“You, Sir, having now other cares to employ your thoughts, ought to insist upon her marrying, or retiring into the country.”
She returned home just as this conversation was finished, and Sandford, the moment she entered, rang for his candle to retire. Miss Woodley, who had been at the opera with Miss Milner, cried,
“Bless me, Mr. Sandford, are you not well, you are going to leave us so early?”
He replied, “No, I have a pain in my head.”
Miss Milner, who never listened to complaints without sympathy, rose immediately from her seat, saying,
“I think I never heard you, Mr. Sandford, complain of indisposition before. Will you accept of my specific for the head-ache? Indeed it is a certain relief—I’ll fetch it instantly.”
She went hastily out of the room, and returned with a bottle, which, she assured him, “Was a present from Lady Luneham, and would certainly cure him.” And she pressed it upon him with such an anxious earnestness, that with all his churlishness he could not refuse taking it.
This was but a common-place civility, such as is paid by one enemy to another every day; but the manner was the material part. The unaffected concern, the attention, the good will, she demonstrated in this little incident, was that which made it remarkable, and immediately took from Lord Elmwood the displeasure to which he had been just before provoked, or rather transformed it into a degree of admiration. Even Sandford was not insensible to her behaviour, and in return, when he left the room, “Wished her a good night.”
To her and Miss Woodley, who had not been witnesses of the preceding conversation, what she had done appeared of no merit; but to the mind of Lord Elmwood, the merit was infinite; and upon the departure of Sandford, he began to be unusually cheerful. He first pleasantly reproached the ladies for not offering him a place in their box at the opera.
“Would you have gone, my Lord?” asked Miss Milner, highly delighted.