Miss Milner, with all her assumed gaiety and real insolence, had not, however, the insolence to seem as if she observed him; she had only the confidence to observe him by stealth. And Mrs. Horton and Miss Woodley, having opportunely begun a discourse upon some trivial occurrences, gave him time to recover himself by degrees—yet, still it was merely by degrees; for the impression which this incident had made, was deep, and not easily to be erased. The entrance of Mr. Sandford, who knew nothing of what had happened, was however, another relief; for he began a conversation with him, which they very soon retired into the library to terminate. Miss Milner, taking Miss Woodley with her, went directly to her own apartment, and there exclaimed in rapture,
“He is mine—he loves me—and he is mine for ever.”
Miss Woodley congratulated her upon believing so, but confessed she herself “Had her fears.”
“What fears?” cried Miss Milner: “don’t you perceive that he loves me?”
“I do,” said Miss Woodley, “but that I always believed; and, I think, if he loves you now, he has yet the good sense to know that he has reason to hate you.”
“What has good sense to do with love?” returned Miss Milner—“If a lover of mine suffers his understanding to get the better of his affection—”
The same arguments were going to be repeated; but Miss Woodley interrupted her, by requiring an explanation of her conduct as to Lord Frederick, whom, at least, she was treating with cruelty, if she only made use of his affection to stimulate that of Lord Elmwood.
“By no means, my dear Miss Woodley,” returned she—“I have, indeed, done with my Lord Frederick from this day; and he has certainly given me the proof I wanted of Lord Elmwood’s love; but then I did not engage him to this by the smallest ray of hope. No; do not suspect me of that, while my heart was another’s: and I assure you, seriously, that it was from the circumstance we described he came with me home—yet, I must own, that if I had not had this design upon Lord Elmwood’s jealousy in idea, I would have walked on foot through the streets, rather than have suffered his rival’s civilities. But he pressed his services so violently, and my Lady Evans (in whose coach I was when the accident happened) pressed me so violently to accept them, that he cannot expect any farther meaning from this acquiescence than my own convenience.”
Miss Woodley was going to reply, when she resumed,
“Nay, if you intend to say I have done wrong, still I am not sorry for it, when it has given me such convincing proofs of Lord Elmwood’s love. Did you see him? I am afraid you did not see how he trembled? and that manly voice faltered, as mine does sometimes—his proud heart was humbled too, as mine is now and then. Oh! Miss Woodley, I have been counterfeiting indifference to him—I now find that all his indifference to me has been counterfeit, and that we not only love, but love equally.”