"But dear Miss Emmeline, you surely do not believe one word of all the scandalous reports about him?" said the widow, earnestly.

"I do not wish to do so, nor will I, without more convincing proofs,"

replied Emmeline, steadily. "My father, I fear, is deeply prejudiced, and that, in one of his charitable and kindly feelings, would tell against him."

"My master has been imposed on by false tales, my dear young lady; do not let them do so on you," said the good woman, with an eagerness which almost surprised her young companion. "I am quite convinced he has some secret enemy in the parish, I am pretty certain who it is; and I do not despair one day of exposing all his schemes, and proving Mr. Myrvin is as well disposed and excellent a young man as any in the parish. I know who the villain is in this case, and my master shall know it too, one day." Emmeline struggled to subdue the entreaty that was bursting from her lips, but entirely she could not, and seizing the widow's hand, she exclaimed, in a low agitated voice--

"Do so; oh, proclaim the falsehood, the cruelty of these reports, and I--I mean Arthur--Mr. Myrvin will bless you. It is so cruel, in such early youth, to have one's character defamed, and he has only that on which to rest; tell me, promise me you will not forget this determination."

"To the very best of my ability, Miss Emmeline, I promise you," replied Mrs. Langford, more and more confirmed in her suspicions. "But do not excite yourself so much, dear heart. Mr. Maitland said you were to be kept quite quiet, you know, and you have fatigued yourself so much, you are trembling like an aspen."

"My weakness must plead my excuse for my folly, dear nurse," answered Emmeline, striving by a smile to control two or three tears, which, spite of all resistance, would chase one another down her pale cheek.

"Do not mind me, I shall get well very soon. And how long do you think it will be before you succeed in your wish?"

"Not for some time, my dear young lady, at present. I have only my suspicions; I must watch cautiously, ere they can be confirmed. I a.s.sure you, I am as anxious that poor young man's character should be cleared as you can be."

A faint smile for a moment played round Emmeline's lips, as she pressed the good woman's hand, and said she was satisfied. A little while longer she lingered, then rousing herself with a strong effort, she visited, as she had intended, two or three poor cottages, and forced herself to listen to and enter with apparent interest on those subjects most interesting to their inmates. In her solitary walk thence to Moorlands she strenuously combated with herself, lest her thoughts should adhere to their loved object, and lifting up her young enthusiastic soul in fervent faith and love to its Creator, she succeeded at length in obtaining the composure she desired, and in meeting her mother, at Moorlands, with a smile and a.s.sumed playfulness, which did not fail, even at Mrs. Hamilton's gentle reproof for her lengthened absence and over fatigue, to which she attributed the paleness resting on her cheek, and which even the return of Edward and Ellen to Oakwood, and the many little pleasures incidental to a reunion, could not chase away.

Three weeks pa.s.sed quietly on; Oakwood was once more the seat of domestic enjoyment. The Earl and Countess St. Eval spent the week of Christmas with them, which greatly heightened every pleasure, and Mr.

and Mrs. Hamilton, instead of seeking in vain for one dear face in the happy group around them on the eve of Christmas and the New Year, beheld beside their peaceful hearth another son, beneath whose fond and gentle influence the character of Caroline, already chastened, was merging into beautiful maturity, and often as Mrs. Hamilton gazed on that child of care and sorrow, yet of deep unfailing love, she felt, indeed, in her a mother's recompense was already given.

Edward's leave of absence was extended to a longer period than usual.

His ship had been dismantled, and now lay untenanted with the other floating castles of the deep. Her officers and men had been dispersed, and other stations had not yet been a.s.signed to them. Nor did young Fortescue intend joining a ship again as midshipman; his buoyant hopes--the expectations of a busy fancy--told him that perhaps the epaulette of a lieutenant would glitter on his shoulder. On his first return home he had talked continually of his examination and his promotion, but as the time neared for him to accompany his uncle to London for the purpose, his volubility was checked.

Caroline and her husband returned to Castle Terryn, and scarcely four weeks after Myrvin's departure, Emmeline received from the hands of Mrs.

