“Is it possible, my lord,” said Amanda, “you never conceived the reason of my departure? Is it possible reflection never pointed it out?”
“Never, I solemnly assure you; nor shall I be happy till I know it.” He paused, as if for a reply; but Amanda, agitated by his words, had not power to speak. Whilst he stood silent, trembling, and apparently embarrassed, she heard her father’s voice, as he ascended the stairs. This instantly restored hers. “I must go, my lord,” cried she, starting, and struggling to withdraw her hand. “Promise then to meet me,” he said, “this evening at St. Catherine’s, by seven, or I will not let you go. My soul will be in tortures till I have your actions explained.” “I do promise,” said Amanda. Lord Mortimer released her, and she retired into her chamber just time enough to avoid her father.
Again her hopes began to revive. Again she believed she was not mistaken in supposing Lord Mortimer had come into Ireland on her account. His being mentioned as the admirer of Lady Euphrasia, she supposed owing to his being a resident in the house with her. About herself, had he been indifferent, he never could have betrayed such emotions. His looks, as well as language, expressed the feelings of a heart tenderly attached and truly distressed. Lest any circumstance had happened, which would prevent a renewal of that attachment, she felt as much impatience as he manifested, to give the desired explanation of her conduct.
His lordship was scarcely gone, ere Lady Greystock made her appearance. Amanda supposed, as usual, she only came to pay a flying visit: how great then was her mortification and surprise, when her ladyship told her she was come to spend the day quite in the family way with her, as the ladies of Grangeville were so busy preparing for a splendid entertainment they were to be at the ensuing day, that they had excluded all visitors, and rendered the house quite disagreeable.
Amanda endeavored to appear pleased, but to converse she found almost impossible, her thoughts were so engrossed by an absent object. Happily her ladyship was so very loquacious herself, as at all times to require a listener more than a speaker. She was, therefore, well satisfied with the taciturnity of her fair companion. Amanda tried to derive some comfort from the hope that her ladyship would depart early in the evening, to which she flattered herself she would be induced by the idea of a comfortable whist party at home. But six o’clock struck, and she manifested no inclination to move. Amanda was in agony. Her cheek was flushed with agitation. She rose and walked to the window, to conceal her emotion, whilst her father and Lady Greystock were conversing. The former at last said, he had some letters to write, and begged her ladyship to excuse his absence for a few minutes. This she most graciously promised to do, and pulling out her knitting, requested Amanda to read to her till tea-time. Amanda took up a book, but was so confused, she scarcely knew what, or how she read.
“Softly, softly, my dear child,” at last exclaimed her ladyship, whose attention could by no means keep pace with the rapid manner in which she read. “I protest you post on with as much expedition as my Lady Blerner’s poneys on the circular.” Amanda blushed, and began to read slowly; but when the clock struck seven her feelings could be no longer repressed. "Good Heaven!” cried she, letting the book drop from her hand, and starting from her chair, “this is too much.” “Bless me! my dear!” said Lady Greystock, staring at her, “what is the matter?” “Only a slight headache, madam,” answered Amanda, continuing to walk about the room.
