A few days after, he received his expected orders to sail for Weymouth, previously to his convoying a fleet of Indiamen to the coast of China.

A sigh swelled his bosom as he pa.s.sed the cliffs of Brighthelmstone, and beheld the spot where he had once resided with his Ellenor, now lost to him, he feared, for ever. Remembrance, with keener powers, recalled her perfections; the sweetness of her manners, her chaste affection; each look, each tender endearment, dwelt on his memory, and was cherished in his heart as all that remained to him of her whom he loved. The idea of Mrs. Howard involuntarily obtruded--

"Weak man!" he softly sighed, "ever to listen to the futile reasonings of resentment! Had I not yielded to thee, Ellenor might honourably have been mine; her arms my haven, her smiles the reward of my toils and anxieties! But now--no welcome ever greets my arrival to my native sh.o.r.e, no offspring bless my return; Ellenor and her son are lost to me; and he who only could have restored them, has resigned his being to the G.o.d who gave it!"

Frederick, with concern, observed the increasing melancholy of his uncle, and his anxiety on that account was considerably augmented by the arrival of Mrs. Howard! That lady, whose hatred to the Captain increased with her years, no sooner gained intelligence of his being at Weymouth, than she hastened there, well knowing her presence was a far greater punishment to him than any the law could have inflicted; and as such, it proved more gratifying to her revenge than any it could afford!

The Captain bore her wayward humour with apparent composure; yet it preyed on his heart, and, by forcing a comparison with the happy period he had pa.s.sed with Ellenor, rendered each moment as secretly unhappy as the rancour of his wife could wish.

From this disagreeable situation he was relieved by a visit from Mr.

Talton, who, on beholding Mrs. Howard, no longer wondered at the measures his friend had formerly pursued.

"Surely, Howard," he cried, "fortune has selected thee from the rest of mankind, as an object on whom to display the worst of her capricious humours. My G.o.d! what a contrast to the gentle Ellenor! I can now, Howard, more sincerely feel for your loss of her, from that I am afraid I shall soon experience myself.

"I informed you, when at Yarmouth, I had left Lady Corbet with the St.

Ledger family, who were soon relieved from their apprehensions on their son's account, by his return from an hymeneal expedition with a young lady, whom they, from a family pique, had objected to his marrying; their joy, however, at his return, obliterated every unfavourable sentiment, and they received the wife of his choice with every demonstration of affection.--Of his friend, Sir Henry, he could not give the least intelligence.

"On my arrival in London, I hastened to St. Ledger's; but I cannot attempt to describe the agonies of Lady Corbet at the intelligence I brought. It appeared, indeed, nearly to shake her reason, and make her regard the relater of her son's death, as the cause of it. She instantly retired to Wales, whither I likewise followed, but could not obtain the favour of an interview. She secluded herself from company, nor admitted the presence of any one but her own servant. Thus she continued nearly a fortnight, when a report was raised, that Sir Henry had been seen in the village; and the next morning I received a message from Corbet Hall, entreating my immediate presence.

"Pale--wild and breathless--the wretched mother, on my entrance, started from her seat--'My Henry, my son!' she exclaimed, wringing her hands, 'Oh, give me back the darling of my widowed heart! It is his mother's bosom only he has wrung with anguish; he never injured thee! Why then say he is dead, why tear him from my sight? Dead!' she repeated, with a scream. 'Oh no; it was but last night he blessed my sight. Even now his accents hang on my ear, as he told me that he lived!'

"Thus she raved--and it was a considerable time before I could soothe her to any degree of composure. When I had in some measure succeeded, I dispatched an attendant to the village, to inquire into the particulars of this strange story, and, if he could possibly discover those who were said to have seen Sir Henry, to bring them to the Hall. He soon returned with an old man, who affirmed he had seen Sir Henry, or his spectre, pa.s.s down the church hill the preceding evening; that although frightened, as Sir Henry was said to be dead, he had retained resolution to follow him till he arrived at the village; but what became of him then, he could not say, as he suddenly lost sight of him.

"This account was delivered with such hesitation, I should have condemned the whole as the effect of intoxication, had not the wretched mother again declared she had seen her son! The repet.i.tion recalled her frenzy, and for some time baffled my endeavours to calm her perturbation, by a.s.surances, if her son in reality lived, he must soon be discovered, in which case I would use every endeavour to restore him to her.

