1^ 3* > <-»/ . ' H^m U: V' '^^^ -.-'•» V I :/^ L.. f^^ *X1 r\ .MVK>irt i r.' \m Njvi/ Bond St, r 'iNI>ON. >v 1 % THE WANDERER; OR, FEMALE DIFFICULTIES. BY THE AUTHOR OF EVELINA; CECILIA; and CAMILLA. IN FIVE VOLUMES, VOL. L LONDON: PRINTED FOR LONGMAN', HUKST, REES, ORME, AND EBOWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW. I814. Vi\CKBLL vf 1 TO DOCTOR BURNEY, r« R. S. AND CORRESPONDENT TO THE INSTITUTE OP FRANCE. * T^HE earliest pride of my heart was to inscribe to my much-loved Father the first public effort of my pen ; though the timid offering, un- obtrusive and anonymous, was long V unpresented ; and, even at last, reach- - > ed its destination throuoh a zeal c^ Cj * To which honour Dr. Burney was elected, by the wholly unsolicited votes of the members des - ^ beaux arts. His daughter brought over his diploma from Paris. ^ VOL.1. a ( vj ) as secret as it was kind, by means which he would never reveal j ^nd With which, till within these last ' - - ■ -< few.,roc^nths^ I have iM4^f\^,}?^jBi? unacquainted. ^.Mfex Yb^^ grateftil , d^ligljt d9,.I cast, now, at the same revered feet where I prp^trated that first^^s^ay, this, my latest attempt ! Your name I did not dare then pronounce ; and myself I believed to be " wrapt up in a mantle of impenetrable obscurity */' Little did I f9resee the indulgence that would bring me forward ! and that my dear fathej; ^^bimself, whom, even Avhile, urged by filial feelings^ and y^t nameless, I invoked f-, I thought would be foremost to aid, nay, charge me ito ^hun the public eye ; that He, * Preface to Evelina, - ^ Inscription of Evelina, ** O AufBo? of my be- .^ i» ( vii ) whom I drea3ed to "see blush at my pi^oducdon, should be the first t6 tell me not to blush at it myself! The KS|>py moment when he spoke t6 me those unexpected words, is erer present, and still gay to my memory. The early part of this immediate tribute has already twice traversed the ocean in manuscript : I had ■fnknri^cf and begun it befo^eWe end kyf the last centurjM but the bitten \\\a^'€x& to be ^deplbW^d affliction with which this new era opened to SiiT family, in depriv^ing' us of the darling of our hearts \^ at the very TOoment— when — after a anevous ^absence, we believed her restored to lis," cast it frorh my thoughts, and Seven from my powers/ for man}^ years. I took with me, neverthe- less, my prepared materials in the year 1802, to France; where, uhi- * Susanna Elizabeth Phillips. a 2 mately, though only ^t gdji iutervals, I sketched the whole work ; which, ii^cthe year 1812, accompanied i^ back to my native land. And, to the honour and liberality .pf both nations, let me mention, that, at the Custom-hQuae on either — alas ! -r^ hostile »hore, upon my given word that the papers, ; .(Contained neither letters, nor political writings; but simply a work pfijnyentipn aii4, o^ servation ; the voluminous manu- script, was ^ufferje4;>tQ,,^ass, w;ithout demur, comment, or the smallest examination. A conduct so generous on one side, so trusting on the otU^f^rin time pf war, even though its object be unimportant, cannot but be read with satisfaction by every friend of humanity, of either rival nation, into whpse hands its narrative may. qhjance to ikJL rii ^ jba^y^ ~ v K « ) Such, therefore, — if any such tliere be, — who expect to find heih materials for pohtical controversy; or fresh food for national animosity; must turn elsewhere their disap- pointed eyes : for here, they will simply meet, what the Authour has thrice sought to present to them already, a composition upon general life, manners, and characters ; with- out any species of personality, either in the form of foreign influence, or of national partiality. I have felt, indeed, no disposition, — I ought rather, perhaps, to say talent, — for venturing upon the stormy sea of politics ; whose waves, for ever either receding or encroaching, with diffi- culty can be steihm*ed, and never can be tmsted. f*Ev^en when I began, — how. un- consciously you, dear Sir, well know, — what I may now, perhaps, a 3 ( X ) venture to style my literary career, nothing can more clearly prove that Jo>turried^ instinctively, from that tempestuous course, than the equal feX'Our with which I, was imme- diately distinguished by those iwo celebrated, immortal authours, ' Dr. Johnson, and the Right Honourable ^Edffitfnd Burke; whose sentiments upon public affairs divided, almost separated tiiem, at that epoch ; yet Who^ then, and to their last hours, fl[ had the piide, the delight, and the tistonishment to find the warmest, as ^well as the most eminent supporters «of my honoured e&sp-ys. Iiajterly, indeed, their political opinions assi- ..milated ; but when ieacn, separately, ^'ihough at the same time, conde- ascended to stand forth the champion fof piy fitst small work; ere ever I had JaaAt^rfeappiness jprbeing presented to either) and ere they knew that 1^ ^ / I bore, my Father ! 3^our honoured name; that small work was nearly the only subject upon which they met without contestation *: — if I except the equally ingenious and in- genuous friend whom they vied with each other to praise, to appreciate, and to love ; and whose name can never vibrate on our ears but to bring emotion to our hearts ; — Sir Joshua Reynolds. If, therefore, then, — when every tie, whether public or mental, was single ; and every wish had one di- rection; I held political topics to be ■ '"■/* So strongly this coincidencG of sentiment was felt by Mr. Burke himself, that, some years after- wards, at an assembly at Lady Galloway's, where each, for a considerable time, had seemed to stim- ulate the other to a flow of partial praise on Evelina and — just then published — Cecilia; Mr. Burke, upon Dr. Johnson's endeavouring to detain me when I rose to depart, by calling out, " Don't go yet, little character-monger!" followed me, gaily, but impressively exclaiming, " Misg Burney; die to- a 4 withodf f^fi^ sphere, or beyond my skill; who shall wonder that now, a^united, alike by choice and b^ duty, to a member of a foreign hatiotij yet adhering, with primeevat enthusiasm, to the countrj^ of my birth, I should leave all discussions^ of national rights, and modes, or acts of ' governmentf^- ' tcj' those wliose wishes have no opposing calk 5^ whose duties are • lindi vided ; ' dnS ' whose opinions are unbiassed by in- dividual bosom feelings ; which, where strongly impelled by depend-^ ant happiness, insidiously, uneorP-^ sciously direct our views, colour our ideas, and entangle oiu* partialit^^ in our interests. ^^ "^^ i^Nevertheless, 16 Woid dissertin^^ upon these topics as matter of spe- culation; irnpir^^ 'tiot'^Kn observance ofiisilence to tbe events which they produce, >&$ niatt^^df 'faetr^^n the * r«a ( xiii ) contrary, tx) attempt to delineate, in whatever form, any picture of actual human life, without reference to the French Revolution, would be as httle possible, as to give an idea of the English government, without re- ference to our own : for, not more unavoidably is the last blended with ttM?^history of ouf nation, than the first, with every intellectual survey of the pregjPfit times. Anxious, however, — inexpressi- bly ! — to steer clear, alike, of all animadversions that, to my adoptive country, may seem ungrateful, or, to the country of my birth unna- tuj^al; I have chosen, with respect to what, in these volumes, has any re- ference to the French Revolution, a period which, completely past, can excite no rival sentiments, nor . awaken any party spirit ; yet of which the stupendous iniquity and a 5 ^- -i ^ ( XIV ) ^Have 'teillrac^s; fliat, handed dowii, ^ev^h bi^t traditidtiaHj, inirbe soifgllt -^yitli curiosity, though reverted to with' liorrour, from' geitei^ation to '^i^eneration. "^'^ '' "• ^^•^'^^.^'^^^' *^^iO(pi Every' •jfriend or' 'huiiianityj'^^JSf what soil ^or Avhat persuasion soever he mav be, miist^Tejbice that those dajs, though still so recent, are over ; truth and justice cmi tipon'me to declare, that, durino; the ten event- fal years, from 1802 to 181^'teit I resided in the capital of France, I was neither startled by any species of investigation, nor distressed through any difB cutties of condtifct. Perhaps unnoticed, — certainly un- annoyed,-^I passed my time either ^f my own small — but precious fite-side ; or in select society ; per- ,fectly ^ stranger to all personal disturbance ; save what sprang from t|ie pamful Reparation that absented my loved family, and native friends ^and country. To hear this fact thus ^pubhciy attested, you, dear biv, will rejoice ; and feiv, I trust, amongst iu . readers, will disdain to feel some Iittfe ^sympathy in your satisfaction. \ ^;^,^ith regard to the very senous . ^ubject treated upon, from time jto ^time, in this work, some, — perhaps ^^^^any, — may ask, Is a Novel the ^ vehicle for such considerations ? such : discussions ? ^ .',, Permit me to answer ; whatever, 1^^^^ illvistrating the characters, man- ners, or opinions of the day, ex- hibits what is noxious or reprehen- ^ sible, should scrupulously be accom- , panied by what is salubrious, or chastening. Not that poison ought jj;p be infused merely to display the virtues of an antidote; but that, ^ a 6 where errour and mischief bask in the^Jbj-qai^ light of day, truth ought ^not to be suffered to shrink titnidly into the shade. Divest, for a moment, the title of .Npyelfrom ji,festi^tionary standard of insignificance, and say ! What is the species of writing that offers fairer opportunities for conveying useful precepts? It is, or it ought to be, a picture of supposed, but natural and probable human existence. It holds, therefore, in its hands our l^est affections; it exercises our ima- ginations ; it points out the path of honour ; and gives to juvenile cre- dulity knowledge of the Avorld, without ruin, or repentance ; and the lessons of experience, without its tears. And is not a Novel, permit me, also, to ask, in common with every other literary work, entitled to re- lO ^( xvii ) ceive its st^ni5f>' al tis^M; 1nt?clire- V-gus, or nugatory, from its execu- tion? not necessarily, and in its changeless state, to be branded as a mere vehicle for frivolous, or seduc- tive amusement? If many may turn aside from all but mere entertain- ment presented under this form, many, also, may, unconscious!}^, be allured by it into reading the sever^- est truths, who would not even open any work of a graver denomination. What is it that gives the univer- sally acknowledged superiority to the epic poem ? Its historic truth ? No ; the three poems, which, during so many centuries, and till Milton arose, stood unrivalled in celebrity, are, with respect to fact, of con- stantly disputed, or, rather, dis- proved authenticity. Nor is it even the sweet witchery of sound ; the ode, the lyric, the elegiac, and -Other species of poetry, have risen , to equal metricar beauty : — J 'Tis the grandeur, yet singleness iof the plan ; the never brokeii, yet , never obvjous adherence to its exe- icntion ; the delineation and support 2 of character ; the invention of in- Jcident ; the contrast of situation ; the grace of diction, and the beauty /ofi hxiagery ; joined to a judicious choice of combinations, and a living irlferest in every partial de- tail, that give to that sovereign spe- cies of the works of fiction, its glorious pre-eminence. Will my dear Father smile at this seeming approximation of the com- positions which stand foremost, with those which are sunk lowest in lite- .: rary estimation ? No ; he will feel that it is not the futile presumption of a comparison that would be pre- posterous ; but a fond desire to sepa- ( ( xix ;) tate, — with a high hand!, -^false- hood, that would deceive i to evil, from fiction, that would attract another way ; — and to rescue from ill opinion the sort of production, call it by what name we may, that his daughter ventures to lay at his feet, through the alluring, but awful tribunal of the public. /lir^He will recollect, also, how often their so mutually honoured Dr. John- sOn has said to her, " Always aim at the eagle!— even though you ex- pect but to reach a sparrow l" The power of prejudice annexed to nomenclature is universal: the same being who, unnamed, passes ''fihno^iced, if preceded by the title of a hero, or a potentate, catches every eye^ and is pursued with ^ ^clamorous praise, or, — its common ^^ireverberator ! — abuse : but in no- thing is the force of denomination ( XX ) more striking than in the term Novel ; a species of writing which, though never mentioned, even by its supporter, but Avith a look that ftai's contempt, is not more rigidly excommunicated, from its appella- tion, in theor}^ than sought and fostered, from its attractions, in practice. So early was I impressed myself with ideas that fastened degrada-r tion to this class of composition,, that at the age of adolescence, I struggled against the propensity which, even in childhood, even from the moment I could hold a pen, had impelled me into its toils ; and on my fifteenth birth-day, I made sOo resolute a conquest over an inclina- tion at which I blushed, and that I had always kept secret, that I committed to the flames whatever, up to that moment, I had com*s. (( xxi ) mitted to paper. And so enormous Affes the pile;'th^"I thoiight it pfli^ dent to consume it in the garden. ^^Yoil, (fear Sir^ knew nothing of its extinction, for you had never known of its existence. Our darhng^ Susanna, to whom alone I had ever ventured to read its contents, alone witnessed the conflagration ; and — \ySell I remember ! — wept, with tender partiality, over the imaginary ashes of* Caroline Evelyn, the mother of Evelina. yThe passion, however, though re- sisted, was not anniliilated : my bureau was cleared ; but my head was not emptied ; and, in defiance of every self-effort, Evelina struggled herself into life. If then, even in the season of youth, I felt ashamed of appearing to be a votary to a species of writing that by you, Sir^ liberal as I knew s ( xxii ) you to be, I thought condemned : since your larse library, of which! was then the principal librarian, contained only one work of that class*; how much deeper must now 1be my blush, — now, when that spring of existence has so long taken ^ts flight, — transfeiTing, I must hope, its genial vigour upon yout grandson -f ! - — if the work which I here present to 3 ou, may not shew% in the observations which it contains upon various characters, ways, or excentricities of human life, that an exteriour the most frivolous may enwrap illustrations of conduct, that the most rigid preceptor need not deem dangerous to entrust to his pupils ; for, if what is inculcated is right, it will not, I trust, be cast aside, merely because so conveyed * Fielding's Amelia. "•*^' t Alexander Charles Lewis d'ArbUijr. ( xxiii ) as not to be received as a task. On the contrary, to make pleasant the path of propriety, is snatching from evil its most alluring mode of as- cendency. And your fortunate daughter, though past the period of chusing to write, or desiring to read, a merely romantic love-tale, or a story of improbable wonders, may still hope to retain, — if she has ever possessed it, — the power of interest- ing the affections, while still awake Jto them herself, through the many much loved agents of sensibility, that still hold in their pristine energy her conjugal, maternal, fraternal, friendly, and, — dearest Sir! — her filial feelings. . Fiction, when animating the de- sign of recommending right, has .always been permitted and culti- vated, not alone by the moral, but by tl)^ pjous, instructor ; not alone ( xxiv ) ta^embellish what is prophane, but to promulgate e^T^n, what is sacred,: from the first sera of tuition, to the present passing moment. Yet I am aware that all which, incidentally, isf treated of in these volumes upon thei most momentous of subjects, mayt HERE, in this favoured island, be deemed not merely superfluous, but,^ if indulgence be not shewn to its in4i tention, impertinent; and here, had* I always remained, the most solemni ^hapter of the wpjk, — I will not an-s ticipate its number, — might never have been traced ; for, since my re- turn to this country, I have beeni forcibly struck in remarking, thatc all sacred themes, far from being^^ either neglected, or derided, are he-tx come almost common topics of com-'i; mpn discourse ; and rather, perhaps, from varying sects, and diversified /i opinions, too familiarly discussed, than defyingly set aside. ( XXV ) hiBnt \v\vd\, I observed iii my long residence abrOadrpr^s^Med' another picture ; and its colours, not, indeed, with cementing harmony,' btH to produce a striking contrast^ have* forcibly, though not, I hope, glaringly tinted my pen. Nevertheless, truth, aiid my own satisfaction^ call upon me to mention, that, in the circle to which, in Paris, liohad the honour, habitually, to belong, piety, generally, in practice as well as in theory, held its just pre-eminence ; though almost every otheA -society, however cultured, brilliant, and unaffectedly good, of which occasionally I heard, or in which, incidentally, I mixed, com- monly considered belief and bigotry as synominous terms. .iThey, however, amongst my adopted friends, for whose esteem I haaa mfet "^S^Hdr6^s,^'i^ill suifer .9t)r. ( xxvi ; my design to plead, I trust, in my jfavour ; even where my essa3^S5 whe- ther for their projection, or their execution, may most sarcastically be criticised. Strange, indeed, must be my in- gratitude, could I voluntarily give offence where, during ten unbroken years, I should, personall}^ have known nothing but felicity, lu\d I quitted a country, or friends, I could have forgotten. For me, however, as for all mankind, con- comitant circumstances took their usual charge of impeding any ex- ception to the general laws of life. And now, dear Sir, in leaving you to the perusal of these volumes, how many apprehensions would be hushed, might I hope that they would revive in 3^our feelings the partial pleasure with which you cherished their predecessors ! ( xxvii ) Will the public be offended, it nere, as in private, I conclude my letter with a prayer for my dearest Father's benediction and preserva- tion ? No ! the public voice, and the voice of his family is one, in re- verencino; his virtues, admirino- his attainments, and ardently desiring that health, peace of mind, and fulness of merited honours, may crowji his length of days, and pro- lontT them to the utmost \erzo of enjoyable mortality ! ;nv v» f. rf f.l.rnv^ RB.d'ArBLAY. March 14. 1814. ' THE WANDERER ■niai^nrw BOOK L CHAPTER L TAURING the dire reign of the ter- rific Robespierre, and in the dead of night, braving the cold, the darkness and the damps of December, some Eng- lish passengers, in a small vessel, were preparing to glide silently from the coast of France, when a voice of keen distress resounded from the shore, im- ploring, in the French language, pity and admission. The pilot quickened his arrange- ments for sailing j the passengers sought VOL. I, B ( 2 ) deeper concealment 5 but no answer %vas returned. " O hear me !" cried the same voice, *' for the love of Heaven, hear me !" The pilot gruffly swore, and, repress- ing a young man who was rising, pe- remptorily ordered every one to keep still, at the hazard of discovery and de- struction. " Oh listen to my prayers!" was called out by the same voice, with increased, and even frightful energy ; " Oh leave nie not to be massacred !" " Who's to pay for your safety r" muttered the pilot. ^' I will!" cried the person whom he had already rebuffed, " I pledge myself for the cost and the consequence!" " Be lured by no tricks ;" said an el- derly man, in English j " put off imme- diately, pilot." The pilot was very ready to obey. The supplications from the land w^ere now sharpened into cries of agony, and the young man, catching the pilot by the 6 ( 3 ) arm, said eagerly, " 'Tis the voice of a woman ! where can be the dancrer ? Take her in, pilot,- at my demand, and my charge 1" " Take her in at your peril, pilot!" rejoined the elderly man. Rage had elevated his voice ; the peti- tioner heard it, and called — screamed, ratlier, for mercy. " Nay, since she is but a woman, and in distress, save her, pilot, in God's name !" said an old sea officer. " A woman, a child, and a fallen enemy, are three persons that every true Briton should scorn to misuse." The sea officer was looked upon as first in command; the young man, there- fore, no longer opposed, separated him- self from a young lady with whom he had been conversing, and, descending from the boat, gave his hand to the suppliant. There was just light enough to shew him a female in the most ordinary attire, who was taking a whispering leave of B 2 ( 4 ) a male companion, yet more meanly equipped. With trembling eagerness, she sprang into the vessel, and sunk rather than sat upon a place that was next to the pilot, ejaculating fervent thanks, first to Hea- ven, and then to her assistant. The pilot nov/, in deep hoarse ac- cents, strictly enjoined that no one should speak or move till they were safely out at sea. All obeyed ; and, with mingled hope and dread, insensible to the v;eather, and dauntless to the hazards of the sea, watchful though mute, and joyful though filled with anxiety, they set sail. In about half an hour, the grumbling of the pilot, who was despotic master of the boat, was changed into loud and vo- ciferous oaths. Alarmed, the passengers concluded that they were chaced. They looked around, — but to no purpose ; the dark- ness impeded examination. They were happily, however, mis- ( 5 ) taken ; the lungs of the pilot had merely recovered their usual play, and his hu- mour its customary vent, from a belief that all pursuit would now be vain. This proved the signal to general li- berty of speech ; and the young lady already mentioned, addressing herself, in a low voice, to the gentleman who had aided the Incognita, said, *' I wonder what sort of a dulcinca you have brought amongst us ! though, I really believe, you are such a complete knight-errant, that you v/ould just as willingly find her a tawny Hottentot as a fair Circassian. She affords us, however, the vivifying food of conjecture, — the only nourishment of which I never sicken ! — I am glad, therefore, that 'tis dark, for discovery is almost always dis- appointment." " She seems to be at prayers." " At prayers ? She's a nun, then, dcr pend upon it. Mak? her tell us the history of her convent." Why what's all this, woman ?" said ^ 3 a ( 6 ) the pilot, in French, " are you afraid oT being drowned ?'* " No!" answered she, in the same language, " I fear nothing now — it is therefore I am thankful !" Retreating, then, from her rude neigh- hour, she gently approached an elderly lady, who was on her other side, but who, shrinking from her, called out, " Mr. Har- leigh, I shall be obliged to you if you will change places with me.'* " Willingly ;" he answered ; but the young lady with whom he had been con- versing, holding his coat, exclaimed, " Now you want to have all* the stories of those monks and abbesses to yourself! I won't let you stir, I am resolved !'' The stranger begged that she might not incommode any one j and drew back. *' You may sit still now, Mr. Har- leigh," said the elderly lady, shaking herself; " I do very well again." Harleigh bit his lip, and, in a low voice, said to his companion, " It is ( 7 ) Strange that the facility of giving pain should not lessen its pleasure ! How far better tempered should we all be to others, if we anticipated the mischief that ill humour does to ourselves 1" " Now are you such a very disciple of Cervantes," she replied, " that I have no doubt but your tattered dulcinea has secured your protection for the whole voyage, merely because old aunt Maple has been a little ill bred to her." '' I don't know but you are right, for nothinn; so uncontrollably excites resist- ance, as grossness to the unoffending," He then^ in French, enquired of the new passenger, whether she would not have some thicker covering, to shelter her from the chill of the night ; offering her, at the same time, a large wrapping coat. She thanked him, but declared that she was perfectly warm. " Are you so, faith ?" cried tlic elderly man already mentioned, " I wish, then, B 4 ( 8 ) you would give me your receipt^ Mistress; for I verily think that my blood will take a month's thawing, before it will run again in my veins.'* She made no answer, and, in a tone somewhat piqued, he added, " I believe in my conscience those out-Ian dish gentry have no more feeling without than they have within !" Encreasing coldness and darkness re- pressed all further spirit of conversation, till the pilot proclaimed that they were half way over the straits. A general exclamation of joy now broke forth from all, while the new comer, suddenly casting something into the sea, ejaculated, in French, " Sink, and be as nothing !" And then, clasping her hands, added, " Heaven be praised, 'tis gone for ever !" The pilot scolded and swore; every one was surprized and curious ; and the elderly man plumply demanded, " Pray what have you thrown overboard. Mistress ?** ( 9 ) Finding himself again unanswered, he rather angrily raised his voice, saying, *' What, I suppose you don't under- stand English now? Though you were pretty quick at it when w^e were leaving you in the lurch ! Faith, that's convenien-t enough !" " For all I have been silent so long," cried the old sea officer, " it has not been for want of something to say; and I ask the favour that you won't any of you take it ill, if I make free to mention what has been passing, all this time, in my mind ; though it may rather have the air of a hint than a compliment ; but as I own to beinf^ as much in fault as vour- selves, I hope you won't be affronted at a little plain dealing." " You are mighty good to us, indeed. Sir !" cried Mrs. Maple, " but pray Avhat fault have you to charge Me w^ith, amongst the rest?" " I speak of us in a body, Madam, and, I hope, with proper shame! To think that we should all get out of that B 5 ( 10 ) loathsome captivity, with so little re- verence, that not one amongst us should have fallen upon his knees, to give thanks, except just this poor outlandish gentlev^oman ; whose good example I recommend it to us all now to follow.'* ^ " What, and so overturn the boat,'* said the elderly man, " that we may all be drowned for joy, because we have escaped being beheaded ?" " I submit to your better judgment, Mr, Ililey," replied the officer, " with regard to the attitude ; and the more readily, because I don't think that the posture is the chief thing, half the people that kneel, even at church, as I have taken frequent note, being oftener in a doze than in a fit of devotion. But the fear of shaking the boat would be but a poor reason to fear shaking our gratitude, which seems to me to want it abundantly. 80 I, for one, give thanks to the Author of all things 1" " You are a fine fellow, noble Admi- ral!" cried Mr. llileyj " as fine a fellow C " ) as ever I knew! and I honour you, faith ! for I don't beheve there is a thing in the world that requires so much courage as to risk derision, even from fools." A young man, wrapped up in flannels, who had been undisguisedly enjoying a little sneering laugh, now became sud- denly grave, and j^retended not to heed what was passing. Mrs. Maple protested that she could not bear the parade of saying her prayers in public. Another elderly lady, who had hi- therto seemed too sick to vspeak, de- clared that she could not think of giving thanks, till she were sure of being out of danger. And the young lady, laughing immo- derately, vowed that she had never seen such a congress of quizzes in her life; adding, " We want nothing, now, but a white foaming billow, or a shrill whistle from Boreas, to bring us all to confes- sion, and surprise out our histories." " Apropos to quizzes," said Mr. Riley, B 6 ..y ( 12 ) addressing the hitherto silent young man, " how comes it, Mr. Ireton, that we have not had one word from you all this time ?" " What do you mean by apropos. Sir ?'' demanded the young man, some- what piqued. " Faith, I don't very well know. I am no very good French dictionary. But I always say apropos, when I am at a loss how to introduce any thing. Let us hear, however, where you have been passing your thoughts all this time. Are you afraid the sea should be im- pregnated with informers, instead of salt, and so won't venture to give breath to an idea, lest it should be floated back to SignoK Robespierre, and hodge- podged into a conspiracy ?" " Ay, your thoughts, your thoughts! give us your thoughts, Ireton !" cried the young lady, ^^ I am tired to death of my own." " Why, I have been reflecting, for thfs last hour or two, what a singular circum- 7 ( 13 ) stance It is, tliat in all the domains that I have scainpered over upon the continent, I have not met with one young person who could hit my fancy as a companion for life." " And I, Sir, think," said the sea officer, turning to him with some se- verity, " that a man who could go out of old Endand'to cl.use himself a wife, never deserves to set foot on it again ! If I knew any worse punishment, I should name it.*' This silenced Mr. Ireton ; and not another word was uttered, till the open- ing of day displayed the British shore. The sea officer then gave a hearty huzza, which was echoed by Harleigh ; while Riley, as the light gleamed upon the old and tattered garments of the stranger, burst into a loud laugh, ex- claiming, " Faith, I should like to know what such a demoiselle as this should come away from her own country for i What could you be afraid oi\ hay ! de- moiselle ?" — •She turned her head from him in ( H ) Silence. Harleigh enquired, in French, whether she had escaped the general contagion, from which almost all in the boat had suffered, of sickness. She cheerfully replied, Yes 1 She had escaped every evil ! " The demoiselle is soon contented,'* said Riley; " but I cannot for my life make out wlio she is, nor what she wants. Why won't you tell us, de- moiselle ? I should like to know your history." " Much obliged for the new fellow traveller you have given us, Mr. Har- leigh!" said Mrs. Maple, contemptuously examining her ; " I have really some curiosity myself, to be informed what could put it into such a body's mind as that, to want to come over to England.'* " The desire of learning tlie language, I hope 1" cried Harleigh, " for I should be sorry that she knew it already!" " I wish, at least, she would tell us,'* said the yoimg lady, " how she hap- pened to find out our vessel just at the moment v/e were sailing.'* ( 15 ) " And I should be glad to discover," cried Riley, " why she understands English on and off at her pleasure, now so ready, and now answering one never a word.'* The old sea officer, touching his hat as he addressed her, said, " For my part. Madam, I hope the compliment you make our country in coming to it, is that of preferring good people to bad ; in which case every Englishman should honour and welcome you." " And I hope," cried Harleigh, while the stran^-er seemed hesitatino- how to answer, " that this patriotic benevolence is comprehended ; if not, I will attempt a translation." " I speak French so indifferently, which, however, I don't much mind," cried the Admiral, " that I am afraid the gentlewoman would hardly under- stand me, or else I would translate for myself." The stranger now, v/ith a strong ex- pression of gratitude, replied in English, ( »6 ) but with a foreign accent, " It is only how to thank you I am at a loss. Sir ; I understand you perfectly.'