“Pray, my lord,” cried the Miss Macqueens, while their brothers were thus addressing Amanda, “pray, my lord,” almost in the same breath, “what have you done with the gentlemen?” “You should ask your brother,” he replied; “he has locked them up in the plantation.” A frolic was at all times pleasing to the light-hearted Macqueens, and to enjoy the present one off they ran directly, followed by their brothers, all calling, as they ran, to Amanda not to stir till they came back, which would be in a few minutes; but Amanda, from the awkward, the agitating situation in which they had left her, would instantly have relieved herself, could she have made the postilion hear her; but, as if enjoying the race, he had gone to some distance to view it, and none of the servants of the house were near. Conscious of her own emotions, she feared betraying them, and stepped a few yards from the door, pretending to be engrossed by the Macqueens. A heavy sigh suddenly pierced her ears. “Amanda,” in the next moment said a voice to which her heart vibrated. She turned with involuntary quickness and saw Lord Mortimer close by her. “Amanda,” he repeated; then suddenly clasping his hands together, exclaimed, with an agonized expression, while he turned abruptly from her, “Gracious Heaven! what a situation! Amanda,” said he, again looking at her, “the scene which happened last night was distressing. I am now sorry on your account that it took place. Notwithstanding past events, I bear you no ill-will. The knowledge of your uneasiness would give me pain. From my heart I forgive you all that you have caused—that you have entailed upon me. At this moment I could take you to my arms, and weep over you—like the fond mother over the last darling of her hopes—tears of pity and forgiveness.”
Amanda, unutterably affected, covered her face to hide the tears which bedewed it.
“Let me have the pleasure of hearing,” continued Lord Mortimer, “that you forgive the uneasiness and pain I might have occasioned you last night.” “Forgive!” repeated Amanda. “Oh, my lord,” and her voice sunk in the sobs which heaved her bosom. “Could I think you were, you would be happy—" Lord Mortimer stopped, overcome by strong emotions.
“Happy!” repeated Amanda! “oh! never—never!” continued she, raising her streaming eyes to heaven; “oh, never—never in this world!”
At this moment the Macqueens were not only heard but seen running back, followed by the gentlemen whom they had been prevailed on to liberate. Shocked at the idea of being seen in such a situation, Amanda would have called the postilion, but he was too far off to hear her weak voice, had she then even been able to exert that voice. She looked towards him, however, with an expression which denoted the feelings of her soul. Lord Mortimer, sensible of those feelings, hastily pulled open the door of the chaise, and taking the cold and trembling hand of Amanda with one equally cold and trembling, assisted her into the chaise, then pressing the hand he held between both his, he suddenly let it drop from him, and closing the door without again looking at Amanda, called to the driver, who instantly obeyed the call, and had mounted ere the Macqueens arrived. Oh, what a contrast did their looks, blooming with health and exercise, their gayety, their protected situation, form to the wan, dejected, desolate Amanda! With looks of surprise they were going up to the chaise, when Lord Mortimer, still standing by it, and anxious to save his unhappy, lost Amanda the pain of being noticed in such agitation, gave the man a signal to drive off, which was instantly obeyed.
Thus did Amanda leave the mansion of the Macqueens, where sorrow had scarcely ever before entered without meeting alleviation, a mansion, where the stranger, the wayfaring man, and the needy, were sure of a welcome, cordial as benevolence and hospitality themselves could give; and where happiness, as pure as in this sublunary state can be experienced, was enjoyed. As she drove from the door, she saw the splendid equipages of Lord Mortimer and Lady Martha driving to it. She turned from them with a sigh, at reflecting they would soon grace the bridal pomp of Lady Euphrasia. She pursued the remainder of her journey without meeting anything worthy of relation. It was in the evening she reached London. The moment she stopped at the hotel she sent for a carriage, and proceeded in it to Mrs. Connel’s, in Bond Street.
[CHAPTER L.]
“Dissembling hope, her cloudy front she clears, And a false vigor in her eyes appears.”—Dryden.
She alighted from the carriage when it stopped at the door, and entered the shop, where, to her inexpressible satisfaction, the first object she beheld was Miss Rushbrook, sitting pensively at one of the counters. The moment she saw Amanda she recollected her, and, starting up, exclaimed, as she took her hand, “Ah! dear madam, this is indeed a joyful surprise! Ah! how often have I wished to meet you again to express my gratitude.” The affectionate reception she met, and the unexpected sight of Miss Rushbrook, seemed to promise Amanda that her wishes relative to Rushbrook would not only be accelerated, but crowned with success. She returned the fervent pressure of Miss Rushbrook’s hand, and inquired after her parents—the inquiry appeared distressing, and she was answered, with hesitation, that they were indifferent. The evident embarrassment her question excited prevented her renewing it at this time. The mistress of the house was not present, and Amanda requested, if she was within, she might see her directly. Miss Rushbrook immediately stepped to a parlor behind the shop, and almost instantly returned, followed by the lady herself, who was a little fat Irish woman, past her prime, but not past her relish for the good things of this life. “Dear madam,” said she, curtseying to Amanda, “you are very welcome. I protest I am very glad to see you, though I never had that pleasure but once before; but it is no wonder I should be so, for I have heard your praises every day since, I am sure, from that young lady,” looking at Miss Rushbrook. Amanda bowed, but her heart was too full of the purpose of this visit to allow her to speak about anything else. She was just come from the country, she told Mrs. Connel, where (she sighed as she spoke) she had left her friends, and, being unwilling to go amongst total strangers, she had come to her house in hopes of being able to procure lodgings in it.