CHAP. XVII.

To her direct thy looks; there fix thy praise, And gaze with wonder there. The life I gave her Oh! she has used it for the n.o.blest ends!

To fill each duty; make her father feel The purest joy, the heart dissolving bliss, To have a grateful child.

Murphy.

The manners of Isabel were peculiarly frank and playful; the consciousness that her life was spent in the discharge of active duty, gave the same energy to her mind, which bodily exertion did to her nervous system. She never acted under the influence of motives which required disguise; the simplicity of her habits, her ignorance of the world, and innocence of intention, gave such an undesigning engaging character to her conversation, that whoever spoke to her, might think themselves addressing one of those pure intelligences, who are incapable of falsehood or disguise. To a mind so modelled, a secret was a dreadful burden, especially when compelled to hide it from one, whom love induced her to treat with peculiar confidence, and who often complained of her reserve, and asked the meaning of those embarra.s.sed looks, that impatience to break from him, and those thousand mysterious contrivances upon petty occasions, which were so new to her character, and might have awakened jealousy in the most unsuspicious heart.

On his being first domesticated in the Beaumont family, Lord Sedley was charmed with that elegance of arrangement, which contrived to make a bare sufficiency of the simplest fare, look like plenty. He had wondered how the little means he knew they possessed, could be so multiplied, even by the most provident frugality, as, like the widow's oil and meal, to supply their own wants, and yet afford a portion to the hungry traveller. Formerly, when he reconsidered at night the behaviour of the family, he used to be able to account for all their actions, and could testify that their time was virtuously and wisely employed, without the least alloy from caprice, indolence, or inconsiderateness. Dr. Beaumont and Constantia went at their appointed hour to visit the villagers; Mrs.

Mellicent sorted her simples, compounded her medicines, and examined her patients; Isabel superintended the domestic management.--Williams was caterer, gardener and serving-man; the relics of yesterday's meal were neatly reserved, garnished with "roots, cut in characters," and the sauce spiced, as if it were for Jove. After dinner, literature, wit, or piety, gave a zest to their conversation, and made the lone ruins of Waverly Hall the scene of a regale, often unknown in palaces. But now every proceeding was deranged and perplexed, no one seemed to enquire into the engagements of the others. Isabel was often absent, and often neglected the duties to which she once used to affix importance.--Williams was employed in some business, which all but himself seemed tacitly to admit was of infinite concern. The provisions clandestinely disappeared, and the family seemed to think it necessary to repair the waste, by eating more sparingly. Instead of wishing to sit up to sing, when every body else was sleepy, Isabel was the first to hint the benefit of early hours, yet in the morning her faded cheeks and sunk eyes indicated that the night had been spent in watching. Nay, what more excited his apprehensions, he discovered that besides the evening devotions, to which he had been long admitted, there was a secret service, which left on all their faces the mark of tears.

Love, terror, pity, anxiety, and doubt, alike prompted Lord Sedley to discover the cause of this marked alteration. He determined to watch Isabel, and the next night saw her leave the house, soon after midnight, and enter an avenue of sycamores at some distance. He immediately followed her; a loud barking of dogs changed every other emotion to lively apprehensions for her safety, but he soon saw her run back, and, on observing him coming to meet her, a.s.sume an untroubled countenance.

"Has this serene night," said she, "made you too a truant with your pillow? I have, of late, been little disposed to sleep, and enjoy a moon-light walk amazingly."--"Do not those dogs annoy you," inquired Sedley, with more of moody displeasure than tenderness; "I should think they would form but a harsh response to your soliloquies." She answered, they did not always discover her, and she ran back when they were troublesome. Sedley asked her if it would not be better to secure herself from danger by the protection of a companion. "If you mean to offer yourself," replied she, "I must say, no. My uncle is constantly dissuading the villagers from attending night-meetings, which, he says, though they may be innocent, yet give occasion for reproach; and we must be careful not to countenance impropriety, by setting an ill example."

"Yet, surely," replied Sedley, "the prudence of these midnight wanderings is not so unquestionable. Were I of a jealous temper, I might imagine some presumptuous rival haunted your avenue, and that I even now detain you from an a.s.signation."