Langford an unexpected and most agitating letter. It was from Arthur; intense mental suffering, in the eyes of her it addressed, breathed through every line; but that subject, that dear yet forbidden subject, their avowed and mutual love, was painfully avoided; it had evidently been a struggle to write thus calmly, impa.s.sionately, and Emmeline blessed him for his care: it merely implored her to use her influence with St. Eval to obtain his interference with his father on his (Arthur's) behalf. Lord Malvern he had heard was seeking for a gentleman to accompany his son Louis as tutor and companion to Germany; there, for the two following years, to improve his education, and enable him to obtain a thorough knowledge of the language and literature of the country. Arthur had applied for the situation, and recognised by the Marquis as the young clergyman he had so often seen at Oakwood, he received him with the utmost cordiality and kindness. On being questioned as to his reasons for resigning his curacy, he frankly owned that so quiet a life was irksome to him, and a desire to travel had occasioned the wish to become tutor to any n.o.bleman or gentleman's son about to do so. He alluded himself to the reports to his prejudice, avowed with sorrow that neglect of parochial duties was indeed a just accusation, but from every other, he solemnly a.s.sured the Marquis, his conscience was free. Not one proof of vice or even irregularity of conduct had been or could be brought against him. He farther informed Emmeline, that not only the Marquis but the Marchioness and the whole family appeared much disposed in his favour, particularly Lord Louis, who declared that if he might not have him for a tutor, he would have no one else, and not go to Germany or to any school at all. The Marquis had promised to give him a decided answer as soon as he had consulted Lord St. Eval on the subject. He knew, Myrvin concluded, that her influence was great with the Earl, and it was for that reason and that alone he had ventured to address her.

Emmeline reflected long and deeply on this letter. Had she listened to the powerful pleadings of her deep affection, she would have shrunk from thus using her influence, however small, to send him from England,--yet could she hesitate? had she indeed forgotten herself to follow that only path of duty she had pointed out to him? Brief indeed were her moments of indecision. She wrote instantly to St. Eval in Arthur's favour, but so guardedly and calmly worded her letter, that no suspicion of any kinder or more interested feeling than that of her peculiarly generous and warm-hearted nature could have been suspected, either by St. Eval or her sister. She excused her boldness in writing thus unadvisedly and secretly, by admitting that she could not bear that an unjust and unfounded prejudice should so cruelly mar the prospects of so young and, she believed, injured a fellow-creature. She was well aware that her father shared this prejudice, and therefore she entreated St. Eval not to mention her share in the transaction.

Lord St. Eval willingly complied with her wishes. She had been, as we know, ever his favourite. He loved her perfect artlessness and playfulness, her very enthusiasm rendered her an object of his regard; besides which, on this point, his opinion coincided with hers. He felt a.s.sured young Myrvin was unhappy--on what account he knew not--but he was convinced he did not deserve the aspersions cast upon him; and, directly after the receipt of Emmeline's earnest letter, he came unexpectedly to the parish, made inquiries, with the a.s.sistance of Mrs.

Langford, and returned to Castle Terryn, perfectly satisfied that it would certainly be no disadvantage to his brother to be placed under the care and companionship of Arthur Myrvin. He lost no time in imparting this opinion to his father; and Emmeline very quickly learned that the whole affair was arranged. Lord Louis was wild with joy that Arthur Myrvin, whom he had liked at Oakwood, was to be his tutor, instead of some prim formidable, dominie, and to this news was superadded the intelligence that, the second week in February, the Rev. Arthur Myrvin and his n.o.ble pupil quitted England for Hanover, where they intended to make some stay.

Emmeline heard, and the words "will he not write me one line in farewell ere he leaves England?" were murmured internally, but were instantly suppressed, for she knew the very wish was a departure from that line of stern control she had laid down for herself and him; and that letter, that dear, that precious letter--precious, for it came from him, though not one word of love was breathed,--ought not that to be destroyed? Had she any right now to cherish it, when the aid she sought had been given, its object gained? Did her parents know she possessed that letter, that it was dear to her, what would be their verdict? And was she not deceiving them in thus retaining, thus cherishing a remembrance of him she had resolved to forget? Emmeline drew forth the precious letter; she gazed on it long, wistfully, as if in parting from it the pang of separation with the beloved writer was recalled. She pressed her lips upon it, and then with stern resolution dropped it into the fire that blazed upon the hearth; and, with cheek pallid and breath withheld, she marked the utter annihilation of the first and last memento she possessed of him she loved.