* " So I could have sworn !" cried Riley, with a laugli, " I could have sworn that this would be the turn for understanding English again ! And you can speak it, too, can you. Mistress ?" " And pray, good woman,'' demanded Mrs. Maple, staring at lier, '^ how came you to learn English ? Have you lived in any English family ? If you have, I should be glad to know their names." " Ay. their names ! their names !" was echoed from Mrs. Maple by her niece. The stranger looked down, and stammered, but said nothing that could distinctly be heard. Riley, laughing again, though pro- voked, exclaimed, ''There! now you ask her a question, she won't com- prehend a word more ! I was sure how 'twould be! They are clever beings, those French, they are, faith ! always playing fools' tricks, like so many nion> ( >7 > kies, yet always lighting right upon their feet, like so many cats !" " You must resign your demoiselle, as Mr. Riley calls her, for a heroine j" whispered the young lady to Mr. Har- leigh. " Her dress is not merely shabby ; 'tis vulgar. I have lost all hope of a pretty nun. Slie can be nothing above a house-maid." " She is interesting by her solitary situation," he answered, " be she what she may by her rank : and her voice, I think, is singularly pleasing." *' Oh, you must fall in love with her, I suppose, as a thing of course. If, however, she has one atom that is native in her, how will she be choaked by our foggy atmosphere !" " And has our atmosphere, EHnor, no purifying particles, that, in defiance of its occasional mists, render it salu- brious ?" " Oh, I don't mean alone the foggy air that she must inhale ; but the fo^i^y souls whom she must see and hear. If ( IS ) she have no political bias, that sets natural feelings aside, she'll go off in a lethargy, from cn?iiu, the very first week. For myself I confess, from my happiness in going forth into the world at this sublime juncture, of turning men into infants, in order to teach them better how to grow up, I feel as if I had never awaked into life, till I had opened my eyes on that side of the channel." " And can you, Elinor, with a mind so powerful, however — pardon me!— wild, have witnessed " " Oh, I know what you mean! — but those excesses are only the first froth of the cauldron. When once 'tis skimmed, you will find the composition clear, sparkling, delicious !" *^ Has, then, the large draught which, in a two years' residence amidst that combustion, you have, perforce, quaffed, of revolutionary beverage, left you, in defiance of its noxious qualities, still t^ius jj ♦ • He hesitated. " Inebriated, you would say, Albertj** ( 19 ) cried she, laughing, " if you blushed not for me at the idea. But, in this one point, your liberality, though matchless in every other, is terribly narrowed by adhesion to old tenets. You enjoy not, therefore, as you ought, this glorious enoch, that lifts our minds from sla- very and from nothingness, into play and vigour ; and leaves us no longer, as heretofore, merely making believe that we are thinkin^r bein2:s.'' " Unbridled liberty, Elinor, cannot rush upon a state, without letting it loose to barbarism. Nothing, without danger, is suddenly unshackled : safety demands control from the baby to the despot." " The opening essays here," she re- plied, " have certainly been calamitous : but, when all minor articles are pro- gressive, in rising to perfection, must the world in a mass alone stand still, because its amelioration would be costly? Can any thing be so absurd, so prepos^ terous, as to seek to improve mankind ( 20 ) individually, yet bid it stand still collec- tively ? What is education, but reversing propensities; making tlie idle industrious, the rude civil, and the ignorant learned ? And do you not, for every student thus turned out of his likings, his vaga- ries, or his vices, to be new modelled, call this alteration improvement ? Why, then, must you brand all similar efforts for new organizing states, nations, and bodies of society, by that word of un- meaning alarm, innovation ?'* " To reverse, Elinor, is not to new model, but to destroy. This education, with which you illustrate your maxims, does it begin w^ith the birth ? Does it not, on the contrary, work its way by the gentlest gradations, one part almost imperceptibly preparing for another, throughout all the stages of childhood to adolescence, and of adolescence to manhood? If you give Homer be- fore the Primer, do you think that you: shall make a man of learning ? If you shew the planetary system to the child ( 21 ) who has not yet trundled his hoop, do you believe that you will form a mathe- matician ? And if you put a rapier into his hands before he has been exercised with foils, — what is your guarantee for the safety of his professor r" Just then the stranger, having taken off' her gloves, to arrange an old shawl, in which she was wrapt, exhibited hands and arms of so dark a colour, that they might rather be styled black than brown. Elinor exultingly drew^ upon them the eyes of Harlefgh, and both taking, at the same instant, a closer view of the little that w^as visible of the muffled up face, perceived it to be of an equally dusky hue. The look of triumph was now^ re- peated. " Pray, Mistress," exclaimed Mr. Riley, scofRngly fixing his eyes upon her arms, " what part of the world might you come from ? The settle- ments in the West Indies? or somewhere off* the coast of Africa ?" ( 22 ) She drew on her gloves, ^vlthout seem- hm to hear him. " There 1" said he, " now the de- moiselle don't understand English again! Faith, I begin to be entertained with her. I did not like it at first." " What say you to your dulcinea now, Harleigli ?" w^hispered EHnor; '<= you will not, at least, yclep her the Fair Maid of the Coast." " She has very fine eyes, how^ever !'* answered he, laughing. Tiie wind just then blowing back the prominent borders of a French night- cap, which had almost concealed all her features, displayed a large black patch, that covered half her left cheek, and a broad black ribbon, which bound a ban- dage of cloth over the right side of her forehead. Before Elinor could utter her rallying congratulations to Harleigh, upon this sight, she was stopt by a loud shout from Mr. Riley ; " Why I am afraid the demoiselle has been in the wars 1" cried ( 23 ) he. " Why, Mistress, have you been trying your skill at fisty cuffs for the good of your nation ? or only playing Avitli kittens for your private diversion ?" '• Now, then, Harleigh," said Elinor, *' what says your quixotism now ? Are you to become enamoured with those plaisters and patches, too ?'' " Why she seems a little mangled, I confess ; but it may be only by scramb- ling from some prison." '' Really, Mr. Harleigli," said Mrs. Maple, scarcely troubling herself to lower her voice as, incessantly, she con- tinued surveying the stranger, " I don't think that we are much indebted to you for bringing us such company as this into our boat ! We did not pay such a price to have it made a mere common hoy. And without the least enquiry into her character, too ! without considering what one must think of a person who could look out for a place, in a chance vessel, at midnight !'* " Let us hope," said Harleigh, per- ( 24 ) ceiving, by the down-cast eyes of the stranger, that she understood what passed, '' that we shall not make her repent her choice of an asyhuii." " Ah ! there Is no fear !" cried she, with quickness. " Your prepossession, then, is, hap- pily, in our favour ?" " Not my prepossession, but my gra- titude 1" " This is true practical philosophy, to let the sum total of good out-balance the detail, which little minds would dwell upon, of evil." " Of evil 1 I think myself at this moment the most fortunate of human beings 1'' This was uttered with a sort of trans- port that she seemed unable to control, and accompanied with a bright smile, that displayed a row of beautifully white and polished teeth. Riley now, again heartily laughing, exclaimed, <' This demoiselle amuses me mightily ! she does, faith ! with hardly a C 25 J rag to cover her this cold winter's nighty and on the point of going to the bottom every moment, in this crazy Httle vessel ; with never a friend to own her body if she's drowned, nor an acquaintance to say a word to before she sinks j not a countryman within leagues, except our surly pilot, who grudges her even life- room, because he's afraid he shan't be the better for her : going to a nation ■where she won't know a dog from a cat, and will be buffetted from pillar to post, if she don't pay for more than she wants ; with all this, she is the most for- tunate of human beings ! Faith, the de- moiselle is soon pleased ! She is, faith ! But why won't you give me your re- ceipt. Mistress, for finding all things so agreeable ?" " You w^ould be sorry, Sir, to take it!" " I fear, then,"' said Harleigh, " it is only past suffering that bestows this cha- racter of bliss upon simple safety ?" " Pray, Mr. Riley," cried Mrs. Ma- pie, " please to explain what you mean, VOL. I, c ( =6 ) by talking so freely of our all going to the bottom ? I should be glad to know what right you had to make me come on board the vessel ^ if you think it so crazy ?" She then ordered the pilot to use all possible expedition for putting her on shore, at the very first jut of land j; adding, " you may take the rest of the company round, wherever you chuse, but as to me, I desire to be landed directly/' She could notjhowever^ prevail ; but, in the panic which had seized her,shegrewas incessant in reproach as in alarm, bitterly bewailing the moment that she had ever trusted herself to such an element, such a vessel, and such guides, " See,'* said Harleigh, in a low voice to the stranger, '^ how little your philo- sophy has spread ; and how soon every evil, however great, is forgotten when over, to aggravate the smallest discom* fort that still remains ! What recom- pence, or what exertion would any one ( 27 ) of us have thought too great, for obtain- ing a place in this boat only a few liours ago ! Yet you, alone, seem to have dis- covered, that the true art of supporting present inconvenience is to compare it with past calamity, — not with our dis- appointed wishes." " Calamity !". repeated she with viva- citv, " ah ! if once I reach that shore* — that blessed shore! shall I have a sorrow left ?'^ " The belief that you will not," said he, smiling, " will almost suffice for your security, since, certainly, half our afflic- tions are those which we suffer through anticipation." There was time for nothing more j the near approach to land seeming to fill every bosom, for the instant, witk sensations equally enthusiastic. c 2 ( 28 ) CHAPTER II. T TPON reaching the British shore, while Mrs. Maple, her niece, the elderly lady, and two maid- servants, claimed and employed the aid of the gentlemen, the Incognita, disregarding an offer of Harleigh to return for her, darted forward with such eagerness, that she was the first to touch the land, where, with a fervour that seemed re- sistless, she rapturously ejaculated, " Heaven, Heaven be praised i" The pilot, when he had safely* dis. embarked his passengeis, committed the charge of his vessel to a boy, and, abruptly accosting the stranger, de- manded a recompence for the risk which he had run in savins; her life. She was readily opening her work bag to seek for her purse, but the old sea x)flicer, approaching, and holding her ( 29 ) arm, gra\;e]y asked whether she meant to affront him ; and, turning to the pilot, somewhat dictatorially said, " Harkee, my lad ! we took this gentlewoman in ourselves ; and I have seen no reason to be sorry for it : but she is our passenger, and not your's. Come to the inn, there- fore, and you shall be satisfied, forthwith, for her and the rest of us, in a lump." *' You are infinitely good. Sir," cried the stranger, " but I have no claim — ." '' That's your mistake, gentlewoman. An unprotected female, provided she's of a good behaviour, has always a claim to a man's care, whether she be born amongst our friends or our foes. I should be ashamed to be an Englishman, if I held it my duty to think narrower than that. And a man who could bring him- self to be ashamed of beino; an Ens^lish- man, would find it a difficult solution, let me tell you, my good gentlewoman, to discover what he might glory in. However, don't thitik that I say this to affront you as a foreigner, for I hope I c 3 ( 30 ) am a better Christian. I only drop it as a matter of fact.'* " Worthy Admiral,'* said Mr. Har- leigh, now joining them, « you are not, I trust, robbing me of my office ? The pecuniary engagement with the pilot was mine." " Bat the authority which made him act," returned the officer, ^' \vas mine." A bright smile, which lightened up the countenance of the Incognita, again contrasted her white teeth with her dingy complexion ; while dispersing the tears that started into her eyes, " Fie upon me 1" she cried, " to be in England and surprised at generosity !" " Gentlewoman," said the Admiral, emphatically, " if you want any help, command my services ; for, to my seem- ing, you appear to be a person of as right a way of thinking, as if you had lisped English for your mother-tongue." He then peremptorily insisted that the boat's company should discharge the pilot, without ^ny interference on the ( 3« ) part of the lone traveller, as soon as it had done with the custom-house officers. This latter business was short ; there was notliing to examine : not a trunk, and scarcely a parcel, had the hurry and the dangers of escape hazarded. They then proceeded to the principal inn, where the Admiral called all the crew, as he styled the party, to a spa- cious room, and a cheering fire, of which he undertook the discinline. i. The sight of this meanly attired per- son, invited into the apartment both by the Admiral and Mr. Harleigh, with a civility that seemed blind to her shabby appearance, proved so miracidous a re- storative to Mrs. Maple, that, rising from a great chair, into which, with a declaration that she was half dead from her late fright and sickness, she hud thrown herself, she was endowed with sud- den strength of body to stand stiffly up- right, and of lungs to pronounce, in shrill but powerful a-ccents, *' Pray, Mr. Harleigh, are we to go on any farther as c 4 i 32 ) It we were to live all our lives in a stap'e coach ? Why can't that body as well stay in the kitchen ?" The stranger would hastily have re- tired, but the Admiral, taking her softly by the shoulder, said, " I have been a commanding otHcer the best part of my life, Gentlewor/ian ; and though a devil of a wound has put me upon the super- annuated list, I am not sunk into quite such a fair weather chap, as to make over my authority, in such a little pitiful skiff^s company as this, to petticoat government ; — though no man has a better respect for the sex, in its proper element ; which, however, is not the sea. Therefore, Madam," turning to Mrs. Maple, " this gentlewoman being my own passenger, and having comported herself without any offence either to God or man, I shall take it kind if you will treat her in a more Christian-like manner." While Mrs. Maple began an angry reply, the stranger forced herself out of the apartment. The Admiral followed* ( 33 ) *^ I hope, gentlewoman," he was beginning, " you w^on't be cast down, or angry, at a few vagaries — " when, looking in her face, he saw a countenance so gaily happy, that his condolence was changed into pleased astonishment. " Angry !" she repeated, " at a moment such as this! — a moment of so blessed an escape! — T should be the most graceless of wretches, if 1 had one sensa- tion but of thankfulness and joy !*' " You are a very brave woman," said the Admiral, '' and I am sorry," looking at her tattered clothing, " to see you in no better plight : though, perchance, if you had been born to more ghtter with- out, you might have had less ore within. However, if you don't much like the vapouring of that ancient lady, which I have no very extraordinary liking io myself, neither, v/hy stay in another room till we have done witli the pilot; and then, if I can be of any use in helping you to your friends, I shall be glad to be at your service. For I take it for granted, though you are not in c 5 ( 34 ; your own country, yon are too good a woman to be without friends, as I know no worse sign of a person's character.*' He then joined his fellow-voyagers, and the stranger went on to enquire for the master of the house. Sounds from without, that seemed to announce distress, catching, soon after, the attentive ear of Harleigh, he opened the door, and perceived that the stranger was returned to the passage, and in evident disorder. The sea officer briskly advanced to her. " How now !" he cried, " dis- heartened at last ? Well ! a woman can be but a woman ! However, unless vou have a mind to see all my good opinion blown away — thus! — in a whiff, you won't think of drooping, now once you are upon British ground. For though I should scorn, I hope, to reproach you for not being a native born, still, not to be overjoyed that you can say. Here 1 am ! v/ould be a sure way to win my contempt. However, as I don't take upon me to be your governor, I'll send your own C-35 } countryman to you, if you like him better, — the pilot ?" " Not for the universe ! Not for the universe !" she eagerly cried, and, darting into an empty room, with a hasty apology, shut the door. " Mighty well, indeed !" said Mrs. Maple, who, catching the contagion of curiosity, had deigned to listen ; " so her own countryman, the only person that she ought to belong to, she shuts the door upon !" She then protested, that if the woman were not brought forth, before the pilot, who was already paid and gone, had re- embarked, slie should always be con- vinced that she had lost something, though she might not find out what had been taken from her, for a twelvemonth afterwards; The landlord, coming forward, en- quired whether there were any dis- turbance ; and, upon the complaint and application of Mrs. Maple, would have opened the door of the closed apart Qient j c 6 ( 36 ) but the Admiral and Harleigb, each taking him by an arm, declared the person in that room to be under their protection. " Well, upon my word,'* cried Mrs. Maple," this is more than I could have expected ! We are in fine hands, indeed, for a sea officer, and an Admiral, that ought to be our safe-guard, to take part with our native enemy, that, I make no doubt, is sent amongst us as a spy for our destruction !" ^' A lady, Madam," said the Admiral, looking down rather contemptuously, " must have liberty to say whatever she pleases, a man's tongue being as much tied as his hands, not to annoy the weaker vessel ; so that, let her come out with what she will^ she is amenable to no punishment; unless she take some account of a man's inward opinion ; in which case she can't be said to escape quite so free as she m.ay seem to do. This, Madam, is all the remark that I tliink fit to make tp you. But as for you. • ( 37 ) Mr. Landlord, when tlic gentlewoman in this room has occasion to consult you, she speaks English, and can call you herself.'' He would then have led the wTty to a general retreat, but Mrs. Maple angrily desired the landlord to take notice, that a foreigner, of a suspicious character, had come over with them by force, whom he ought to keep in custody, unless she would tell her name and bu- siness. The door of the apartment was now abruptly opened by the stranger, who called out, " O no ! no ! no ! — Ladies ! — Gentlemen! — I claim your protec- tion !" " It is your's, Madam !" cried Har- leigh, with emotion. " Be sure of it. Gentlewoman !'' cried the old officer ; " We did not brino- you from one bad shore to another. We'll take care of you. Be sure of it !" The stranger wept. " I thought not," she cried, " to have shed a tear in ( 38 ) England ; but my heart can find no other vent." " Very pretty ! very pretty, indeed, , Gentlemen!" said Mrs. Maple; " If you can answer all this to yourselves, well and good ; but as I have not quite so easy a conscience, I think it no more than my duty to inform the ma- gistrates myself, of my opinion of this foreigner." She was moving off; but the stranger rushed forth, and with an expression of agonized affright, exclaimed, *' Stay ! Madam, stay ! hear but one word ! I am no foreigner, — I am English !" — Equal astonishment now seized every one; but while they stared from her to each other, the Admiral said : " I am cordially glad to hear it! cordially! though why you should have kept secret a point that makes as much for your honour as for your safety, I am not deep enough to determine. However, I won't decide against you, while I am in the dark of your reasons ; though I ( 39 ) own I have rather a taste myself for thiiiiiics more above board. But for all that. Ma'am, if I can be of any use to you, make'no scruple to call upon me." He walked back to the parlour, where all now, except Harleigh, assembled to a general breakfast, of which, during tliis scene, Kiley, for w^ant of an associate, had been doing the honors to hiinself. The sick lady, Mrs. Ireton, was not yet sufficiently recovered to take any re- freshment; and the young man, her son, had commanded a repast on a separate table. Harleigh repeated to the stranger, as she returned, in trembling, to her room, his offer of services. " If any lady of this party," she an- swered, " would permit me to say a few words to her not quite in public, I should thankfully acknov/ledge such a conde- scension. And if you, Sir, to whom already I owe an escape that calls for my eternal gratitude, if you, Sir, could procure me such an audience " ( 40 ) " What depends upon me shall surely not be left undone," he replied ; and, returning to the parlour, " Ladies," he said, " this person whom we have brought over, begs to speak with one of jou alone." " Alone !" repeated Mrs. Maple, ^^ How shocking ! Who can tell w-hat may be her designs ?" " She means that we should go out to ^ hold a conference with her in the passage, I suppose ?" said Mrs. Ireton, the sick lady, to whom the displeasure raised by this idea seemed to restore strength and speech j " or, perhaps, she would be so' good as to receive us in the kitchen ?. Her condescension is really edifying ! I am quite at a loss how I shall shew my sense of such affability." " What, is that black insect buzzing about us still?" cried her son, " Why what tlie deuce can one make of such a grim thing ?" " O, it's my friend the demoiselle, is it?" said Riley ^ " Faith, I had almost C 41 ) forgotten her. I was so confoundedly numbed and gnavvn, between cold and hunger, that I don't think I could have remembered my father, I don't, faith 1 before I had recruited. But where's poor demoiselle ? What's become of her ? She wants a little bleaching, to be sure ; but she has not bad eyes; nor a bad nose, neither." *' I am no great friend to the mysti- cal," said the Admiral, "but I promised her my help while she stood in need of my protection, and I have no title to withdraw it, now that I presume she is only in need of my purse. If any of the la- dies, therefore, mean to go to her, I beg to trouble them to carry this." He put a guinea upon the table. " Now that she is so readv to tell her story," said Elinor, " I am confident that there is none to tell. V/hilc she was enveloped in the mystical, as the Admiral phrases it, I was dying with cu- riosity to make some discovery." " O the poor demoiselle!" cried Riley, «* why you can't think of leaving ( 42 ) her in the lurch, at last, ladies, after bringing her so far? Come, lend me one of your bonnets and your fardingales, or what is it you call your things ? And twirl me a belt round my waist, and something proper about my neck, and I'll go to her myself, as one of your waiting maids : I will, faith 1" " I am glad, at least, niece Elinor, that this once," said Mrs. Maple, " you are reasonable enough to act a little like me and other people. If you had really been so wild as to sustain so glaring an impostor — ." " If, aunt ? — dont you see how I am scalding my throat all this time to run to her ?" replied Elinor, giving her hand to Harleigh. As they re-entered the passage, the stranger, rushing from her room with a" look the most scared and altered, ex- claimed, that she had lost her purse. " This is complete!" cried Elinor, laughing ; " and will this, too, Harleigh, move your knight-errantry ? If it does ( 43 ) — look to your heart ! for I won't lose a moment in becoming black, patched, and pennyless !" She flew with this anecdote to the breakfast parlour ; while the stranger, yet more rapidly, flew from the inn to the sea-side, where she carefully retraced the ground that slie had passed ; but all examination was vain, and she returned with an appearance of increased dismay. Meeting Harleigh at the door, his expression of concern somewhat calmed her distress, and she conjured him to plead with one of the ladies, to have the charity to convey her to London, and thence to help her on to Brighthelm- stone. " I have no means,'^ she cried, " now, to proceed unaided ; my pur^e, I imagine, dropt into the sea, when, so unguardedly ! in the dark, I cast there — " She stopt, looked confused, and bent her eyes upon the ground. " To Brighthelmstonc ?*' repeated Harleigh ; " some of these ladies reside not nine miles from that town. I will see what can be done.*^ ( 44 ) She merely entreated, she said, to be allowed to travel in their suite, in any way, any capacity, as the lowest of attendants. She was so utterly reduced by this dreadful loss, that she must else beg her way on foot. Harleigh hastened to execute this commission ; but the moment he named it, Elinor called out, " Do, pray, Mr. Har- leigh, tell me where you have been se- creting your common sense ? — Not that I mean to look for it ! — 'twould despoil me of all the dear freaks and vagaries that give zest to life !" " Poor demoiselle 1'* cried Riley, throwing half a crown upon the table, " she shall not be without my mite, for old acquaintance sake." " What ! has she caught even you, Mr. Cynical Riley ?" cried Elinor : " you, who take as much pleasure in lowering or mortifying your fellows-crea- tures, as Mr. Harleigh does in elevating!, or relievinsc them ?'' " Evciv one after his own fashion^. ( 45 ) Miss Nelly. The best amongst us has as little taste for being thwarted as the worst. He has, faith ! We all think our own way the only one that has any com- mon sense. Mine, is that of a diver : I seek always for what is hidden. What is obvious soon surfeits me. If this demoiselle had named herself, I should never have thought of her again ; but now, I'm ail agog to find her out." " Why does she not say who she is at once ?" cried Mrs. Maple. " I give nothing to people that I know nothing of; and what had she to do in France ? Why don't she tell us that ?" " Can such a skin, and such a garb, be worth so much breath ?" demanded Ireton, taking ud a newspaper. Haileigh enquired of Mrs. Ireton, Avhether she had succeeded in her pur- posed seaich, of a young woman to re- place ihe domestic v;hom she had left in France, and to attend her till she ar- I'ived at her house in town. ( 46 ) ^' No, Sir," she answered ; " but you don't mean, I presume, to recommend this vagabond to be about my person ? I should presume not ; I should presume you don't mean that? Not but that I should be very sensible to such a mark of distinction. I hope Mr. Harleigh does not doubt that? I hope he does not suspect I should want a proper sen- sibility to such an honour ?" " If you think her a vagabond. Madam," replied Harleigh, " I have not a word to offer: but neither her language nor her manners incline me to that opinion. You only want an at- tendant till you reach your family, and she merely desires and supplicates to travel free. Her object is to get to Brighthelmstone. And if, by waiting upon you, she could earn her journey to London, Mrs. Maple, perhaps, in com- passion to her pennyless state, might thence let her share the conveyance of some of her people to Lewes, whence she might easily find means to pro- ceed." ( 47 ) The two eltlerly ladies stared at each other, not so much as if exchanging en- quiries how to decline, but in what de- gree to resent this proposition ; while Elinor, making Harleigh follow her to a window, said, " Now, do inform me, seri- ously and candidly, what it is that urges you to take the pains to make so ridicu- lous an arrangement ?" ^^ Her apparently desolate state.'' " Now do put aside all those fine sort of sayings, which you know I laugh at, and give me, instead, a little of that judgment which you so often quarrel with me for not giving to you ; and then honestly tell me, can you really credit that any thing but a female fortune- hunter, would travel so strangely alone, or be so oddly without resource ?" " Your doubts, Elinor, are certain] v rational ; and I can only reply to them, by saying, that there are now and then uncommon causes, which, when deve- loped, shew the most extraordinary situa- tions to be but their mere simple efiect." ( 48 ) " And her miserable accoutrement ? — And all those bruises, or sores, and patches, and bandages ? — '' " The detail, I own, Elinor, is unac- countable and ill looking : I can defend no single particular, even to myself; but yet the whole, the ail-together, carries with it an indescribable, but irresistible vindication. This is all I can say for befriending her." " Nay, if you think her resilW dis- tressed," cried Elinor, " I feel ready enough to be her handmaid ; and, at all events, I shall make a point to discover whom and what she may be, that I may know how to value your judgment, in odd cases, for the future. Who knows, Harleigh, but I may have some to pro- pose for your decision of my ownr" The Admiral, after some deliberation, said, that, as it was certainly possible that the poor woman might really have lost her purse, whicji ho, for one, believed to be the simple truth, he could not re- fuse to help her on to her friends ; and, 7 ( 49 ) ringing for the landlord, he orerded that ■a breakfast should be taken to the gen- tlewoman in the other room, and that a place should be secured for her in the next day's stage to London ; for all which he would immediately deposit the money. " And pray, _Mr. Landlord," said Mrs. Maple, ** let us know what it was that this body wanted, when she desired to speak with you ?" " She asked me to send and enquire at the Post-office if there were any letter directed for L. S., to be left till called for; and when she heard that there was none, I thought, verily, that she would have swooned." Elinor now warmly united with Har- leigh, in begging that Mrs. Maple would let her servants take charge of the young woman from London to Lewes, when, through the charity of the Admiral, she should arrive in town. Mrs. Maple pro- nounced an absolute negative ; but when Elinor, not less absolutely, declared that, VOL. U D ( 50 ) in that case, she would hire the traveller for her own maid ; and the more readily because she was tired to death of Gold- ing, her old one, Mrs. Maple, though with the utmost ill will, was frightened into compliance ; and Elinor said that she would herself carry the good news to the Ircognita. The landlord desired to know in what name the place was to be taken. This, also, Elinor undertook to enquire, and, accompanied by Harleigh, went to the room of the stranger. They found her standing pensively by the window; the breakfast, which had been ordered for her by the Admiral, untouched. " I understand you wish to go to Brighthelmstone ?" said Elinor. The stranger courtsied. " I believe I know every soul in that place. Whom do you want to see there ? — Where are you to go ?" She looked embarrassed, and with (f '•5» ) '-'iiii^iH hesitation, answere'^r^ To . . .the "^'Post-office, Madam/' ' " O ! what, you are something to the ' post-master, are you ?