A Simple Story

by Mrs. Inchbald

  CHAPTER VII.

  Sorrowful and affecting as this interview had been, Rushbrook, as herode home, reflected upon it with the most inordinate delight; and hadhe not seen decline of health, in the looks and behaviour of LadyMatilda, his felicity had been unbounded. Entranced in the happiness ofher society, the thought of his rival never came once to his mind whilehe was with her; a want of recollection, however, he by no meansregretted, as her whole appearance contradicted every suspicion he couldpossibly entertain, that she favoured the addresses of any manliving--and had he remembered, he would not have dared to name thesubject.

  The time ran so swiftly while he was away, that it was beyond the dinnerhour at Elmwood House, when he returned. Heated, his dress and his hairdisordered, he entered the dining room just as the dessert was put uponthe table. He was confounded at his own appearance, and at thefalsehoods he should be obliged to fabricate in his excuse: there wasyet, that which engaged his attention, beyond any circumstance relatingto himself--the features of Lord Elmwood--of which his daughter's, whom hehad just beheld, had the most striking resemblance; though her's weresoftened by sorrow, while his were made austere by the self-same cause.

  "Where have you been?" said his uncle, with a frown.

  "A chace, my Lord--I beg your pardon--but a pack of dogs Iunexpectedly met." For in the hacknied art of lying without injury toany one, Rushbrook, to his shame, was proficient.

  His excuses were received, and the subject ceased.

  During his absence that day, Lord Elmwood had called Sandford apart, andsaid to him,--that as the malevolence which he once observed between himand Rushbrook, had, he perceived, subsided, he advised him, if he was awell-wisher to the young man, to sound his heart, and counsel him not toact against the will of his nearest relation and friend. "I myself amtoo hasty," continued Lord Elmwood, "and, unhappily, too much determinedupon what I have once (though, perhaps, rashly) said, to speak upon atopic where it is probable I shall meet with opposition. You, Sandford,can reason with moderation. For after all that I have done for mynephew, it would be a pity to forsake him at last; and yet, that is buttoo likely, if he provokes me."

  "Sir," replied Sandford, "I will speak to him."

  "Yet," added Lord Elmwood, sternly, "do not urge what you say for mysake, but for his--I can part from him with ease--but he may then repent,and, you know, repentance always comes too late with me."

  "My Lord, I will exert all the efforts in my power for his welfare. Butwhat is the subject on which he has refused to comply with yourdesires?"

  "Matrimony--have not I told you?"

  "Not a word."

  "I wish him to marry, that I may then conclude the deeds in respect tomy estate,--and the only child of Sir William Winterton (a rich heiress)was the wife I meant to propose; but from his indifference to all I havesaid on the occasion, I have not yet mentioned her name to him; youmay."

  "I will, my Lord, and use all my persuasion to engage his obedience; andyou shall have, at least, a faithful account of what he says."

  Sandford the next morning sought an opportunity of being alone withRushbrook--he then plainly repeated to him what Lord Elmwood had said,and saw him listen to it all, and heard him answer with the mosttranquil resolution, "That he would do any thing to preserve thefriendship and patronage of his uncle--but marry."

  "What can be your reason?" asked Sandford--though he guessed.

  "A reason, I cannot give to Lord Elmwood."

  "Then do not give it to me, for I have promised to tell him every thingyou say to me."

  "And every thing I _have_ said?" asked Rushbrook hastily.

  "As to what you have said, I don't know whether it has made impressionenough on my memory, to enable me to repeat it."

  "I am glad it has not."

  "And my answer to your uncle, is to be simply, that you will not obeyhim?"

  "I should hope, Mr. Sandford, that you would express it in betterterms."

  "Tell me the terms, and I will be exact."

  Rushbrook struck his forehead, and walked about the room.

  "Am I to give him any reason for your disobeying him?"

  "I tell you again, that I dare not name the cause."

  "Then why do you submit to a power you are ashamed to own?"

  "I am not ashamed--I glory in it.--Are you ashamed of your esteem for LadyMatilda?"

  "Oh! if she is the cause of your disobedience, be assured I shall notmention it, for I am forbid to name her."

  "And surely, as that is the case, I need not fear to speak plainly toyou. I love Lady Matilda--or, perhaps, unacquainted with love, what Ifeel may be only pity--and if so, pity is the most pleasing passion thatever possessed a human heart, and I would not change it for all herfather's estates."

  "Pity, then, gives rise to very different sensations--for I pity you, andthat sensation I would gladly exchange for approbation."

  "If you really feel compassion for me, and I believe you do, contrivesome means by your answers to Lord Elmwood to pacify him, withoutinvolving me in ruin. Hint at my affections being engaged, but not towhom; and add, that I have given my word, if he will allow me a shorttime, a year or two only, I will, during that period, try to disengagethem, and use all my power to render myself worthy of the union forwhich he designs me."

  "And this is not only your solemn promise--but your fixed determination?"

  "Nay, why will you search my heart to the bottom, when the surface oughtto content you?"