"You will think otherwise," answered she, "when I tell you that I say a prayer when I quit my uncle's house, and a thanksgiving when I return; and you know, if my excursion were indecorous, I durst not so tempt Providence. I ascribe my meeting you to-night to accident, but I will tell you, dearly as I love you, Arthur, if I thought you watched me from suspicion of my conduct, I would never speak to you more."

Sedley was awed by the ingenuous resentment which appeared in her manner. Was it the effrontery of practised perfidy? Impossible! With an air of pious enthusiasm, she raised her eyes to the clear expanse, splendidly illuminated by the full-orbed moon and attendant stars, and clasping her hands in fervour of devotion, besought that Divine Omniscience, who neither slumbered nor slept, that aweful witness of all her actions, so to prosper the most ardent desires of her soul, as she endeavoured to frame them in conformity to his will. "I shall now," said she, "pursue my walk down the avenue. If you suspect me, follow me, witness the innocence of my conduct, and forfeit my love. If you confide in my integrity, return to the house, and never again subject my reputation to the reproach of being seen with you at night in so lonely a scene; but, if you wake at this hour put up a prayer for my preservation."

"The forfeiture of your love, dearest Isabel," said Sedley, "is a penalty I dare not incur; yet remember I have trusted you with all my own secrets."

"I have made an equally frank return," answered she, "I have told you all mine, even that I love you most tenderly, and wish every obstacle could be removed, which threatens to prevent our journeying hand in hand through life; but these walks I must take alone. Here every night I must remain two hours. Ask not if I am a sorceress, consulting an evil spirit, or a papist doing penance for a crime. You distress me, Arthur, by thus lingering and turning back to watch me; I thought your mind superior to jealousy."

"Does not concern for your safety," said he, in an impa.s.sioned tone, "justify my unwillingness to leave you; your family are known to be zealous Loyalists. A troop of horse are now stationed at Preston, and always sending out foraging parties."

Isabel paused for a moment, extremely agitated; then turning round, answered, "The holy angels hover round me; I will trust to their protection, and defy Morgan and the republican myrmidons."

If Sedley for a moment suspected any thing improper in Isabel's mysterious behaviour, his doubts now gave place to that perfect confidence which candour and virtuous simplicity ever impart to congenial minds. But in proportion as he revered the holy fort.i.tude, which evidently supported her in these nocturnal adventures, so were his fears roused by a sense of the danger, with which, as she admitted, they were attended. She had pointed out Morgan as an enemy whom she dreaded.

Sedley recollected the civilities he had received from him, and blamed himself for having been remiss in endeavouring to conciliate a man, who had power over the fortunes of his best beloved. He considered therefore, that it was a duty he owed to Isabel to call on Morgan, and try to discover if he had laid any hostile schemes against the Beaumonts.

Though Morgan affected to be made of the most stern republican materials, a visit from a n.o.bleman, and an ostensible favourite of Cromwell's, was a high gratification. He received his guest with boisterous hospitality, and without any regard to his diminished strength, dragged him over his demesne, and shewed him all its beauties.

It was, he said, a mere dog-hole, when he bought it for a song; his ponds, now well stocked with carp, were originally tan-pits; his garden was a slate-quarry; the phillireas now clipped into well-proportioned dragons, grew just as nature shaped them; and the hall he had neatly plaistered and white-washed was then disfigured with painted saints, and carved tracery. He hinted with a smile, that he had turned the times to a pretty good account, and was grown warm. Royalists were soon alarmed, and bled freely. Besides the per centage, when compounding for their estates, there was generally a little private oiling the hands of committee men. He talked of his stock of wines, liberal table, rich hangings, and the universal plenty of good things which he enjoyed; and strongly urged Lord Sedley, now he was able, to remove from the penurious dwelling which could just serve his turn, while his wounds were healing, and reestablish his health, by residing with his humble servant, Zedekiah Morgan, at Saint's-Rest, till he thought fit to return to his own princely mansion, Castle-Bellingham.

Sedley made a civil reply, intimating that his duty required him to remain where he was, and that as a soldier, he must despise luxuries.