*' " No, Madam ... I ... I ... go to the Post-office only for a letter 1" " A letter ? Well ! an hundred or two miles is a good way to go for a letter !" " I am not without hopes to find a friend. — The letter I had expected here was only to contain directions for the meeting." " O! if your letter is to be personified, I have nothing more to say. A man, or a woman ? — which is it r" " A woman, Madam." *' Well, if you merely wish to go to Brighthelmstone, I'll get you conveyed within nine miles of that place, if you will come to me, at Mrs> Maple's, in Upper Brooke-strejt, when you get to town." Surprise and pleasure now beamed brightly in the eyes of the stranger, who said that she should rejoice to pa>s D 2 ( 52 ) through London, where, also, she parti- cularly desired to make some enquiries. " But we have no means for carryinp: you thither, except by the stage ; and one of our gentlemen offers to take a place in it for you/* The stranger looked towards Harlei^h, and' confusion seemed added to her em- barrassment. Harleigh hastily spoke, " It is the old officer, — that truly benevolent ve- teran, who wishes to serve you, and whose services, from the nobleness of his character, confer still more honour than benefit." Again she courtsied, and v/ith an air in which Harleigh observed, with respect, not displeasure, her satisfaction in chang- ing the object of this obligation. " Well, that's settled,'* said Elinor; '*« but now the landlord wants your name, for taking your place." " My place ? — Is there no machine. Madam, that sets of!* immediately?" '- None sooner tlian to-morrow* What name am I to tell him ?" ( 53 ) " None aboner than to-morrow ?" " No; and if you do not give in your name, and secure it, you may be de- tained till the next day." " How very unfortunate !" cried she^ walking about the room. " Well, but what is your name ?'' A crimson of the deepest hue forced its way through her dark complexion : her very eyes reddened with blushes, as she faintly answered, " I cannot tell my name 1'' She turned suddenly away, with a look that seemed to expect resentment, and anticipate being abandoned. Elinor, however, only laughed, but laughed " in such a sort" as proclaimed triumph over Harleigh, and contempt for the stranger. Harleigh drew Elinor apart, saying, " Can this, really, appear to you so ridiculous r" " And can you, really, Harleigh, be allured by so glaring an adventurer ? a Wanderer, — without even a name!" D 3 ( , 54 ) '• She is not, at least> without probity, since sbe prefers any risk, and any sus- ^7 picion, to falsehood. How easily, other- ;^ wise, might she assume any appellation that she pleased !'* " You are certainly bewitched, Har- lelgh!" "' You are certainly mistaken, Elinor! yet I cannot desert her, till I am con^ ., vinced that she does not merit to be pro- tected." Elinor returned to the stranger. " You ^ do not chuse, then, to have your place secured ?" *^ O yes Madam ! — if it is impossible for me to attend any lady to town." " And what name shall you like for the book-keeper ? Or what, initials ? — What think you of L. S. ?" She started ; and Harleigh, again tak- ing Elinor: aside, more gravely said, " Elinor, I am glad I am not — at this moment — my brother ! — for certainly I could not forbear quarrelling with YOU !" ( 55 ) "I heartily wish, then," cried she, with quickness, " that, — at this moment! — you were your brother !" Harleigh, now, addressing the stranger, in whose air and manner distress seemed palpably gaining ground, gently said, '' To save you any further trouble, I will take a place in my own name, and settle with the landlord, that, if I do not appear to claim it, it is to be made over to the person who produces this card. The book-keeper shall have such another for a check." He put into her hand a visiting ticket, on which was engraven Mr. Harleigh, and, not waiting for her thanks, con- ducted Elinor back to the parlour, saying, " Pardon me, Elinor, that I have stopt any further enquiries. It is not from a romantic admiration of mystery, but merely from an opinion that, as her wish of concealment is open and confessed, we ought not, through the medium of serving her, to entangle her into the snares of our curiosity." D 4 ^ 56 ) ** Oh, you are decided to be ahvajB /ight, I know I" cried Elinor, laughing, though piqued ; " and that i3 the very reason I always hate you ! However^ you excite iny curiosity to fathom h.er ; iSO let her come to me in town, and I'll take her under my own care, if only to judge your discernment, by linding out how she merits your quix- otism." Harleio;h then returned to the vouni^ "woman, and hesitatingly said, " Pardon my intrusion, but — permit me, as you have so unfortunately lost your purse — '* " If my place, Sir,'^ hastily inter- rupted the stranger, " is taken, 1 can require nothing else.'* « Yet — you have the day to pass here ; and you v/ill with difficulty exist merely upon air, even where so de- lightedly you inhale it ; and Miss Joddrel, I fear, has forgotten to bring you the little offering of your veteran friend; therefore — " " If he has the infinite goodness to intend me any, .Sir, permit, at least. ( sr ) that he may be my only pecuniary creditor! I shall want no addition of that sort, to remember, — gratefully and for ever ! to whom it is I owe the deep- est obligation of my life!" Is this a house-maid? thought Har- leigh ; and again he rejoiced in the per- severance with which he had supported her ; and, too much respecting her refusal to dispute it, expressed his good wishes for her welfare, and took leave ; yet would not set out upon his journey till he had again sought io interest the old officer in her favour. The guinea was still upon the tea- table ; but the Admiral, who, in the fear of double dealing, had conceived some ideas to the disadvantage of the Incog- nita, no sooner heard that she had de- clined receiving any succour except from himself, than, immediately softened, he said that he would take care to see her well treated. Harleigh then drove after the carriage of Mrs. Maple and Elinor, who were already on their way to London. i> 5 ( 58 ) CHAPTER III. '"PHE Admiral immediately repaired to the stranger. " Young woman," he cried, " 1 hope you don't take it into your mind, that I was more disposed to serve you while I thought you of fo- reign culture, than now I know you to be of our own growth ? If I came for- warder then, it was:onIy..because I was afraid that th ose who have h ad less occasion than I have had, to get the upper hand of their prejudices, would keep back- warder." The stranger bowed her thanks. ^*' But as to.me,'.' he continued, " I have had the experience of what H is to be iu a strange land; and, moreover, a prisoner: in, which time I came to an agreement with myself — a person over whom I keep a pretty tight hand! becaufewhy? If I don't the devil will ! So I came, I say, I ( 59 ) to an agreement with myself, to remem- ber all the ill-usage I then met with, as a memonto to forbear exciting in others, those black passions which sundry un- handsome tricks excited, in those days, in^hiyself.'^ ; ' Observing her breakfast to be utterly neglected, he demanded, with an air of some displeasure, whether she had rib longing to taste the food of her mother country again ? The fulness of her mind, she answered, had deprived her of appetite. " Poor girl ! poor woman !" cried he, compassionately, " for I hardly know which to call you, those cap-flounces upon the cheeks making a young woman look no better than an old one. How- ever, be you which you may, I can't consent to see you starve in a land of plenty ; which would be a base ingrati- tude to our Creator, who, in dispensing the most to the upper class, grants us the pleasure of dispensing the overplus, Oiirselves, to the under class: which I » 6 ( 6o ) take to be the true reason of Providence for ordering that difference between the rich and the poor 5 as, most like, we shall all find, when we come to give in our accounts in t'other world."^ He then enquired wh.at it was she intend- ed to do; adding, "I don't mean as to your secrets, because they are what I have no right to meddle v/ith ; though I disap- prove your having any, they being of little ser\ace, except to keep foul deeds from the light ; for what is fair loves to be above board. Besides, as every thing is sure to come out, sooner or later, it only breeds suspicion and trouble for nothing, to procrastinate telling to-day with your own free will, what you may be certain will be known to-morrow, or rtext day, with or without it. Don't be discomposed, however, for I don't say this by way of a sift, nor yet for a re- proach y 1 merely drop it as a piece of advice." " And I should be happy, Sir, to ^indeavour to deserve it, by frankly 6 ( 6i ) explaining my situation, but that the least mistake, the smallest imprudence, might betray me to insupportable wretch- edness.'* " Why then, if that's the case, you are very right to hold your tongue. If the lav/ never makes a person condemn him- self, much less ought a little civility. There are dangers enough in the world without running risks out of mere com- pliment." Then putting his guirhea before her, upon the table, he charged her to keep it unbroken till she set out, assuring her that he should himself order v/hatever she could require for her dinner, supper, and lodging, and settle for the whole with the landlord; as w^ell as with the book-keeper for her journey to London, The stranger seemed almost over- powered with gratitude ; but interrupt- ing what she attempted to say, " No thankings," he cried, " young woman ! it's a bad sign when a good turn sur- prises a person, I have not escaped from such hard fare with my body, to leave my soul behind me ; though^ God knows, I may forget it all fast enough. There's no great fear of mortal man's being too good." Then, wishing her farewell, he was quitting the room, but, thoughtfully turning back, " Before we part,'' he said, " it will be but Christian-like to give you a hint for your serious profit. In whatever guise you may have de- meaned yourself, up to this present date, which is a solution !• don't mean to meddle with, I hope you'll always con duct yourself in a becoming manner, for the rest of your days, in remembrance of your great good fortune, in landing safely upon this happy shore." He was going, but the Incognita stopt him, and again the dark hue of her skin, was inadequate to disguise the deep blushes that were burning upon her cheeks, as she replied, *' I see, Sir^ through all your benevolence, tliat you ■ ^ believe me to be one of thoise unhappy ( 63 ) persons, whose misfortunes have been^ the effect of their crimes : I have no way tQ. prove my innocence ; and assertion may but make it seem more doubtful; yet-'' " You are right ! you are right i'' in- terrupted he ; "I am no abettor of assertions. They are but a sort of cheap coinage, to make right and wrong pass current together." " I find 1 have been too quick/' she answered, " in thinking myself happy ! "^k, to receive bounty under so dreadful a suspicion, proves me to be in a desolate state indeed !" " Young woman," said the Admiral, in a tone approaching to severity, " don't complain ! We must all bear what we have earned. I can't but see what you are, though it's what I won't owii to the rest of the crew, who think a flaw in the* character excuse plenty for 'letting a poor weak female starve alive ; for which, to my seeming, they deserve to want a crust of bread themselves. But I hope . ( 64 ) , I know better than that where the main fault is apt to lie ; for I aai not ignorant how apt our sex is to misbehave to yours ; especially in slighting you, if you don't slight them ; a thing not to be defended, either to God or man. But for ail that, young woman, I must make free to remark, that the devil himself never yet put it into a man's head, nor into the world's neither, to abandon, or leave, as you call it, desolate, a v;omaii who has kept tight to her own duty, and taken a modest care of herself," The eyes of the stranger were now no longer bright from their mere natural lustre, nor from the beams of quick sur- prize, or of sudden vivacity ; 'twas with trembling emotion that they shone, and with indignation that they sparkled. She took up the guinea, from which her sight seemed averted with horror, and said, " Pardon me, Sir, but I must beg you to receive this again." " Why, what now ? do you think, because I make no scruple to give you an item that I don't fancy being imposed upon ; do you think, I say, because of that, I have so little Christian charity, as not to know that you may be a very good sort of woman in the main, for all some flainity coxcomb may have played the scoundrel, and left you to the wide world, after teacliing you to go so awry, that he knows the world will forsake you too ? a thing for which, however, he'll pay well in time ; as I make no doubt but the devil takes his own notes of all such actions." She now cast the guinea upon the table. " I would rather. Sir," she cried, " beg alms of every passenger that I may meet, than owe succour to a species of pity that dishonours me !" The Admiral looked at her with earnestness. " I don't well know," he said, " what class to put you in ; but if you are really a virtuous woman, to be sure I ought to ask your pardon for that little hint I let drop ; and, moreover, if I asked it upon my knees, I can't say I ( 66 ) should think it would be overmuch, for affronting a virtuous woman, without cause. And, indeed, if I were free to confess the truth, I must own there^s something about you, which I don't over-much know what to call, but that is so agreeable, that it goes against me to think ill of you.*' " Ah, Sir ! think well of me, then ! •— let your benevolence be as liberal as it is kind, and try, for once, to judge favourably of a stranger upon trust !" « Well, I will! I will, then i if you have the complaisance to wish for my good opinion, I will !" cried he, nodding, while his eyes glistened ; " though it's not my general method, I can tell you, young woman, to go the direct opposite road to my understanding. But, out of the way as things may look, you seem to me, in the main, to be an innocent per- son ; so pray. Ma'am, don't refuse to ac- cept this little token of my good will." The countenance of the stranger ex- hibited strong indecision. He enjoined ( 67 ) her, however, to keep the guinea, and, after struggling vainly to speak, she sighed, and seemed distressed, but conx- plied. He nodded again, saying, " Be of good cheer, my dear. Nothing comes of being faint-hearted. I give you my promise I'll see you in town. And, if I find that you turn out to be good ; or, moreover, if you turn good, after having unluckily been t'other thing, I'll stand your friend. You may depend upon it/* With a look of mingled kindness and concern, he then left the room. And here, shocked, yet relieved, and happy, however forlorn, she remained, till a waiter brouglit her a fowl, a tart, and a pint of white wine, according to commands issued by the Admiral. She then heard that the whole of the boat- party had set oft for London, except Mrs. Ireton, the sick lady, who did not think herself sufficiently recovered to travel till the next day, and who had enquired for some genteel young lady to attend her to town ; but she was so ( 68 ) difficultj the waiter said, to please, that she had rejected half-a-dozen candidates who had been presented to her successively. She seeaied very rich, he added, for slie ordered things at a great rate, though she found fault with them as fast as they were carried to her ; but what had put her the most out of humour of all, was that the young gentleman, her son, had set off without her, in a quarrel : which was not, however, so much to be won- dered at, for the maids of the two other ladies said that the gentlewoman was of so aggravating a humour, that nobody could live with her ; which had provoked her own woman to leave her short in France, and hire herself to a French lady. The little repast of the stranger was scarcely over, when the waiter brought her word that the sick lady desired to see her up stairs. Extremely surprised, she demanded for what purpose. He answered, that a seventh young person whom he had talixjn into the lady's ( 69 ) room, with an offer to serve her, upon being sharply treated, had as sharply replied ; which had so affronted her, that ^he had ordered that no one else should be brought into her presence ; though in two minutes more, she had rung the bell, said she w^as too ill to be left alone, and bid him fetch her the woman w^ho came over from France. The stranger, at first, refused to obey this imperious summons; but the wish of placing herself under female protec- tion during her journey, presently con- quered her repugnance, and she accom- panied the messenger back. Mrs. Ireton was reclining upon an easy chair, still somewhat disordered from her Toyage, though by no means as much in need of assistance for her shattered frame, as of amusement for her restless mind. " So !" she cried, " you are here still? Pray, — if I may ask so confidential a question, — what acquaintance may you have found in this inn ? — The waiters? — or the grooms r" ( 70 ) « I was told, Madam, that y oil' tiad some commands for me." " O, you are in haste, are you ? you want to be shewing off those patches and A bandages, perhaps ? You won't forget a veil, I hope, to ^ preserve your white skin ? Not but 'twould be pity to make any sort of change in your dress, 'tis so prodigiously tasty !" The stranger, offended, was now mov- ing off, but, calling her back, " Did not the waiter," Mrs. Ireton demanded," give you to understand that 1 sent for you ?" <* Yes, Madam ; and therefore — " *' Weil, and what do you suppose it was for ? To let you open and shut the door, just to give me all the cold wind of the passages? You suppose it was for that, do you? You surmize that I have a passion for the tooth-ache ? You conclude that I delight in sneezing ? — coughing ? — and a stuft-up nose ?" " I am sorry, Madam, — " «' Or perhaps you think me so robust, that it would be kind to give me a little (■ 71 ) indisposition, to prevent my growing too boisterous ? You may deem my strength and health to be overbearing ? and be so good as, to intend making me more de- licate ? You may be of opinion that it would render me more interesting ?'* " Indeed, Madam, — " ** Or, you may fancy that a friendly catarrh might be useful, in furnishing me with employment, from ordering water- gruel, and balm-tea, and barley-water, and filling up my leisure in devising suc- cessive slops ?" The difficulty of being heard made the stranger now cease to attempt speak- ing; and Mrs.Ireton, after sundry similar interrogatories, angrily said, " So you really don't think fit to initiate me into your motives for coming to me, without troubling yourself to learn mine for ad- mitting you into my presence ?" " On the contrary. Ma'am, I desire — *' " O ! I am mistaken, am I ? It's on the contrary, is it ? You are vastly kind to set me right j vastly kind, indeed ! ( 7^ ) Perhaps you purpose to give me a few lessons of behaviour ?'* " I am so wholl}^ at a loss. Madam, why I have been summoned, that I can divine no reason why I should stay. I beg, therefore, to take my leave.*' Again she was retreating; but Mrs. Ire- ton, struck by her courage, began to con- ceive that the mystery of her birth and business, might possibly terminate in a discovery of her belonging to a less ab- jectclassthan herappearanceannounced; and therefore, though firmly persuaded that what might be diminished in po- verty, w^ould be augmented in disgrace, her desire was so inflamed to develop the secret, that, softening her tone, she asked the young person to take a chair, and then entered into discourse with some degree of civility. Yet with all this restraint, inflicted upon a nature that, to the privilege of uttering whatever it suggested, claimed that of hearing only what it liked, she could gather no further intelligence, than ( 73 ) that the stranger had received private information of the purposed sailing of the vessel, in which they all came over : but her birth, her name, her connexions, her actual situation, and her object ia making the voyage, resisted enquiry, eluded insinuation, and baffled con- jecture. Nevertheless, her manners were so strikingly elevated above her attire, that, notwithstanding the disdain w^ith which, in the height of her cu- riosity, Mrs. Ireton surveyed her mean apparel, and shrunk from her dusky skin, she gave up her plan of seeking for any other person to w^ait upon her, during her journey to town, and told the Incog- nita that, if she could make her dress a little less shocking, she might relinquish her place in the stage-coach, to occupy one in a post-chaise. To avoid new and untried risks, in travelling wholly alone, the stranger ac- ceded to this proposal ; and immediately, by the assistance of the maid of the inn, appropriated the guinea of the Admiral ^ VOL. I. E ( 74 ) to purchasing decent clothing, though of the cheapest and coarsest texture. The next morning they set off together for London. C IS ) CHAPTER IV. npHE good understanding with which the eagerness of curiosity on one side, and the subjection of caution on the other, made the travellers begin their journey, was of too frail a nature to be of long endurance. 'Tis only what is natural that flows without some stimulus; wdiat is factitious prospers but while fresh- ly supplied with such materials as gave it existence. Mrs. Ireton, when she found that neither questions, insinuations, nor petty artifices to surprise confessions, suc- ceeded in drawing any forth, cast off a character of softness that so little Daki the violence which its assumption did her humour ; while the stranger, fatigued by finding that not one particle of benevo- lence, was mixed with the avidity for amusement which had given her a place in the chaise, ceased all efforts to please, and bestowed no further attentions, than £ 2 ( 76 ) such as were indispensably due to the mis- tress of the vehicle in which she travelled. At a little distance from Rochester, the chaise broke down. No one was hurt ; but Mrs. Ireton deemed the mere alarm an evil of the first magnitude ; remarking that this event might have brought on her death ; and remark- ing it W'ith the resentment of one who had never yet considered herself as ame- nable to the payment of that general, though dread debt to natur^ She sent on a man and horse for another carriage, and wa"s forced to accept the arm of the stranger, to support her till it arrived. But so deeply was she impressed with her own ideas of the hardships that she en^iii'ed, that she put up at the first inn, went to bed, sent for an apothecary, and held it to be an indispensable tribute to the delicacy of her constitution, to take it for granted that she could not be removed for some days, without the most imminent hazard to her life. Having now no other resource, she ( n ) hung for comfort, as well as for assist- ance, upon her fellow-traveller, to whom she gave the interesting post of being the repository of all her complaints, whether against nature, for constructing her frame with such exquisite daintiness, or against fate, for it's total insensibility to the tenderness which that frame re- quired. And though, from recently quitting objects of sorrow, and scenes of woe, in the dreadful ^apparel of awful reality, the Incognita had no superfluous pity in store for the distresses of offended self-importance, she yet felt relief from experiencing milder usage, and spared no assiduity that might purchase its con- tinuance. It was some days before Mrs. Ireton thought that she might venture to travel, without appearing too robust. And, in this period, one only circum- stance called forth, with any acri- mony, the ill humour of her disposition. This was a manifest alteration in the complexion of her attendant, which, E 3 '( 7« ) from a regular and equally dark hue, appeared, on the second morning, to be smeared and streaked; and, on the third, to be of a dusky white. This failed not to produce sundry inquisitive comments; but they never succeeded in obtain- ing any explanatory replies. When, however, on the fourth day, the shutters of the chamber, which, to give it a more sickly character, had hitherto been closed, were suffered to admit the sun- beams of a cheerful winter's morning, Mrs, Ireton was directed, by their jays, to a full and marvellous view, of a skin changed from a tint nearly black, to the brightest, whitest, and most daz- zling fairness. The band upon the fore- head, and the patch upon the cheek, were all that remained of the original appearance. The first stare at this unexpected me- tamorphosis, was of unmingled amaze- ment ; but it was soon succeeded by an expression of something between mock- ery and anger, evinced, without cere- ( 79 ) moiiy or reserve, by the following speech: " Upon my word. Ma'am, you are a very complete figure ! Beyond what I could have conjectured ! I own that ! I can't but own that. I was quite too stupid to surmize so miraculous a change. And pray. Ma'am, if I may take the liberty to enquire, — who are you ? The stranger looked down. ** Nay, I ought not to ask, I confess. It's very indelicate, I own ; very rude, I acknowledge; but, I should imagine, it can hardly be the first time that you have been so good as to pardon a little rudeness. I don't know, I may be mista- ken, to be sure, but I should imagine so." The Incognita now raised her eyes. A sense of ill treatment seemed to endue her with courage ; but her displeasure, which, though not uttered, was not dis- guised, no sooner reached the observa- tion of Mrs. Ireton, than she conceived it to be an insolence to justify redoubling her owii. " You are affronted, I hope. Ma'am ? E 4 ( 8o ) Nay, you have reason enough, I acknow- ledge ; I can't but acknowledge that ! to s^^ me impressed with so little awe by your wonderful powers; for 'twas but an hour or two since, that you were the blackest, dirtiest, raggedest wretch I ever beheld ; and now — you are turned into an amazing beauty! Your cheeks are all bedaubed with rouge^ and you are quite a belle ! and v^^ondering, I suppose, that I don't beseech you to sit on the sofa by my side ! And, to be sure, it's very ill bred o^ me : I can't deny that ; only as it is one of the rudenesses that I conceive you to have had the goodness to submit to before, I hope you'll for- give it." The young woman begged leave to retire, till she should be called for the journey. *' O! what, you have some other meta- xnorphosis to prepare, perhaps ? Those bandages and patches are to be con- verted into something else ? And pray, if it will not be too great a liberty to en- ( 8i ) quire, what are they to exhibit? The order of Maria Theresa ? or of the Empress of all the Russias ? If I did not fear being impertinent, I should be tempted to ask how many coats of white and red you were obliged to lay on, before you could cover over all that black/* The stranger,, offended and tired, without deigning to make any answer, walked back to the chamber which she had just quitted. The astonished Mrs. Ireton w'as in speechless rage at this unbidden retreat; yet anger was so inherently a part of her composition, that the sight she saw with the most lively sensation was what- ever authorized its vent. She speedily, therefore, dispatched a messenger, to say that she was taken dangerously ill, and to desire that the young woman w'ould return. The Incognita, helpless for seeking imy more genial mode of travelling, obeyed tlie call, but had scarcely en- tered the apartment, when Mrs. Ireton, ^ 5 ( 82 ) starting, and forgetting her new illness, exclaimed, in a powerful voice, " Why, what is become of your black patch ?" The young woman, hastily putting her hand to her cheek, blushed extremely, ^hile she answered, '* Bless me, it must have dropt off! — I will run and look for it/' "Mrs. Ireton peremptorily forbade her to move ; and, staring at her with a mixture of curiosity and liarshness, or- dered her to draw away her hand. She resisted for some time, but, overpowered by authoritative commands, was reduced, at length, to submit ; and Mrs. Ireton then perceived, that neither wound, scar, nor injury of any sort, had occasioned the patch to have been worn. 'The excess of her surprize at this dis- covery, led her to apprehend some serious imposition. She fearfully, therefore, rose, 4o ring the bell,' still fixing her eyes upon th^ face of the young woman, who, in • her <;onfusion, accidentally touching the - bandage which, crossed her forehead, dis- 4 C 83 ) placed it, and shewed that feature, also, as free from any cause for having beea bound up, as the cheek. It was now rather consternation than amazement with which Mrs. Ireton was seized, till the augmenting disorder, and increasing colour of her new attendant, changed all fear of any trick into personal pique at having been duped; and she pro- tested that if such beggar-stratagems were played upon her any more, she would turn over the impostor . to the master of the inn. The paleness of terror with which this menace overspread the complexion of the stranger, forced a certain, however unwilling conviction upon the mind of Mrs. Ireton, that rouge^ at least, v/as not amongst the artifices of which she had to complain. But, though relieved from her own alarm, by the alarm which she inspired, she was rather irritated than ap- peased in findingsomething less to detect, anil, scoffingly perusing her face, <' You are. a surprising person^ indeed!'* .she E 6 ( 84 ) cried, " as surprising a person as ever I had the honour to see 1 So you had dis- figured yourself in that horrid manner, only to extort money from us upon false pretences ? Very ingenious, indeed ! mighty ingenious, I confess 1 Why that new skin must have cost you more than your new gown. Pray which did you get the best bargain ?'