"That promotion, Mr. Ross," he replied, "was sought for you at the request of Lady St. Aubyn, who had not forgotten the friend of her childhood, and in hopes of gratifying your most worthy father, from whom, as well as from your mother and sister, both my wife and myself have experienced much kindness and friendship: I must therefore request you will not renounce it.

"At this moment Lady St. Aubyn is extremely ill, in consequence of the alarming scene to which your mistake and my rashness gave rise: should this illness prove fatal," (and his lips quivered with emotion as he spoke), "never more must you and I meet again! Should she recover, as I hope and trust she will, I am so perfectly satisfied with the explanations I have received, that I shall not be sorry to see your early acquaintance renewed: for the present we part as friends."

Then bowing, he took Sir Edward's arm, and hastened to his carriage, leaving Ross overwhelmed with shame and remorse for the treatment he had given to a man so generous.

On reaching Cavendish Square he found Lady Juliana in the utmost alarm; for missing him when she arose, and hearing at how early an hour he had left the house, she had immediately suspected his errand abroad: she had sent to Sir Edward Leicester's, and learned from the servants that their master and Lord St. Aubyn had gone out together. Still more and more alarmed, Lady Juliana paced from room to room in dreadful agitation, not knowing whither to send or what to do. Soon after eight o'clock, Laura sent a note by Jane to Lady Juliana, saying Lady St. Aubyn was awake, that the delirium had totally subsided, but had left her so extremely weak and low she could hardly speak to be heard, but was anxious to see her and Lord St. Aubyn, whose affectionate inquiries she had heard of with much delight, and was prepared to see him with composure, and without recurring to the past. To trust herself near Ellen, agitated as she was, Lady Juliana knew was impossible; she therefore ordered Jane to say, that having sat up almost the whole night, neither the Earl nor herself was up, but in an hour or two they would be with her; then a.s.suring the girl that the unfortunate misunderstanding of the day before was perfectly explained, she charged her not to drop a hint of it amongst the servants, which Jane readily promised, and faithfully performed.

Soon after this, Doctor B. called, and to him Lady Juliana communicated her fears on St. Aubyn's account: he entreated she would not go near the Countess till her spirits were quieter, and by no means to let any ill tidings reach her, should such arrive: then visiting the sick room, he rejoiced to find his young and lovely patient out of danger, though extremely weak. The excellence of her const.i.tution, a.s.sisted by his skill, had triumphed over the disease, and if no new alarm occurred, he doubted not her perfect recovery: leaving strict and repeated orders that no one should be admitted at all likely to hurry her spirits, he left her, and as he pa.s.sed down the staircase, was rejoiced to see St.

Aubyn enter safe and well. The Earl hastened to him with the most eager inquiries for his patient, and listened to his favourable accounts with thankful joy.

"As to Lady Juliana, my good Lord," said the physician, "she is scarcely in her senses; you have frightened her almost to death: come, let me have the pleasure of leading you to her, and telling her at the same time how much better our fair patient is, after which I would advise you both to take some repose, for your countenance tells me you have not had much rest last night, and I promise you, you must not go to Lady St.

Aubyn with those pale and haggard looks."

The joy of Lady Juliana at seeing St. Aubyn return safe and unhurt was extreme, and was still increased when he owned to her candidly where he had been, and the satisfactory explanation he had received from Ross, which so completely put an end to this untoward affair for ever.

In the afternoon, St. Aubyn, promising to be as composed as possible, was permitted to see Ellen for a few minutes. Both forbore to speak of what had pa.s.sed, for both felt they could not endure to recur to it; but the warmth and unaffected tenderness of his manner a.s.sured her that all suspicion had been effaced from his mind; while the affectionate softness of her's proved to St. Aubyn that his unkindness was forgiven.

In a very few days Ellen was p.r.o.nounced convalescent, though her remaining weakness, and Lady Juliana's precautions, confined her to her dressing-room: there, by slow degrees, she learned from her affectionate Laura all the circ.u.mstances which had led to Charles Ross's mistake, and that of St. Aubyn, nor could she help acknowledging that appearances had been in both instances against her: relieved however by having all her anxieties removed, and by a full though affecting explanation with St. Aubyn, who gave her the tenderest a.s.surances that every jealous disposition was for ever removed from his mind, she now rapidly recovered: but as the weather was now becoming very warm, and she had had no great reason to delight in London, she earnestly requested to be allowed to return to Castle St. Aubyn; and the advice of her medical attendants coinciding with her wishes, the request was easily granted.