"True," answered Morgan; "trained in the school of our n.o.ble general, you choose to see with your own eyes, what plots the malignants are hatching. There is not a more suspected family than Beaumont's in this neighbourhood." Sedley encouraged this communicativeness, and Morgan proceeded to say, "that since the last defeat, the chief crime the disaffected could commit, was concealing those who had distinguished themselves in the insurrections."

Six b.l.o.o.d.y-minded cavaliers had been lately turned loose upon the peaceable inhabitants. Major General Lambert refused them quarters, when he granted terms to Pontefract garrison[1]; but the horrid creatures had fought their way out and escaped, though he gloried in saying, the county was so well disposed, that three of the knaves, (and among them their scoundrel leader, Morrice) had been retaken--"And terrible dogs, I promise you," said Morgan, "they were, as ever you looked upon; hacked and gashed, and so reduced by famine, from hiding in holes and caves, that they could hardly stand. So we hanged them, without judge or jury, and made them safe. But three are still at large, and I can hardly sleep in my bed for fear of them. I will read you a description of their persons, and the names they pretend to go by. Humphrey Higgins, aged seventy, lean, and would be a tall man, only bent double, has but one eye, and lost the use of his right arm: Memorandum, thought to be the man who shot Colonel Rainsborough at Doncaster.--William d.i.c.kson, aged twenty-four, has been seen begging on crutches, with one leg contracted; and Timothy Jones, who pretends to be mad and paralytic, a most ferocious terrible malignant; curses the G.o.dly covenant, and wishes the Round-heads had but one neck, and he stood over them with a hatchet.

Now, my Lord, if these Beaumonts should, out of hatred and malice to our upright rulers, hide any of these murderous miscreants in the vaults, recesses, or secret-chambers of the old ruins, which they may pretend to live in for the very purpose, I trust your Lordship's penetration will unearth the foxes, so that they may be brought to condign punishment, and I heartily wish our n.o.ble General had as faithful a spy in every delinquent's family in the three nations."

Sedley suppressed his indignation, and a.s.sured Morgan he would not fail to report to government whatever he thought culpable in the conduct of the Beaumonts, who were apparently benevolent and humane; but on Morgan's suggesting that was a mask often a.s.sumed by the blackest malignity, he allowed the truth as a general remark, and took his leave, aware that the best means of preventing the persecution of his friends was to conceal his own sentiments.

In the way back he called on Dame Humphreys, whose attention to him, during his illness, corresponded with her usual artless kindness and true benevolence. He found her in the most dreadful distress; her husband's malady was increased to violent frenzy; she a.s.signed as the cause, his incessantly listening to what she called "long preachments about the Devil;" but he gave a different account. He was sure he had seen Sir William Waverly sitting at the outside of a mausoleum he had built in the park, without his head, and an angel standing by him. He knew it was an angel, for it looked white and shining; and the other must be Sir William, because he had in part pulled down the old church, which his fore-fathers had built, to make a grand burying-place for himself and his family, and though his body was thrown into a hole where he was killed, that was no reason why his spirit might not walk in his own park. The Dame was prevented from making further comments on this narrative by concern for her husband's situation. He lay, she said, roaring and foaming at the mouth, thinking what he had seen was a warning of his own death. The chamber was full of G.o.dly ministers, who would not let her send for a doctor, saying the case was in their way, and that they would dispossess him. But in spite of all they did, he grew worse, and was in such terrible convulsions, that she feared if he did not make away with himself, still he must die.

Sedley sincerely pitied her distress, and, in compliance with her wishes, promised to send the good old Doctor to her to try if he could do any good. A lover sees his mistress in every object. Combining the suspicions of Morgan, the appearance at the mausoleum, and the night-wanderings of Isabel, a sudden apprehension came across Sedley's mind, and determined him to see to what part of the park the sycamore avenue pointed, and he soon found it ended in a coppice, which shaded a ruined church, and a stately sepulchre, inclosed with iron pallisades, that had escaped the general pillage, which, in those times of rapacious sacrilege, spared not the altar of religion nor the silent repositories of the dead.