* The stranger did not dare risk any sort of* reply. " O, you don't chuse to tell me ? But how could I be so indiscreet as to ask such a thing ? Will it be impertinent, too, if I enquire whether you always travel with that collection of bandages and patches ? and of black and white outsides ? or whether you sometimes change them for wooden legs and broken arms ?" Not a word of answer w^as returned, *' So you won't tell me that, neither ? Nay, you are in the right, I own. What business is it of mine to confine your genius to only one or two methods of 11 C 85 ) maiming or defacing yourself ? as if you did not find it more amusing to be one day lame, and another blind ; and, to-day, it should seem, dumb ? The round must be entertaining enough. Pray do you make it methodically? or just as the humour strikes you ?" A fixed silence still resisted all attack* " O5 I am diving too deeply into the secrets of your trade, am I ? Nay, I ought to be contented, I own, with the specimens with which I have already been induls^ed. You have not been nis;- gardly in varying them. You have been bruised and beaten; and dirty and clean ; and ragged and v,hole ; and wounded and healed ; and a European and a Creole, in less than a week. I sup- pose, next, you will dwindle into a dwarf; and then, perhaps, find some surprising contrivance to shoot up into a giantess. There is nothing that can be too much to expect from so great an adept in metamorphoses." The pleasure of giving vent to spleen. ( 86 ) disguised from Mrs. Ireton, that by ren- dering its malignancy so obvious, she blunted its effect. She continued, there- fore, her interrogatories a considerable time, before she discovered, that the still- ness with which they were heard was pro- duced by resolution, not awe. Almost intolerably offended when a suspicion of this truth occurred, she assumed a tone yet more imperious. " So I am not worth an answer ? You hold it beneath you to waste your breath upon me ? And do you know whom it is you dare treat in this manner? Do you imagine that I am a fellaw-adventurer ?'* The hand of the young woman was BOW upon the lock of the door, but there, trembling, it stopt, withheld by a thousand terrors from following its first impulse; and the entrance of a waiter, with information that a chaise was at the door, interrupted any further discourse. The journey was resumed, and the rest of the way was only rendered supportable to the stranger? from the prospect that ( 8? ) its coPiCliision would terminate all inter- course with one who, so wilfully and so wantonly, seemed to revel in her powers of mockery and derision. ( «s ) CHAPTER V. T TPON the entrance of the travellers into London, the curiosity of Mrs. Iretonvvas more than ever inflamed, tofind that the journey, with all its delays, was at an end, before she had been able to gra- tify that insatiable passion in a single point. Yet every observation that she could make tended to redouble its keenness. Neither ill humour nor haughtiness, now the patches and bandages were removed, could prevent her from perceiving that the stranger was young and beautiful; nor from remarking that her air and manner were strikingly distinguished from the common class. One method, however, still remained for diving into this mystery ; it was clear that the young woman was in want, whatever else might be doubtful. Mrs. Ireton, therefore, re- solved to allow no recompense for her ( 89 ) attendance, but in consideration of what she would communicate of her history. At a large house in Grosvenor Square they stopt. Mrs. Ireton turned exultingly to the stranger : but her glance met no gratification. The young woman, instead of admiring the house, and counting the number of steps that led to the vestibule,^ or of windows that commanded a view of the square, only cast her eyes upwards, as if penetrated with thankfulness that her journey w^as ended. Surprized that stupidity should thus be joined with cunning, Mrs. Ireton now intently watched the impression which, when her servants appeared, would be made by their rich liveries. The stranger, however, without re- garding them, followed their mistress into the hall, which that lady v/as passing through in stately silence, mean- ing to confound the proud vagrant more completely, by dismissing her from the best drawing-room ; when the words, " Permit me, Madam, to wish you < 90 ) good morning," made her look round. She then saw that her late attendant, without wa-iting for any answer, was tranquilly preparing to be gone. Amazed and provoked, she deigned to call after her, and desired that she would come the next day to be paid. " I am more than paid already, Ma- dam," the Incognita replied, " if my little services may be accepted as cancel- ling my obligation for the journey." She had no difficulty, now, to leave the house without further interruption, so astonished was Mrs. Ireton, at what she thought the effrontery of a speech, that seemed, in some measure, to level her with this adventurer ; though, in her own despite, she was struck with the air of calm dignity with which it was uttered. The Wanderer obtained a direction to the house of Mrs. Maple, from a servant; and demanded another to Titchfield Street. To the latter she rapidly bent her steps ; but, there arrived, her haste ( 91 ) 'o ended in disappointment and perplexifj She discovered the apartment in v.hich, witli her husband and child, the lady Avhom she sought had resided; but it was no longer inhabited ; and she could not trace whether her friend had set off for Brighthelmstone, or had only changed Jier lodging. After a melancholy and fruitless search, she repaired, though with feet and a mind far less eager, to Upper Brooke Street, where she soon read the name of Mrs. Maple upon the door of one of the capital houses. She enquired for Miss Joddrel, and begged that young lady might be told, that a person who came over in the same boat with her from France, requested the honour of admission. To this message she presently heard the voice of Elinor, from the land- ing-place, answer, " O, she's come at last! Bring her up Tomlinson, brin^ her up !'' " Yes, Ma'am ; but Til promise you she is none of the person you have beeu expecting." ( 9^ > *^ How can you tell that Tomlinson ? What sort of figure is she ?'* " As pretty as can be.'^ " As pretty as can be, is she ? Go and ask her name.'* The man obeyed. The stranger, disconcerted, answered, *' My name will not be known to Miss Joddrel, but if she w^ili have the good- ness to receive, I am sure she will re- collect me." Elinor,' who was listening, knew her voice, and, calling Tomlinson up stairs, and heartily laughing, said, " You are the greatest fool in the whole world, Tomlinson ! It is she ! Bid her come to me directly." Tomlinson did as he was ordered, but grinned, with no small satisfaction, at sight of the surprise with which, when they reached the landing-place, his young mistress looked at the stranger. « Why, Tomlinson,'' she cried, " who have you brought me hither ?" Tomlinson smirked, and the Incognita ( 93 ) could not herself refrain from smiling^ but with a countenance so little calcu- lated to excite distrust, that Elinor, crying, " Follow me," led the way into her dressing room. The young woman, then, with an air that strongly supplicated for indulgence, said, " I am truly shocked at the strange appearance which I must make ; but as I come now to throw myself upon your protection, I will brieuy — though I can enter into no detail — state to vou how I am circumstanced.'* " O charming! charming! cried Elinor, clapping her hands, " You are going, at last, to relate your adventures I Nay, no drawing back ! I won't be disappointed 1 If you don't tell me every thing that ever you did in your life, and every thing that ever you said, and every thing that ever you thought, — I shall renounce you!'' " Alas !" answered the Incognita, " I am in so forlorn a situation, that I must not wonder if you conclude me to be ( 94 ) some outcast of society, abandoned by my friends from meriting their desertion, -^a poor destitute Wanderer, in search of any species of subsistence !*' " Don't be cast down, however," cried Elinor, " for I will help you on your way. And yet you have exactly spoken Aunt Maple's opinion of you." ^' And I have no right, I acknowledge, •to repine, at least, none for resentment : yet, believe me. Madam, such is not the case 1 and if, as you have given me leave tb hope, you v/ill have the benevolence to permit me to travel in your party, or in whatever way you please, to Brighthelm- stone, I may there meet with a friend, under whose protection I may acquire courage to give a more intelligible ac- count of myself." A rap at the street door made Eli- nor ring the bell, and order, that when Mr. Harleigh came, he should be shewa immediately up stairs, Harleigh, presently appearing, looked , round the apartment, with striking eager* ( 95 ) ness, yet evident disappointment; and, slightly bowing to the scarcely noticed, yet marked courtsie of the stranger, said, " Tomlinson told me that our fellow- traveller was at last arrived ?'* Elinor, taking the young v/oman apart, whispered a hasty injunction that she would not discover herself. Then, ad- dressing Harleigh, " I believe," she said, *' you dream of nothing but that dismal Incognita. However, do not fancy you have all the mysterious charmers to yourself. I have one of my own, now ; and not such a dingy, dowdy heroine as your's!" Harleigh turned with quickness to the stranger ; but she looked down, and her complexion, and bloom, and changed ap- parel, made a momentary suspicion die away. Elinor demanded what new^s he had gathered of their strayed voyager ? None, he answered ; and uneasily added, that he feared she had either ( 96 ) lost herself, or been misled, or betrayed, some other way. " O, pray don*t waste your anxiety !" cried Elinor ; " she is in perfect safety, I make no doubt.'* " I should be sorry," he gravely replied, " to think you in equal danger.'* " Should you r" cried she in a softened tone ; " should you, Harleigh, be sorry if any evil befel me ?" " But why," he asked, " has Tomlin- son sriven me this misinformation ?*' " And why, Mr. Harleigh, because Tom.linson told you that a stranger was here, should you conclude it could be no other than your black fugitive ?" Again Harleigh turned to the traveller, and fixed his eyes upon her face : the patch, the bandage, the large cap, had hitherto completely hidden its general form ; and the beautiful outline he now saw, with so entire a contrast of com- plexion to what he remembered, again checked, or rather dissolved his rising surmizes. ( 97 ) Elinor begged him to be seated, and to quiet his perturbed spirit. He took a chair, but, in passing by the young woman, her sex, her beauty, her modest air, gave him a sensation that repelled his using it, and he leant upon, its back, looking expressively at Elinor j but Elinor either marked not the hint, or mocked it. " So you have really," she said, " taken the pains to go to that eternal inn again, to enquire after this maimed and defaced Dulcinea ? What in the world can have inspired you with such an interest for this wandering Creole ? ** *Tis not her face does love create, For there no graces revel." — The bell of Mrs. Maple now ringing, Elinor made a sign to the Incognita not to avow herself, and flew down stairs to caution Tomlinson to silence. The chair which Harleigh had rejected for himself, he then offered to the fair unknown. She declined it, but in a VOL.1. F ( 93 ) Voice that made him start, and wish to hear her speak again. His offer then became a request, and she thanked him in a tone that vibrated certainty upon his ears, that it could be no other than the voice of his fellow-voyager. He now looked at her with an earnest gaze, that seemed nearly to draw his eyes from their sockets. The embarrass* ment that he occasioned her brought him to his recollection, and, apologising for his behaviour, he added ; " A person — a lady — w^ho accompanied us, not long since, from abroad, liad a voice so exactly resembling yours — that I find it rather impossible than difficult not to believe that I hear the same. Permit me to ask — have you any very near relation returned lately from France r" She blushed, but v/ithout replying. " I fancy,'* he cried, " I must have encountered two sisters ? — yet you have some reason, I own, to be angry at such a supposition — such a comparison '* He paused, and a smile, which ( 99 ) she could not repress, forced her to speak ; " By no means !" she cried ; " I know well how good you have been to the person to whom you allude, and I beg you will allow me — in her name — to return you the most grateful acknow- ledgements." Harleigh, now, yet more curiously examining her, said, " It would not have been easy to have forborne taking an interest in her fate.' She was in evident distress, vet never suffered herself to forget that she had escaped from some yet greater. Her mind seemed frau2:ht with streno;th and native dignity. There was something singular, indescribable, in her manner of support- ing the most harassing circumstances. It was impossible not to admire her." The blush of the stranger now grew deeper, but she remained silent, till Elinor, re-entering, cried, " Well, Har- leigh, what say you to my new demoiselle? And where would vou have looked for F 2 ( 100 ) your heart, if such had seemed your Dulcinea ?" " I should, perhaps, have been but the safer !" answered he, laughing. " Pho ! you would not make me be- lieve any thing so out of nature, as that, when you were in such a tindery fit as to be kindled by that dowdy, you could have resisted being blown into flames at once by a creature such as this ?'' *' Man is a perverse animal, Elinor ; that which he regards as pointed for his destruction, frequently proves harmless. We are all — boys and libertines alone excepted — upon our guard against beauty ; for, as every sense is up in arms to second its assault, our pride takes the alarm, and rises to oppose it. Our real danger is where we see no risk." " You enchant me, Harleigh ! I am never so delighted as when I hear beauty set at nought — for I always suspect, Harleigh, that you do not think me handsome ?*' ( lOI ) " If I think you better than hand- .some, Elinor '* " Pho ! you know there is no such better in nature; at least not in such na- ture as forms taste in the mind of man ; which I certainly do not consider as the purest of its works; though you all hold it, yourselves, to be the noblest. Nevertheless, imagination is all-power- ful ^ if, therefore, you have taken the twist to believe in such sublimity, you may, perhaps, be seriously persuaded, that your heart would have been more stubborn to this dainty new Wanderer, than to your own walnut-skinnedgypsey/' " Walnut-skinned ?^' " Even so, noble knight-errand, even so ! This person whom you now behold, and whom, if we believe our eyes, never met them till within this half hour, if we give credit to our ears, scrambled over with us in that crazy boat from France." Harleigh was here summoned to Mrs. Maple, and Elinor returned to her inter- ^ 3 ( 102 ) rogatories ; but the stranger only revert- ed to her hopes, that she might still de- pend upon the promised conveyance to Brighthelmstone ? . " Tell me, at least, what it was you flung into the sea ?" *' Ah, Madam, that would tell every thing !'' *' You are a most provoking little devil," cried Elinor, impatiently, " and I am half tem.pted to have nothing more to say to you. Give me, however, some account how you managed matters with that sweet tender dove Mrs. Ireton." The recital that ensued of the disas- ters, difficulties, and choler of that lady, proved so entertaining to Elinor, that she soon not only renewed her engage- ment of taking her unknown guest free to Lewes, but joined the w^armest assu- rances of protection. " Not that we ■mnef ft4r4-.nr^tn.4- 33 olio r»riPrl *' ' ' — '^4- vid of the spite of Aunt Maple, for if we do, 'tis so completely the basis of her com- ( 1^3 ) pesition, that she won't know how t« stand upright.'* " But now," she continued, " where are you to dine ? Aunt Maple is too fusty to let you sit at our table." The stranger earnestly solicited per- mission to eat alone : Elinor consented ; assigned her a chamber, and gave or- ders to Mrs. Golding, her own maid, to take care of the traveller. The repast below stairs was no sooner finished, than Elinor flew back to sum- mon the Incognita to descend for ex- hibition. " I have told them all," she said, " that you are arrived, though I have revealed nothing of your metamorphosis ; and there is a sister of mine, a conceited little thing, who is just engaged to be married, and who is wild to see you ; and it is a rule, you know, to deny no- thing to a bride elect ; probably, poor wretch, because every one knows what a fair way she is in to be soon denied every thing! That quiz, Harleigh, would not stay; and that nothingly Ireton F 4 ( 104 ) has nearly shrugged his shoulders out of joint, at the very idea of so great a bore as seeing you again. Co^e, neverthe- less ; I die to enjoy Aunt Maple's asto- nishment at your new phiz." The stranger sought to evade this re- quest as a pleasantry ; but finding that it was insisted upon seriously, protested that she had neither courage nor spirits for being produced as an object of sport. Elinor now again felt a strong tempt- ation to draw back from her promise; but while, between anger and generosity, she hung suspended, a message arrived from Mrs. Maple, to order that the wo- man from France should be sent to the kitchen. Elinor, changing the object of her dis- pleasure, now warmly repeated her re- solution to support the stranger j and, hastening to the dining-parlour, de- clared to her aunt, and to the party, that the woman from France should not be treated with indignity j that she was C 105 ) evidently a person who had been too well brought up to be consigned to do- mestics ; and that she herself admired, and would abet her spirit, in refusing to be stared at like a wild beast. / ^' 5 ( io6 ) CHAPTER VI. nrHE affairs of Mrs. Maple kept her a week longer in London ; but the impatience of the Wanderer to reach Brighthelmstone, was compelled to yield to an utter inability of getting thither unaided. During this period, she gather- ed, from various circumstances, that Elinor had been upon the point of mar- riage with the younger brother of Har- leigh, a handsome and flourishing lawyer; but that repeated colds, ill treated, or neglected, had menaced her with a con- sumption, and she had been advised to try a change of climate. Mrs. Maple accom- panied her to the south of France, where she had resided till her health was com- pletely re. established. Harleigh, then, in compliment to his brother, who was confined by his profession to the capital, crossed 4he Channel to attend the two ( lo; ) ladles home. They had ah'eady arrived at • on their return, when an or- der of Robespierre cast them into pri- son, whence enormous bribes, successful stratagems, and humane, though con- cealed assistance from some compas- sionate inhabitants of the town, enabled them, in common with the Admiral, the Iretons, and Riley, to effect their escape to a prepared boat, in which, through the friendly darkness of night, they reached the harbour of their country and their wishes. The stranger learnt also from Elinor, by whom secresy or discretion were as carelessly set aside, as by herself they were fearfully practised, that young Ireton, urged by a rich old uncle, and an entailed estate, to an early marriage, after addressing and jilting half the wo- men of England, Scotland, and Ireland, had run through France, Switzerland, and Italy, upon the same errand; yet was returned home heart-whole, and hand- .unshackled; but that, she added, was F 6 ( io8 ) not the extraordinary part of the business, male coquets being just as common, and only more impertinent than female ; all that was worth remarking, was his con- duct for the last few days. Some ac- counts which he had to settle with her aunt, had obliged him to call at their house, the morning after their arrival in London. He then saw Sehna, Elinor's younger sister, a wild little girl, only fourteen years of age, who was wholly unformed, but with whom he had become so desperately enamoured, that, when Mrs. Maple, knowing his character, and alarmed by his assiduities, cautioned him not to make a fool of her young niece, he abruptly demanded her in mar- riage. As he was very rich, Mrs. Maple had, of course, Elinor added, given her consent, desiring only that he would wait till Selina reached her fifteenth birth-day; and the little girl, when told of the plan, had considered it as a frolic, and danced with delight. During tiiis interval, the time of the 10 ( T09 ) • stranger was spent in the tranquil em- ployment of needle-work, for which she was liberally supplied with cast-off ma- terials, to relieve her necessities, from the wardrobe of Elinor, through whose powerful influence she was permitted to reside entirely up stairs. Here she saw only her protectress, into whose apartment Mrs.' Maple did not deign, and no one else dared, to intrude un- bidden. The spirit of contradiction, which was termed by Elinor the love of independence, fixed her design of sup- porting the stranger, to whom she de- Hghted to do every good office which Mrs. Maple deemed superfluous, and whom she exulted in thus exclusively possessing, as a hidden curiosity. But when she found that no enquiry pro- duced any communication, and that nothing fresh offered for new defiance to Mrs. Maple, a total indifference to the whole business took place of its first energy, and the young woman, towards the end of the week, fell into such . ( no ) neglect that it was never mentioned, and hardly even remembered, that she was an inhabitant of the house. When the morning, m.ost anxiously desired by herself, for the journey to Lewes, arrived, she heard the family en- gaged in preparations to set off, yet received no intimation how she was to make one of the party. With great dis- comfort, though with tolerable patience, she awaited some tidings, till the sound of carriages driving up to the street door, alarmed her with apprehension? of being deserted, and, hastily running down stairs, she v/as drawn by the voice of Elinor to the door of the breakfast-par- lour ; but the sound of other voices took from her the courage to open it, though the baggage collected around her shewed the journey so near, that she deemed it unsafe to return to her chamber. In a few minutes, Harleigh, loaded with large drawings, crossed the hall, and^ ( III ) observing her distress, enquired into it's cause. She wished to speak to Miss Joddrel. He entered the parlour, and sent out Elinor, who, exclaiming, " O, it's you, is it ? Mercy on me ! I had quite for- gotten you! — " ran back, crying, " Aunt, here's your old friend, the grim French voyager ! Shall she come in ?'* " Come in ? What for. Miss Joddrel ? Because Mr. Harleigh was so kind as to make a hoy of my boat, does it follow that you are to make a booth of my parlour ?" " She is at the door !" said Harleigh, in a low voice. " Then she is at her proper place ; where else should such a sort of body be ?" Harleigh took up a book. " O, but do let her come in, Aunt, do let her come in !*' cried the young Se- lina. *' I was so provoked at not seeing her the other day, that I could have cried '">Yith pleasure ! and sister Elinor has kept ( "^ ) her shut up ever since, and refused me the least little peep at her." The opposition of Mrs. Maple only the more strongly excited the curiosity of Selina, who, encouraged by the cla- morous approbation of Elinor, flew to the door. There, stopping short, she called out, " La ! here's nothing but a young woman! — Lai Aunt, Vm afraid she's run away !" " And if she is. Niece, we shall not break our hearts, I hope ! not but, if she's decamped, it's high time I should enquire whether all is safe in the house." " Decamped ?" cried Elinor, " Why she's at the door ! Don't you know her, Aunt? Don't you see her, Ireton?" The stranger, abashed, would have re- treated. Harleigh, raising his eyes from his book, shook his head at Elinor,, who, laughing and regardless, seized the hand of the young person, and dragged her into the parlour. ( 113 ) « Who is this ?'* said Mrs. Maple. " Who, Aunt ? Why your memory is shorter than ever ! Don't you recollect our dingy French companion, that you took such a mighty fancy to ?" Mrs, Maple turned away with angry contempt ; and the housekeeper, who had been summoned, appearing, orders were given for a strict examination whether the swarthy traveller, who fol- lowed them from France, were gone. The stranger, changing colour, ap- proached Elinor, and with an air that claimed her protection, said, ** Will you not, Madam, have the goodness to ex- plain who I am ?'* " How can I," cried Elinor, laughing, " when I don't know it myself?'* Every one stared ; Harleigh turned round ; the young woman blushed, but w^as silent. " If here is another of your Incognitas, Miss Joddrel," said Mrs. Maple, " I must beg the favour that you'll desire her to march off at once. I don't chuse to be ( 114 ) beset by such sort of gentry quite so fre- quently. Pray, young woman, what is it you want here ?'* *' Protection, Madam, and compas- sion !*' replied the stranger, in a tone of supplication. " I protest," said Mrs. Maple, " she has just the same sort of voice that that black girl had 1 and the same sort of <:ant ! And pray, young woman, what's your name ?" " That's right, Mrs. Maple, that's right!" cried Iretouj " make her tell her name !" « To be sure I shall 1" said Mrs. Maple, seating herself on a sofa, and taking out her snuff-box. " I have a great right to know the name of a person that comes, in this manner, into my parlour. Why do you not answer, young woman ?" The stranger, looking at Elinor, clasped her hands in act of entreaty for pity. " Very fine, truly !" said Mrs. Maple : " So here's just the second edition of the liistory of that frenchified swindler !" ( "5 ) «' No, no, Aunt ; it's only the sequel to the first part, for it's the same person, I assure you. Did not you come over with us from France, Mademoiselle ? In the same boat ? and with the same surly pilot ?" The stranger silently assented. Mrs. Maple, now, doubly enraged, in- terrogated her upon the motives of her having been so disfigured, with the stern- ness and sharpness of addressing a con- victed cheat. The stranger, compelled to speak, said, with an air of extreme embar- rassment, " I am conscious. Madam, how dreadfully all appearances are against me ! Yet I have no means, with any prudence, to enter into an explana- tion : I dare not, therefore, solicit yojar good opinion, though my distt'ess is so urgent, that I am forced to sue for your assistruiCe, — I ought, perhaps, to say your charity !" " I don't want," said Mrs. Maple, " to hear all that sort of stuff over again. ( "6 ) Let me only know who you are, and I shall myself be the best judge what should be done for you. What is it, then, once for all, that you call yourself? No prevarications ! Tell me your name, or go about your business." " Yes, your name ! your name !" re- peated Elinor, " Your name ! your name !" echoed Selina. " Your name ! your name !** re-echoed Ireton. The spirits and courage of the stranger seemed now to forsake ber ; and, with a faultering voice, she answered, " Alas ! I hardly know it myself 1 " Elinor laughed ; Selina tittered ; Ire- ton stared ; the leaves of the book held by Harleigh were turned over with a speed that shewed how little their con- tents engaged him 5 and Mrs. Maple, indignantly swelling, exclaimed, " Not know your own name ? Why I hope you don't come into my house from the Foundling Hospital?'* ( J'7 ) Harleigh, throwing down his book, walked hastily to Mrs. Maple, and said, in a low voice, " Yet, if that should be the case, would she be less an object of compassion ? of consideration ?" " What your notions may be upon such sort of heinous subjects, Mr. Harleigh," Mrs. Maple answered, with a look of high superiority, " I do not know ; but as for mine, I think encouraging things of that kind, has a very immoral tendency." Harleigh bowed, not as acquiescent in her opinion, but as declining to argue it, and was leaving the room, when Elinor, catching him by the arm, called out, " Why, Harleigh ! what are you so sour for ? Are you, also, angry, to see a clean face, and a clean gown ? I'll make the demoiselle put on her plasters and patches again, if that will please you better.'' This forced him to smile and to stay ; and Elinor then ended the inquisition, by proposing that the stranger should go to Lewes in the chaise with Golding, her ( ii8 ) own maid, and Fenn, Mrs. Maple's house- keeper. Mrs. Maple protested that she would not allow any such indulgence to an un- known pauper; and Mrs.Fenn declared, that there were so many hats, caps, and things of consequence to take care of, that it would be impossible to make room for a mouse. Elinor, ever alert to carry a disputed point, felt her generosity doubly excited to support the stranger; and, after some further, but overpowered opposition from Mrs. Maple, the hats, caps, and things of consequence were forced to submit to inferior accommodation, and the young woman obtained her request, to set off for Sussex, with the housekeeper and Elinor's maid. ( 1^9 ) CHx^PTER VII. nPHE house of Mrs. Maple was just witliout the town of Lewes, and the Wanderer, upon her arrival there, learnt that Brighthelmstone was still eight miles farther. She earnestly desired to go on immediately ; but how undertake such a journey on foot, so late, and in the dark month of December, when the nightappears to commence at four o'clock in the afternoon ? Her travelling com- panions both left her in the court-yard, and she was fain, uninvited, to follow them to the apartment of the housekeeper ; where she was beginning an apology upon the necessity that urged her intrusion, when Selina came skipping into the room. The stranger, conceiving some hope of assistance from her extreme youth, and air of good humour, besought her interest ( I20 ) With Mrs. Maple for permission to re- main in the house till the next day. Se- lina carried the request with alacrity, and, almost instantly returning, gave orders to the housekeeper to prepare a bed for her fellow-traveller, in the little room upon the stairs. The gratitude excited by this support was so pleasant to the young patronness, that she accompanied her 2^^otegee to the destined little apartment, superin- tended all the regulations for her accom- modation and refreshments, and took so warm a fancy to her, that she made her a visit every other half-hour in the course of the evening; during which she related, with earnest injunctions to se- cresy, all the little incidents of her little life, finishing her narration by intimating, in a rapturous whisper, that she should very soon have a house of her own, in which her aunt Maple would have no sort of authority. " And then," added she, nodding, " perhaps I may ask you to come and see me !" ( 12' ) No one else appeared; and the stranger might tranquilly have passed the night, but from internal disturbance how she should reach Brighthelmstone the follow- ing morning, without carriage, friends, money, or knowledge of the road thither. Before the tardy light invited her to rise the next day, her new young friend came flying into the room. " I could not sleep,'' she cried, " all last night, for the thought of a play that I am to have a very pretty dress for ; and that we have fixed upon acting amongst our- selves ; and so I got up on purpose to tell you of it, for fear you should be gone." She then read through every word of her own part, without a syllable of any other. They were both soon afterwards sent for into the parlour by Ehnor, who was waiting breakfast for Mrs. Maple, with Harleigh and Ireton. " My dear de- moiselle," she cried, " how fares it ? We were all so engrossed last night, about VOL. I. G ( 122 ) a comedy that we have been settling to massacre, that I protest I quite forgot you." " I ought only, Madam," answered the stranger, with a sigh, " to wonder, and to be grateful that you have ever thought of me," " Why w^hat's the matter with you now ? Why are you so solemn ? Is your noble courage cast down ? What are you projecting ? What's your plan ?" " When I have been to Brighth elm- stone, Madam, when I have seen who — or what may await me there ~" Mrs. Maple, now appearing, angrily demanded who had invited her into the parlour ? telling her to repair to the kitchen, and make known what she wanted through some of the servants. >• GThe blood mounted into the cheeks of the Incognita, but she answered only by a distant courtsie, and turning to Elinor and Selina, besought them to accept her acknowledgements for their good- ness, and retired. 