Before she left London, however, she, with her Lord, paid another visit to the officer's widow and her interesting family, and so arranged for them as to ensure them a neat residence a little way out of town, and the certain means of comfortable subsistence for the present; for it was her intention, with St. Aubyn's permission, to form a school, and other useful inst.i.tutions, in the neighbourhood of the Castle, in which she hoped to render the widow a service, as well as gratify herself, by placing her at the head of the village seminary. She also visited Mr.

Dorrington again, and spent a delightful hour amongst his treasures; then leaving her P. P. C. for Lady Meredith, and some other slight acquaintances, she joyfully left London on her way to Northamptonshire, accompanied by the Earl (more tenderly attached than ever), Lady Juliana, and Miss Cecil, Sir Edward Leicester promising to pay them a visit very soon.

Delighted indeed was Ellen once more to breathe the pure air of the country; and as they pa.s.sed the little inn where they had stopped on their former journey from town, and caught a distant glimpse of the farm-house where he had told her his real name and rank, she tenderly pressed St. Aubyn's hand, and with a soft tear on her cheek, reminded him of the circ.u.mstance.

"Ah, my Ellen," he said, "much have we both suffered since that interesting moment, but never more, through fault of mine, shall you shed another tear, save such as now glitter in your eyes--tears of tenderness and affection."

CHAP. X.

She feels it--'tis her son! with rapture wild, Bath'd in warm tears, from soft sensations prest.

She clasps him to her cheek, her lip, her breast, And looks with eye unsated on her child.

He knows her, sure!--Sure, answering rapture his, Leave her at least the visionary bliss!

Lo! his clear eye to her's responsive speaks, And lo! his little mouth, that wistful seeks Warm from her lip to suck the sweet o'erflowing kiss.

She hears the silent call--how quickly hears A mother's heart.

SOTHEBY'S OBERON.

Arrived at the Castle, Ellen once more began to breathe; her colour and appet.i.te returned, and she speedily recovered her strength, and thought she had never been so happy: her Lord's renewed, and even encreased affection, Lady Juliana's sincere attachment, and the pleasing society of Laura Cecil, who remained her guest (Sir William being in Scotland with Lord and Lady Delamore), left her scarcely any thing to wish.

This little party received a very agreeable addition about a week after, by the arrival of Sir Edward Leicester, whose continued attentions to Miss Cecil seemed not ill received by her.

Soon after their return to Castle St. Aubyn, letters from Mr. Ross and Joanna arrived, filled with thanks and rejoicings for the promotion of Charles. They said not a word, nor seemed to know any thing of the late transactions; and Lord and Lady St. Aubyn were glad he had not revealed them. It appeared, that through St. Aubyn's interest, he had been made Lieutenant, and honoured with the command of a small frigate, and was gone to cruize in the Mediterranean. At this latter circ.u.mstance Ellen was not sorry; for she could not wish, after what had pa.s.sed, to see Charles Ross again at present. Every thing, therefore, seemed now smooth before her; and though sometimes her thoughts would wander to the former mysterious expressions of St. Aubyn, and recollecting that the time he appointed for their elucidation was arrived, yet as she heard no more of it, and he seemed to have lost those fits of gloom, which even from the commencement of their acquaintance had been obvious in him, she hoped all was pa.s.sed over, and determined by no ill-timed curiosity to revive painful ideas in his mind. But she yet fully knew not St. Aubyn, except when thrown off his guard by any sudden emotion: his command over his spirits and features was wonderful; and no one who saw him composed, cheerful, and even gay, could have suspected what at times pa.s.sed in his mind, nor to what unpleasant scenes he now looked forward. Not even Lady Juliana knew what reason he had to think of the future with apprehension, though with much of what had formerly befallen him she certainly was acquainted.

The families round the Castle paid every polite attention to Lady St.

Aubyn on her return: many, who had been absent when she was there before, now visited her; and though for the present she declined entering into large parties, every one seemed rejoiced to see her once more amongst them. Not the least delighted was Miss Alton, who with unfading charms, and exhaustless professions of regard, came eagerly to greet the charming Countess's return, to rejoice in her perfect recovery, and to a.s.sure her how much she had suffered at hearing she was ill in London.