"Lady Corbet has recovered from her derangement, though I do not think she ever will from the shock occasioned by the loss of her son. She is now at Bath for the benefit of the waters: but as my presence appears to recall the fate of Sir Henry more forcibly to her mind, I have determined to absent myself till time shall have mitigated her sorrow. I cannot, however, experience ease in my present state, and must therefore seek it in a change of objects. What say you, Howard, to an excursion for a few weeks? Fortune, perhaps, may grant us intelligence of your Ellenor."

As his presence was not essentially necessary on board, the Captain readily acceded to the proposal, and a few days after they set out for Caermarthen, accompanied by Frederick.

Fortune, however, favoured not their hopes; and, after three weeks spent in fruitless inquiries, they once more directed their course toward Dorsetshire.

CHAPTER V.

Already had they reached a village near Llandaff, where they proposed to pa.s.s the night, when the fineness of the evening tempted them to enjoy the beauties they beheld in an extensive landscape. In pa.s.sing along a bank from which the ancient walls of the church-yard rose, a groan, replete with anguish, a.s.sailed their ears. The heart of Frederick ever felt for the distresses of his fellow-creatures, and, on directing his eye to the spot whence the sound proceeded, a scene presented itself, which awakened every sentiment of pity.

A man, whose maimed condition implied the service he had rendered his country, was bending over a grave recently made; his hat was off, and the sun shed his last beams on a face that showed the wreck of every manly beauty, whilst his hair, gently waving in the evening breeze, shaded, and added a softness to the settled grief impressed on his countenance. A lovely girl lay at his feet, embracing the senseless turf, then raising herself, wrung her hands, and, clasping that of her companion sank on the sod in a state of insensibility!

"Ellen, Ellen, my child!" exclaimed the mourner. Frederick could refrain no longer, but, rushing through the gateway, raised the senseless Ellen in his arms. Life soon returned, when the Captain (who, with Mr. Talton, had followed Frederick) took the hand of the unhappy man; the softened accent of commiseration hung on his lips, but, the mourner murmuring an entreaty to be spared, withdrew his hand from the friendly grasp, and, taking the weeping girl by the arm, slowly directed his steps from the compa.s.sionate intruders.

His sorrow was sacred--the Captain felt it; but Frederick, whose attention was fixed on Ellen, perceiving her scarcely able to support herself, again hastened to her a.s.sistance, and the Captain waving his hand for his servant to attend him, returned with Mr. Talton to the inn.

The scene they had witnessed was too impressive to be erased from their minds; they communicated it to their host, who said--"Ah, your Honour, it was Lieutenant Booyers. Poor gentleman--he is the pity of all who know him, though I knew him when the sun rose not on a happier man: but that time is pa.s.sed."

"And pray, my worthy friend," said the Captain, "to what misfortune does he owe this unhappy change?"

"'Tis a mournful tale, your Honours," answered the compa.s.sionate Jarvis, "never, I believe, did any man experience more sorrow and misfortune than he has."

"If my curiosity be not impertinent," said the Captain, "I would thank you for a few particulars respecting him. I remember a Francis Booyers, who some years since served, at the time I did, on board the Agamemnon; and what I have beheld I acknowledge has interested me. You appear to have known him long."

"From his birth, Sir: and, I believe, there are few circ.u.mstances of his life with which I am unacquainted.

"I was, Sir, in my youth a soldier, and served under the father of the gentleman you this evening beheld: as brave a man as ever fought beneath the British standard, and as well beloved by his whole regiment. During our campaign, I had the good fortune several times to gain his notice, and in the last engagement where I fought, had the happiness to save his life! It was by that, indeed, I was disabled; for I had my knee broken, and received a musket shot in my side; but that I did not regret, for, wounded as I was, there was not a man left of the regiment but envied me an action I shall ever regard as my greatest glory: Aye, your Honours, or who would not have changed situations with me, could he have said, he had been the means of preserving the gallant Colonel Booyers! I was attended with as much tenderness as our hara.s.sed situation would admit of: the Colonel himself visited me, and when I recovered, not only procured me a pension, but took me as an attendant on his person.

"Soon after, we returned to England, where the Colonel involved himself in ruin, by marrying the daughter of a poor clergyman. For his father, Lord Booyers, was no sooner informed of what he had done, than he forbade him his sight, and pa.s.sed from one act of unkindness to another, till at last he disinherited him! The Colonel, at first, sought a reconciliation by means of their common friends; but, finding it of no effect, resigned all thoughts of the fortune he had expected. His lady was too amiable to let him regret the step he had taken, and, in her affection, he found a sufficient recompense for the loss of his father's.