11 ( 123 ) Selina and Elinor, following her into the ante-room, asked how she meant to travel ? She had one way only in her power ; she must walk. " Walk ? exclaimed Harleigh, joining them, '• in such a season ? And by such roads ?*' " Walk?'* cried Ireton, advancing also, " eight miles ? In December?*' " And why not, gentlemen ?" called out Mrs. Maple, " How would you have such a body as that go, if she must not walk ? What else has she got her feet for r ** Are you sure," said Ireton, " that you know the way ?" " I was never in this part of the world till now.'* " Ha! Ha! pleasant enough ! And what are you to do about money ? Did you ever find that purse of your's tliat you — lost, I think, at Dover?" >> Never!" " Better and better!" cried Ireton, G 2 ( 124 ) laughing again, yet feeling for his own purse, and sauntering towards the hall. Harleigh was already out of sight. " Poor soul !" said Selina, " I am sure, for one, Til help her." " Let us make a subscription," said Elinor, producing half a guinea, and looking round to Mrs. Maple. Selina joined the same sum, full of glee to give, for the first time, as much as her sister. Mrs. Maple clamorously ordered them to shut the parlour door. With shame, yet joy, the stranger ac- cepted the two half guineas, intimated her hopes that she should soon repay them, repeated her thanks, and took leave. The sisters would still have detained her, but Mrs. Maple peremptorily in- sisted upon breakfasting without further delay. The Incognita was proceeding to the housekeeper's room, for a packet of the gifts of Elinor, but she was stopt in the hall by Ireton, who was loitering about, 15 ( 125 ) playing with his purse, and jerking and catching it from hand to hand. *' Here, my dear,'* he cried, " look at this, and take what you will from it." She coldly thanked him, and, saying that the young ladies had amply supplied her, would have moved on : but he pre- vented her, repeating his offer, and adding, while with uncontrolled freedom he stared at her, " How the deuce, with such a pretty face as that, could you ever think of making yourself look such a fright ?" She told him that she was in haste. " But what was the whim of it?*' She desired him to make way, every moment of day-light being precious to her. " Hang day-light !" cried he, " I never liked it ; and if you will but wait a few minutes — " Selina, here, running to call him to breakfast, he finished in a whisper, " I'll convey you in my own chaise wherever you like to go ;" and then, forced to G 3 ( 126 ) put up his purse, be gallantly handed his fair bride-elect back to the parlonr. The stranger, entering the house- lieepers room, met Harleigh, who se- riously remonstrated against her walking project, offering his servant to procure her a post-chaise. The sigh of her nega- live expressed its melancholy economy, though she ov/ned a wish that she could find soiue meaner vehicle that would be safe. Hadeigh then disappeared ; but, a few minutes afterwards, when she was setting out from the garden-gate, she again met him, and he told her that he v/as going to order a parcel from a stationer's at Brighthelmstone ; and that a sort of chaise-cart, belonging to a farmer just by, would be sent for ; it, alm6st imme- diately. " I do not recommend," added bei smi!i%, " such a machine for its ele- gance ; and, if you would permit me4o offer you one more eligible — " ?^J^^ t^^'A erave motion of the head repressed him from finishing his phrase, and he ac- i"? C 127 ) quainted her that he had just been to the farm, to bespeak a sober driver, with whom he had already settled for his morn- ing's work. This implied assurance, that he had no plan of following the machine, induced her to agree to the proposition ; and, when the little carriage was in sight, he expressed his good wishes that she might find the letter, or the friend, that she desired, and returned to the breakfast parlour. The length of the way, joined to the dirt of the roads, made her truly sensible of his consideration, in affording her this safe conveyance. When she arrived at the Post-ofSce, the words, " Oh, you are come at last T* struck her ear, from the street ; but not conceiving herself to be addressed, they failed to catch her attention, till she saw, waiting to give her his hand, while ex- claiming, " What the deuce can have made you so long in coming ?" young Ireton. G 4 ( 128 ) Far less pleased than surprised, she disengaged herself from him with quick- ness, and enquired for the post-master. He was not within. She was extremely disturbed, and at a loss where to wait, or what to do. «c Why did not you stay for my chaise ?" said Ireton. " When I found that you were gone, I mounted my steed, and came over by a short cut, to see what was become of you ; and here you have kept me cooling my heels all this devil of a time. That booby of a driver must have had a taste for being out-crawled by a snail. Without answering him, she asked whether there were any clerk at hand, to whom she could apply ? Oh, yes ! and she was immediately shewn into an office, and followed, with- out any ceremony, by Ireton, though she replied not a word to any thing that he said. A young man here received her, of whom, in a fearful voice, she demanded ( 129 ) whether he had any letter dh'ected for L. S., to be left till called for. " You must make her tell you her name. Sir!" cried Ireton^ with an air of importance. " I give you notice not to let her have her letter, without a receipt, signed by her own hand. She came over with Mrs. Maple of Lewes, and a party of us, and won't say who she is. 'T has a very ugly look, Sir !*' The eye of the stranger accused him, but vainly, of cruelty. The clerk, who listened with great cu- riosity, soon produced a foreign letter, with the address demanded. While eagerly advancing to receive it, she anxiously enquired, whether there were no inland letter with the same di- rection ? None, she was answered. Ireton then, clapping his hand upon the shoulder of the clerk, positively de- clared, that he would lodge an informa- tion against him, if he delivered any letter, under such circumstances, without a signed receipt. G 5 ( ^3^ ) *!-- Ah- almost fainting distress was now visible in the face of the Incognita, as the clerk, surprised and perplexed, said, " Have you any objection, Ma'am, to giving me your name ?" u She stammered, hesitated, and grew jfaler, while Ireton smiled triumphantly, when the party was suddenly joined by Harleigh. Ireton ceased his clamour, and hung back, ashamed. Harleigh, approaching the stranger, with an apology for his intrusion, was struck vv^ith her disordered look, and en- quired whether she were ill ? " Ah, Sir !" she cried, reviving with hope at his siglit, and walking towards the window, whither, wondering, he fol- lowed, " assist me in mercy ! — you know, already, that some powerful motive deters me from namino; mvself — " " Have I been making any indiscreet enquiry?" cried he, gently, yet in a tone of surprise. ** You ? O no ! You have beon all ge» nerosity and consideration !'* Harleigb, much gratified, besought her to explain herself with openness. " They insist upon my telling my name — or they detain my letter !" " Is that all ?" said he, and, going to the clerk, he demanded the letter, for which he gave his own address'and receipt, with his word of honour that he was authorised to require it by the person to whom it was written. He then delivered it into her hand. The joy of its possession, joined to the relief from such persecution, filled her with a delight which, though beaming from all her features, she had not yet found words to express, when Ireton, whom Harleigh had not remarked, burst into a significant, though affected lauc:h. " Why, Harleigh ! why, what the deuce can have brought you hither?'* cried he. Harleigh wished to retort the question ; but would not hazard a rail- lery that miglit embarrass the stranger, who now, with modest grace, courtsied G 6 ( ^3^ ) to him; while she passed Ireton without notice, and left the room. Each wished to follow her, but each was restrained by the other. Ireton, who continued laughing maUciously, owned that his journey to Brighth elm- stone had been solely to prevail with the clerk to demand the name of the stranger, before he gave up the letter ; but Har- leigh protested that he had merely ridden over to offer his mediation for her return to Lewes, if she should miss the friend, or letter, of which she came in search. Ireton laughed still more j and hoped that, from such abundant charity, he would attribute his own ride, also, to motives of as pure benevolence. He then begged he might not interfere with the following up of so charitable a pur- pose : but Harleigh assured him that he had neither right, pretension, nor design to proceed any farther. " If that's the case," cried Ireton, <' since charity is the order of the day, ril see what is become of her myself." ( '33 ) He ran out of the room. Harleigh, following, soon joined him, and they saw the Incognita enter a mil- liner's shop. They then separated; Harleigh pleading business for not re- turning immediately to Lewes ; while Ireton, mounting his horse, with an ac- cusing shake of the head, rode off. Harleigh strolled to the milliner's, and, enquiring for some gloves, perceived, through the glass-door of a small parlour, the stranger reading her letter. He begged that the milliner would be so good as to tell the lady in the inner room, that Mr. Harleigh requested to speak to her. A message thus open could neither startle nor embarrass her, and he was instantly admitted. He found her pale and agitated. Her letter, which was in her hand, she hastily folded, but looked at nothing else, while she waited an explanation of his visit. " I could not/' he said, " go back to ( 134 ) Lewes without knowing whether your expectations are answered in coming hither ; or whether you will permit me to tell the Miss Joddrels that they may still have the pleasure to be of some use to you/* She appeared to be unable to speak. *' I fear to seem importunate,'* he continued, " yet I have no intention, be- lieve me, to ask any officious questions. I respect what you have said of the nature of vour situation, too much to desire any information beyond what may tend to alleviate its uneasiness/' She held her hands before her eyes, to hide her fresh gushing tears, but they trickled fast through her fingers, as she ansv/ered, " My situation is now de- plorable indeed! — I have no letter, no direction from the person whom I had hoped to meet ; and whose abode, whose address, I know- not how to disco- ver ! I must not apply to any of my ori- ginal friends : unknown, and in cir- cumstances the most strange, if not sus- picious, can I hope to make myself any new ones? — Can I even subsist, when, though tiius involved in mystery, I am as indigent as I am friendless, yet dare not say who, nor what I am, — and hardly even know it myself!" Touched with compassion, he drew nearer to her, meaning, from an almost unconscious impulse of kindness, to take her hand ; but feeling, with equal quickness, the impropriety of allowing his pity such a manifestation, he re- treated to his first place, and, in accents of gentle, but respectful commiseration, expressed his concern for her distress. Somewhat soothed, yet heavily sighing, *' To fail finding," she said, " either the friend, or her direction, that I expected, overwhelms me with difiiculty and per- plexity. And even this letter from abroad, though most welcome, has griev- ously disappointed me ! I am promised, however, another, which may bring me, perhaps, happier ti^lings. I must v»^ait for it patiently J but the person from C 136 ) whom it comes little imagines my des- titute state ! The unfortunate loss of my purse makes it, by this delay of all succour, almost desperate !" The hand of Harleigh was involun- tarily in his pocket, but before he could either draw out his purse, or speak, she tremulously added, colouring, and hold- ing back, " I am ashamed to have men- tioned a circumstance, which seems to call for a species of assistance, that it is impossible I should accept." Harleigh bowed, acquiescent. Her eyes thanked him for sparing her any contest, and she then gratefully ac- ceded to his proposal, of soliciting for her the renewed aid and countenance of the Miss Joddrels, from whom some little notice might be highly advantageous, in securing her decent treatment, during the few days, — perhaps more, — that she might be kept waiting at Brighthelm- stone for another letter. He gently exhorted her to re-animate her courage, and hoped to convince her, ( 137 ) by the next morning, that he had not in- truded upon her retirement from motives of idle and useless curiosity. As soon as he was gone, she treated with Miss Matson, the milliner, to whom Harleis^h had considerately named her as a young person known to Mrs. Maple, for a small room in lier house durins* a few days ; and then, somewhat revived, she endeavoured, by recollecting the evils which she had escaped, to look forward, with better hopes of alleviation, to tliose which might yet remain to be en- countered. ( 13^ ) CHAPTER VIII. T^HE next morning, the Wanderer had the happy surprise of seeing Elinor burst into her chamber. " We are all on iire," she cried, " at our house, so I am come hither to cool myself. Aunt Maple and I have fought a noble battle 5 but I have won tije day*" She then related, that Harleigh had brought them an account of her disap- pointments, her letter, her design to wait for another, and her being at the mil- liner's. " Aunt Maple," she continued, " treated the whole as imposition ; but I make it a rule never to let her pitiful system prevail in the house. And so, to cut the matter short, for I hate a long story, I gave her to understand, that, if she would not let you return to Lewes, and stay with us till your letter arrives, I should go to Brighthelmstone myself, and \ ( 139 ) stay with you. This properly frightened her; for she knew I would keep my word." " And would you, Madam ?" said the stranger, smiling. " Why not ? Do you think I would not do a thing only because no one else would do it ? I am never so happy as in ranging without a guide. However, we came to a compromise this morning; and she consents to permit your return, pro- vided I don't let you enter her chaise, and engage for keeping you out of every body's way.'* The stranger, evidently hurt and offended, declined admission upon such terms. Her obligations, she said, were already sufficiently heavy, and she would struggle to avoid adding to their weight, and to supply her own few wants herself, till some new resource mi There was no resource ! She decided upon studying the part. This was not difficult : she had read it at three rehearsals, and had care- fully copied it ; but she acquired it inechanicaliy because unwillingly, and while she got the words by rote, scarcely took their meaning into consideration. When called down, at night, to the grand final rehearsal, she gave equal sur- prise to Harleigh, from finding her al- ready perfect in so long a part, and from hearing her repeat it with a tameness almost lifeless. At the scene of the reconciliation, in the last act, he took her hand, and slightly kissed her glove. Ireton called out, " Embrace ! embrace ! — the peace-making is always decided, at the theatre, by an embrace. You must throw your arms lovingly over one an- other's shoulders.'* Harleigh did not advance, but he ( '95 ) looked at the stranger, and the blush upon her cheeks shewed her wholly un- accustomed even to the mention of any personal liberty ; Ireton, however, still insisting, he laughingly excused himself, by declaring, that he must do by Lord Townly as he would do by himself; and he never meant, should he marry, to be tender to his wife before company. Mrs. Maple now, extremely anxious for her own credit, told all the servants, that she had just discovered, that the stranger who came from France, was a young lady of consequence, and she de- sired that they would make a report to that effect throughout the neighbour- hood ; and, in the new play-bills which were now written, she suffered to see in- serted. Lady Townly by Miss Ellis. Harleigh was the first to address the stranger by this name, previously taking an opportunity, with an air of friendly regard, to advise that she would adopt it, till she thought right to declare her own. She thanked him K 2 ( 196 ) gratefully for his counsel, confessing, that she had long felt the absurdity of seeming nameless; and adding, " but I had made no preparation for what I so little expected, as the length of time in which I have been kept in this almost unheard of situation ! and the hourly hope of seeing it end, made me decide to spare myself, at least by silence, from deceit." The look of Harleigh shewed his ap- probation of her motive, while his words strengthened her conviction, that it must now give way to the necessity of some denomination. " Be it Ellis, then," said she, smiling, " though evasion may, perhaps, be yet meaner than falsehood ! Nevertheless, I am rather more content- ed to make use of this name, which ac- cident has bestowed upon me, than posi- tively to invent one for myself." Ellis, therefore, which appellation, now, will be substituted for that of the Incognita, seeing no possibility of escap- ing this exhibition, comforted herself. ( 197 ) that, however repugnant it might be to her inclinations, and her sense of pro- priety, it gave her, at least, some chance, during the remainder of her stay at Lewes, of being treated with less indig- nity. K ( '98 ) t- CHAPTER XL 'T^HE hope of meeting with more con- sideration in the family, inspirited Ellis with a wish, hitherto unfelt, of con- tributing to the purposed entertainment. The part which she had been obliged to undertake, was too prominent to be placed in the back ground ; and the whole per- formance must be flat, if not ridiculous, unless Lady Townly were a principal person. She read over, therefore, re- peated, and studied the character, with an attention more alive to its meaning, style, and diversities ; and the desire which animated all that she attempted, of doing with her best means whatever unavoidably must be done, determined her to let no effort in her power be wanting, to enliven the representation. The lateness of this resolution, made her application for its accomplishment f ( '99 ) so completely fill up her time, that not a moment remained for those fears of self-deficiency, with which diffidence and timidity enervate the faculties, and often, in sensitive minds, rob them of the powers of exertion. When the hour of exhibition approach- ed, and she was summoned to the apart- ment destined for the green-room, uni- versal astonishment was produced by her appearance. It was not from her dress j they had seen, and already knew it to be fanciful and fashionable ; nor was it the heightened beauty which her decorations displayed j this, as she was truly lovely, was an effect that they expected ; but it was from the ease with which she wore her ornaments, the grace with which she set them off, the elegance of her deportment, and an air of dignified modesty, that spoke her not only accustomed to such attire, but also to the good breeding and refined man- ners, which announce the habits of life to have been formed in the supenour classes of society. K 4 ( 200 ) Selina, as she opened the door, exult- ingly called out, " Look ! look ! only look at Ellis ! did you ever see any thing in the world so beautiful ?*' Ireton, to whom dress, far more than feature or complexion, presented at- traction, exclaimed, *.' By my soul, she's as handsome as an angel !** Elinor, thus excited, came forward j but seemed struck speechless. ) They now all flocked around her; and Mrs. Maple, staring, cried, " Why who did you get to put your things on for you ?'* when, suddenly recollecting the new account which she had herself given, and caused to be spread of this young person, she forced a laugh, and added, " Bless me. Miss Ellis, if I had not quite forgotten whom I was speaking to! Why should not Miss Ellis know how to dress herself as well as any other young lady ?" ^ ^. " Why, indeed," said Miss Bydel, "it makes a prodigious change, a young lady's turning out a young lady, instead ( 201 ) of a common young woman. IVd s^en a good nntny of the Ellis's. Pray, Ma'am, does your part of the family come from Yorkshire ? or Devonshire ? for I should like to know." !jot'i?l *' And, if there were any gentlemen of your family, with you, Ma'am, in fo- reign parts," said Mr. Scope, " I should be glad to have their opinion of this Convention, now set up in France : for as to ladies, though they are certainly very pleasing, they are but indifferent judges in the political line, not having, ordinarily, heads of that sort. I speak without offence, inferiority of under- standing being no defect in a female," " Well, I thought from the first," said young Gooch, " and I said it to sisters, that the young lady was a young lady, by her travelling, and that. But pray. Ma'am, did you ever look on, to see that Mr. Robert Speer mow down his hundreds, like to grass in a hay-field? We should not much like it if they were to do so in England. But the French K 5 ( 202 y have no spirit. They are but a poor set ; except their generals, or the like of that. And, for them, theyMl fight you like so many lions. They are afraid of nobody." " By what I hear, Ma'am," said Mr. Stubbs, " a gentleman, in that country, may have rents due to the value of thou- sands, and hardly receive a frog, as one may say, an acre." While thus her fellow-performers surrounded the Incognita, Harleigh, alone, held back, absorbed in contem- plating the fine form, which a re- markably light and pretty robe, now first displayed ; and the beautiful fea- tures, and animated complexion, which were set off to their utmost lustre, by the waving feathers, and artificial flowers,- which were woven into her soft, glossy, luxuriant brown hair. But though he forbore offering her any compliments, he no sooner observed that she was seized with a sudden panic, upon a ser- vant's announcing, that the expected -+6 C 2G3 ) audience, consisting of some of the principal families of Sussex, was ar- rived, than he addressed, and endea- voured to encourage her. - " I am aware, Sir,'* slie said, " that it may seem rather like vanity than diffi- dence, for one situated as I am to feel anv alarm ; for as I can have raised no expec- tations, what have I to fear from giving any disappointment ? Nevertheless, now tlie time is come, the attempt grows formidable. It must seem so strange — so wond'rous strange, — to those who know not how little my choice has been consulted — " She was interrupted, for all was ready ; and Harleigh was summoned to open the piece, by the famous question, *' Why did I marry ?*' The fright which now had found its way into the mind of the new Lady Townly, augmented every moment till she appeared ; and it was then so great, as nearly to make her forget her part, and occasion what, hesitatingly, she was « 6 ( 204 ) able to utter, to be hardly audible, even to her fellow-performers. The applause excited by her beauty, figure, and dress, only added to her embarrass- ment. She with difficulty kept to her post, and finished her first scene with complete self discontent. Elinor, who watched her throughout it, lost all ad- miration of her exterior attractions, from contempt of her feeble performance. But her second scene exhibited her in another point of view ; her self-dis- pleasure worked her up to exertions that brought forth the happiest effects ; and her evident success produced ease, by inspiring courage. From this time, her performance acquired a wholly new character : it seemed the essence of gay intelligence, of well bred animation, and of lively variety. The grace of her motions made not only every step but every turn of her head remarkable. Her voice modulated into all the changes that vivacity, carelesness, pride, pleasure, indifference, or alarm demanded. Every ( 205 ) feature of her face spoke her discrimina- tion of every word j while the spirit which gave a charm to the whole, was chastened by a taste the most correct ; and while though modest she was never aukward ; though frightened, never ungraceful, A performance such as this, in a person young, beautiful, and wholly new, created a surprize so powerful, and a delight so unexpected, that the play seemed soon to have no other object than Lady Townly, and the audience to think that no other were worth hearing or beholding j for though the politeness exacted by a private re- presentation, secured to every one an apparent attention, all seemed vapid and without merit in which she was not concerned; while all wore an air of interest in which she bore the smallest part ; and she soon never spoke, looked^ nor moved, but to excite pleasure, ad- miration, and applause, amounting to rapture. y.j^i . .j • Whether this excellence were the re- sult of practice and instruction, or a sudden emanation of general genius, accidentally directed to a particular, point, was disputed by the critics amongst the audience; and disputed, as usual, with the greater vehemence, from the impossibility of obtaining documents to decide, or direct opinion. But that which was regarded as the highest re- finement of her acting, was a certain air of inquietude, which was discernible through the utmost gaiety of her exer- tions, and which, with the occasional absence and sadness, that had their source in her own disturbance, was attributed to deep research into the latent subjects of uneasiness belonging to the situation of Lady Townly. This, however, was nature, which would not be repressed ; not art, that strove to be displayed. But no pleasure excited by her various powers, approached to the pleasure which they bestowed upon Harleigh, who could look at, could listen to lier alone* To himself, he lost all power of doing justice ; wrapt up in the contempla- tion of an object thus singular, thus excelling, thus mysterious, all ambi- tion of personally shining was forgot- ten. He could not fail to speak his part with sense and feeling ; he could not help appearing fashioned to represent a man of rank and understanding ; but that address which gives life and mean- ing to every phrase ; that ingenuity, which beguiles the audience into an il- lusion, which, for the current moment, inspires the sympathy due to reality ; that skill which brings forth on the very instant, all the effect which, to the closet reader, an author can hope to produce from reflection ; these, the attributes of good acting, and for which his taste, his spirit, and his judgment all fitted him, ^ere now, from slackened self-attention, beyond his reach, though within his powers. At a public theatre, sucii an actress might have proved a spur to have urged the exertions of competition ; in ( 208 ) tins private one, where success, except to vanity, was unimportant, her merit^ was, to Harleigh, an absorbent that oc- cupied, exclusively, all his faculties. In the last act, where Lady Townly becomes serious, penitent, and pathetic, the new actress appeared to yet greater advantage : the state of her mind ac- corded with distress, and her fine speak* * ing eyes, her softly touching voice, her dejected air, and penetrating counte- nance, made quicker passage to the feel-* ings of her auditors, even than the words of the author. All were moved, tears were shed from almost every eye, and^ Harleigh, affected and enchanted, at the moment of the peace-making, took'' her hand with so much eagerness, and pressed it to his lips with so much pleasure, that the rouge, put on for the M occasion, was paler than the blushes which burnt through it on her cheeks. He saw this, and, checking his admira- ^ tion, relinquished with respect the hand which he had taken nearly with rapture. ( 209 ) When the play was over, and the loudest applause Lad mark jd its success- ful representation, the company arose to pay their compliments to Mrs. Maple. Lady Townly, then, followed by every eye, was escaping from bearing her share in the bursts of general approbation ; when a youth of the most engaging ap- pearance, and evidently of high fashion, sprang over the forms, to impede her. retreat'; and to pour forth the highest encomiums upon her performance, in well-bred, though enthusiastic language, with all the eager vivacity of early youth, which looks upon moderation as insipi- dity, and measured commendation as want of feeling. Though confused by being detained, Ellis could not be angry, for there was no impertinence in his fervour, no fami- liarity in his panegyric ; and though his speech was rapid, his manners were gentle. His eulogy was free from any presumption of being uttered for her gratification ; it seemed simply the un. ( 210 y controllable ebullition of ingenuous gra- titude. Surprised still more than all around her, at the pleasure which she found she had communicated, some share of it now stole insensibly into her own bosom ; and this was by no means lessened, by seeing her youthful new admirer soon followed by a lady still younger than himself, who called out, " Do you think, brother, to monopolize Miss Ellis ?" And, with equal delight, and nearly equal ardour, she joined in the acknowledgements made by her brother, for the entertainment which they had received ; and both united in declaring that they should never endure to see or hear any other Lady Townly. ; There was a charm, for there seemed a sincerity in this youthful tribute of admiration, that was highly gratifying to the new actress ; and Harleigh thought he read in her countenance, the soothing relief experienced by a delicate mind, from meeting with politeness and court-? ( 211 ) csie, after a long endurance of indignity or neglect. Almost every bodyamongthe audience, one by one, joined this little set, all eager to take a nearer view of the lovely Lady Towilly, and availing them- selves of the opportunity afforded by this season of compliment, for examining more narrowly whom it was that they addressed. Mrs. Maple, meanwhile, suffered the utmost perplexity : far from foreseeing an admiration which thus bore down all before it, she had conceived that, the piece once finished, the actress would vanish, and be thought of no more : nor was she without hope, in her utter disdain of the stranger, that the part thus given merely by necessity, would be so ill represented, as to disgust her niece from any such frolics in future. J3ut when, on the contrary, she found that there was but one voice in favour of this unknown performer ; when not all her own pride, nor all her prejudice. ( 21^ ; could make her blind to that performer's truly elevated carriage and appear- ance ; when every auditor flocked to her, with " Who is this charming Miss Ellis ?" — " Present us to this in- comparable Miss Ellis ;'' she felt covered with shame and regret ; though com- pelled, for her own credit, to continue repeating, that she was a young lady of family who had passed over with her from the Continent. ^ Provoked, however, she now followed the crowd, meaning to give a hint to the Incognita to retire; but she had the mortification of hearing her gallant new enthusiast pressing for her hand, in a cotillon, which they were preparing to dance ; and though the stranger gently, yet steadily, was declining hisproposition, Mrs. Maple was so much frightened and irritated that such a choice should be in her power, that she called out im- patiently, " My Lord, we must have some refreshments before the dance. Do pray, Lady Aurora Granville, beg Lord ( 2^3 ) Melbury to come this way, and take something.