Ah! what was then Llewelyn's pain?

For then the truth was clear, His gallant hound the wolf had slain, To save Llewelyn's heir.

Vain, vain, was all Llewelyn's woe: "Best of thy kind, adieu!

The frantic blow which laid the low, This heart shall ever rue."

They next visited Pont Abergla.s.s-lyn, the wild and sublime scenery of which inspired them with awe. Its high grotesque rocks, surrounding like an amphitheatre the romantic bridge (consisting of a single arch thrown from one rough precipice to another), to which they approached by a road winding along a narrow stony valley, where the rocks on each side scarcely leave room for the road; and the dark impetuous stream, which rolls at the side of it, filled them with astonishment at the grandeur of the scene.

They visited also the little romantic village of Llanberis, with its beautiful vallies and lakes, surrounded by bold and prominent rocks, ascending almost abruptly from the edge of the water, and returned in the evening to Llanwyllan, delighted with an excursion which had afforded them so many beautiful views, and yet delightedly contrasting their own native village, with the dirty hovels, and miserable accommodations they had met with in their progress; for the exertions of Ross and his wife, who were both English, and had in the early part of their lives resided wholly in England, had introduced a degree of neatness and comfort both in the houses and apparel of their parishioners, which gave Llanwyllan the appearance of a comfortable English village, and rendered it totally distinct from those near it; where, as is often the case in Wales, extreme poverty, and its too frequent concomitants, a total carelessness of comfort abound.

They also visited Carnarvon, which the girls found much altered since they had seen it some years before, and were quite surprized at the carriages, and smartly drest people in the streets. Of course they went to the Castle, and saw the chamber where, it is said, the weak and unfortunate Edward II. was born; though that fact, from the meanness of its appearance, and inconvenient situation, appears extremeful doubtful, if not improbable. In short, they seemed in a new world, so very different were the scenes around them from those to which they were accustomed.

"Ah, Ellen!" said Joanna, "all this will soon be as nothing to you: you will see so many fine houses and great cities, you will wonder how you could ever fancy Carnarvon a large place: and I shall remain in our little quiet village, which, when you are gone, I shall think stupid, and never go beyond it!"--"Do not think so," replied Ellen: "I hope, if indeed I do leave Llanwyllan (for I consider nothing settled till Mr.

Montague's letter arrives), I hope it will not be long before I shall have you with me--it will be one of my first wishes as soon as I find myself at all accustomed to the change In my situation." Joanna seemed much delighted with this promise; they slept that night at Carnarvon, and returned the next day to Llanwyllan.

In the course of these journies much conversation took place between Mordaunt and Ellen; but he with great generosity forbore as much as possible from all particular topics, as he wished to leave her as much unfettered as was now in his power till the arrival of Montague's letter; for though he had no doubt of what the contents would be, yet till he had obtained Powis's free consent, he could not exactly consider her as his affianced bride; but for conversation they were never at a loss--literary subjects furnished them with an inexhaustible fund of delight; for Mordaunt's mind and memory were so well stored with poetical and cla.s.sical treasures, he scarcely needed books of reference; the beautiful views which they also obtained of the heavenly bodies, in their mountainous excursions, inspired Ellen with a desire to know something of astronomy, and Mordaunt was thoroughly capable of being her instructor. In this Ross a.s.sisted him; and two hours in the latter part of the evening were sweetly past in this delightful study. Mordaunt was also, though not a finished artist, yet very capable of taking sketches from the surrounding country; and already Ellen began to use her pencil also in slight attempts, which he both encouraged and directed--so happy indeed was the life they now led, that the slight restraint thrown upon their feelings seemed rather to give a zest to their meetings than to destroy their pleasure: gladly, most gladly, would both have relinquished all change of station, and remained for the rest of their lives in the peaceful shades of Llanwyllan.

----What was the world to them?

Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all?

Who, in each other, saw whatever fair, High fancy forms, or lavish hearts can wish: Something than beauty dearer, should they look; Or on the mind, or mind illumined face, Truth, goodness, honour, harmony, and love, The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven.

CHAP. X.

Now go with me, and with this holy man, Into the chantry by; there, before him, And underneath that consecrated roof, Plight me the full a.s.surance of your faith.

TWELFTH NIGHT.

At length, for in this remote village letters were not speedily exchanged, the answer from Doctor Montague arrived: it contained the following lines.

