A Simple Story

by Mrs. Inchbald

  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 whompoor Lady Elmwood first introduced into his uncle's house, and by herkindness preserved there--arrived from his travels, and was received byhis uncle with all the marks of affection due to the man he thoughtworthy to be his heir. Rushbrook had been a beautiful boy, and was nowan extremely handsome young man; he had made unusual progress in hisstudies, had completed the tour of Italy and Germany, and returned homewith the air and address of a perfect man of fashion--there was, besides,an elegance and persuasion in his manner almost irresistible. Yet withall those accomplishments, when he was introduced to Sandford, and putforth his hand to take his, Sandford, with evident reluctance, gave itto 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 fromhead to foot, and muttered "He could not say he observed it." Thecolour heightened in Mr. Rushbrook's face upon the occasion, but he wastoo well bred not to be in perfect good humour.

  Sandford saw this young man treated, in the house of Lord Elmwood, withthe same respect and attention as if he had been his son; and it was butprobable the old priest would make a comparison between the situation ofhim, and of Lady Matilda Elmwood. Before her, it was Sandford's meaningto have concealed his thoughts upon the subject, and never to havementioned it but with composure; that was, however, impossible--unused tohide his feelings, at the name of Rushbrook, his countenance wouldalways change, and a sarcastic sneer, sometimes a frown of resentment,would force its way in spite of his resolution. Miss Woodley, too, withall her boundless charity and good will, was, upon this occasion,induced to limit their excess; and they did not extend so far as toreach poor Rushbrook. She even, and in _reality_, did not think himhandsome or engaging in his manners--she thought his gaietyfrivolousness, his complaisance affectation, and his good humourimpertinence. It was impossible to conceal those unfavourable sentimentsentirely from Matilda; for when the subject arose, as it frequently did,Miss Woodley's undisguised heart, and Sandford's undisguisedcountenance, told them instantly. Matilda had the understanding toimagine, that she was, perhaps, the object who had thus deformed Mr.Rushbrook, and frequently (though he was a stranger to her, and one whohad caused her many a jealous heart-ache) frequently she would speak inhis 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, towhom her father's love would have been more precious than any otherblessing.--She, however, checked the assault of envy, and kindly replied,

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

  "Yes," answered Sandford, "he has been a _grateful_ man to your poormother.--She did not suppose when she took him into the house; when sheintreated your father to take him; and through her caresses andofficious praises of him, first gave him that power which he nowpossesses over his uncle; she little foresaw, at that time, hisingratitude, and its effects."

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

  "What ingratitude?" asked Matilda, "do you suppose Mr. Rushbrook is thecause that my father will not see me? Oh do not pay Lord Elmwood'smotive so ill a compliment."

  "I do not say that he is the absolute cause," returned Sandford; "but ifa parent's heart is void, I would have it remain so, till its lawfulowner 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 tohear what could be said in his disfavour, for secretly his name wasbitter to her--and once she exclaimed in vexation, on Sandford's sayingLord Elmwood and Mr. Rushbrook were gone out shooting together,

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

  Sandford, (much as he disliked Rushbrook) for this expression whichcomprised her father in the reflection, turned to Matilda in extremeanger--but as he saw the colour mount into her face, for what, in thestrong feelings of her heart had escaped her lips, he did not say aword--and by her tears that followed, he rejoiced to see how much shereproved _herself._

  Miss Woodley, vexed to the heart, and provoked every time she saw LordElmwood and Rushbrook together, and saw the familiar terms on which thisyoung man lived with his benefactor, now made her visits to him veryseldom. 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 wasalways very coldly; nor did she suppose if she never went, he would everask for her. For his daughter's sake, however, she thought it rightsometimes to shew herself before him; for she knew it must beimpossible that, with all his apparent indifference, he could ever see_her_ without thinking for a moment on his child; and what one fortunatethought might some time bring about, was an object much too serious forher to overlook. She therefore, after remaining confined to herapartments near three weeks, (excepting those anxious walks she andMatilda 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 anhour, conversing with them all, though but very little with the latter,Lord Elmwood was called out of the room upon some business; presentlyafter, Sandford; and now, by no means pleased with the companion withwhom she was left, she rose, and was going likewise, when Rushbrookfixed 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 mustforgive." But she made this reply with a distance and a reserve, veryunlike the usual manners of Miss Woodley.

  He looked at her earnestly and cried, "Ah! Miss Woodley, you don'tbehave so kindly to me as you used to do!"

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

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

  "But you mistake, Mr. Rushbrook; I was not even then so very much theobject 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 eyesto heaven) "shall I ever forget her?"

  That moment Lord Elmwood opened the door; the conversation of coursethat moment ended; but confusion, at the sudden surprise, was on theface 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; whileRushbrook, with the most natural and happy laugh that ever was affected,cried, "No, don't tell my Lord, pray Miss Woodley." She was moreconfused than before, and Lord Elmwood turning to him, asked what thesubject was. By this time he had invented one, and, continuing hislaugh, said, "Miss Woodley, my Lord, will to this day protest that shesaw my apparition when I was a boy; and she says it is a sign I shalldie 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 itstruth.

  Miss Woodley felt herself greatly relieved; and yet so little is it inthe power of those we dislike to do any thing to please us, that fromthis very circumstance, she formed a more unfavourable opinion of Mr.Rushbrook than she had done before. She saw in this little incident theart of dissimulation, cunning, and duplicity in its most glaring shape;and detested the method by which they had each escaped Lord Elmwood'ssuspicion, and perhaps anger, the more, because it was so dexterouslymanaged.

  Lady Matilda and Sandford were both in their turns informed of thistrait in Mr. Rushbrook's character; and although Miss Woodley had theb
est of dispositions, and upon every occasion spoke the strictest truth,yet in relating this occurrence, she did not speak _all_ the truth; forevery circumstance 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, andsupper, was given by Lord Elmwood to all the neighbouring gentry--thepeasants also dined in the park off a roasted bullock, several casks ofale were distributed, and the bells of the village rung. Matilda, whoheard and saw some part of this festivity from her windows, inquired thecause; but even the servant who waited upon her had too much sensibilityto tell her, and answered, "He did not know." Miss Woodley however, soonlearned 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.

  In their retired apartments, this day passed away not only soberly, butalmost silently; for to speak upon any subject that did not engage theirthoughts had been difficult, and to speak upon the only one that did,had been afflicting.

  Just as they were sitting down to dinner their bell gently rung, and inwalked Sandford.

  "Why are you not among the revellers, Mr. Sandford?" cried Miss Woodley,with an ironical sneer--(the first her features ever wore)--"Pray, werenot you invited to dine with the company?"

  "Yes," replied Sandford; "but my head ached; and so I had rather comeand take a bit with you."

  Matilda, as if she had seen his heart as he spoke, clung round his neckand sobbed on his bosom: he put her peevishly away, crying "Nonsense,nonsense--eat your dinner." But he did not eat himself.