*' :iui> )tThe young lord and J lady, with civil but cold thanks, that spoke their dis- like of this interference, both desired to be excused ; but great was their concern, and universal, throughout the apart- ment, was the consternation, upon ob- serving Miss Ellis change colour, and sink upon a chair, almost fainting. Harleigh, who had strongly marked the grace and dignity with which she had received so much praise, now cast a glance of the keenest indignation at Mrs. Maple, attributing to her rude in- terruption of the little civilities so evidently softening to the stranger, this sudden indisposition ; but Mrs. Maple either saw it not, or did not understand it, and seized, with speed, the oppor- tunity of saying, that Miss Ellis was exhausted by so much acting, and of desiring that some of the maids might help her to her chamber. _. Elinor stood suspended, looking not t5 ( 214 ) at her, but at Harleigh. Every one else came forward with inquiry, fans, or sweet-scented vials ; but Ellis, a little reviving, accepted the salts of Lady Aurora Granville, and, leaning against her waist, which her arm involuntarily encircled, breathed hard and shed a tor- rent of tears. " Why don't the maids come ?*' cried JVIrs. Maple. " Selina, my dear, do call them. Lady Aurora, I am quite ashamed. — Miss Ellis, what are you thinking of, to lean so against Her Ladyship ? Pray, Mr. Ireton, call the maids for me." " Call no one, I beg!" cried Lady Aurora : " Why should 1 not have the pleasure of assisting Miss Ellis ?" And, bending down, she tried better to ac- commodate herself to the ease and re- lief of her new acquaintance, who ap- peared the more deeply sensible of her kindness, from the ungenerous displea- sure which it evidently excited in Mrs. Maple. And when, in some degree re- covered, she rose to go, she returned C 215 ) her thanks to Lady Aurora with so touching a softness, with tearful eyes, and in a voice so plaintive, that Lady Aurora, affected by her manner, and charmed by her merit, desired still to support her, and, entreating that she would hold by her arm, begged permis- sion of Mrs. ]\laple to accompany Miss Ellis to her chamber. Mrs. Maple recollecting, with the utmost confusion, the small and ordinary room allotted for Ellis, so unlike what she would have bestowed upon such a young lady as she had now described for her fel- low-voyager, found no resource against exposing it to Lady Aurora, but that of detaining the object of her compassionate admiration ; she stammered, therefore, out, that as Miss Ellis seemed so much better, there could be no reason why she should not stay below, and see the dance. Ellis gladly courtsied her consent; and the watchful Harleigh, in the alacrity of her acceptance, rejoiced to see a revival ( 2l6 ) to the sentiments of pleasure, which the acrimonious grossness of Mrs. Maple had interrupted. Lord Melbury now took the hand of SeHna, and Harleigh that of Lady Au- rora. Elinor would not dance, but, seat- ing herself, fixed her eyes upon Harleigh, whose own were almost perpetually wan- dering to watch those of his dramatic consort. Since the first scene, in which the stranger had so ill entered into the spirit of Lady Townly's character, Elinor had ceased to deem her worthy of observa- tion ; and, giving herself up wholly to her own part, had not witnessed the gra- dations of the improvements of EUis^ her rising excellence, nor her final perfec- tion. In her own representation of Lady Wronghead, she piqued herself upon pro- ducing new effects, and had the triumph, by her cleverness and eccentricities, her grotesque attitudes and attire, and an un- expected and burlesque manner of acting, to bring the part into a consequence of ( 217 ) which it had never appeared su'^ceptible. Happy in the surprise and diversion she occasioned, and constantly occupied how to augment it, she only learnt the high success of Lady Town ly, by the bursts of applause, and the unbounded admiration and astonishment, which broke forth from nearly every mouth, the instant that the audience and the performers were united. Amazed, she turned to Harleigh, to examine the merits of such praise ; but Harleigh, no longer silent, cautious, or cold, was himself one of the '' admiring throng," and so openly, and with an air of so much pleasure, that she could not catch his attention for any critical discussion. After two country dances, and two cotillons, the short ball was broken up, and Lady Aurora hastened to seat her- self by Miss Ellis, and Lord Melbury to stand before and to converse with her, followed by all the youthful part of the company, to whom sRe seemed the so- vereign of a little court which camo to * VOL. I. L ( 2i8 ) pay her homage. Harleigh grew every instant more enchanted ; for as she discoursed with her two fervent new admirers, her countenance brightened into an animation so radiant, her eyes became so lustrous, and smiles of so much sweetness and pleasure embellished every feature, that he almost fancied he saw her now for the first time, though her w^elfare, or her distresses, had for more than a month chiefly occupied his mind. Who art thou? thought he, as incessantly he contemplated her ; where hast thou thus been formed ? And for what art thou designed? Supper being now announced, Mrs. Maple commissioned Harleigh to lead Lady Aurora down stairs, adding, with a forced smile of civility, that Miss ElHs must consult her health in retiring. " Yes, Ma'am ; and Miss Ellis knows," cried Lady Aurora, offering her arm, " who is to be her chevalier." Again embarra#ed, Mrs. Maple saw no resource against exposing her shabby ( 219 ) chamber, but that of admitting its occu- pier to the supper table. She hastily, therefore, asked whether Miss Ellis thought herself well enough to sit up a little longer ; adding, " For my part, I think it will do you good." " The greatest !" cried Ellis, with a look of delight ; and, to the speechless consternation of Mrs. Maple, Lord Mel- bury, calling her the Queen of the night, took her hand, to conduct her to the supper-room. Ellis would have declined this distinction, but that the vivacity of her ardent new friend, precipitated her to the stair-case, ere she was aware that she was the first to lead the way thither. Gaily, then, he would have placed her iu the seat of honour, as Lady President of the evening ; but, more now upon her guard, she insisted upon standing till the visitors should be arranged, as she was herself a resident in the house. Lord Melbury, however, quitted her not, and Vvould talk fb no one else ; and finding that his seat was destined to be ( G20 ) next to that of Mrs. Maple5\vho called him to her side, he said, that he never supped, and would therefore wait upon the ladies ; and, drawing a chair behind that of Ellis, he devoted himself to con- versing with her, upon her part, upon the whole play, and upon dramatic works, French and English, in general, with the eagerness with which such subjects warm the imagination of youth, and with a pleasure which made him monopolize her attention. Harleigh listened to every word to which Ellis listened, or to which she an- swered y and scarcely knew whether most to admire her good sense, her in- telligent quickness, her elegant language, or the meaning eyes, and varied smiles which spoke before she spoke, and shew- ed her entire conception of all to which she attended. No one now could address her ; she \vas completely engrossed by the young nobleman, who allowed her not time to turn from him a moment. Such honours shewn to a pauper, u ( 22f ) Stroller, a vagabond ; and all in the pre- sent instance, from her own unfortunate contrivance, Mrs, Maple considered as a personal disgrace ; a sensation which was threefold encreased when the party broke up, and Lady Aurora, taking the chair of her brother, rallied him upon the envy which his situation had excited ; while, in the most engaging manner, she hoped, during her sojourn at Brighthelm- stone, to have frequently the good for- tune of taking her revenge. Then, join- ing in their conversation, she became so pleased, so interested, so happy, that twice Mrs. Howel, the lady under whose care she had been brought to Lewies, reminded Her Ladj-ship that the horses were wait- ing in the cold, before she could prevail upon herself to depart. And, even then, that lady was forced to take her gently by the arm, to prevent her from renewing the conversation which she most unwil- lingly finished. " Pardon me, dear Madam,*' said Lady Aurora ; " I am quite ashamed; but I hope, while I am so L 3 ( 222 ) happy as to be with you, that you will yourself conceive a fellow feeling, how difficult it is to tear one's self away from Miss Ellis/' " What honour Your Ladyship does me!" cried Ellis, her eyes glistening: " and Oh ! — how happy you have made me !"— " How kind you are to say so !" Re- turned Lady Aurora, taking her hand. She felt a tear drop upon her own from the bent-down eyes of Ellis. Startled, and astonished, she hoped that Miss Ellis was not again indisposed ? Smilingly, yet in a voice that de- noted extreme agitation, " Lady Au- rora alone," she answered, " can be surprised that so much goodness — so imlooked for — so unexpected — should be touching!" " O Mrs. Maple," cried Lady Aurora, in taking leave of that lady, " what a sweet creature is this Miss Ellis !" " Such talents and a sensibility so attractive," said Lord Melbury, " never met before !" ( 223 ; Ellis heard them, and with a pleasure that seemed exquisite, yet that died away the moment that they disappeared. All then crowded round her, who had hither- to abstained ; but she drooped ; tears flowed fast down her cheeks ; she court- sied the acknowledgements which she could not pronounce to her complimen. ters and enquirers, and mounted to her chamber. Mrs. Maple concluded her already so spoiled, by the praises of Lord Melbury and Lady Aurora Granville, that she held herself superior to all other ; and the company in general imbibed the same notion. Many disdain, or affect to disdain, the notice of people of rank for themselves, but all are jealous of it for others. Not such was the opinion of Harleigh ; her pleasure in their society seemed to him no more than a renovation to feel- ings of happier days. Who, who, thought he again, can'st thou be ? And L 4 ( 224 ) why, thus evidently accustomed to grace society, why art thou thus strangely alone — thus friendless — thus desolate — thus mysterious ? ( 225 ) BOOK II. CHAPTER XII. qELINA, regarding herself as a free ^ agent, since Ireton professed a re- spect for Ellis that made him ashamed of his former doubts, flew, the next morning, to the chamber of that young person, to talk over the play. Lord Melbury, and Lady Aurora Granville : but found her protegee absorbed in deep thought, and neither able nor willing to converse. When the family assembled to break- fast, Mrs. Maple declared that she had not closed her eyes the whole night, from the vexation of having admitted such an unknown Wanderer to sup at her table, and to mix with people of rank. Elinor was wholly silent. They were not yet separated, when ^ 5 ( 226 ) Lady Aurora Granville and Mrs, Howel called to renew their thanks for the en- tertainment of the preceding evening. " But Miss Ellis ?'' said Lady Aurora, looking around her, disappointed j " I hope she is not more indisposed ?" " By no means. She is quite well again," answered Mrs. Maple, in haste to destroy a disposition to pity, which she thought conferred undue honour upon the stranger. " But shall we not have the pleasure to see her ?" " She . . . generally .... breakfasts in her own room,^' answered Mrs. Maple, with much hesitation. " May I, then," said Lady Aurora, going to the bell, " beg that somebody will let her know how happy I should be to enquire after her health ?" *' Your Ladyship is too good, " cried Mrs. Maple, in great confusion, and preventing her from ringing ; but Miss ElJis — I don't know why — is, so fond of keeping her chamber, that there is C 227 ) no getting her out of it . . . some how.—" " Perhaps, then, she will permit me to go up stairs to her ?'^ " O no, not for the world ! besides .... I believe she has w^alked out.'' Lady Aurora now applied to Selina, who was scampering away upon a com- miffion of search j when Mrs. Maple, following her, privately insisted that she should bring back intelligence that Miss Ellis was taken suddenly ill. Selina was forced to comply, and Lady Aurora with serious concern, to return to Brighthelmstone ungratified. Mrs. Maple was so much disconcerted by this incident, and so nettled at her own perplexed situation, that nothing saved Ellis from an abrupt dismission, but the representations of Mrs. Fenn, that some fine work, which the' young woman had just begun, would not look of a piece if finished by another hand. The next morning, the breakfast, party was scarcely assembled, wlien Lord Melbury entered the parlour. He L 6 ( 228 ) had ridden over, he said, to enquire after the health of Miss Ellis, in the name of his sister, who would do herself the pleasure to call upon her, as soon as she should be sufficiently recovered to receive a visit. Elinor was stiTick with the glow of satisfaction which illumined the face of Harleigh, at this reiterated dis- ti-nction. A glow of a far different sort flushed that of Mrs. Maple, who, after various ineffectual evasions, was con- strained to say that she hoped Miss Ellis would be well enough to appear on the morrow. And, to complete her provoca- tion, she was reduced, when Lord Melbury was gone, to propose, herself, that Selina should lend the girl a gown, and what else she might require, for being seen, once again, without involving them all in shame. Ellis, informed by Selina of these par- ticulars, shed a torrent of grateful tears at the interest v;hich she had thus unex- pectedly excited ; then, reviving into a Tivacity which seemed to renew all the 15 ( 229 ) pleasure that she had experienced on the night of the play, she diligently employed herself in appropriating the attire which Selina supplied for the occasion. Mrs. Maple, now, had no consolation but that the stay of Lady Aurora in the neighbourhood would be short, as that young lady and her brother were only at Brighthelmstone upon a visit to the Honourable Mrs. Howel; who, having a capital mansion upon the Steyne, resided there the greatest part of the year. Mrs. Howel accompanied her young guest to Lewes the foUowhig morning. Miss Ellis was enquired for without de- lay, and as Mrs. Maple would suffer no one to view her chamber, slie was sum- moned into the drawing-room. She entered it with a blush of bright pleasure upon her cheeks ; yet with eyes that were glistening, and a bosom that seemed struggling with sighs. Lady Aurora hastened to meet her, uttering such kind expressions of concern for her indisposition, that Ellis, with charmed ( 230 ) sensibility, involuntarily advanced to embrace her ; but rapidly, and with timid shame, drew back, her eyes cast down, and her feelings repressed. Lady Aurora, perceiving the design, and its check, instantly held out her hand, and smilingly saying, " Would you cheat me of this kindness ?" led her to a seat next to her own upon a sofa. The eyes of the stranger were not now the only ones that glistened. Har- leigh could not see her thus benignly treated, or rather, as he conceived, thus restored to the treatment to which she had been accustomed, and which he believed her to merit, without feeling tears moisten his own. With marked civility, though not with the youthful enthusiasm of Lady Aurora, Mrs. Howel, also, made her compliments to Miss Ellis. Lord Melbury arrived soon afterwards, and, the first ceremonies over, devoted his whole attention to the same person. O powerful prejudice ! thought Har- ( 231 ) lelgh ; what is judgment, and where is perception in your hands ? The ladies of this house, having first seen this charming Incognita in tattered garments, forlorn, desolate, and distressed ; go- verned by the prepossession thus excited of her inferiority, even, to this moment, either neglect or treat her harshly; not moved by the varied excellencies that should create gentler ideas, nor open to the interesting attractions that might give them more pleasure than they could bestow ! While these visitors, hearing that she is a young lady of family, and meeting her upon terms of equality, find, at once, that she is endowed with talents and accomplishments for the highest admiration, and with a sweetness of manners, and powers of conversation, irresistibly fascinating. The visit lasted almost the whole morning, during which he observed, with extreme satisfaction , not only that the dejection of Ellis wore away, but that a delight in the intercourse seemed C 232 ) reciprocating between herself and he^ young friends, that gave new beauty to her countenance, and new spirit to her existence. When the visitors rose to be gone, " I cannot tell you. Miss Ellis,'* said Lady Aurora, " how happy I shall be to culti- vate your acquaintance. Will you give me leave to call upon you for half an hour to morrow ?'* Ellis, with trembling pleasure, cast a fearful glance at Mrs. Maple, who hastily turned her head another way. Ellis then gratefully acceded to the proposal. " Miss Ellis, I hope," said Mrs.Howel, in taking leave, '^ will permit me, also, to have some share of her society, when I have the honour to receive her at Bright- helmstone." Ellis, touched, enchanted, could at- tempt no reply beyond a courtesy, and stole, with a full heart, and eyes over- flowing, to her chamber, the instant that they left the house. Mrs. Maple was now in a dilemma which she would have deemed terrible ( 233 ) beyond all comparison, but from what she experienced the following minute, when the butler put upon the table a handful of cards, left by the groom of Mrs. Howei, amongst which Mrs. Maple perceived the name of Miss Ellis, mingled with her ow^n, and that of the Miss Joddrels, in an invitation to a small dancing-party on the ensuing Thursday. " This exceeds all !" she cried : " If I don't get rid of this wretch, she will bring me into universal disgrace ! she shall not stay another day in my house." " Has she, Madam, for a single mo- ment," said Harleigh, with quickness, ** given you cause to repent your kind assistance, or reason to harbour any sus- picion that you have not bestowed it worthily ?" " Why, you go beyond Elinor herself, now, Mr. Harleigh ! for even, she, you see, does not ask me to keep her any longer." " Miss Joddrel," answered Harleigh, ( ^34 ) turning with an air of gentleness to the mute EHnor, " is aware how little a single woman is allowed to act publicly for herself, without risk of censure." " Censure ?" interrupted Elinor, dis- dainfully, " you know I despise it !*' He affected not to hear her, and con- tinued, " Miss Joddrel leaves, therefore. Madam, to your established situation in life, the protection of a young person whom circumstances have touchingly cast upon your compassion, a,nd who seems as innocent as she is indigent, and as formed, nay elegant in her manners, as she is obscure and secret in her name and history. I make not any doubt but Miss Joddrel would be foremost to sus- tain her from the dangers of lonely pe- nury, to which she seems exposed if de- serted, were my brother already — " He approached Elinor, lowering his voice ; she rose to quit the room, with a look of deep resentment ; but could not first escape hearing him finish his speech with " as happy as I hope soon to see him !" " Ah, Mr. Harleigh," said Mrs. Maple, " when shall we bring that to bear?". " She never pronounces a positive re- jection,'' answered Harieigh, " yet I make no progress in my peace-offerings." He would then have entered more fully upon that subject, in the hope of escaping from the other : Mrs. Maple, however, never forgot her anger but for her interest; andSelina was forced to be the messenger of dismission. She found Ellis so revived, that to de- stroy her rising tranquillity would have been a task nearly impossible, had Selina possessed as much consideration as good humour. But she was one amongst the many in whom reflection never precedes speech, and therefore, though sincerely sorry, she denounced, without hesitating, the sentence of Mrs. Maple. Ellis was struck with the deepest dis- may, to be robbed thus of all refuge, at the very moment when she flattered her- self that new friends, perhaps a new ( n^ ) asylum, were opening to her. Whithe^ could she now wander? and how hope that others, to whom she was still less known, would escape the blasting conta- gion, and believe that distress might be guiltless though mysterious ? A few shil- hngs were all that she possessed ; and she saw no prospect of any recruit. Elinor had not once spoken to her since the play ; and the childish character, even more than the extreme youth of Selina, made it seem improper, in so discarded a state, to accept any succour from her clandestinely. Nevertheless, the awaited letter was not yet arrived ; the expected friend had not yet appeared. How, then, quit the neighbourhood of Bright- helmstone, where alone any hope of re- ceiving either still lingered ? The only idea that occurred to her, was that of throwing herself upon the compassion of her new acquaintances, faithfully detail- ing to them her real situation at Mrs. Maple's, and appealing to their genero- sity to forbear, for the present, all en- quiry into its original cause. ( 237 ) This determined, she anxiously de- sired, before her departure, to restore, if she could discover their owner, the anonymous bank-notes, which she was resolute not to use ; and, hearing the step of Harleigh passing her door in de- scending the stairs, she hastened after hira, with the little packet in her hand. Turning round as he reached the hall, and observing, with pleased surprise, her intention to speak to him, he stopt. " You have been so good to me. Sir,'* she said, " so humane and so conside- rate, by every possible occasion, that I think I may venture to beg yet one more favour of you, before I leave Lewes.' Her dejected tone extremely affected him. and he waited her explanation with looks that were powerfully expressive of his interest in her welfare. " Some one, with great, but mistaken kindness," she continued, " has imagined my necessities stronger than my " She stopt, as if at a loss for a word, and then, with a smile, added, " my pride. ( 238 ) others, perhaps, will say ; but to me it appears only a sense of right. If, how- ever, my lengthened suspense forces me to require more assistance of this sort than I already owe to the Miss Joddrels, andto the benevolent Admiral, I shall have recourse to the most laborious personal exertions, rather than spread any further the list of my pecuniary creditors." Harleigh did not, or seemed not to un- derstand her, yet would not resist taking the little packet, which she put into his hands, saying, " I have some fear that this comes from Mr. Ireton ; I shall hold myself inexpressibly obliged to you. Sir, if you will have the goodness to clear up that doubt for me ; and, should it prove a fact, to return it to him with my thanks, but the most positive assurance that its acceptance is totally impossible.'* Harleigh looked disturbed, yet pro- mised to obey. " And if," cried she, " you should not find Mr. Ireton to be my creditor, you may possibly discover him in a person to i6 (239 ) whom I owe far other services, and unmingled esteem. And should that be the case, say to him, I beg, Sir, that even from him I must decline an obligation of this sort, though my debts to him of every other, are nearly as innumerable as their remembrance will be indelible." She then hastened away, leaving Har- leigh impressed with such palpable con- cern, that she could no longer doubt that the packet was already deposited with its right owner. He passed into the garden, and she was going back, when, at the entrance of the breakfast-parlour, she perceived EHnor, who seemed sternly occupied in observing them. Ellis courtsied, and stood still. Elinor moved not, and was gloomily silent. Struck with her mien, her stillness, and her manner, Ellis, in a fearful voice, en- quired after her health ; but received a look so indignant, yet wild, that, affrighted and astonished, she retreated to her chamber. ( 240 ) As she turned round upon entering it, to shut herself in, immediately before her stood Elinor. She looked yet paler, and seemed in a sort of stupor. Ellis respectfully held open the door, but she did not advance: thefury, however, of her aspectwasabatedy and Ellis, in a voice condolingly soft, asked whether she might hope that Miss Joddrel would, once more, condescend to sit with her before her departure. At these words Ehnor seemed to shake herself, and presently, though in a hollow tone, pronounced, " Are you- then going ?" : . Ellis plaintively answered Yes ! " And .... with whom ?" cried Elinor, raising her eyes with a glance of fire. " With no one. Madam. I go alone." This answer w^as uttered w^ith a firm- ness that annulled all suspicion of deceit, Elinor appeared again to breathe. " And whither ?*' she demanded, x '* whither is it you go ?" m ( 241 ) *' I know not, alas! — but I mean to make an attempt at Howel Place/* The countenance of Elinor now lost its rigidity, and with a cry almost of extacy, she exclaimed, " Upon Lord Melbury ? — your new admirer ? O go to him ! — hasten to him ! — dear, charming: Ellis, away to him at once 1 — " Ellis, half smiling, answered, " Xo, Madam ; I go to Lady Aurora Granville." Elinor, without replying, left tlie room ; but, quick in action as in idea, returned, almost instantly, loaded witli a packet of clothes. " Here, most beautified Ophelia!" she cried, " look over this trumpery. You know how skilfully you can arrange it. You must not appear to disadvantage before dear little Lord Melbury." Ellis now, nearly offended, drew back. " O, I know I ought to be excom- municated for giving such a hint," cried Elinor, whose spirits were rather exalted than recovered; ** though every body sees how the poor boy is bewitched with you : VOL. I. u ( 242 ) but you delicate sentimentalists are never yourselves to suspect any danger, till the men are so crazy 'twould be murder to resist them"; knd then, you know, ac- ceptance is an act of mere charity." Ellis laughed at her raillery, yet de- clined her wardrobe, saying that she had resolved upon frankly stating to Lady Aurora, all that she was able to make known of her situation. " Well, that's more romantic," re- turned Elinor, " and so 'twill be more touching ; especially to the little peer ; for as you won't say who you are, he can do no less than, like Selina, conclude you to be a princess in disguise ; and that, as you know, will bring the match so pro- perly forward, that parents, and uncles, and guardians, and all those supernumeraries of the creation, will learn the business only just in time to drown themselves." Ellis heard this with a calmness that shewed her superior to offering any vin- dication of her conduct; and Elinor more gently added, " Now don't con- ( -43 ) strue ail this into either a sneer or a re- primand. If you imagine me an enemy to what the old court call unequal con- nexions, you do me egregious injustice. I detest all aristocracy: I care for nothing upon earth but nature ; and I hold no one thing in the world worth living for but liberty ! and liberty, you know, has but two occupations, — plucking up and pulling down. To me, therefore, 'tis equally diverting, to see a beggar swell into a duchess, or a duchess dwindle into a beggar." EUis tried to smile, but felt shocked many ways ; and Elinor, gay, now, as a lark, left her to get ready for Ilowel Place. While thus employed, a soft tap called her to the door, where she perceived Ilarleigh. " I will detain you," he said, " but a moment. I can find no owner for your little packet ; you must suffer it, there- fore, still to encumber you ; and should any accident, or any transient con- M 2 venience, make its contents even raomen^^ tarily useful to yoti!, 9o*^iiotlet any i^ea of its having ever belonged to Mr. Ireton impede its empldyment: I have examined that point thoroughly, and I can posi- tively assure you, that he has not the least knowledge^ ^'\)'6n of its existence/* { "'^2 As she held back from taking it, he piit^it upon a step before the door, and descended the stairs without giving her time to answer. ^'^^" e She did not dare either to follower to call him, lest Elinor should again ap- pear j but she felt convinced that the bank- notes were his own, and became Ibi^s uneasy at a short delay, though equally determined upon restitutions; ^ bio!> Jcrsl She was depositing theiii iti her 'W&tls:- bag, when Selina came jumping into the room. " O Ellis," she cried, " I have the best news in the world for you ! Aunt Maple fell into the greatest passion you ever saw, at hearing you were going to Howel Place. * What!' says she, ' • shall I let her disgrace mefor ever, by ( ^45 ) making known what a poor Wanderer I have taken into my house, and per- mitted to eat at my table ^^ Jt would be a thing to ruin me in the opinion of the ,whole world.' So then, after the greatest fuss that ever you knew in your life, she said you should not be turned away till JLady Aurora was gone." i^^^ hr Ellis, however hurt by this recital, rejoiced in the reprieye,. .