Mrs. Hamilton's anxiety on Emmeline's account did not decrease. She still remained pale and thin, and her spirits more uneven, and that energy which had formerly been such a marked feature in her character appeared at times entirely to desert her; and Mr. Maitland, discovering that the extreme quiet and regularity of life which he had formerly recommended was not quite so beneficial as he had hoped, changed in a degree his plan, and advised diversity of recreation, and amus.e.m.e.nts of rather more exertion than he had at first permitted. Poor Emmeline struggled to banish thought, that she might repay by cheerfulness the tenderness of her parents and cousins, but she was new to sorrow; her first was indeed a bitter trial, the more so because even from her mother it was as yet concealed. She succeeded for a time in her wishes, so far as to gratify her mother by an appearance of her usual enthusiastic pleasure in the antic.i.p.ation of a grand ball, given by Admiral Lord N----, at Plymouth, which it was expected the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Clarence would honour with their presence. Ellen anxiously hoped her brother would return to Oakwood in time to accompany them. He had pa.s.sed his examination with the best success, but on the advice of Sir Edward Manly, they both lingered in town, in the hope that being on the spot the young officer would not be forgotten in the list of promotions. He might, Edward gaily wrote, chance to return to Oakwood a grade higher than he left it.

CHAPTER IV.

"Ellen, I give you joy!" exclaimed Emmeline, entering the room where her mother and cousin were sitting one afternoon, and speaking with some of her former cheerfulness. "There is a carriage coming down the avenue, and though I cannot quite distinguish it, I have second sight sufficient to fancy it is papa's. Edward declared he would not tell us when he was coming home, and therefore there is nothing at all improbable in the idea, that he will fire a broadside on us, as he calls it, unexpectedly."

"I would willingly stand fire, to see him safe anch.o.r.ed off this coast," replied Ellen, smiling. "Lord N----'s ball will lose half its charms if he be not there."

"What! with all your enthusiastic admiration of her Royal Highness, whom you will have the honour of seeing? For shame, Ellen."

"My enthusiastic admiration; rather yours, my dear Emmeline. Mine is so quiet that it does not deserve the name of enthusiasm," replied Ellen, laughing. "Nor could I have imagined you would have honoured me so far as to give me an attribute in your eyes so precious."

"I am getting old and learning wisdom," answered Emmeline, making an effort to continue her playfulness, "and therefore admire quietness more than formerly."

"And therefore you are sometimes so silent and sad, to atone for the past, my Emmeline," remarked her mother, somewhat sorrowfully.

"Sad, nay, dearest mother, do me not injustice; I cannot be sad, when so many, many blessings are around me," replied the affectionate girl.

"Silent I may be sometimes, but that is only because I do not feel quite so strong perhaps as I once did, and it appears an exertion to rattle on as I used upon trifling subjects."

"I shall not be contented, then, my own Emmeline, till that strength returns, and I hear you delighted, even as of old, with little things again."

"And yet you have sometimes smiled at my romance, and bade me think of self-control, dearest mother. Must I be saucy enough to call you changeable?" answered Emmeline, smiling, as she looked in her mother's face.

Mrs. Hamilton was prevented replying by Ellen's delighted exclamation that it was her uncle's carriage, and Edward was waving a white handkerchief, as if impatient to reach them, an impatience which was speedily satisfied by his arrival, bounding into the room, but suddenly pausing at the door to permit his uncle and another gentleman's entrance, to which latter he respectfully raised his cap, and then sprung forward to clasp the extended hands of his cousin and sister.

"Allow me to congratulate you, madam," said Sir Edward Manly, after returning with easy politeness the courteous greeting of Mrs. Hamilton, "on the promotion of one of the bravest officers and most n.o.ble-minded youths of the British navy, and introduce all here present to Lieutenant Fortescue, of his Majesty's frigate the Royal Neptune, whose unconquered and acknowledged dominion over the seas I have not the very slightest doubt he will be one of the most eager to preserve."

"Nor can I doubt it, Sir Edward," replied Mrs. Hamilton, smiling, as she glanced on the flushing cheek of her gallant nephew, adding, as she held out her hand to him, "G.o.d bless you, my dear boy! I do indeed rejoice in your promotion, for I believe it well deserved."

"You are right, madam, it is well deserved," replied Sir Edward, with an accent so marked on the last sentence that the attention of all was arrested. "Hamilton, I have been silent to you on the subject, for I wished to speak it first before all those who are so deeply interested in this young man's fate. The lad," he added, striking his hand frankly on Edward's shoulder, "the lad whose conscience shrunk from receiving public testimonials of his worth as a sailor, while his private character was stained, while there was that upon it which, if known, he believed would effectually prevent his promotion; who, at the risk of disappointment to his dearest wishes, of disgrace, want of honour, possessed sufficient courage to confess to his captain that his log-book, the first years of his seamanship, told a false tale--the lad, I say, who can so n.o.bly command himself, is well worthy to govern others. He who has known so well the evil of disobedience will be firm in the discipline of his men, while he who is so stern to his own faults will, I doubt not, be charitable to those of others. The sword presented to him for his brave preservation of the crew of the Syren will never be stained by dishonour, while he looks upon it and remembers the past, and even as in those of my own son, shall I henceforward rejoice in using my best endeavours to promote the fortunes of Edward Fortescue."

