III.—­A Fatal Experiment

Lost in the maze of happiness that surrounded her, Miss Milner oftentimes asked her heart, “Are not my charms even more invincible than I ever believed them to be?  Dorriforth, the grave, the pious, the anchorite Dorriforth, by their force is animated to all the ardour of the most impassioned lover; while the proud priest, the austere guardian, is humbled, if I but frown, into the veriest slave of love.”  She then asked:  “Why did I not keep him longer in suspense?  He could not have loved me more, I believe, but my power over him might have been greater still.  I am the happiest of women in the affection he has proved to me, but I wonder if it would exist under ill-treatment?  If it would not, he still does not love me as I wish to be loved; if it would, my triumph, my felicity, would be enhanced.”

Thus the dear-bought experiment of being loved in spite of her faults—­a glory proud women ever aspire to—­was, at present, the ambition of Miss Milner.  She, who, as Dorriforth’s ward had ever been gentle, and always obedient, became as a mistress, sometimes haughty, always insolent.  He was surprised, but the novelty pleased him.  Miss Milner, whom he tenderly loved, could put on no change that did not seem to become her.  But at last her attempt to rouse his jealousy by again encouraging Lord Frederick hurt him beyond measure.  In a letter releasing her from her engagement to him, and announcing his immediate departure for a long Continental tour, he begged her for the short time they were to remain together not to insult him with an open preference for another.  By complying with this request she would give him to believe that she thought he had, at least, faithfully discharged some part of his duty.

She was struck to despair.  Pride alone kept her from revealing her anguish, though her death should be the immediate consequence!  But Sandford, who had hitherto been most inimical to her, on the evening before Lord Elmwood’s departure showed at last some kindness by entreating her to breakfast with them the following morning.  There she sat silent, unable to eat, unable to speak, unable to move, until the moment for parting came.  Then, unable to repress her tears as heretofore, as Elmwood took her hand in his, she suffered them to fall in torrents.

“What is all this?” cried Sandford, going up to them in anger.

They neither of them replied, or changed their situation.

“Separate this moment!” cried Sandford.  “Or resolve to be separated only by—­death!  Lord Elmwood, do you love this woman?”

“More than my life!” he replied, with the most heartfelt accents.

He then turned to Miss Milner.

“Can you say the same by him?”

She spread her hands over her eyes, and exclaimed, “Oh, heavens!”

“I believe you can say so,” returned Sandford.  “And in the name of God, and your own happiness, since this is the state of you both, let me put it out of your power to part?”