-. [j f^ - ?. The difficulties, nevertheless, of Mrs. Maple did not end here; the next morn- - ing she received a note from Mrs. Howel, with intelligence that Lady Aurora Granville was prevented ; from making her intended excursion, by a very vio- lent cold ; and to entreat that Mrs. Maple ^jwould use her interest .with Miss Ellis, sft^ r, soften Her Ladyship's disappoint- ^^ment, by spending the day at Howel ' Place ; for which purpose Mrs. Howel i begged leave to send her carriage,^ at an ^m\y hour, to L^yf^Su ,^ '' "' '/^.^^^ . ^ Mrs. Maple read this with a choler - indescribable. She would have sent word M 3 ( 246 } that Ellis was ill, but she foresaw an endless embarrassment from inquiring visits ; and, after the most fretful, but -fruitless lamentations, passionately de* clared that she would have nothing more to do with the business, and retired to her room ; telling Elinor that she might answer Mrs. Howel as she pleased, only charging her to take upon herself all responsibility of consequences. Elinor, enchanted, fixed upon two o'clock for the arrival of the carriage ; and ^llis, who heard the tidings with even exquisite joy, spent the interme- cliate time in preparations, for which she no loeger declined the assisting offers of Elinor, who, wild with renovated spirits,' exhorted her, now in raillery, now in earnest, but always with agitated vehe- mence, to make no scruple of going off with Lord Melbury to Gretna Green. When the chaise arrived, Mrs. Maple restless and curious, suddenly descended; but was filled with double envy and ma- levolence, at sight of the look of plea- sure which Ellis wore ; but which gave to Harleigh a satisfaction that counter- balanced his regret at her quitting the house. " I have only one thing to mention to you, Mrs. Ellis/' said Mrs. Maple, with a gloomy scowl ; " I insist upon it that you don't say one syllable to Mrs. Howel, nor to Lady Aurora, about your mean- ness, and low condition, and that ragged state that we found you in, patched, and blacked, and made up for an object to excite pity. Mind that ! for if you go to Howel Place only to make out that I have been telling a parcel of stories, I shall be sure to discover it, and you shall repent it as long as you live.** Ellis seemed tempted to leave the room without condescending to make any re- ply J but she checked herself, and desired to understand more clearly what Mrs. Maple demanded. " That there may be only one tale told between us, and that you will be steady to stand to what I have said, of your M 4 ( 248 ) being a young lady of good family, who came over with me from France.'* Ellis, without hesitation, consented ; and HarleiglihaiKled her to the chaise, Mrs. Maple herself not knowing how to object to that cii'ility, hb the' sW^a^s -of Mrs. Hp\vel w^re waiting ^t6 attend their lady'aguestl/''^*' How happy, how relieved," cried he, in conducting h'et ^t'in-^ v^ill you feel in obtaining, at last^ a little reprieve from the narrow prejudice which ur«:es this cruel treatment'!" \ .a"v¥iP*^ must not encourage me tdfeS sentrnent^fJ::? cried she, smiling, "but rather bid me, as I bid myself, whert it l€f|lj it rising, subdue it by recollecting^ my strange — indefinable situation in this'' ^bfiJ ^^tnh- IS *! ^^^ '''^^ •b'^iii^jc. iq ■ 08 -lo 1^^ u- ^^^^-^ -13'^ bsmoDbw ir»o.a/l .4to8 02 83jool fUi7/bnr>,aaonbooa^'i^^ I rrW > ( -49 ) CHAPTER XIII. npHE presage of Harleigh proved as just as it was pleasant : the heart of Ellis bounded with delight as she drove off from the house ; and the hope of transferring to Lady Aurora the obliga- tion for succour which she was now com- pelled to owe to Mrs. Maple, seemed almost lifting her from earth to heaven. Her fondest wishes were exceeded by her reception. Mrs. Howel came for- ward to meet her, and to beg permis- sion not to order the carriage for her- return, till late at night. She was then conducted to the apartment of Lady Aurora, by Lord Melbury, who assured: her that his sister would have rejoiced in? a far severer indisposition, which hai procured her such a gratification; Lady. Aurora welcomed her with an air of so> Bauch goodness, and with looks so soft^ M 5 ( 250 ) so pleased, so partial, that Ellis, in taking her held-out hand, overpowered by so sudden a transition from indignity toklnd- iiess, and agitated by the apprehensions that were attached to the hopes which it inspired, burst into tears, and, in defianc^ of her utmost struggles for serenity, wept even with violence. Lady Aurora, shocked and alarmed, asked for her salts ; and Lord Melbury flew for a glass of w^ater ; but Ellis, de- clining both, and reviving without either, wiped, though she could not dry her eyes, and smiled, while they still glisten- ed, with such grateful sensibility, yet beaming happiness, that both the brother and the sister soon saw, that, greatly as she was affected, nothing was wanting to her restoration. " It is not sorrow,'* she cried, when able to speak ; " 'tis your goodness, your kindness, which thus touch me 1" " Can you ever have met with any thing else ?" said Lord Melbury, warmly ; " if you can — by what mon* sters you must have been beset !" ( 251 ) " No, my Lord, no," cried she: " I ^am far from meaning to complain ; but you must not suppose the world made up of Lady Aurora Granvilles I" Lady Aurora was much moved. It seemed evident to her that her new favourite was not happy; and she had conceived such high ideas of her perfec- tions, that she was ready to weep her- self, at the bare suggestion that they were not recompensed by felicity. The rest of the morning passed in gentle, but interesting conversation, be- tween the two young females ; or in animated theatrical discussions, stric- tures, and declamation, witli the young peer. At dinner they joined Mrs. Howel, who was charmed to see her young guests thus delighted, and could not refuse her consent to a petition of Lady Aurora, that she would invite Miss Ellis to assist her again, the next day, to nurse her cold with the same prudence. The expressive eyes of Ellis spoke M 6 (^ H^ ) )• endhantment. They parted, therefore, dufy ^6\^ Viih night 'y but just before the carriage was driven from the door, the cdachraan discovered that an accident had happened to one of the wheels, which could not be rectified till the next morning, ^'^^^^ ''^''— '■'' '''■ ^^.dl ■ — After some deliberation, Mrs. Howel, at Lad V Aurora's earnest desire, sent over a grb^m with a note to Mrs. Maple, informing her of the circumstance, and begging that she would not expect Miss Ellis till the following evening. Oij^^ai '^^The tears of Ellis, at happiness so uni looked for, were again ready to flow, and with difficulty restrained. She wrote a few words to Ehnor, entreating her kind assistance, in sending a packet of some things necessary for this new plan ; and Elinor took care to provide her with materials for remaining a month, rathe* than a da v. ''^?'^>^ '{I'^Ji. chamber was now prepared for Ellis, in which noticing was omitted that could atlbrd cither comfort or elegance 5 ( ^Si )) ]^ft, fiom the fulness of her nund, slie coUld not, even foi],^ ^noment, close her eyes, when slie retired. -/nh ytr^/ jnSome drawback, however, to her hap- piness was experienced the next morning, when she found Mrs. Howel fearful that tlie cold of Lady Aurora menaced terminating in a violent cough. Dr. P — was immediately called in, and his pi in- cipal prescription was, that Her Ladyship should avoid hot rooms, dancing, com- pany, and talking. Mrs. Howel, easily made anxious for Lady Aurora, not only from personal attachment, but from tlie responsibility of having her in charge, besought Her Ladyship to give up the fJiayfor that niglit, an assembly for the fol- lowing, and to permit that the intended ball of Thursday should be postponed, till Her Ladys4iip should be perfectly re- covered. Lady Aurora, with a grace that ac- companied all her actions, unhesitatingly complied ; but enquired whether it would not be possible to persuade Miss Ellis to remain with them during this ( 254 ) confinement ? Mrs. Howel repeated the request. The delight of Ellis was too deep for utterance. Joy of this tender sort always flung her into tears ; and Lady Aurora, who saw that her heart was as oppressed as it was gentle, be- sought Mrs. Howel to write their desire to Lewes. Mrs. Maple, how^ever enraged and perplexed, had no choice how to act, without betraying the imposition which she had herself practised, and therefore offered no opposition. Ellis now enjoj/ed a happiness, before "which all her difficulties and disappoint-^ ; ments seemed to sink forgotten, or but to be remembered as evils overpayed ; so forcible was the effect upon her mind, of the contrast of her immediate situa- tion with that so recently quitted. Mrs. Howel was all politeness to her ; Lord Melbury appeared to have no study, but whether to shew her most admiration or respect ; and Lady Aurora behaved to her with a sweetness that wenl^,3,traight to her heart. C ^55 ) It was now that they first became ac-' quainted with her uncommon musical talents. Lady Aurora had a piano forte in lier room; and Mrs. Howel said, that if Miss Ellis could play Her Lady- ship an air or two, it -might help to amuse, yet keep her silent. Ellis in- stantly went to the instrument, and there performed, in so fine a style, a composition of Haydn, that Mrs. Howel, who, though by no means a scientific judge of music, was sufficiently in the habit of going to concerts, to have ac- quired the skill of discriminating excel- lence from mediocrity, was struck with wonder, and consi^ratulated both her youncr guest and herself, in so seasonable an ac- quisition of so accomplished a visitor. "Lord Melbury, who was himself a tolerable proficient upon the violoncello, was era'aptured at this discovery ; and Lady Aurora, whose whole soul was music, felt almost dissolved with tender pleasure. Nor ended here either their surprise or their satisfiiction ; they soon learnt that ^^iie played d^q ugor^ ^t,li^^.Jiarp ; Lord Melbury instantly went forth in search of one ; and it was then, as this was the instrument which she had most particu- larly studied, that Ellis completed her conquest of their admiration : for with the harp she was prevailed upon to sing j and the sweetness of her voice, the deli- cacy of its tones, her taste and ex- pression, in which her soul seemed to harmonize with her accents, had an effect so delightful upon her auditors, that Mrs. Howel could scarcely find phrases for the compliments which she thought merited j Lord Melbury burst into the most rapturous applause ; and Lady Aurora was enchanted, was fas- cinated : she caught the sweet sounds, with almost extatic attention, hung oi> them with the most melting tenderness, entreated to hear the same air again and again, and felt a gratitude for the delight which she received, that washardly inferior to that which her approbation bestowed^ Eager to improve these favouiabk^ "t^ensatiohs, Ellis, to vary the amusements ^i>f Lady Aurora, in this interval of re- tirement, proposed reading. And here again hfer powers gave the utmost plea- 'Sfre'r^hether she took a French au thou i**, 'or an English one; the accomplished >i'.y surprise — I had almost said ttny indignation — that those to whom you belong, can deem it right — safe .-—or decent, to commit you — young as you are, full of attractions, and evidentl); unused to struggle against the dangers of the world, and the hardships of life, — to commit you to strangers — to chance ! — " " I know not how,'* she cried, '• to leave you under so false an impression of those to whom I belong. They are not to blame. They are more unhappy than i. am myself at my loneliness and its niysteiy: and for my poverty and my difficulties, they are far, far from sus- pecting them biTJiey are ignorant of my loss at. Dover, and they cannot suppose that I have missed the friend whom I came over to join,'* ( 277 ) *' Honour me," cried he, ^^ with a commission, and I will engage to dis- cover, at least, whether that frieiiti be yet at Brighthelmstone.*' > *•' '' And without naming for >iVfiOin you seek her?*' cried Ellis, h'cr €)V* bright- ening with sudden hope. ^'^^ ^•' \ " Naming?*' repeated he, \tit*f> an arch smile. She blushed, deeply, in recollecting lierself ; but, seized with a sudden dread of Elinor, drew back from her inadver- tant acceptance ; and, though vrarmly thanking him, dechned his services ; adding that, by waiting at Brighthelm- stone, she must, ultimately, meet her friend, since all her letters and direc- tions were for that spot. Harleigh was palpably disappointed ; and Ellis, hurt herself, opened her letter, to lessen, she told him, his wonder, perhaps censure, of her secresy, by reading to him its injunction. This was the sentence : " Seek, then, un- named and unknown, during this dread C 278 ) interval of separation, to reside wirli some worthy and happy family, whose social felicity may bring, at least, reflected happiness to your own breast." « That family," she added, « I flatter nayself I have found here ! for this house, from the uniform politeness of Mrs. Howel, the ingenuous goodness of Lord Melbury, and the angelic sweetness of his sister, has been to me an earthly paradise." She then proceeded, without waiting to receive his thanks for this communi- cation ; which he seemed hardly to know how to offer, from the fulness of his thoughts, his varying conjectures, his conviction that her friends, like herself, were educated, feeling, and elegant ; and his increased wonder at the whole of her position. Charming, charming creature ! he cried, what can have cast thee into this forlorn con- dition ? And by what means — and by whom — art thou to be rescued ? ( 279 ) Not chusing immediately to follow, he seated himself again to his pen. Somewhat recovered by this conver- sation, Ellis, now, was able to command an air of tolerable composure, for re^ entering the drawing-room, where she resolved to seek Elinor at once, and endeavour to deprecate her displeasure, by openly repeating to her all that she had entrusted to Mr. Harleigh. As she approached the door, every voice seemed employed in eager talk ; and, as she opened it, she obsvered earnest separate parties formed round the room ; but the moment that slie appeared, every one broke off abruptly from what he or she was saying, and a completely dead silence ensued. Surprized by so sudden a pause, she seated herself on the first chair that was vacant, while she looked around her, to see whom she could most readily join. Mrs. Howel and Mrs. Maple had been, evident- ly, in the closest discourse, but now both Hxed their eyes upon the ground, as if ( 28o ) agreeing, at once, »tc?j, sa,}^ ..»p;: more. Ireton was chatting, with lively, vohjbi- lity, to Lord Melbury, who attended to him with an air that seemed scared rather than curious j but neither of them now added another word. Elinor stood sullenly alone, leaning against the chim- ney-piece, with her eyes fastened upon the door, as if watching for its opening : but not all the previous resolution of Ellis, could inspire courage sufficient to address her, after viewing the in- creased sternness of her countenance. Selina v/as prattling busily to Lady Aurora ; and Lady Aurora, who sat nearly behind her, and whom Ellis per- ceived the last, was listening in silence, and bathed in tears. Terror and affliction seized upon Ellis at this sight. Her first impulse was to fly to Lady Aurora j but she felt discouraged, and even awed, by the strangeness of the general taciturnity, occasioned by her appearance. Her eyes next, anxiously, sought those of ( 28i } Lord Melbury, and instantly met tliem ; but with a look of gravity so unusual, that her own were hastily withdrawn, and fixt, disappointed, upon the ground. Nor did he, as hitherto had been his constant custom, when he saw her dis- engaged, come to sit by her side. No one spoke; no one seemed to know how to begin a general or comm.on con- versation ; no one could find a word to say. What, cried she, to herself, can have happened? What can have been said or done, in this short absence, to make my sight thus petrifying? Have they told what they know of my circum- stances? And has that been sufficient to deprive m.e of all consideration ? to require even avoidance ? And is Lord Melbury thus easily changed ? And have I lost you — even you! Lady- Aurora ? This last thought drew from her so deep a sigh, that, in the general silence which prevailed, it reached every ear. ( 282 ) 'Lady Aurora started, and looked up ;'and, at the view of her evident dejection, hasti- ly arose, and was crossing the room to join her; when Mrs. Howel, rising too, came between them, and taking herself the hand which Lady Aurora had extended for that of Ellis, led Her Ladyship to a seat on a sofa, where, in the lowest voice, she apparently addressed to her some remonstrance. Ellis, who had risen to meet the evi- dent approach of Lady Aurora, now stood suspended, and with an air so em- barrassed, so perturbed, that Lord Mel- bury, touched by irresistible compassion, came forward, and w^ould have handed her to a chair near the fire ; but her heart, after so sudden an appearance of general estrangement, was too full for this mark of instinctive, not intentional kindness, and courtsying the thanks which she could not utter, she precipi- tately left the room. She met Harleigh preparing to enter it, but passed him with too quick a mo- ( 283 ) tion to be stopt, and hurried to her chamber. There her disturbance, as potent from positive distress, as it was poignant from mental disappointment, would nearly have amounted to despair, but for the visibly intended support of Lady Aurora ; and for the view of that kind hand, which, though Mrs. Howel had impeded her receiving, she could not prevent her having seen stretched out for her comfort. The attention, too, of Lord Melbury, though its tardi- ness ill accorded with his hitherto warm demonstrations of respect and kind- ness, shewed that those feelings were not ahenated, however they might be shaken. These two ideas were all that now sus- tained her, till, in about an hour, she was followed by Selina, who came to express her concern, and to relate what had passed. Ellis then heard, that the moment that she had left the room, Mrs. Howel^ f 284 ) almost categorically, though with many formal apologies, demanded some in- formation of Mrs. Maple, what account should be given to Lord Denmeath, of the family and condition in life, of the young lady introduced, by Mrs. Maple, into the society of Lady Aurora Gran- ville, as Her Ladyship proposed intimately keeping up the acquaintance. Mrs. Ma- ple had appeared to be thunderstruck, and tried every species of equivocation 5 but Mr. Ireton whispered something to Lord Melbury, upon which a general curiosity was raised \ and Mr. Ireton's laughs kept up the enquiry, " till, bit by bit,'* continued SeHna, " all came out, and you never saw such a fuss in your life! But when Mrs. Howel found that Aunt Maple did not take you in charge from your friends, because she did not know them ; and when Mr. Ireton told of your patches, and black skin, and ragged dress, Mrs. Howel stared so at poor aunt, that I believe she thought that she had been out of her senses. ( 285 ) And then, poor Lady Aurora fell a- crying, because Mrs. Howel said that she must break off the connexion. But Lady Aurora said that you might be just as good as ever, and only disguised to make your escape ; but Mrs. Howel said, that, now you were got over, if there were not something bad, you would speak out. So then poor Lady Aurora cried again, and beckoned to me to come and tell her more particulars. Sister Elinor, all the time, never spoke one word. And this is what we were all doing when you came in." Ellis, who, with pale cheeks, but with- out comment, had listened to this re- cital, now faintly enquired what had passed after she had retired. " Why, just then, in came Mr. Har- leigh, and Aunt Maple gave him a hun- dred reproaches, for beginning all the mischief, by his obstinacy in bringing you into the boat, against the will of every creature, except just the old Ad- miral, who knew nothing of the world, ( 286 ) and couIB judge no better. He looKed quite thunderstruck, not knowing a word of what had passed. However, He soon enough saw that all was found out ; for Mrs. Howe! said, " I hope. Sir, you will advise us, how to get rid of this person, without letting the servants know the indiscretion we have been drawn into, by treating her like one of ourselves.*' « Well? and Mr. Harleigh*s an- gvver ? — " cried the trembling Ellis. " Miss Joddrel, Madam, he said, knows as well as myself, all the circum- stances which have softened this mystery, and rendered this young lady interesting- '"^ in its defiance. She has generously, therefore, held out her protection; of which the young lady has shewn herself^ to be worthy, upon every occasion, since we have known her, by rectitude and dignity : yet she is, at this time, without friends, support, or asylum: in such a situation, thus young and helpless, and thus irreproachably conducting herself, who is the female — what is her age. ( 2S7 ) what her rank, that ought not to assist and try to preserve so distressed a young per- son from evil ? Lady Aurora, upon this, came forward, and said, * How happy you make me, Mr. Harleigh, by thus reconcihng me to my wishe^!* And then she told Mrs. Howel that, as the affair no longer appeared to be so desperate, she hoped that there could be no objec- tion to her coming up stairs, to invite you down herself. But Mrs. Howel would not consent." " Sweet! sweet Lady Auroral!" broke forth from Ellis : " And Lord Melbury ? what said he V ** Nothing ; for he and Mr. Iretoft left the room together, to go on with their whispers, I believe. And Elinor was just like a person dumb. But Lady Au- rora and Mr. Harleigh had a great deal of talk with one another, and they both seemed so pleased, that I could not help thinking, how droll it would be if their agreeing so about you should make them marry one another." ( 288 ) " Then indeed would two beings meet," said Ellis, " who would render that state all that can be perfect upon earth ; for with active benevolence like his, with purity and sweetness like her's, what could be wanting ? — -And then, in- deed, I might find an asylum!" A servant came, now, to inform Selina that the carriage was at the door, and that Mrs. Maple was in haste. _. .What a change did this day produce for Ellis ! What a blight to her hopes, what difficulties for her conduct, what agitation for her spirits ! C ^§9 ) ' CHx\FTER XV. "C^LLIS, who soon heard the carriage drive off for Lewes, waited in terronr to learn the result of this scene ; almost equally fearful of losing the supporting kindness of Lady Aurora through timid acquiescence, as of pre- serving it through efforts to which her temper and gentle habits were repugnant. In about half an hour, Mrs. Howel's" maid came to enquire whether Miss EUis would have any thing brought up stairs for supper; Mrs. Howel having broken up the usual evening party, in order to in- duce Lady Aurora, who was extremely fatigued, to go to rest. Not to rest went Ellis, after such a message, tliough to that bed which had brought to her, of late, the repose of peace and contentment, and the alertness of hope and pleasure. A thousand VOL. I. • ( 290 ) schemes crossed her imagination, for averting the desertion which she saw preparing, and which her augmenting attachment to Lady Aurora, made her consider as a misfortune that would rob her of every consolation. But no plan occurred that satisfied her feeling with- out wounding her dignity: the first prompted a call upon the tender heart of Lady Aurora, by unlimited confi- dence ; the second, a manifestation how ill she thought she merited the change of treatment that she experienced, by resentfully quitting the house : but this was no season for the smallest voluntary hazard. All chance of security hung upon the exertion of good sense, and the right use of reason, which imperi- ously demanded active courage with patient forbearance. She remitted, therefore, forming any resolution, till she should learn that of Mrs. HoweL It was now the first week of February, and, before the break of day, a general ( 291 ) movement in the house gave her cause to believe that the family was risen. She hastened to dress herself, unable to con- jecture what she had to expect. The commotion continued ; above and below the servants seemed employed, and in haste ; and, in a little time, some acci- dental sounds reached her ears, from which she gathered that an immediate journey to London was preparing. What could this mean? Was she thought so intruding, that by change of abode alone they could shake her off? or so dangerous, that flight, only, could preserve Lady Aurora from her snares ? And was it thus, she was to be apprized that she must quit the house ? Without a carriage, without money, and without a guide, was she to be turned over to the servants ? and by them turned, per- haps, from the door ? Indignation now helped to sustain her ; but it was succeeded by the ex- tremest agitation, when she saw, from her window. Lord Melbu ry mounting his horse, upon which he presently rode off. o 2 (292 ) And is it thus, she cried, that all .1 thought so ingenuous in goodness, so open in benevolence, so sincere in par- tiality, subsides into neglect, perhaps for- gptf Illness? — And you. Lady Aurora, will you, also, give me up as lightly ? She wept. Indignation was gone: sorrow only remained ; and she listened in sadness for every sound that might proclaim the departure which she dreaded. At length, she heard a footstep ad- vance slowly to her chamber, succeeded by a tapping at her door. Her heart beat with hope. Was it Lady Aurora ? had she still so much kind- ness, so much zeal ? — She flew to meet her own idea — but sav/ only the lady of the house. She sighed, cruelly disappointed ; but the haughty distance of Mrs. Howel's air restored her courage ; for courage, where there is any nobleness of mind, always rises highest, when oppressive pride seeks to crush it by sti^died humiliation. 12 ( ^93 ) Mrs. Howel fixed her eyes upon the face of Ellis, with an expression that said. Can you bear to encounter me after this discovery? Then, formally announcing that she had something important to communicate, she added, " You will be so good as to shut the door," and seated herself on an arm-chair, by the fire side; without taking any sort of notice that her guest was still standing. Ellis could far better brook behaviour such as this from Mrs. Maple, from whom she had never experienced any of a su- periour sort ; but by Mrs. Howel she had been invited upon equal terms, and, hitherto, had been treated not onlv v;itli equality but distinction : hard, therefore, «he found it to endure such a change ; yet her resentment was soon governed by her candour, wlien it brought to her mind the accusation of appearances. Mrs. Ilowel then heQ.an an harangue palpably studied : " You cannot, I thin!:, young woman — for you must excuse my not addressing you by a name I now o 3 ( 294 ) know you to have assumed; — you can- not, I think, be surprised to find that your stay in this house is at an end. To avoid, howevier, giving any publicity to your disgrace, at the desire of Mrs. Maple, who thinks that its promulgation, in a town such as this, might expose her, as well as yourself, to impertinent lampoons, I shall take no notice of what has passed to any of my people ; except to my house- keeper^ to whom it is necessary I should make over some authority, which you will not, I imagine, dispute. For my- self, I am going to town immediately with Lady Aurora. I have given out that it is upon sudden business, with proper directions that my domestics may treat you with civility. You will still breakfast, therefore, in the parlour ; and, at your own time, you will ask for a chaise, which I have bespoken to carry you back to Lewes. To prevent any suspicion in the neighbourhood, I shall leave commands that a man and horse may attend you, in the same manner as t 295 ) when you came hither. No remark, therefore, will follow your not having my own carriage again, as I make use of it myself. Lord Melbury is set off al- ready. We shall none of us return till I hear, from Mrs. Maple, that you have left this part of the country j for, as I can neither receive you, nor notice you where I might happen to meet with you, such a difference of conduct, after this long visit, might excite animadver- sion. The sooner, therefore, you change your quarters, the better ; for I coincide in the opinion of Mrs. Maple, that it is wisest, for all our sakes, that this trans- action should not be spread in the world* And now, young woman, all I ask of you in return for the consideration I shew you, is this; that you will solemnly engage to hold no species of intercourse with Lady Aurora Granville, or with Lord Melbury, either by speech, or writing, or message. If you observe this, I shall do you no hurt ; if not, — expect every punishment my resent- o 4 ( 29? ) Kient can inflict, and that of the noble family, involved in the indignity which you have made me sufFer, by a surrep- titious entrance into my house as a young lady of fashion." No sort of answer was offered by Ellis. She stood motionless, her eyes fixed, and her air seeming to announce her almost incredulous of what she heard. " Do you give me," said Mrs. Howel, *' this promise ? Will you bind yourself to it in writing ?" Ellis still was silent, and looked inca- pable of speaking. " Young woman," said Mrs. Howel, with increased austerity, '' I am not to be trifled with. Will you bind yourself to this agreement, or will you not r" " " Wliat agreement, Madam?" she now faintly asked. " Not to seek, and even to refuse, any sort of intercourse with Lady Aurora Granville, or with her brotlier, either by word of mouth, or letter, or messenger ? Will you, I say, bind yourself, upon your oath, to this ?" " No, Madam !" answered Ellis, with returning recollection and courage; " no peril can be so tremendous as such a sacrifice !'* Mrs. Howel, rising, said, " Enough! abide by the consequence." She was leaving the room ; but Ellis, affrighted, exclaimed, " Ah, Madam, before you adopt any violent measures against me, deign to reflect that I may be innocent, and not merit tliem 1" '• Innocent?'' repeated Mrs. Howel, with an air of inexorable ire ; " without a name, Vv'ithout a home, v/ithout a friend ? — Innocent ? presenting yourself under false appearances to one family, and under false pretences to another? No, I am not such a dupe. And if your bold resistance make, it necessary, for the safety of my young friends, that I should lodge an information against you, you will find, that people who enter houses by names not tiieir own, and who have no ostensible means of existence, ' will be considered only as swindlers j and o 5 ( 298 ) as swindlers be disposed of as they de- serve/' Ellis, turning pale, sunk upon a chair. Mrs. Howel, stopping, with a voice as hard as her look was implacable, ad- ded ; " This is your last moment for re- pentance. Will you give your promise, upon oath ?" " No, Madam ! again no !" cried Ellis, starting up with sudden energy: *' What I have suffered shall teach me to suffer more, and what I have escaped, shall give me hope for my support ! But never w^ill I plight myself, by willing promise, to avoid those whose virtuous goodness and compassion offer me the only consolation, that, in my de- solate state, I can receive !" *« Tis well !" said Mrs. Howel " You have yourself, then, only, to thank for what ensues." She now steadily went on, opened the door, and left the room, though Ellis, mournfully following her, called out : Ah, Madam! — ah, Mrs. Howel! — if ever ( 299 ) you know more of me — which, at least, is not impossible, — you will look back to this period with no pleasure ! — or with pleasure only to that part of it, in which you received me at your house with po- liteness, hospitality, and kindness !'