The return of Edward, the honours he had received, the perfect happiness beaming on his bright face, all caused Ellen to look forward to the ball with greater pleasure than she had ever regarded gaiety of that sort before; and Mrs. Hamilton would sometimes playfully declare that she and Emmeline had for a time exchanged characters, although Edward's never-failing liveliness, his odd tales and joyous laugh, had appeared partly to rouse the latter's usual spirits, and dissipate slightly her mother's anxiety.

The festive night arrived, and antic.i.p.ation itself was not disappointed in the pleasure it bestowed. All the n.o.bility of the country, for miles round, had a.s.sembled in respect to the royal guests who had honoured the distinguished commander with their august presence; and Mrs.

Hamilton's natural feelings of pride were indeed gratified that night, as she glanced on her Caroline, who now appeared in public for the first time since her marriage, attired in simple elegance, yet with a richness appropriate to her rank, attracting every eye, even that of their Royal Highnesses themselves, by the graceful dignity of her tall and commanding figure, by the quiet repose and polished ease which characterised her every movement. If Lord St. Eval looked proud of his young wife, there were few there who would have blamed him. The Lady Florence Lyle was with her brother, enjoying with unfeigned pleasure, as did Ellen, and to all appearance Emmeline, the scene before them.

The brilliant uniforms of the army, and the handsome but less striking ones of the navy, imparted additional gaiety and splendour to the rooms, forming picturesque groups, when contrasting with the chaste and elegant costumes of the fairer s.e.x. But on the fascinating scene we may not linger, nor attempt to describe the happiness which the festivities occasioned the entire party, nor on the gratification of Lieutenant Fortescue, when Sir Edward Manly begged the honour of an introduction for his young friend to his Royal Highness the Duke of Clarence, who, with his amiable consort, the Princess Adelaide, had honoured Lord N----with their august presence. Upon one incident alone we must be permitted to dwell, as affording a great and unexpected pleasure to our friend Ellen.

Edward and Ellen were for some time perfectly unconscious that they were objects of the most earnest, penetrating scrutiny of a lady, leaning on the arm of a young and handsome man in regimentals, near them.

"It must be them; that likeness cannot be that of a stranger," were the words, uttered in an earnest, persuading tone, addressed by the young officer to the lady, who might be his mother, which were the first to attract the attention of the little group, though the speaker appeared quite unconscious he was overheard. "Let me speak to him, and at least ask the question."

"No, no, Walter," the lady replied, in a low tone. "Changed as are our situations now, I could not wish, even if it be them, to intrude upon their remembrance."

An exclamation of suppressed impatience escaped from the lips of the young man, but instantly checking it, he said, respectfully and tenderly--

"Dearest mother, do not say so, if" (the name was lost) "grew up as she was a child, she would be glad to welcome the friend of her father, the companion of her childhood."

"But it cannot be, Walter; that beautiful girl is not like my poor child, though her brother may strangely resemble those we have known."

"Have you not often told me, mother, we never change so much as from childhood into youth? Ellen was always ill, now she may be well, and that makes all the difference in the world. I am much mistaken if those large, mournful eyes can belong to any but"--

He paused abruptly; for convinced that they must be the subject of conversation, and feeling they were listening to language not meant for their ears, Edward and Ellen turned towards the speakers, who to the former appeared perfect strangers, not so to the latter. Feelings, thoughts of her earliest infancy and childhood, came thronging over her as a spell, as she gazed on the lady's countenance, which, by its expression, denoted that sorrow had been her portion; it was changed, much changed from that which it had been; but the rush of memory on Ellen's young soul told her that face had been seen before. A night of horror and subsequent suffering flashed before her eyes, in which that face had beamed in fondness and in soothing kindness over her; that voice had spoken accents of love in times when even a mother's words were harsh and cold.

"Forgive me, sir, but is not your name Fortescue?" inquired the young man, somewhat hesitatingly, yet frankly, as he met Edward's glance.

"You have the advantage of me, sir," he replied, with equal frankness; "such is my name, but yours I cannot guess."

"I beg your pardon, but am I speaking to the son of Colonel Fortescue, who fell in India during a skirmish against the natives, nearly ten years ago?"

"The same, sir."