"In the course of five years she made him the father of three lovely children, and, during that time, their happiness never received the least interruption: but our regiment was then again ordered abroad; and leaving his family in this village, under the protection of Sir James and Lady Elvyn, the Colonel bade adieu to Wales, and beneath the walls of Carthagena found a soldier's grave!

"Ah, Sir! five-and-thirty years have not worn away the remembrance of that day. Still fresh in my memory is the moment I saw him borne in the arms of the soldiers from the field. Many times had I faced death, regardless of the carnage which surrounded me--but the sight of my n.o.ble master's corpse made me a coward! The shout of victory, which had been wont to rouse me to an enthusiastic madness of joy, ceased to vibrate on my heart; and, though a soldier, I cursed the ravages of war!

"At such a time, but little ceremony can be used:--a sh.e.l.l was hastily prepared, into which he was laid, and the following evening carried on the shoulders of his men to the grave they had previously prepared. I followed--a real mourner! The half-suppressed groans of my comrades were answered by my own, and each stroke on the drum sank deeper in my heart.

I however marched to the grave: but when I heard the earth rattle on the coffin of him, whom the day before I had beheld in the pride of health; surrounded with honour; whose words the oldest officers listened to with respect, and whose presence could animate and lead his men to the greatest dangers, then bereft of life, and hurried to the dust--to think of his wife--his children!--My heart already swelled with anguish to the utmost, could bear no more--I threw myself in the half-filled grave--in bitter terms lamented his untimely fate, and franticly accused the hand of Providence, that had not shielded him from the stroke of death! In vain my fellow-soldiers endeavoured to recall me to reason, to arouse me to a sense of apprehended danger from the scouts of the enemy: I was insensible to all but the remembrance of my master! At last they tore me from the sacred spot, and hurried me back to the battery, where I was suffered unmolested to indulge in my grief.

"Some days after, the General sent for me; he praised my honest affection, as he termed it, for my deceased master, and would have received me into his own service; but, finding me averse to the proposal, consented to my bearing the intelligence of the Colonel's death to my Lady. The property belonging to my master was therefore entrusted to my care, and I once more returned to Wales; when I found an account of his death had reached his wife by means of the public papers.

She bore her loss with that meek resignation which marked her character, and, being then dest.i.tute of other support than her pension, determined, for the sake of her children, to humble herself before their stern grand-sire, and entreat his pity and protection. But his heart was too obdurate to yield to the orphan's or widow's tears; and that forgiveness he had refused to his own child, he vowed never to extend to hers.

"She then applied to his sons, my late master's brothers, the eldest of whom had a very large fortune, which he inherited from a relation: but they, like the old gentleman, were deaf to her claim of relief or protection; their pride of blood, indeed, would not let them stoop to acknowledge the poor descendants of an obscure country clergyman.

"My Lady returned to Sir James, who, on being informed of her unsuccessful application, said--'It is not more, Mrs. Booyers, than I expected from the well-known character of his Lordship and his sons: but let not this disappointment of your wishes rather than your hopes depress you. In Lady Elvyn, you have a sincere and affectionate friend: your hearts are congenial: stay then with her, and let her attentions and commiseration soothe the sorrows of your widowhood: as for your children--I will supply the place of the father they have lost.'--And truly did Sir James keep his word. My Lady remained at the Hall till her death, which happened about two years after; when she and her little girl both died of the small-pox.

"Till then I had been retained in the family as her servant: but, a few days after the funeral, Sir James sent for me into his study--'I know your worth, Jarvis,' he said, 'and respect the fidelity and attachment you have ever evinced for my unfortunate friend and his wife; and, as I believe you wish still to be near their children, I now offer you the place of butler; in which I doubt not you will acquit yourself as much to my satisfaction, as in your preceding service you did to your late master and his widow.'

"I joyfully accepted the offer, and as butler pa.s.sed the remainder of my servitude.

"As for the sons of his friend, Sir James reared and educated them at his own expense, and indeed ever loved them as though they had been his own: himself had only three daughters, the loveliest girls, I think, that ever I beheld; but, alas! beauty could not secure their happiness!