"And oh! my dear Lady St. Aubyn," said she, "think how shocked I was to hear some rude wretch had annoyed you at the theatre, and that your excellent lord had like to have fought a duel about it. Oh! how thankful I am that these frightful scenes did not more materially injure your valuable health, and that you are returned to us, if possible, more beautiful than ever."

"And who, my dear Miss Alton," said Laura, who alone retained composure enough to answer her (for this familiar recurrence to scenes so painful had greatly disturbed Lady St. Aubyn and Lady Juliana), "who told you all this wonderful story?"

"Oh, it was a cousin of mine, who happened to be coming out of the playhouse just as it happened, and wrote me word of it; and that the gentlemen had exchanged cards: so you see I had pretty good authority."

"Yes," replied Lady Juliana, with her usual asperity, "and no doubt made pretty good use of it. Pray, Ma'am, did you think it necessary to send a man and horse round the neighbourhood with this amusing piece of intelligence; or were you contented with your own personal exertions?"

"Dear Lady Juliana, I am sure I thought no harm; I only just mentioned it----"

"To every one who would hear you, no doubt. If, at least, you had spared us the recital, it would have been quite as delicate, and more consistent with your _tender feelings_ for Lady St. Aubyn."

Poor Miss Alton, quite shocked to find she had given such offence to the old lady, of whom she stood in great awe, vainly attempted to rally her spirits, and soon after took her leave, earnestly wishing Lady Juliana had staid in London; for she foresaw the entre of the Castle would not be so easily granted to her now as it had been when only the kind-hearted Countess presided; and trembling, lest, if she were not more cautious in future, she should not be admitted to see the little stranger when it arrived, and take cake and caudle in Lady St. Aubyn's apartment.

"See," said Lady Juliana, drawing herself up, "see, my dear, the consequence of admitting such low, uneducated people to any degree of intimacy! This gossipping woman would not have ventured to hint at what had pa.s.sed, had you kept her at a proper distance: but the easy impudence of such people in these degenerate times astonishes me. In the days of the Countess of St. Aubyn, my mother, _she_ would scarcely have spoken to such a sort of person as this Miss--what do you call her?" For when Lady Juliana felt proud or indignant, she had a great knack of forgetting any name which had not a t.i.tle tacked to it; though no one remembered more accurately those which had.

"Ah!" thought Ellen, "how with pride so overbearing could I ever have hoped to be myself exempted from this general censure of such sort of persons! How fortunate I may think myself, to have overcome a prejudice of such long standing."

In the society of a few agreeable neighbours, and the ever-pleasing conversation of Laura, the time pa.s.sed serenely till the end of August: yet there were moments when gloom seemed again to steal over the features of St. Aubyn. His foreign letters arrived more frequently, but appeared to give him no satisfaction. With Ellen he studiously avoided all conversation on the subject of his anxiety: for he dreaded, in her present state, the least alarm, and delayed by every means in his power the apparently fast approaching crisis of his fate, till her safety should have been secured.

At length, after some hours of uneasy watching, and the most painful anxiety, Lady Juliana announced to him the birth of a _son_, who, notwithstanding all the alarms his mother had undergone in London, seemed likely as well as herself to do well. Lady Juliana was in raptures at this event, to which she had so long looked forward with impatience. Nothing that money could procure was wanting to decorate either the infant or the chamber where he lay, which, as well as that of the Countess, had been entirely new furnished in the most superb and commodious manner at her expence, Lady Juliana having insisted on paying for every thing prepared, even to the elegant cradle lined with quilted white satin; and not even Lady Meredith had softer cushions than those on which the infant heir reposed.

St. Aubyn, charmed with the lovely little creature, and to see its mother safe, appeared as if he had no wish ungratified, and left no tender attention unpaid which might ensure his Ellen's health and comfort. As she approached towards convalescence, Laura Cecil was her constant and most delightful companion, and well knew how to cheer and adorn the hours which were necessarily given to the quietude of her own apartments. The infant was rather delicate though healthy; but safe in its mother's fostering cares it strengthened every day, without those cares----

Ah! what avails the cradle's damask roof, The eider bolster, or embroidered woof, Oft hears the gilded couch unpitied plains, And many a tear, the ta.s.sel'd cushion stains!

