A Simple Story

by Mrs. Inchbald

  CHAPTER IV.

  After a night's rest in London, less violently impressed with the lossof her father, reconciled, if not already attached to her newacquaintance, her thoughts pleasingly occupied with the reflection thatshe was in that gay metropolis--a wild and rapturous picture of which heractive fancy had often formed--Miss Milner waked from a peaceful andrefreshing sleep, with much of that vivacity, and with all those airycharms, which for a while had yielded their transcendent power to theweaker influence of her filial sorrow.

  Beautiful as she had appeared to Miss Woodley and to Dorriforth on thepreceding day, when she joined them this morning at breakfast,re-possessed of her lively elegance and dignified simplicity, they gazedat her, and at each other alternately, with astonishment!--and Mrs.Horton, as she sat at the head of her tea-table, felt herself but as amenial servant: such command has beauty if united with sense and virtue.In Miss Milner it was so united. Yet let not our over-scrupulous readersbe misled, and extend their idea of her virtue so as to magnify itbeyond that which frail mortals commonly possess; nor must they cavil,if, on a nearer view, they find it less--but let them consider, that ifshe had more faults than generally belong to others, she had likewisemore temptations.

  From her infancy she had been indulged in all her wishes to the extremeof folly, and started habitually at the unpleasant voice of control. Shewas beautiful; she had been too frequently told the high value of thatbeauty, and thought every moment passed in wasteful idleness duringwhich she was not gaining some new conquest. She had a quicksensibility, which too frequently discovered itself in the immediateresentment of injuries or neglect. She had, besides, acquired thedangerous character of a wit; but to which she had no real pretensions,although the most discerning critic, hearing her converse, might fallinto this mistake. Her replies had all the effect of repartee, notbecause she possessed those qualities which can properly be called wit,but that what she said was delivered with an energy, an instantaneousand powerful conception of the sentiment, joined with a real or awell-counterfeited simplicity, a quick turn of the eye, and an archsmile. Her words were but the words of others, and, like those ofothers, put into common sentences; but the delivery made them pass forwit, as grace in an ill-proportioned figure will often make it pass forsymmetry.

  And now--leaving description--the reader must form a judgment of her byher actions; by all the round of great or trivial circumstances thatshall be related.

  At breakfast, which had just begun at the commencement of this chapter,the conversation was lively on the part of Miss Milner, wise on the partof Dorriforth, good on the part of Miss Woodley, and an endeavour at allthree on the part of Mrs. Horton. The discourse at length drew from Mr.Dorriforth this observation:

  "You have a greater resemblance of your father, Miss Milner, than Iimagined you had from report: I did not expect to find you so like him."

  "Nor did I, Mr. Dorriforth, expect to find you any thing like what youare."

  "No?--pray what did you expect to find me?"

  "I expected to find you an elderly man, and a plain man."

  This was spoken in an artless manner, but in a tone which obviouslydeclared she thought her guardian young and handsome. He replied, butnot without some little embarrassment, "A plain man you shall find me inall my actions."

  "Then your actions are to contradict your appearance."

  For in what she said, Miss Milner had the quality peculiar to wits, ofhazarding the thought that first occurs, which thought, is generallytruth. On this, he paid her a compliment in return.

  "You, Miss Milner, I should suppose, must be a very bad judge of what isplain, and what is not."

  "How so?"

  "Because I am sure you will readily own you do not think yourselfhandsome; and allowing that, you instantly want judgment."

  "And I would rather want judgment than beauty," she replied, "and so Igive up the one for the other."

  With a serious face, as if proposing a very serious question, Dorriforthcontinued, "And you really believe you are not handsome?"

  "I should, if I consulted my own opinion, believe that I was not; but insome respects I am like Roman Catholics; I don't believe upon my ownunderstanding, but from what other people tell me."

  "And let this convince you," replied Dorriforth, "that what we teach istruth; for you find you would be deceived did you not trust to personswho know better than yourself. But, my dear Miss Milner, we will talkupon some other topic, and never resume this again--we differ in opinion,I dare say, on one subject only, and this difference I hope will neverextend itself to any other. Therefore, let not religion be named betweenus; for as I have resolved never to persecute you, in pity be grateful,and do not persecute me."

  Miss Milner looked with surprise that any thing so lightly said, shouldbe so seriously received. The kind Miss Woodley ejaculated a shortprayer to herself, that heaven would forgive her young friend theinvoluntary sin of religious ignorance--while Mrs. Horton, unperceived,as she imagined, made the sign of the cross upon her forehead as a guardagainst the infectious taint of heretical opinions. This pious ceremonyMiss Milner by chance observed, and now shewed such an evidentpropensity to burst into a fit of laughter, that the good lady of thehouse could no longer contain her resentment, but exclaimed, "Godforgive you," with a severity so different from the idea which the wordsconveyed, that the object of her anger was, on this, obliged freely toindulge that impulse which she had in vain been struggling to suppress;and no longer suffering under the agony of restraint, she gave way toher humour, and laughed with a liberty so uncontrolled, that soon lefther in the room with none but the tender-hearted Miss Woodley a witnessof her folly.

  "My dear Miss Woodley," (then cried Miss Milner, after recoveringherself) "I am afraid you will not forgive me."

  "No, indeed I will not," returned Miss Woodley.

  But how unimportant, how weak, how ineffectual are _words_ inconversation--looks and manners alone express--for Miss Woodley, with hercharitable face and mild accents, saying she would not forgive, impliedonly forgiveness--while Mrs. Horton, with her enraged voice and aspect,begging heaven to pardon the offender, palpably said, she thought herunworthy of all pardon.