Sir,

I receive Mr. Mordaunt's reference to me as a favour, and hasten to reply to your's of the 5th inst. by saying that I have had the happiness of knowing that gentleman from his youth, and am entirely convinced of his being a man of the most perfectly honourable and excellent character. As you have been obliging enough to account for this application, I can only add that your daughter will in my opinion have reason to esteem herself the most fortunate of women in becoming his wife. Mr.

Mordaunt's fortune is sufficiently ample to enable him to live with perfect ease and comfort.

I am, Sir, With great respect, Your's, obediently, GEORGE MONTAGUE.

St. Aubyn Castle, Sep. 18th, 18--.

Nothing could be more satisfactory than this honourable testimony to the good qualities of Mr. Mordaunt; and Powis began to feel half ashamed of having doubted for an instant the honour of a man so highly estimated: he hastened with the letter in his hand to Ellen, who, with Joanna for her inmate, was now at home, and exclaiming, "There, child, read that,"

gave her the letter: the emotions of his affectionate heart, bursting out from time to time while she was reading it, in words p.r.o.nounced at intervals, and with some difficulty, such as, "Well!--so I must lose her--the pride of my life! but she will be happy I hope, dear soul! This seems to be a man of some consequence: why, she will be quite a lady; not above her old friends, though, I hope, Joanna!"

When Ellen had finished the letter, she rose, and throwing herself into her father's arms, wept with mingled emotions of sorrow and gladness; for sincerely as she rejoiced in such a character of her beloved Mordaunt, she greatly regretted the certainty that if she married him, she must immediately leave her father. Powis's heart was melted by the same consideration, and the tears running down his rough face fell on Ellen's bosom: at last she articulated, "Oh, my dear father, I cannot leave you!" Powis, half sobbing half smiling, said, "Why indeed, my child, I know not how to bear the thoughts of parting from you, but if not _now_, I must some time or other; and I will not prepare a pain for my death-bed so terrible as that would be which should tell me I had preferred my own selfish happiness to thine." At this tender, this affecting thought, the tears of Ellen redoubled, and Joanna's accompanied them. Just then Mordaunt, who had seen the boy who brought letters to Llanwyllan, pa.s.s towards the farm, came in impatient to know if Montague's answer had arrived: he was surprized and almost alarmed at the scene before him. Powis lifted up his head, and rubbing his eyes, said, "I am ashamed of myself to be such a child!--here, Mr. Mordaunt, is your friend's letter, and here, if you will accept of her, is your wife." He disengaged himself from Ellen's clasping arms, and gently placed her in those which Mordaunt eagerly extended to receive her.

All was now soon settled; for Powis, though an unlearned was not an unwise man; and seeing the necessity of Mordaunt's return to his own abode before the season changed, he would not suffer any selfish considerations of his own comfort to divide the lovers during a dreary winter, which would now quickly overtake them. He left every thing respecting money matters to Mr. Ross. Mordaunt gave that gentleman a bond, expressed in such terms as fully convinced him Ellen's pecuniary concerns would be amply considered; and generously refused to accept of any money with his bride, gaily telling Powis, that now he was robbed of his daughter, he hoped he would look out for a wife himself, and retain Ellen's intended portion to encrease his future means of ease and comfort; or, that if he really did not know what to do with the money, he should give it to Joanna when she married. "Well," said Powis, "you are either very rich or very proud, Mr. Mordaunt." "I shall be both when Ellen is my wife," answered Mordaunt.

Mordaunt requested that Ellen would furnish herself with no more cloaths on the occasion than were absolutely necessary, till they should reach Bristol: "Where," he said, "I hope, my dear girl, to find some fashionable mantua-maker, who will at least give you a more modern wardrobe than you could meet with here." "You are determined, I see,"

said Ellen, "that I shall be obliged to no one but yourself." "For Heaven's sake, Ellen!" replied Mordaunt, hastily, "do not talk of such a paltry concern as a few cloaths, as an obligation: how shall I ever repay those I owe to your confidence and kindness?"

Few were the preparations requisite for the marriage of Mordaunt and Ellen. He with some difficulty procured a chaise from Carnarvon on the morning of their marriage, for the roads between that place and Llanwyllan were in some parts almost impa.s.sable for a carriage, and had not the autumn been uncommonly fine and dry, would have been entirely so. On the third of October, at a very early hour, the little party met at Powis's house, and from thence proceeded to the village church, where, from her father's hand, Mordaunt received his lovely bride. Mr.

