When Miss Woodley took her leave, he invited her to dine with him and Sandford whenever it was convenient to her; he said, besides, many things of the same kind, and all with the utmost civility, yet not with that warmth with which he had spoken in the morning—into that he had been surprised—his coolness was the effect of reflection.
When she came to Lady Matilda, and Sandford had joined them, they talked and deliberated on what had passed.
“You acknowledge Mr. Sandford,” said Miss Woodley, “that you think my presence affected Lord Elmwood, so as to make him much more thoughtful than usual; if you imagine these thoughts were upon Lady Elmwood, I will never intrude again; but if you suppose that I made him think upon his daughter, I cannot go too often.”
“I don’t see how he can divide those two objects in his mind,” replied Sandford, “therefore you must e’en visit him on, and take your chance, what reflections you may cause—but, be they what they will, time will steal away from you that power of affecting him.”
She concurred in the opinion, and occasionally she walked into Lord Elmwood’s apartments, dined, or took her coffee with him, as the accident suited; and observed, according to Sandford’s prediction, that time wore off the impression her visits first made. Lord Elmwood now became just the same before her as before others. She easily discerned, too, through all that politeness which he assumed—that he was no longer the considerate, the forbearing character he formerly was; but haughty, impatient, imperious, and more than ever, implacable.
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 whom poor Lady Elmwood first introduced into his uncle’s house, and by her kindness preserved there—arrived from his travels, and was received by his uncle with all the marks of affection due to the man he thought worthy to be his heir. Rushbrook had been a beautiful boy, and was now an extremely handsome young man; he had made unusual progress in his studies, had completed the tour of Italy and Germany, and returned home with the air and address of a perfect man of fashion—there was, besides, an elegance and persuasion in his manner almost irresistible. Yet with all those accomplishments, when he was introduced to Sandford, and put forth his hand to take his, Sandford, with evident reluctance, gave it to 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 from head to foot, and muttered “He could not say he observed it.” The colour heightened in Mr. Rushbrook’s face upon the occasion, but he was too well bred not to be in perfect good humour.
Sandford saw this young man treated, in the house of Lord Elmwood, with the same respect and attention as if he had been his son; and it was but probable the old priest would make a comparison between the situation of him, and of Lady Matilda Elmwood. Before her, it was Sandford’s meaning to have concealed his thoughts upon the subject, and never to have mentioned it but with composure; that was, however, impossible—unused to hide his feelings, at the name of Rushbrook, his countenance would always change, and a sarcastic sneer, sometimes a frown of resentment, would force its way in spite of his resolution. Miss Woodley, too, with all her boundless charity and good will, was, upon this occasion, induced to limit their excess; and they did not extend so far as to reach poor Rushbrook. She even, and in reality, did not think him handsome or engaging in his manners—she thought his gaiety frivolousness, his complaisance affectation, and his good humour impertinence. It was impossible to conceal those unfavourable sentiments entirely from Matilda; for when the subject arose, as it frequently did, Miss Woodley’s undisguised heart, and Sandford’s undisguised countenance, told them instantly. Matilda had the understanding to imagine, that she was, perhaps, the object who had thus deformed Mr. Rushbrook, and frequently (though he was a stranger to her, and one who had caused her many a jealous heart-ache) frequently she would speak in his vindication.
“You are very good,” said Sandford, one day to her; “you like him, because you know your father loves him.”