest friendship I have to bestow. Think what a task Iundertake for your sake and his, when I condemn myself to explain to himyour weakness. What astonishment! what confusion! what remorse, do Iforesee painted upon his face! I hear him call you by the harshestnames, and behold him fly from your sight for ever, as an object of hisdetestation."
"Oh spare the dreadful picture.--Fly from my sight for ever! Detest myname! Oh! my dear Miss Woodley, let but his friendship for me stillremain, and I will consent to any thing. You may command me. I will goaway from him directly--but let us part in friendship--Oh! without thefriendship of Mr. Dorriforth, life would be a heavy burthen indeed."
Miss Woodley immediately began to contrive schemes for their separation;and, with all her invention alive on the subject, the following was theonly natural one that she could form.
Miss Milner, in a letter to her distant relation at Bath, was tocomplain of the melancholy of a country life, which she was to say herguardian imposed upon her; and she was to entreat the lady to send apressing invitation that she would pass a month or two at her house;this invitation was to be laid before Dorriforth for his approbation,and the two ladies were to enforce it, by expressing their earnestwishes for his consent. This plan having been properly regulated, thenecessary letter was sent to Bath, and Miss Woodley waited withpatience, but with a watchful guard upon the conduct of her friend, tillthe answer should arrive.
During this interim a tender and complaining epistle from Lord Frederickwas delivered to Miss Milner; to which, as he received no answer, heprevailed upon his uncle, with whom he resided, to wait upon her, andobtain a verbal reply; for he still flattered himself, that fear of herguardian's anger, or perhaps his interception of the letter which he hadsent, was the sole cause of her apparent indifference.
The old gentleman was introduced both to Miss Milner and to Mr.Dorriforth, but received from each an answer so explicit, that left hisnephew no longer in doubt but that all farther pursuit was vain.
Sir Edward Ashton about this time also submitted to a formal dismission;and had the mortification to reflect, that he was bestowing upon theobject of his affections, the tenderest proof of his regard, byabsenting himself entirely from her society.
Upon this serious and certain conclusion to the hopes of Lord Frederick,Dorriforth was more astonished than ever at the conduct of his ward. Hehad once thought her behaviour in this respect was ambiguous, but sinceher confession of a passion for that nobleman, he had no doubt but inthe end she would become his wife. He lamented to find himself mistaken,and thought it proper now to condemn her caprice, not merely in words,but in the general tenor of his behaviour. He consequently became morereserved, and more austere than he had been since his first acquaintancewith her; for his manners, not from design, but imperceptibly tohimself, had been softened since he became her guardian, by that tenderrespect which he had uniformly paid to the object of his protection.
Notwithstanding the severity he now assumed, his ward, in the prospectof parting from him, grew melancholy; Miss Woodley's love to her friendrendered her little otherwise; and Dorriforth's peculiar gravity,frequently rigour, could not but make their whole party less cheerfulthan it had been. Lord Elmwood too, at this time was lying dangerouslyill of a fever; Miss Fenton of course was as much in sorrow as hernature would permit her to be, and both Sandford and Dorriforth inextreme concern upon his Lordship's account.
In this posture of affairs, the letter of invitation arrives from LadyLuneham at Bath; it was shewn to Dorriforth; and to prove to his wardthat he is so much offended, as no longer to feel that excessiveinterest in her concerns which he once felt, he gives an opinion on thesubject with indifference--he desires "Miss Milner will do what sheherself thinks proper." Miss Woodley instantly accepts this permission,writes back, and appoints the day upon which her friend means to set offfor the visit.
Miss Milner is wounded at the heart by the cold and unkind manners ofher guardian, but dares not take one step to retrieve his opinion.Alone, or to her friend, she sighs and weeps: he discovers her sorrow,and is doubtful whether the departure of Lord Frederick from that partof the country is not the cause.
When the time she was to set out for Bath was only two days off, thebehaviour of Dorriforth took, by degrees, its usual form, if not agreater share of polite and tender attention than ever. It was the firsttime he had parted from Miss Milner since he became her guardian, and hefelt upon the occasion, a reluctance. He had been angry with her, he hadshewn her that he was, and he now began to wish that he had not. She isnot happy, (he considered within himself) every word and action declaresshe is not; I may have been too severe, and added perhaps to heruneasiness. "At least we will part on good terms," said he--"Indeed, myregard for her is such, I cannot part otherwise."
She soon discerned his returning kindness, and it was a gentle tie thatwould have fastened her to that spot for ever, but for the firmresistance of Miss Woodley.
"What will the absence of a few months effect?" said she, pleading herown cause; "At the end of a few months at farthest, he will expect meback, and where then will be the merit of this separation?"
"In that time," replied Miss Woodley, "we may find some method to makeit longer." To this she listened with a kind of despair, but uttered,she "Was resigned,"--and she prepared for her departure.
Dorriforth was all anxiety that every circumstance of her journey shouldbe commodious; he was eager she should be happy; and he was eager sheshould see that he entirely forgave her. He would have gone part of theway with her, but for the extreme illness of Lord Elmwood, in whosechamber he passed most of the day, and slept in Elmwood House everynight.
On the morning of her journey, when Dorriforth gave his hand andconducted Miss Milner to the carriage, all the way he led her she couldnot restrain her tears; which increased, as he parted from her, toconvulsive sobs. He was affected by her grief; and though he hadpreviously bid her farewell, he drew her gently on one side, and said,with the tenderest concern,
"My dear Miss Milner, we part friends?--I hope we
do?--On my side, dependupon it, that I regret nothing so much at our separation, as having evergiven you a moment's pain."
"I believe so," was all she could utter, for she hastened from him, lesthis discerning eye should discover the cause of the weakness which thusovercame her. But her apprehensions were groundless; the rectitude ofhis own heart was a bar to the suspicion of her's. He once more kindlybade her adieu, and the carriage drove away.
Miss Fenton and Miss Woodley accompanied her part of the journey, aboutthirty miles, where they were met by Sir Harry and Lady Luneham. Herewas a parting nearly as affecting as that between her and her guardian.Miss Woodley, who for several weeks had treated her friend with arigidness she herself hardly supposed was in her nature, now bewailedthat she had done so; implored her forgiveness; promised to correspondwith her punctually, and to omit no opportunity of giving her everyconsolation short of cherishing her fatal passion--but in that, and thatonly, was the heart of Miss Milner to be consoled.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
A
SIMPLE STORY,
IN FOUR VOLUMES,
BY
MRS. INCHBALD.
VOL. II.
_THE FOURTH EDITION._
LONDON:
Printed for G. G. and J. ROBINSON, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1799.
A SIMPLE STORY