Sedley examined the modern structure. The gate was closed, and the bolts rusted in the wards. The long withered gra.s.s bore no marks of having been recently trodden; every thing appeared in the state in which it might be supposed to have been left, when the vain-glorious unfortunate projector of this monumental trophy of his own greatness augmented the heaps of dead who were interred without religious rite or distinction of rank, after the fatal battle of Marston-Moor ended the efforts of the Royalists in the north of England. The unoccupied tomb stood as a solemn warning against the fond precautions of low cunning and versatile policy. Sedley now proceeded to the church, which was a complete ruin.

The roof was broken, and the entrances were blocked up with large stones that had fallen from the walls; yet not so totally, but that a slender person might find admittance into the building from the south-porch. As he looked in, he thought fancy might select this as the scene where the Anglican church, prostrate on her own ruins, mourned her departed glory and her present desolation in undisturbed silence, far from the sympathy of her friends, and the insults of her enemies. He called aloud, but the echo of his own voice reverberating through the aisles was his only answer. Though the wintry sun shone with meridian splendor, and cast his slanting rays through the apertures in the roof, so as to allow him to see the falling monuments and mutilated statues which were intended to commemorate the mighty of past ages, there was such an aweful solitude and petrifying horror in the whole scene, that he thought it impossible for Isabel to make nocturnal visits to such a place, believing his own courage would be scarcely equal to the undertaking, when darkness or the pale splendor of the moon added to its profound melancholy. There was, indeed, a slight appearance of a path to the most practicable entrance, but he could not help thinking it was made by some wild animal, which had chosen one of the vaults for its hiding-place.

Still ruminating on Isabel's concealed adventures as he returned, Sedley perceived a handful of sweet bay lying in the gra.s.s, which he recollected seeing her gather the preceding evening, with peculiar attention to the reviving fragrance of the evergreen. Every doubt was now removed. This was the spot which a young and beautiful female visited alone at midnight. No base inclination, no unworthy pa.s.sion which shunned the light, could stimulate such an enterprize. Piety must bestow the inspiration; and that fort.i.tude which results from conscious rect.i.tude must confirm the trembling knees, and guide the cautious steps of the heroical adventurer.

A more honourable and praise-worthy principle than doubt or curiosity now led Sedley to discover what the treasure was which Isabel thus clandestinely visited. On his return, he mentioned to the family the dreadful situation of Humphreys, and described the spectral appearance to which it was imputed, "Absurd and impossible!" exclaimed Isabel, while a deep crimson flushed her face. Mrs. Mellicent turned very pale, and remarked that she did not entirely disbelieve all accounts of visionary notices of the future world. They might act as warnings to sinners, or as a call to an unbeliever. "True," replied Isabel, "but the contradiction of this is evident. Why should a good angel be connected with the apparition of Sir William Waverly? And, far from tending to reform Humphreys, the impression on his mind has produced distraction."

Dr. Beaumont, who had remained silent and meditative during this conversation, now required Isabel to attend him before he went to offer his services to the afflicted farmer.

Sedley embraced the opportunity of their absence to examine more minutely the ruins of Waverly Hall. The thickness of one of the remaining walls struck him as singular; it was an abutment behind the chimney of what had been the banqueting-room, the wainscot of which was left in this place entire. Sedley inspected every pannel, and at last found one which slided, and afforded him an entrance into a small but perfect apartment, lighted from the ceiling, and which had probably served as a secret chamber to conceal the plate and valuables of the family, being so completely concealed by the contrivance of the architecture as not to be discernible on the outside. Was it not strange, that, with so secure and convenient a lodging close at hand, Isabel should chuse to deposit her treasure at such a distance? Had she overlooked this asylum, or avoided the use of it as a lure to deceive the vigilance of Morgan? Sedley proceeded in his search, explored every subterraneous vault and recess; but no signs of recent inhabitation could be found. He returned again to Morgan, commended his zeal for the good cause, but a.s.sured him, that though he had discovered many places proper for concealment, not a ghost of a royalist could any where be found.