  "If you cannot resolve on what you have proposed, why do you ask thistime of your uncle? For should he allow it you, at the expiration, yourdisobedience to his commands will be less pardonable than it is now."

  "Within a year, Mr. Sandford, who can tell what strange events may notoccur, to change all our prospects? Even my passion may decline."

  "In that expectation, then--the failure of which yourself must answerfor--I will repeat as much of this discourse as shall be proper."

  Here Rushbrook communicated his having been to see Lady Matilda, forwhich Sandford reproved him, but in less rigorous terms than hegenerally used in his reproofs; and Rushbrook, by his entreaties, nowgained the intelligence who the nobleman was who addressed Matilda, andon what views; but was restrained to patience, by Sandford's argumentsand threats.

  Upon the subject of this marriage, Sandford met his patron, withouthaving determined exactly what to say, but rested on the temper in whichhe should find him.

  At the commencement of the conversation he said, "Rushbrook begged fortime."

  "I have given him time, have I not?" cried Lord Elmwood: "What can bethe meaning of his thus trifling with me?"

  Sandford replied, "My Lord, young men are frequently romantic in theirnotions of love, and think it impossible to have a sincere affection,where their own inclinations do not first point out the choice."

  "If he is in love," answered Lord Elmwood, "let him take the object, andleave my house and me for ever. Nor under this destiny can he have anyclaim to pity; for genuine love will make him happy in banishment, inpoverty, or in sickness: it makes the poor man happy as the rich, thefool blest as the wise." The sincerity with which Lord Elmwood hadloved, was expressed more than in words, as he said this.

  "Your Lordship is talking," replied Sandford, "of the passion in itsmost refined and predominant sense; while I may possibly be speaking ofa mere phantom, that has led this young man astray."

  "Whatever it be," returned Lord Elmwood, "let him and his friends weighthe case well, and act for the best--so shall I."

  "His friends, my Lord?--What friends, or what friend has he upon earthbut you?"

  "Then why will he not submit to my advice; or himself give me a properreason why he cannot?"

  "Because there may be friendship without familiarity--and so it isbetween him and you."

  "That cannot be; for I have condescended to talk to him in the mostfamiliar terms."

  "To condescend, my Lord, is _not_ to be familiar."

  "Then come, Sir, let us be on an
equal footing through you. And nowspeak out _his_ thoughts freely, and hear mine in return."

  "Why, then, he begs a respite for a year or two."

  "On what pretence?"

  "To me, it was preference of a single life--but I suspect it is--what heimagines to be love--and for some object whom he thinks your Lordshipwould disapprove."

  "He has not, then, actually confessed this to you?"

  "If he has, it was drawn from him by such means, that I am not warrantedto say it in direct words."

  "I have entered into no contract, no agreement on his account with thefriends of the lady I have pointed out," said Lord Elmwood; "nothingbeyond implications have passed betwixt her family and myself atpresent; and if the person on whom he has fixed his affections, shouldnot be in a situation absolutely contrary to my wishes, I may, perhaps,confirm his choice."

  That moment Sandford's courage prompted him to name Lady Matilda, buthis discretion opposed--however, in the various changes of hiscountenance from the conflict, it was plain to discern that he wished tosay more than he dared.

  On which Lord Elmwood cried,

  "Speak on, Sandford--what are you afraid of?"

  "Of you, my Lord."

  He started.

  Sandford went on----"I know no tie--no bond--no innocence, that is aprotection when you feel resentment."

  "You are right," he replied, significantly.

  "Then how, my Lord, can you encourage me to _speak on_, when that whichI perhaps would say, might offend you to hear?"

  "To what, and whither are you changing our subject?" cried Lord Elmwood."But, Sir, if you know my resentful and relentless temper, you surelyknow how to shun it."

  "Not, and speak plainly."

  "Then dissemble."

  "No, I'll not do that--but I'll be silent."

  "A new parade of submission. You are more tormenting to me than any oneI have about me. Constantly on the verge of disobeying my commands, thatyou may recede, and gain my good will by your forbearance. But know, Mr.Sandford, that I will not suffer this much longer. If you chuse in everyconversation we have together (though the most remote from such asubject) to think of my daughter, you must either banish your thoughts,or conceal them--nor by one sign, one item, remind me of her."

  "Your daughter did you call her? Can you call yourself her father?"

  "I do, Sir--but I was likewise the husband of her mother. And, as thathusband, I solemnly swear."----He was proceeding with violence.

  "Oh! my Lord," cried Sandford, interrupting him, with his hands claspedin the most fervent supplication--"Oh! do not let me draw upon her oneoath more of your eternal displeasure--I'll kneel to beg that you willdrop the subject."

  The inclination he made with his knees bent towards the ground, stoppedLord Elmwood instantly. But though it broke in upon his words, it didnot alter one angry look--his eyes darted, and his lips trembled with,indignation.

  Sandford, in order to appease him, bowed and offered to withdraw, hopingto be recalled. He wished in vain--Lord Elmwood's eyes followed him tothe door, expressive of rejoicing at his absence.