Ross performed the ceremony, and at the end of it added an extempore and most eloquent prayer for the happiness of friends so dear to him, with a fervency of devotion that drew tears into every eye. When all the party had quitted the vestry, after having registered the marriage of Constantine Frederick Mordaunt and Ellen Powis, Ross and Mordaunt stepped back an instant, as if something had been forgotten: as they returned, Ellen heard Ross say, "I rely implicitly upon it, and let me beg it may be done as soon as possible." "Depend upon my sacred honour,"

answered Mordaunt, impressively: "or, if you wish it, on my most solemn oath." "It needs not that," said Ross; "I am satisfied." "Then so am I,"

thought Ellen, "for strange as such frequent mysteries appear, Ross, I am sure, would never partake of one, which was not perfectly innocent."

Let us not attempt to describe the parting of Powis and his daughter, which took place an hour after the marriage ceremony was concluded.

Mordaunt repeated his a.s.surances of returning, if possible, to Llanwyllan the following summer; then almost by force severing Ellen from her father, he placed her in the chaise, and, following hastily, bowed his farewell. The motion of the carriage, to which she was wholly unused, roused Ellen from the half-fainting into which she had fallen, and the tender soothings of Mordaunt at length revived and composed her.

As they pa.s.sed on, the varied face of the country, the beautiful and extensive scenery through which they journied, awakened all the soft enthusiasm of her youthful mind, which, shaking off the dejection caused by parting from her first connections, roused itself to the perception of the happy prospects the future might present.

"And thou, oh! Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure?

Still it whispered promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail."

After several days travelling, stopping occasionally to rest, and to view such remarkable objects as they thought worthy of observation, they arrived at the Pa.s.sage, and, crossing it, soon after entered the city of Bristol. To paint Ellen's surprise at all the wonders of the new world which surrounded her would be impossible; so strange indeed did every thing appear to her, that scarcely the influence which Mordaunt possessed over her mind could prevent her from exclamations of astonishment, which, to those around, would have betrayed the perfect seclusion in which she had hitherto lived. After shewing her all that was worth notice in Bristol and its interesting environs, Mordaunt took his fair bride to Bath, with the elegance of which she was particularly delighted. The streets, the shops, were a constant source of amus.e.m.e.nt to one so new to every thing; here, however, they remained but three days, during which Mordaunt procured for Ellen such a variety of dresses as appeared to her quite extraordinary; and she began to think her husband was either very rich or very extravagant, though in truth all he purchased would hardly satisfy the "indispensable necessities" of most _young ladies_, of no pretensions really higher than those of Ellen Powis had been; and were far from appearing to Mordaunt more than barely sufficient for her present occasions. An elegant new riding habit and hat were amongst them; and Ellen's delicate figure appeared to such advantage in that dress, that no one could have supposed her so lately removed from so remote a situation: her natural gracefulness prevented her appearing in the slightest degree awkward; and her new dress gave her an air of fashion, with which Mordaunt was delighted.

From Bath they went to London, where Mordaunt engaged very handsome lodgings, though not in the most fashionable part of the town, yet in a handsome street, for a fortnight, where they rested after the fatigues of so long a journey. Mordaunt told his wife he wished not to take her to any of the public amus.e.m.e.nts till the next spring, when he hoped to revisit London with her, and when some ladies of his acquaintance would be there also, and would accompany her. Ellen, who desired no greater pleasure than his society, was well contented with this arrangement: during their stay in London, therefore, they seldom went out; but Mordaunt trusted her two or three times under the care of the person at whose house they lodged, (who was a very respectable woman) to go to different shops, furnishing her liberally with money, and insisting on her providing a very complete and elegant wardrobe. Several times Ellen wished to check his liberality, a.s.suring him she had already as much of every thing as she wished for; but he replied she was no judge of what she would want when she went into the country, and that she must oblige him by buying every thing in abundance, and of the best and most fashionable materials; nor did he ever go from home without bringing back with him some elegant trinket or set of ornaments for her; so that little as she was a judge of the value of money, she was surprized and somewhat uneasy to see Mordaunt so profuse of his, for in addition to the large expences he would incur in her dress, he had requested Mrs.

Birtley (the person at whose house they lodged) to hire a young woman to wait upon his wife; and Ellen really thought her new servant so much more like a lady than till very lately she had thought herself, that she hardly knew how to give her any orders. Mordaunt had also hired a job chariot and horses for the time they staid in town.