"You say well, excellently well, my young Lord," replied Morgan, chuckling at the idea of his own superior sagacity; "yet for all that there is a ghost, aye, and he chuses a proper scene for his pranks, but we will lay him to-morrow morning." He then informed Sedley that Priggins had just been with him to say their neighbour Humphreys was troubled in the spirit, and, in a late wrestling with Satan, had been favoured with a vision, in which he had seen the ghost of Sir William Waverly in torment, complaining that there was a royalist in his grave who would not let him rest. "I believe not a word of the business," said he, "and defy the whole tribe of apparitions; but, as Your Lordship must see, it is my duty to search the burying-place, and the old church immediately."

Sedley suppressed his apprehensions, and coolly answered, he had reconnoitred the outside, and believed he had never seen a more desolate and unfrequented spot. "All the better for such a purpose," answered Morgan; "these b.l.o.o.d.y fugitives would not chuse highways and market-places for their cabals. But I don't like to venture among these terrible fellows without being protected; so I have sent for the Preston horse, and ordered them to bring the blood-hounds; and as Your Lordship has been there, I will thank you to be our guide. But, hark! not a word to the Beaumonts, or the birds will be flown."

Sedley preserved the serenity of his features, promised punctual attendance, and remarked that, to prevent any alarm from suspicion of an intercourse with Morgan, it would be expedient for him to hurry back.

His anxiety to rescue the threatened victim was nearly as lively as the a.s.siduity of Isabel; yet not daring again to request the confidence she had so peremptorily refused, he thought his best plan would be to watch the cemetery; and, pretending to retire indisposed to his chamber, as soon as it was evening he hurried, un.o.bserved, down the avenue, entered the church, and concealed himself behind a pillar, from whence he had a full view of a door partially obstructed with rubbish which, he supposed, opened into the mausoleum.

A little before midnight, he heard the sound of feet; the shade was withdrawn from a dark lanthorn; and he discovered Isabel by its feeble light, as she held it up, and with cautious anxiety seemed to explore the ruins, to be a.s.sured that all was safe before she ventured on her nocturnal employment. She then approached the door, and whispered to the invisible inhabitant of the sepulchre. Sedley heard a bar fall, and saw her remove a portion of the rubbish, enter the dreary abode, and re-close the door. Listening, he heard voices conversing in low murmurs.

Could a lover resist making a further discovery? He determined to open the door sufficiently to steal a view of the object concealed, and afterwards to join Isabel on her return, and apprize her of the necessity of selecting another asylum.

The stolen view was aweful and impressive. The inside of the cemetery was lighted by a lamp that shewed it was furnished with those articles of comfort which rendered it an habitable abode. On a neat pallet lay an aged gentleman, corresponding, in his appearance and infirmities, with one of the fugitives from Pontefract described by Morgan. Isabel had already spread a table, on which were placed the refreshments she had just brought, and a prayer-book. She was at that moment employed in chafing his benumbed limbs, and at the same time looking up at her patient with the tenderest affection, smiling through the tears of anxiety and compa.s.sion; while, as he bent over her, shrinking with acute pain from her light and tender touch, a glow of sublime affection illuminated his pale and furrowed features.

It was at this moment that the wind, rushing down the aisles of the church, forced the door out of Sedley's hand, and revealed him to the father and daughter as a witness of their affecting interview. The reader must have antic.i.p.ated that no motive less potent than filial piety could have stimulated the heroism of Isabel. Surprise extorted from her a loud shriek; and the disabled Evellin s.n.a.t.c.hed a carbine, which stood charged within his reach, and pointed it at the invader of their retreat. Isabel hung upon his arm. "'Tis my preserver! 'Tis my father!" exclaimed she, addressing them alternately. "Oh! Sedley, how durst you disobey me!"

"Young man," said the stern veteran, in a voice which denoted that an unconquered soul still tenanted his decaying body, "instantly tell your motive for this intrusion. My daughter addresses you as a friend, but your name announces a double traitor."

"Then it belies my heart," answered Sedley, "for I come devoted to your service, impatient to a.s.sist in the preservation of persecuted worth.

The generous bravery of the renowned Colonel Evellin must endear him to every soldier, even if he were not the father of that matchless excellence who kneels beside you, and stays your arm from taking the life of one whose purpose is to preserve yours."