"About three years after the decease of Mrs. Booyers, Lady Elvyn died: the affection of Sir James, however, scarcely allowed them to be conscious of the loss; his wife, he would say, still existed in her offspring, and for their sake he never would wed another.

"Well, Sir; early in life, Miss Mary and Hannah, the two elder, showed an attachment to the young gentlemen, and Sir James declared their want of an adequate fortune should never be a hindrance to their union with his children. For the eldest he obtained a commission in the army; the youngest had long been at sea; and, as my master's interest was great, the fairest prospect of promotion was before them. An active war then called them abroad; and well I remember the morning they bade Sir James and the young ladies farewell. My master took a hand of each, as they were preparing to step into the carriage which was to convey them away, and, pressing them to his bosom, said--'Farewell, my dear boys; and remember, whether good or ill fortune attend your pursuits in life, here you will ever meet with friends, whose hearts, proudly conscious of your real worth, will prize you for that alone. Your country now demands your services: seek then the acquirement of honour, if not of fortune; and at your return, doubt not my ready a.s.sent to the union you so ardently wish.'

"It was two years after this, before we saw either of the young gentlemen again. At that time Mr. Francis returned from Barbadoes, and Captain Booyers arrived from Ireland, accompanied by a son of Sir Horace Corbet. My old master, who had drooped in their absence, revived at their return, and for six weeks we had nought but feasts and merriment.

About that time Mr. Corbet disclosed a pa.s.sion he entertained for Miss Eliza; and Sir James instantly wrote to Sir Horace, who a few days after likewise arrived. Ah! all then was truly a scene of happiness!--for Sir Horace immediately gave his consent to the match, and preparations were begun for the three marriages. But, alas! Sir, nothing in this me is certain; for, in the midst of our joy, my good old master was seized with an apoplectic fit, and a few hours after expired!

"Sir Horace undertook the care of the funeral, and to settle the affairs of Sir James; but, on searching his papers, no will could be found! The whole of my master's property, therefore, went, with the t.i.tle, to a distant relation; a proud sordid man, who came the day after the funeral, and, without the least feeling or ceremony, told my young ladies to provide themselves another habitation; and Sir Horace, who had pretended the greatest friendship and affection, instantly changed, and peremptorily told his son, he must cease his addresses to Miss Eliza.

This, Mr. Corbet refused, and declared his resolution to espouse her, whatever consequence might ensue: but Sir Horace hurried him away to his seat in Caermarthen; nor was this all, for about a week after, Miss Eliza received a letter, as they supposed, from Mr. Corbet, entreating her to meet him at a place appointed; and my young lady, wholly unsuspicious of treachery, went without attendants (for indeed all the servants but one female had been dismissed)--and from that time, Sir, has never been heard of!"

"Not heard off!" repeated the Captain and Mr. Talton, as with one voice.

"No, your Honours," reiterated the landlord, with a deep sigh--"has never been heard of! My young master and his brother used every means to discover what was become of her; but, though they entertained not the least doubt it was Sir Horace who had trepanned her, yet, as they could not bring any proof, no redress could be obtained.

"My young ladies, being now deprived of fortune, insisted that all thoughts of marriage should be relinquished till the Captain and his brother could acquire a competence more adequate to the expenses of a family; and, finding all endeavours to alter their resolution ineffectual, my young masters at last yielded an unwilling a.s.sent; the Captain returned to his regiment in Ireland, and Mr. Francis set sail for somewhere quite the other side of the globe.

"About a year and a half after his departure, Captain Booyers was promoted to the rank of Major; when Miss Mary yielded to his solicitations, and they were married. But her happiness was of short duration: she died in less than a twelvemonth, in giving birth to a daughter!

"From that time the Major dragged on a wretched existence, till his regiment was ordered abroad, where, like his father, he lost his life in the field; leaving the little orphan Ellen to the protection of his brother and Miss Hannah.

"The Lieutenant went again to sea, in hopes of attaining a higher rank, or ama.s.sing a little fortune; without which, reason forbade his marrying to involve the woman he loved in greater difficulties: and the marriage was still and still deferred, in hopes fortune would prove more favourable; till the ship he served in was put out of commission; and, after having been many times wounded, and lost an arm, he is now returned, with no other support or reward than half-pay! Poor Miss Hannah had been in a decline for a long time; her heart, I know, Sir, was broken: she lived just to see him, and take a last farewell--and that was all!"