Their landlady observing the extreme youth and simplicity of Ellen, contrasted by that air of the world and of fashion so conspicuous in Mordaunt, as well as that though he hardly appeared to endure her being out of his sight, he seldom went abroad with her, and that they seemed to have no friends or connections in London, began to form conjectures not very much to the advantage of her guests; and as she was a woman of good character, though of somewhat a suspicious turn, she was not sorry when they left her apartments.

Mordaunt chose not to take Jane, Ellen's new maid, with them, but left directions for her to travel by the stage to the town which was nearest to his residence in Northamptonshire, where she should be met by a servant, who would conduct her to his house.

For the first day of their journey Mordaunt appeared at times in deep reflection, and as if revolving in his mind a variety of considerations, frequently catching Ellen's hand in his own, he would express the rapture he felt in the certainty of possessing her affection, and that she was securely his; then he would add, "Remember, Ellen, you have promised to take me _for better for worse_: tell me, do you think any change in my situation could impair your love for me?" To these questions she returned such tender and affectionate answers, as seemed for the time to dispel from his mind every uneasy sensation; yet still at intervals his thoughtfulness returned, and began at last to inspire Ellen with a sort of anxiety she could not wholly overcome.

The next day Mordaunt proposed resting a few hours at a pleasant village, which he told her was only about twenty miles from his own house, but that he thought it would be more agreeable to her not to arrive at home till towards the evening: to this she readily consented; it was indeed very agreeable to her, but had it been less so, she knew no will but his.

After breakfast, the landlady of the inn where they had taken that meal, coming in, Mordaunt asked her how far it was from thence to St. Aubyn Castle; she answered about nineteen miles: after asking her some more questions respecting the length of the stages, &c. he inquired if she knew Lord St. Aubyn; she replied she had seen his Lordship once before he went abroad, but she heard he was now soon expected home again; a gentleman who stopped at her house not many days before, told her his Lordship was lately returned from Spain, and was coming very shortly to the Castle. On being asked if she knew who that gentleman was, she said it was the Reverend Doctor Montague, his Lordship's domestic Chaplain.

Mordaunt then asked her if Lord St. Aubyn was much liked in his neighbourhood, and she gave him a very high character for his charity to the poor, and kindness to his servants and dependants.

Ellen here whispered to her husband that she would inquire what sort of a character _one Mr. Mordaunt_, his Lordship's steward, bore. Mordaunt laughed, and said she was very malicious, and only hoped to hear some evil of him. She then repeated her question, looking playfully at him, to which the landlady replied, that she did not know Mr. Mordaunt except by name, but she heard he was a very worthy old gentleman. The idea of Mordaunt's being called an _old gentleman_ diverted Ellen so much, that she burst into a laugh she could not repress, in which Mordaunt joined so heartily, as half offended the good woman, who, supposing she had committed some blunder, left the room immediately.

"Come, my dear Ellen," said Mordaunt, when he had composed his features, "let us take a walk through this pleasant village: it is long since you enjoyed the pure air of the country." "Indeed, my dear _old gentleman_,"

Ellen gaily replied, "I shall be very glad to find myself once more at liberty to walk a little, for I began to feel tired of the restraint of a carriage, which, when we left Llanwyllan, I thought so delightful, I could never be weary of it."

CHAP. XI.

You see me, Lord Ba.s.sanio, where I stand, Such as I am; though for myself alone I would not be ambitious in my wish, To wish myself much better, yet for you I would be trebled twenty times myself, A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times More rich---- ----but the full sum of me Is an unlessoned girl, unschooled, unpractised; Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn; and happier than this, She is not bred so dull but she can learn; Happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit Commits herself to your's to be directed.

MERCHANT OF VENICE.

After strolling through some very pleasant fields, they came to a sequestered spot, where tall trees shaded a little murmuring rivulet, near whose banks a very neat farm-house attracted their attention.

"Ah, this reminds me of dear Llanwyllan!" said Ellen: "how much I should like to sit down here awhile!" "That," answered Mordaunt, "may be easily effected." He then went to the door, where he met a nice looking elderly woman, the farmer's wife, and saying he was thirsty, asked her to spare him a draught of milk or whey, with which she very civilly complied, and requested them to walk in. Ellen, delighted with the sight of the farm-yard and smell of the dairy, readily consented, and at Mordaunt's desire, the good woman said she would give them some cream, bread, &c.