"I have seen too much of the world," answered Evellin, "to trust smooth talkers. Sentiments are easily uttered; they are all the fashion; and the butcher now uses them to the lamb he slaughters. I am a disabled soldier of that King whom regicides are now subjecting to the mockery of a public trial; and I am as ready to follow my Prince to the scaffold as I have been to fly to his banner when thousands were false. Hear me yet further. I am one of the proscribed victims who escaped from Pontefract.

The hardships I have endured have deprived me of the use of my limbs; yet I am still dangerous to usurpers. A price is set upon my head; I am hunted from the abodes of man, denied the light of heaven, and, at this rigorous season, compelled to seek the shelter of a tomb, even while alive to anguish and sorrow. Approach, young man; you see my child has disarmed me. I have no other weapon; infirmity chains me to this pallet.

I was born to the possession of a princely inheritance, but it was wrested from me by traitors foul as those who have overthrown the glory of England. I have nothing left but an honest heart, and enmity to traitors. Yes!" continued he, folding Isabel in his arms; "I have this weeping girl, who ought to have been a bright gem sparkling in a royal court, instead of a sickly lamp beaming in a monument."

Sedley wept. "You know," said he, "what side I have espoused; yet a mind so magnanimous must be candid; nor will you confound the errors and prejudices of early education with the turpitude of guilt. I was tutored by one who pa.s.sionately worshipped civil and religious liberty; a man whose heart was generous and sincere as your own, and only mistook the means by which the desired objects were attainable. He now deeply mourns the enormous oppression which has originated from what he deemed perfect theories. Filial duty, joined to the instructions of my preceptor, made me join the Parliamentary army. You are a father. Think what agonies you would feel had your son refused to obey you, and falsified the hopes you had formed of his acting as your a.s.sociate in what you deemed the career of glory."

"Cease, dearest Sedley," cried Isabel, "his weak frame cannot bear these strong emotions." "I have a son," said the agonized Evellin, "and he refused to obey me. He has falsified the hopes I entertained, that he would be the restorer of my house. Sedley, I would exchange sons with thy father. Come nearer, and I will tell thee what will make thee renounce the traitor who gave thee birth. Hast thou ever heard of thy uncle Allan Neville, the man from whom thy father stole his coronet and lands?"

"I have heard," said Sedley, "that he was unfortunate, very criminal, and long since dead."

"Unfortunate indeed," returned the Colonel, "but neither dead nor criminal. I am Allan Neville, a living witness of thy father's crimes, the least of which is usurpation. I accuse him as the foul slanderer of my fame, as the inhuman villain who betrayed my confidence. He knew my woes, my wants, my dependence on his friendship; nay, that I trusted to him only. He smiled, promised, cajoled, and destroyed me. My daughter has told me that thou art warm, ingenuous, sincere, and affectionate.

Such, at thy age, was he that now lies before thee, the victim of thy mother's ambition and thy father's hypocrisy."

Sedley tried to conceal the burning blushes of shame with his hands, while his recollection of past circ.u.mstances confirmed his uncle's accusation. Ambition was the crime of both his parents; hypocrisy the means used by the cautious Lord Bellingham in seeking to compa.s.s those ends which his bolder consort pursued with the effrontery of determined versatility. Sedley remembered his mother a court-beauty, the favourite of the Queen, and the gla.s.s which reflected the smiles and frowns of royalty. He afterwards saw her the idol of the party which opposed government, sung by Waller, flattered by Holland, presiding with all the frivolity and pride of a pretty trifler at the dark divan, while Pym and St. John disclosed their hopes of extending their aggressions to seizing the remaining prerogatives of the alarmed and conceding King. Weak, vain, pa.s.sionate, and unprincipled, with no determined object but her own aggrandizement--no claim to attention but an attractive person and soft courtliness of manner (which polished insincerity often a.s.sumes to disguise a stubborn, wayward, ungoverned temper),--Lady Bellingham supplied by a shew of benevolence her total want of the reality. He had seen her, without even the affectation of compa.s.sion, listen to a detail of the measures which were intended to drag Lord Strafford to the block; and though she boasted of that n.o.bleman as her earliest lover, she made no attempt to procure him the respite for which his afflicted master ineffectually solicited. No storm of public calamity, no sympathizing pity for murdered friends, no sentiment of grat.i.tude for her royal benefactors, ever disturbed the suavity of Lady Bellingham's deportment.