No voice so sweet attunes his cares to rest, So soft no pillow as his mother's breast!

Thus charm'd to sweet repose, when twilight hours Shed their soft influence on celestial bowers, The cherub, Innocence, with smile divine, Shuts his white wings, and sleeps on beauty's shrine.

DARWIN.

Incessantly anxious about the babe, Lady St. Aubyn could not soon permit it to be removed from her apartments, it lay therefore with its nurse in a smaller room within that where Lady St. Aubyn slept.

It was about six weeks after this event, so interesting to all parties, had taken place, and Ellen had for some time been returned to the society of her own family, that one day, just as they had finished dinner, St. Aubyn was told two gentlemen in a chaise and four had just arrived, and requested to speak to him immediately. He changed colour, but conquering his purturbation, desired they might be shewn into his study, and he would go to them. "Who are they?" said Lady Juliana. "I did not know, nephew, you expected any company." "Perhaps," said St.

Aubyn, evading her questions, "they may not remain here an hour, perhaps till to-morrow morning." He hastily left the room, and Ellen was convinced these strangers were the persons at whom St. Aubyn had often hinted as connected with the mystery which hung around him: she trembled, and felt dismayed, but endeavoured to be as composed as possible. In a few minutes after St. Aubyn had left the room, Mr.

Mordaunt was sent for; and as he had been some time an invalid, St.

Aubyn desired a carriage might be dispatched to bring him to the Castle.

Ellen pa.s.sing soon after up stairs to the nursery, crossed him in the hall, followed by his a.s.sistant with a quant.i.ty of papers and parchments: they bowed, and went into the study. "Oh, I know now," said Lady Juliana, who was with her, "who St. Aubyn has with him: it is I suppose Lord De Montfort, and his guardian and tutor, Mr. O'Brien, a Catholic priest, who has the entire management of the young man, and will I suppose now have the entire direction of his estates, which have till now been under the care of my nephew, who was appointed by his father's will the young Earls guardian, as far as related to his English property, till he should be twenty-four, though his Catholic relations have had the care of his person. Rejoiced shall I be when St. Aubyn has finally concluded all his concerns with that family. Heaven knows they have given him trouble enough already! and this young man I know hates him. I don't suppose he will stay an hour after the accounts are settled, indeed he would not have come at all, only Mordaunt having all the affairs in his hands, and being too unwell to go from home, it was I conclude necessary: this I know, if these people stay here to-night, I shall remain in my own room."

Ellen carefully and anxiously attended to all she said, yet this discourse gave her no clue by which to unravel the mysterious speeches of St. Aubyn. After spending an hour in the nursery, both ladies returned to the drawing-room, and sent a servant to know if coffee should be carried into the study, or if Lord St. Aubyn and his guests would join the ladies. Orders were given for tea and coffee in the study; and Lady Juliana could not restrain her curiosity enough to refrain asking who was with Lord St. Aubyn: from the servant she learned that the party consisted of his Lordship, Mr. Mordaunt, his clerk, and two strange gentlemen, one elderly, the other young, and apparently in ill health. This confirmed her surmises, and soon after tea, not wishing to see Lord De Montfort, should he make his appearance, she retired to her own room, leaving Ellen and Laura together, with a strict injunction to the former not to be kept up too late.

Ellen's anxiety made her somewhat silent; and Laura, never very talkative, easily fell into her present humour, so that for some time very little conversation pa.s.sed between them. Laura was netting, and Ellen attempting a drawing; but her hand was unsteady, and her attention divided, therefore finding she should not succeed, she threw down her pencil, and listened in silence to a loud equinoxial wind, which howled around, and shook with "murmur not unlike the dash of ocean on his sounding sh.o.r.es" the ancient trees which grew near the mansion. A chilling sensation insensibly stole upon her, and at length, to break the melancholy silence of the apartment, rather than that she wished to speak, she said, "'Tis a rough night, and cold."

"Yes," said Laura; and they both drew nearer the fire.

"Do you know Lord De Montfort?" asked Ellen.

"I have seen him when a boy," replied Laura, "and think I should know him again, though six or seven years make a great alteration at his age."

"Was he handsome?"