Her busy fancy represented Lord Mortimer, now impatiently waiting for her—thinking in every sound which echoed among the desolate ruins of St. Catherine’s he heard her footsteps; his soul melting with tenderness at the idea of a perfect reconciliation, which an unsatisfied doubt only retarded. What would he infer from her not keeping an appointment so ardently desired, so solemnly promised, but that she was unable to remove that doubt to his satisfaction. Perhaps he would not credit the reason she could assign for breaking her engagement. Perhaps piqued at her doing so, he would not afford her an opportunity of accounting for it, or the apparent mystery of her late conduct. To retain his doubts would be to lose his tenderness, and, at last, perhaps, expel her from his heart. She thought of sending Ellen to acquaint him with the occasion of her detention at home; but this idea existed but for a moment. An appointment she concealed from her father she could not bear to divulge to any other person; it would be a breach of duty and delicacy, she thought. “No,” said she to herself, “I will not, from the thoughtlessness and impetuosity which lead so many of my sex astray, overstep the bounds of propriety, and to reinstate myself in the esteem of one person lose that of others; and, above all, that of my own heart. If Lord Mortimer refuses to hear my justification, he will act neither agreeably to candor or justice, and pride must aid in repelling my regret.” “You look strangely, indeed, my dear,” said Lady Greystock, who was attentively watching her, whilst those ideas were rising in her mind. Amanda recollected the remarks which might be made on her behavior; and apologizing for the manner in which she had acted, took her seat with some degree of composure. Fitzalan soon after entered the room, and tea was made; when over, Lady Greystock declared they were a snug party for three-handed whist. Amanda would gladly have excused herself from being of the party, but politeness made her conceal her reluctance; but extreme dejection was noticed both by Fitzalan and her ladyship. The latter imputed it to regret, at not being permitted by her father to accept an invitation she had received for a ball the ensuing evening.
“Don’t fret about it, my dear creature,” said she, laying down her cards, to administer the consolation she supposed Amanda required; “’tis not by frequenting balls and public places a girl always stands the best chance of being provided for; I, for my part, have been married three times, yet never made a conquest of any one of my husbands in a public place. No, it was the privacy of my life partly obtained for me so many proofs of good fortune.” Fitzalan and Amanda laughed. “I shall never be dissatisfied with staying at home,” said the latter, “though without either expecting or desiring to have my retirement recompensed as your ladyship’s was.” “One prize will satisfy you then,” said Fitzalan. “Ah!” cried Lady Greystock, “it is Lady Euphrasia Sutherland will obtain the capital one. I don’t know where such another young man as Lord Mortimer is to be found.” “Then your ladyship supposes,” said Fitzalan, “there is some truth in the reports circulated, relative to him and Lady Euphrasia.” “I assure you there is,” said she; “and I think the connection will be a very eligible one. Their births, their fortunes, are equal.” But ah, thought Amanda, how unlike their dispositions. “I dare say,” proceeded her ladyship, “Lady Euphrasia will have changed her title before this time next year.”
Fitzalan glanced at Amanda: her face was deadly pale, and she put him and Lady Greystock out in the game by the errors she committed. At last the carriage from Grangeville arrived, and broke up a party Amanda could not much longer have supported. Her father perceived the painful efforts she made to conceal her distress. He pitied her from his soul, and, pretending to think she was only indisposed, entreated her to retire to her chamber. Amanda gladly complied with this entreaty, and began to meditate on what Lady Greystock had said. Was there not a probability of its being true? Might not the indifference Lord Mortimer had manifested on his first arrival in the neighborhood have really originated from a change of affections? Might not the tenderness he displayed in the morning have been concerted with the hope of its inducing her to gratify his curiosity, by relating the reason of her journey from Wales, or please his vanity by tempting her to give some proof of attachment? But she soon receded from this idea. Lady Greystock was not infallible in her judgment. Reports of approaching nuptials, Amanda knew, had often been raised without any foundation for them. The present report, relative to Lord Mortimer and Lady Euphrasia, might be one of that nature. She could not believe him so egregiously vain, or so deliberately base, as to counterfeit tenderness merely for the purpose of having his curiosity or vanity gratified. She felt, however, truly unhappy, and could derive no consolation but from the hope that her suspense, at least, would soon be terminated.
She passed a restless night; nor was her morning more composed. She could not settle to any of her usual avocations. Every step she heard, she started in expectation of instantly seeing Lord Mortimer; but he did not appear. After dinner she walked out alone, and took the road to St. Catherine’s. When she reached the ruins, she felt fatigued, and sat down upon a flag in the chapel to rest herself. “Here,” said she, pensively leaning her head upon her hand, “Mortimer waited for me; perhaps with tender impatience. Here, too, he perhaps accused me of neglect or deceit.” She heard a rustling behind her, and turning, perceived Sister Mary.