Nothing could interrupt the dead calm of her unfeeling heart but opposition to her will, or the apprehension of danger to her effects or person. In the former case the gentle beauty was loud and pertinacious; in the latter, terrified to the extreme, and clamorous in her complaints; in both, perfectly regardless of the means she employed to promote her purposes, or insure her safety.

Sedley had long discovered a guarded circ.u.mspection in his father's conduct, which, as it exceeded prudence, must be called timidity. His perplexed look and restless manner spoke a soul ill at ease with itself, and more suspicious of persons, and the motives of their actions, than was consistent with fort.i.tude and integrity. From the period of his a.s.suming the t.i.tle of Bellingham, Sedley could date a gradual increase of domestic misery. Even in his childhood he had been obliged to interfere in the disputes of his parents, each complaining to him of the faults of the other, and of their own injuries. The Earl ever spake of the sacrifices he had made to oblige his wife; the Countess, of the t.i.tle, fortune, and importance she had bestowed on her husband. Many circ.u.mstances led him to fear that mutual guilt was the only bond which kept them from separation, as they often hinted in their quarrels that they were equally in each other's power for some punishable offences; and once, in an ungovernable transport of rage, Lady Bellingham bade her trembling Lord "remember her brother." These recollections made it impossible for Sedley to doubt the criminality of his parents, especially as their accuser was Colonel Evellin, whose gallantry and unquestioned honour had extorted alike the terror and admiration of his enemies. And was the admirable Isabel the victim of their crimes, who now, in all the unaffected loveliness of tender duty, wiped the cold dew from the face of her agonized father, beseeching him to consider his weakness, and forbear convulsing his tortured limbs by these mental throes, still a.s.suring him, that if she could preserve his life, her own would be worth valuing?

Impelled by that homage which virtuous emulation ever pays to acknowledged worth, Sedley knelt by the side of Isabel. "Here," said he, "I devote myself to your service, and abjure your enemies, though my heart recoils when I consider who they are. In this sacred, this aweful abode, I drop all t.i.tles but that of your kinsman: now for your dear daughter's sake, listen to the intelligence I come to disclose; you are in the most imminent danger, and prompt measures for your security must be devised. I will never more partic.i.p.ate in the guilt of those who wronged you, or partake of those luxuries which proved irresistible temptations to those who caused your ruin. Suffer me to supply the place of your lost Eustace, and to relieve the pious duties of your daughter.

You shall then know that my immediate progenitors have not corrupted that pure blood which I, with you, derive from one common stock of eminent ancestors, distinguished alike by fidelity to their friends, their country, and their King."

Isabel scarcely waited for the reconciling embrace, which proved that her generous father knew not his own heart when he thought it capable of eternal enmity to the blood of De Vallance. Her transport at seeing the two dearest objects in the world known and esteemed by each other, was allayed by her eager anxiety to know what Sedley meant by imminent danger. He now disclosed what had pa.s.sed between him and Morgan, and the discovery himself had made of another and nearer asylum for the brave fugitive. No time was lost in expediting his removal. Incapable of rising from his pallet, the whole family were employed in conveying him to the secret chamber, and in removing from the mausoleum every vestige of its having been inhabited. Rubbish was piled against the door; and, to prevent the path from being traced, the small stock of cattle the Beaumonts possessed were driven into the burying-ground. The rising sun saw their labours completed an hour before Morgan and his soldiers arrived to execute their inhuman inquisition. The care of Williams had frustrated the sagacity of the blood-hounds by a chemical preparation; and a night of inexpressible alarm and emotion was succeeded by a happy day, in which Isabel had the transport of having her dear father lodged close to her own dwelling, in a more comfortable place of concealment, where she could pay a more minute attention to his wants, and have an a.s.sistant in the task of ministering to his infirmities; that a.s.sistant too the lord of her affections, to whom she was ha longer compelled to wear the air of cold reserve so uncongenial to her ingenuous temper.