“We can only judge of those sensations, Mr. Rushbrook,” said Miss Woodley, “by the effect they have upon your conduct; and while you insult Lord and Lady Elmwood’s daughter by an intrusion like this, and then ridicule her abject state by mockeries like these——”
He rose from his knees instantly, and interrupted her, crying, “What can I do? What am I to say, to make you change your opinion of me? While Lord Elmwood has been at home, I have kept an awful distance; and though every moment I breathed was a wish to cast myself at his daughter’s feet, yet as I feared, Miss Woodley, that you were incensed against me, by what means was I to procure an interview but by stratagem or force? This accident has given a third method, and I had not strength, I had not courage, to let it pass. Lord Elmwood will soon return, and we may both of us be hurried to town immediately—then how for a tedious winter could I endure the reflexion that I was despised, nay, perhaps considered as an object of ingratitude, by the only child of my deceased benefactress?”
Matilda replied with all her father’s haughtiness, “Depend upon it, Sir, if you should ever enter my thoughts, it will only be as an object of envy.”
“Suffer me then, Madam,” said he, “as an earnest that you do not think worse of me than I merit, suffer me to be sometimes admitted into your presence—.”
She would scarce permit him to finish the period, before she replied, “This is the last time, Sir, we shall ever meet, depend upon it—unless, indeed, Lord Elmwood should delegate to you the controul of me—his commands I never dispute.” And here she burst into tears.
Rushbrook walked towards the window, and did not speak for some time—then turning himself to make a reply, both Matilda and Miss Woodley were somewhat surprised to see, that he had been shedding tears himself.—Having conquered them, he said, “I will not offend you, Madam, by remaining one moment longer; and I give you my honour, that, upon no pretence whatever, will I presume to intrude here again. Professions, I find, have no weight, and only by this obedience to your orders, can I give a proof of that respect which you inspire;—and let the agitation I now feel, convince you, Lady Matilda, that, with all my seeming good fortune, I am not happier than yourself.” And so much was he agitated while he delivered this, that it was with difficulty he came to the conclusion. When he did, he bowed with reverence, as if leaving the presence of a deity, and retired.
Matilda immediately entered the chamber she had left, and without casting a single look at Miss Woodley by which she might guess of the opinion she had formed of Mr. Rushbrook’s conduct. The next time they met they did not even mention his name; for they were ashamed to own a partiality in his favour, and were too just to bring any accusation against him.
But Miss Woodley, the day following, communicated the intelligence of this visit to Mr. Sandford, who not being present, and a witness of those marks of humility and respect which were conspicuous in the deportment of Mr. Rushbrook, was highly offended at his presumption, and threatened if he ever dared to force his company there again, he would acquaint Lord Elmwood with his arrogance, whatever might be the event. Miss Woodley, however, assured him, she believed he would have no cause for such a complaint, as the young man had made the most solemn promise never to commit the like offence; and she thought it her duty to enjoin Sandford, till he did repeat it, not to mention the circumstance, even to Rushbrook himself.
Matilda could not but feel a regard for her father’s heir, in return for that which he had so fervently declared for her; yet the more favourable her opinion of his mind and manners, the more he became an object of her jealousy for the affections of Lord Elmwood, and he was now consequently, an object of greater sorrow to her, than when she believed him less worthy. These sentiments were reversed on his part towards her—no jealousy intervened to bar his admiration and esteem—the beauty of her person, and grandeur of her mien, not only confirmed, but improved, the exalted idea he had formed of her previous to their meeting, and which his affection to both her parents had inspired. The next time he saw his benefactor, he began to feel a new esteem and regard for him, for his daughter’s sake; as he had at first an esteem for her, on the foundation of his love for Lord and Lady Elmwood. He gazed with wonder at his uncle’s insensibility to his own happiness, and would gladly have led him to the jewel he cast away, though even his own expulsion should be the fatal consequence. Such was the youthful, warm, generous, grateful, but unreflecting mind of Rushbrook.