* Mrs. Howel was not of a nature to relent in what she felt, or to retract from what she said : the distress, there- fore, of Ellis, produced not the smallest effect upon her ; and, with her head stiffly erect, and her countenance as unmoved as her 'heart, she descended the stairs, and issued, aloud, her com- mands that the horses should immediately be put to the chaise. Ellis shut herselfinto her room, almost overpowered by the shock of this attack, so utterly unexpected, from a lady in whose character the leading feature seemed politeness, and who always appeared to hold that quality to be pre-eminent to all others. But the expe- rience of Ellis had not yet taught her, how distinct is the pohteness of manner, o 6 ( 300 ) formed by the habits of high life, to that which springs spontaneously from bene- volence of mind. The first, the pro- duct of studied combinations, is laid aside, like whatever is factitious, where there is no object for acting a part: the second, the. child of sympathy, instructs us how to treat others, by suggesting the treatment we desire for ourselves; and this, as its feelings are personal, though its exertions are external, de- mands no effort, waits no call, and is never failingly at hand. The gloomy sadness of Ellis was soon interrupted, by enquiries that reached her from the ball, whether the trunks of Lady Aurpra were ready. Is she so nearly gone ? Ellis cried ; Ah ! when may I see her again? — To the hall, to wait in the hall, she longed to go herself, to catch a last view, and to snatch, if possible, a kind parting word ; but the tremendous Mrs; Howel ! — she shrunk from the idea of ever seeing her again. ( 301 ) Soon afterwards, she heard the car- riages drive up to the house. vShe now went to the window, io behold, at least, the loved form of Lady Aurora as she mounted the chaise. Perhaps, too, she might turn round, and look up. Fixt here, she was inattentive to the opening of her own room-door, concluding that the house-maid came to arrange her fire, till a soft voice gently articulated : " Miss Ellis!" She hastily looked round : it was Lady Aurora ; who had entered, vAk> had shut herself in, and who, wiiile one hand covered her eyes, held out the other, in an attitude of the most inviting affection. Ellis flew to seize it, with joy inex- pressible, indescribable, and would liave pressed it to her lips ; but Lady Aurora, flinging both her arms round the neck of her new friend, fell upon her bosom, and wept, saying, " You are not, then, angry, though I, too, must have seemed to behave to you so cruelly ?''* " Angry ?*' repeated ElHs, sobbing ( 2>oi ) from the suddenness of a delight which broke into a sorrow nearly hopeless j " O Lady Aurora ! if you could know how I prize your regard ! your good- ness ! — what a balm it is to every evil I now experience, your gentle and generous heart would be recompensed for all the concern I occasion it, by the pleasure of doing so much good !'* " You can still, then, love me, my Miss Ellis ?" • " Ah, Lady Aurora! if I dared say how much ! — but, alas, in my helpless situation, the horror of being suspected of flattery — " " What you will not say, then," cried Lady Aurora, smiling, " will you prove?'* " Will I ?— Alas, that I could ! " " W^ill you let me take a liberty with yon, and promise not to be offended ?" She put a letter into her hand, which Ellis fondly kissed, and lodged near her heart. The w^ords " Where is Lady Aurora V\ now sounded from the stair-case. lO / ( 303 ) " I must stay," she said, " no longer ! Adieu, dear Miss Ellis ! Think of me sometimes — for I shall think of you unceasingly I" " Ah, Lady Aurora!" cried Ellis, clinging to her, " shall I see you, then, no more ? And is this a last leave- taking ?" " O, far from it, far, far, I hope !'* said Lady Aurora : " if I thought that we should meet no more, it would be impossible for me to tell you how un- happy this moment would make me !" " Where is Lady Aurora?" would again have hurried her away ; but Ellis, still holding by her, cried, " One mo- ment ! one moment ! — I have not, then lost your good opinion ? Oh I if that wavers, my firmness wavers too ! and I must unfold — • at all risks — my unhappy situation !" " Not for the world! not for the world !" cried Lady Aurora, earnestly : " I could not bear to seem to have any doubt to remove, when I have none. C 304 ) ^one, of your perfect innocence, good- ness, excellence 1" Overpowered with grateful joy, " An- gelic Lady Aurora!" was all that Ellis could utter, while tears rolled fast down her cheeks ; and she tenderly, yet fer- vently, kissed the hand of the resisting Lady Aurora, who, extremely affected, leant upon her bosom, till she was startled by again hearing her name from without. " Go, then, amiable Lady Aurora !" Ellis cried ; " I will no longer detain you! Go ! — happy in the happiiiess that your sweetness, your humanity, your kindness bestow ! I will dwell continually upon their recollection ; I will say to myself. Lady Aurora believes me innocent, though she sees me forlorn ; she will not think me unworthy, though hhe knovi^s me to be unprotected ; she will not conclude me to be an adventurer, though I dare not tell her even my name !" " Do not talk thus, my dear, dear Miss Ellis ! Oh ! if I were my own mistress ( 3<=>5 ) —-with wliat delight I should supplicate you to live with me entirely ! to let us share between us all that we possess ; to read together, study our musick toge- ther, and never, never to part!" Ellis could hardlv breathe : her soul seemed bursting w^ith emotions, which, though the most delicious, were nearly too mighty for her frame. But the melt- ing kindness of Lady Aurora soon soothed her into more tranquil enjoy- ment ; and when, at length, a message from Mrs. Howel irresistibly compelled a separation, the warm gratitude of her heart, for the consolation which she had received, enabled her to endure it with fortitude. But not without grief. All seemed gone when Lady Aurora was driven from the door; and she remained weeping at the window, whence she saw her depart, till she was roused by. the entrance of Mrs. Greaves, the house- keeper. Her familiar intrusion, without tap- ping at the door, quickly brouglit to the -( 3<^<5 ) recollection of Ellis the authority which had been vested in her hands. This im- mediately restored her spirit; and as the housekeeper, seating herself, was begin- ning, very unceremoniously, to explain the motives of her visit, Ellis, without looking at her, calmly said, " I shall go down stairs now to breakfast ; but if you have time to be so good as to make up my packages, you will find them in those drawers/' She then descended to the parlour, leaving the housekeeper stupified with amazement. But the forms of subordi- nation, when once broken down, are rarely, with common characters, restored. Glad of the removal of a barrier which has kept them at a distance from those above them, they revel in the idea that the fall of a superiour is their own proper elevation. Following, therefore, Ellis to the breakfast-room, and seating her- self upon a sofa, she began a discourse with the freedom of addressing a dis- graced dependent ; saying, " Mrs. Maple will be in a fine taking, Miss, to have you upon her hands, again, so all of the sudden." This speech, notwithstanding its gross- ness, surprised from Ellis an exclamation, " Does not Mrs. Maple, then, expect me ?" *' How should she, when my lady never settled what she should do about you herself, till after twelve o'clock last night ? However, as to sending you back without notice, she has no notion, she says, of standing upon any ceremony with Mrs. Maple, who made so little of popping you upon her and Lady Aurora in that manner." Ellis turned from her with disdain, and would reply to nothing more ; but her pertinacious stay still kept the bosom letter unopened. Grievously Ellis felt tormented with the prospect of what her reception might be from Mrs. Maple, after such a blight. The buoyant spirit of her first escape, which she had believed no after ( :o8 ) misfortune could subdue, had now so irequently been repressed, that it was nearly borne down to the oommon standard of mortal condition, whence we receive our daily fare of good and of evil, with the joy or the grief that they separately excite; independently of that wonderful power, believed in by the youthful and inexperienced, of hoarding up the felicity of our happy moments, as a counterpoise to future sorrows and dis- appointments. The past may revisit our hearts with renewed sufferings, or our spirits with gay recollections ; but the interest of the time present, even upon points the most passing and trivial, wdll ever, from the pressure of our wants and our feehngs, predominate. Mrs. Greaves, unanswered and af- fronted, was for some minutes silenced; but, presently, rising and calling out, " Gemini ! something has happened to my Lady, or to Lady Aurora? Here's My Lord gallopped backl" she ran out of the room. ( 3^9 ) Affrighted by this suggestion, Elh's, who then perceived Lord Melbury from the window, ran herself, after the house- keeper, to the door, and eagerly ex- claimed, as he dismounted, O, My Lord, I hope no accident — " " None !*' cried he, " flying to her,'* andtaking and kissingboth her hands, and drawing, rather than leading, her back to the parlour, " none! — or if any there were, — what could be the accident that concern so bewitching would not re- compense ?*' Ellis felt amazed. Lord Melbury had never addressed her before in any tone of gallantry ; had never kissed, never touched her hand ; yet now, he would scarcely suffer her to withdraw it from his ardent grasp. " But, My Lord," said Mrs. Greaves, who followed them in, " pray let me ask Your Lordship about my Lady, and My Lady Aurora, and how — " " They are perfectly well," cried he, hastily, " and gone on, I am ridden back myself merely for something which I forgot/' " I was fearful," said Ellis, anxious to clear up her eager reception, " that something might have happened to Lady Aurora j I am extremely happy to hear that all is safe." ** And you will have the charity, I hope, to make me a little breakfast ? for I have tasted nothing yet this morning." Again he took both her hands, and led her to the seat which she had just quitted at the table. She was extremely embarrassed. She felt reluctant to refuse a request so natural ; yet she was sure that Mrs. Howel would conclude that they met by appointment J and she saw in the face of the housekeeper the utmost provoca- tion at the young Lord's behaviour:^ yet neither of these circumstances gave her equal disturbance, with observing a change, indefinable yet striking, in him- self. After an instant's reflection, she ( 3" ) deemed it most advisable not to stay with him ; and, saying that she was in haste to return to Lewes, she begged that Mrs. Greaves would order the chaise that Mrs. Howel had mentioned. " Ay, do, good Greaves !" cried he, hurrying her out, and, in his eagerness to get her away, shutting the door after her himself. Ellis said that she would see whether her trunk were ready. " No, no, no! don't think of the trunk," cried he : " We have but a few minutes to talk together, and to settle how w^e shall meet again." Still more freely than before, he now rather seized than took her hand ; and calling her his dear charming Ellis, pressed it to his lips, and to his breast, with rapturous fondness. • Ellis, struck, now, with terrour, had not sufficient force to withdraw her hand; but when she said, with great emotion, '* Pray, pray. My Lord ! — " he let it go. It was only for a moment : snatching, it then, again, as she was rising to depart. ( 3^2 ) -he .suddenly slipt -upon one of her fingers .a, sup^fh diamond ring, which he took off fro^m one of his own. " It is very beautiful. My Lord ;'* said she, jdeeply blushing; yet looking at it as if she supposed he meant merely to call for her admiration, and returning it to him immediately. ,,,?« What's this?" cried he: " Won't ¥QU wear such a bauble- for my sake? Give me but a lock of your lovely hair, and I will make myself on'e 'tp re- place it." i " vuiv t He tried to put the.ring'againKjMi her finger ; but, fprcibly breaking from him, she would have left *the room^: he inter-v cepted. her passage >tO; the door. r S>he. turned round to ring the bell : he placed himself again in her way, with a flushed air of sportiveness, yet of determined opposition. ^ ^Confounded, speechless, she went to one of the windows, and standing, with her back to it, looked at him , with an . undisguised amazement,- th^t she hoped ( 3'3 ) would lead hitn to some explanation of his behaviour, that might spare her any serious remonstrance upon its unwel- come singularity. " Why, what's this ?" cried he gaily, yet with a gaiety not perfectly easy ; ** do you want to run away from me ?'* " No, my lord," answered she, gravely, yet forcing a smile, which she hoped would prove, at once, a hint, and an inducement to him to end the scene as an idle and ill-judged frolic; " No; I have only been afraid that your lord- ship was running away from yourself!" " And why so?" cried he, with quick- ness, " Is Harleigh the only man who is ever to be honoured with your company tete-a-tete?" " What can your lordship mean ?" " Wliat can the lovely Ellis blush for? And what can Harleicrh have to offer, that should obtain for him thus ex- clusively all favour ? If it be adoration of your charms, who shall adore them more than I will ? If it be in proofs of VOL. I. p ( 3H ) a more solid nature, who sliall vie with me ? All I possess shall be cast at your feet. I defy iiim to out-do me, in for- 4"Une or in love." Ellis now turned pale and cold: horrour thrilled through her veins, and almost made her heart cease to beat. Lord Melbury saw the change, and, hastily drawing towards her a chair, besouglit l^er to be seated. She was unable to refuse, for she had not strength to stand; but, v/hen again he would have taken her hand, she turned from him, with an air so severe of soul-felt repugnance, that, starting with surprise and ^larm, he forbore the attempt. He stood before her utterlv silent, and with a complexion frenuentiv varyinf]^, till she recovered; when, again raising her eyes, with an expression of mingled af^iction and reproach, '' Aiid is it, then," she cried, " from a brother of the pure, the exemplary Lady Aurora Granville, that I am destined to receive the most hfiart-reuding insult of my life r" 4 ' •( 3»5 ) Lord Melbiiry seemed tlumderstnick, and could not articulate what he tried to say ; but, upon again half pronounc- ing tlie name of Harieigh, Ellis, stand- ing up, with an air of dignity the most impressive, cried, " My lord, Mr. Har- ieigh rescued me from the most horrible of dano-ers, in assisting me to leave the Continent ; and his good offices have be- friended me upon every occasion since nriy arrival in England. This includes the whole of our intercourse ! No calumny, I hope, vvil! make him ashamed of his be- nevolence ; and I have reaped from it such benefit, tliat the most cruel insinua- tions must not make me repent rcceivin'^' it ; for to whom else, except to Ladv Au- rora, do I owe gratitude without pain r lie knows me to be indigent, my lord, yet does not conclude me open to corrijp- tion ! He sees me friendless and unpro- tected, — yet offers me no indignity!" Lord Meibury now, in his turn, look- ed pale. " Is it possible — " he cried, " Is it possible, that — " He stai«- r ^ ( 3i6 ) mered, and was in the utmost confu- sion. She passed him, and was quitting the room. " Good Heaven !'' cried he, " yoii will not go? — you will not leave me in this manner? — not knowing what to think, — what to judge, — what to do?*' She made no answer but by hastening her footsteps, and wearing an aspect of the greatest severity ; but, when her hand touched the lock, " I swear to you," he cried, " Miss Ellis, if you will not stay — I will follow you !'* Her eyes now shot forth a glance the most indignant, and she resolutely opened the door. He spread out his arms to impede her passage. Offended by his violence, and alarmed by this detention, she resentfully said, " If you compel me, my lord, to sum- mon the servants — '' when, upon look- ing at him again, she saw that his whole face was convulsed by the excess of his emotion. ' ( 3^7 J She stopt. " You must permit me," he cried, << to shut the door ; and you must gr^nt me two minutes audience/' She neither consented nor offered any opposition. He closed the door, but she kept her place. " Tell — speak to me, I beseech you !" he cried, " Oh clear the cruel doubts — '' " No more, my lord, no more V in- terrupted Ellis, scorn taking possession df every feature; *•' I will neither give to myself" the d'sgrace, nor to your lorU shij^ the shame, of permitting another word to be said !" ** What is it you mean ?" c/ied he, planting himself against the door; " you would not — surely you would not brand me for a villain ?" She determined to have recourse to: the bell, and, with the averted eyes of disdain, resolutely moved towards the/ chimney. i He saw her' design, .and cast himself P 3 ( S'S" ) upon his knees, calling out, in extreme agitation, " Miss Ellis ! Miss Ellis ! you will not assemble the servants to see me groveling upon the earth ?'* Greatly shocked, she desisted fronilfir purpose. His look was aghast, his frame w^as in a universal tremour, and his eves w^ere w41d and starting. Her wrath sub- sided at this sight, but the m.ost conflict- ing emotions rent her heart. , " I see," he cried, in a tremulous, voice, and almost gnashing his teeth, " I see that you have been defamed, and that I have incurred your abhorrence! — I have my own, too, completely ! You cannot hate me more than I now hate — than. I shrink from myself! And yet — believe me. Miss Ellis! I have no de- liberate hardness of heart ! — I have been led on by rash precipitance, and — and want of thought! — BeKeve me, Miss .^ElHs ! — believe me, good Miss EUis ! — Ifor I see, now, how good you are ! — Ibelieve me — " h i- He could find no words for what he ( 3^9 ) ^visbed to say. He rose, but attempted not to approach her. Ellis leant against the wainscoat, still close to the bell, but without seeking to ring it. Both were sS^huu His extreme youth, his visible inexperience, and her suspicious situa- tion; joined to his quick repentance, and simple, but emphatic declaration, that he had no hardness of heart, began not only to offer some palliation for his conduct, but to soften her resentment into pity. He no sooner perceived the touching melancholy which insensibly took place, in her countenance, of disgust and in- dignation, than, forcibly affected, he struck his forehead, exclaiming, " Oh, my poor Aurora! — v/hen you know how ill I have acted, it will almost break your gentle heart 1" This was an apostrophe to come hom.e quick to the bosom of Ellis : she burst into tears; and would instantly have held out to him her hand, as an offering of peace and forgiveness, had not her fear p 4 < '3% ) i)f tBe impetiibsfty oFliis feelings cdeckea the impulse. She only, therefore, said, *^ Ahi my lord, how is it that with a sister so pure, so perfect, and whose virtues you so warmly appreciate, yoU should find it so difficult to believe that other females may be exempt, at least, from depravity ? Alas ! I had presumed, my lord, to think of you as indeed the brother of Lady Aurora ; and, as such, I had even dared to consider you as a succour to me in distress, and a protector in danger!" " Ah ! consider me so again !'* cried he, with sudden rapture j " good — excellent Miss Ellis! consider me so again, and you shall not repent your generous pardon !'* Ellis irresistibly wept, but, by a mo- tion of her hand, forbad his approach. " Fear- fear nie not!" cried he, ^^ I am a reclaimed man for the rest of my life 1 I have hitherto. Miss Ellis, been but a boy, and therefore so easily le3 wrong. Bat I will think and act, now. (( s^^ ^ for myself. I prom^ise it you sincerely^: Never, never more will I be the wretched tool of dishpnpurable impertinence ! Not that i am so unmanly, as to seek any extenuation to my guilt, from its being excited by others ; — no ; it rather adds to its heinousness, that my own passions, viqlen.t as, they sometimes are, did not give it birth. But your so visible purity. Miss Ellis, had kept them from any dis- respect, believe me ! And, struck as I have been iWith your attractions, and charmed with your conversation, it has alwayS' been, without^ single idea that I could not tell to Aurora herself; for as I thought of you always as of Aurora's favourite, Aurora's companion, Aurora's friend, I thought of ,you always to- gether." , . , . " Oh Lord Melbury !'* interrupted Ellis, fresh tears, but of pleasure, not, sorrow, gushing into her eyes ; " what words are these ! how penetrating to my very soul! Ah, my lord, let this un- happy morning be blotted from both our ( 3^2 ) ^ memories! and let me go back to the miOrning of yesterday ! to a partiality that made, — and that makes me so happy ! to a goodness, a kindness, that revive' me with heart-consoling grati- tude!" " Oh, incomparable — Oh, best Miss Ellis !" cried Lord Melbury, in a trans^ port of joy, and passionately advancing ; but retreating nearly at the same instant, as if fearful of alarming her; and almost fastening himself against the opposite Vvainscoat ; " hovv^ excessive is your goodness!" A sigh from Ellis checked liis rapture; and she entreated him to explain what he meant by his allusion to " others." His complexion reddened, and he would have evaded any reply ; but Ellis was too urgent to be resisted. Yet it was not without the utmost difficulty that she could prevail upon him to be explicit. Finally, however, she gathered, that Ireton, after the scene produced by ,the letter for L. S., had given vent to the ( 3^3 ) most sneering calumnies, chiefly pointed at Harleigh, to excite the experiment of which he had himself so shamefully, yet foolishly, been the instrument. He vowed, however, that Ireton should pub- licly acknowledge his slanders, and beg her pardon. Elh's earnestly besought his lordship to let the matter rest. " All public ap- peals,*' cried she, " are injurious to female fame. Generously inform Ivlr. Ireton, that you are convinced he has wronged me, and then leave the clearing of his own opinion to time and to truth. When they are trusted with innocence. Time and Truth never fail to do it justice." Lord Melbury struggled to escape making any promise. His self discontent could suggest no alleviation so satisfac- tory, as that of calling Mr. Ireton to ac- count for defamation ; an action which he thou2:ht would afford the most bril- liant amends that could be offered to Miss Ellis, and the best proof that could r 6 C 324 ) blazon his own manliness. But when she solemnly assured him, that his com- pliance with her solicitation was the only peace-ofFering she could accept, for sinking into oblivion the whole morning's transaction, he forbore any further con-t testation. Mrs. Greaves now brought informa- tion, that a chaise was at the door, and that a groom was in readiness. Lord Melbnry timidly oifered Ellis his hand, which she gracefully accepted ; but nei- ther of them spoke as he led her to the carriage. I • ! ^".ji'fVv' \hd: in a; I T OOl) \t'V^,p,, ■ -i "if/l ' ■»ii->i.J»fi ( 3^5 y CHAPTER XVI. Tj^ROM all the various sufferings of Ellis, through the scenes of this morning, the predominant remaining emotion, was that of pity for her penitent young offender ; whom she saw so sorely wounded by a sense of his own miscon- duct, that he appeared to be almost impenetrable to comfort. But all her attention was soon called to the letter of Lady Aurora. " To Miss Ellis. " I cannot express the grief with which I have learnt the difficulties that involve my dear Miss Ellis. Will she kindly mitigate it, by allowing me, from time to time, the consola- tion of offering her my sympathy ? May I flatter myself that she has suf- ficient regard for me, to let the en- closed trifle lead the way to some little arrangement during her embarrassment ? C 326 ) Oh ! were I in similar distress, I would not hesitate to place in her a similar trust ! Generously, then, sweet Miss Ellis, confide in my tender regard. " Aurora Granville.'* " At Lord Denmeath's, Portman Square." The " enclosed trifle" was a bank- note of twenty pounds. Most welcome to the distress of Ellis was this kindness and this succour; and greatly she felt revived, that, severe as had been her late conflicts, they thus terminated in casting her, for all pecu- niary perplexities, upon the delicate and amiable Lady Aurora. Uncertain what might prove her re- ception, she desired, upon approaching Lewes, that the groom would ride on, and enquire whether &i)e could have the honour of seeing Mrs. Ma])le. The man then said, that he had a note for that ladv, from Mrs. Howel. After being detained at the gate a con- ( 3^7 ) sitlerable time, a servant came to ac- quaint Miss Ellis, that the ladies were particularly engaged, but begged that she would walk up stairs to her room. There, again established, she had sooq a visit from Selina, who impatiently de- manded, how she had parted from Lady Aurora ; and, when satisfied that it had been with the extremest kindness, she warmly embraced her, before she related, that Aunt Maple had, at first, declared, that she would never, again, let so un- known apauper into her house; but, when she had read the note of Mrs. Howel, she changed her tone. That lady had written word, that she was hasten in such marks of benevolence as she had last received ; and to owe, personally, those, only, of esteem and regard; which she prized beyond all power of expression. The next day, again 5 very unexpectedly^ Selina skipt into her room. " We have had a most terrible fuss :" she cried ; *^ Do you know Lord Melbury's come on purpose to see you !-' " Lord Melbury ? Is he not gone to town?" f'-ii' i >' Mrs. Howel wrote word so, and aunt' thought so ; but he "only went a little- way^; a«d then came back to spend two- or ihree days with Sir Lyell Sycamore^'^ atBrjghthelmstone. He asked after yoii,'' when he came in, and said that he begged j leave to be allowed to speak with you, a few' minutes, upon a commission from Lady Aurora. Aunt was quite shocked, amJ^ said, that she hoped his lordship would- excuse her, but she really could not consent to any such acquaintance going' on, in her house, now he knew so w^ell ■ w:h9'.t a. nobody you were ; if not worse. ( 333 ) Upon which he said he did not doubt your being a well brought up young ladyjfor he was certain that you were modesty itself. And then he begged so hard, and said so many pretty and civil things to Aunt, that she was brought round ; only it was upon condition, she said, that there should be a witness ; and she proposed Mrs. Fenn. Lord Melbury was as red as fire, and said that would not be treating JVIiss Ellis with the respect wliich he was sure was her due ; and he could not be so impertinent as to desire to see Iier, upon such term^. So, after a good deal more fuss, it was settled, at last, that Sister Elinor should be present. So now you are to come down to her dressing-room." Ellis, though startled at the effect that might be produced by his re- maining at Brighthelmstone, was sen- sibly touched by these public and resolute marks of his confirmed and undoubting esteem. Elinor, presently, with restored good ( 334 ) humour, and an air of the iTiOSt lively pleasure, came to fetch her. " Lord Melbury," she cried, " certainly adores you. You never saw a man's face of so many colours in your life, as when Aunt Maple speaks of you irreverently. If you manage well, you may be at Gretna Green -in a week.'* They descended, without any answer made by Ellis, to the dressing-room. The air of Lord Mclbury was far less dejected than when they had last parted; yet it had by no means regained its natural spring and vivacity ; and he ad- vanced to pay his compliments to Ellis, with a look of even studious deference. He W'ould detain her, he said, but a few minutes ; vet could not leave the country, without informing her of tv.o visits, which he had made the day before : both of which had ended pre- cisely with the amity that she had wished. Elinor, enchanted in believing, from 'this opening, that a confidential inter- (' 335 ) course was already arranged, declared, that her aunt must look elsewhere for a spy, as she would by no means play that part ; and then ran into the adjoin- ing room. Lord Melbury and Ellis would have detained, but could not follow her, as it was her bed-chamber. Lord Melbury then, who saw that EUis was uneasy, promised to be quick. " I demanded," said he, " yesterday, an interview with Mr. HarJeigh. I told him, u'ithout reserve, all that had passed. 1 cannot paint to you the indignation he shewed at the aspersions of Ireton. He determined to go to liim directly, and I resolved to accompany him. — Don't look pale. Miss Eilis: I repeated to Mr. Ilarleigh the promise you had ex- acted from me, and he confessed himself to be perfectly of your opinion, that all angry defence, or public resentment, must necessarily, in such a case, be injurious. Yet to let the matter drop, might expose you to fresh abominations. Ireton received us with a uuAtureof ( 336 ) curiosity and carelessness; very inquisitive to know what had passed, but very in- different whether it were good or bad. We both, by agreement, affected to treat the matter lightly, gravely as we both thought of it : I thanked him, therefore, for the salutary counsel, by which he had urged me to procure myself so confounded a rap of the knuckles, for my assurance ; and Mr. Harleigh made his acknowledgements in the same tone, for the compliment - paid to his liberality, of supposing that.. a person, who, in any manner, should be, - thought under his protection, could be in a state of penury. We both, I hope, made him ashamed. He had not, Ixe owned, reflected deeply upon the sub* ject ; for which, Mr. Harleigh told me, 2. afterwards, there was a very cogent i reason, namely,, that he did not know how ! Mr. Harleigh, when we were . coming away, forcibly said^ ' Ireton, placing Lord Melbury - and myself wholly apart in this business, ask your 5 ( 337 ) own sagacity, I beg, how a female, who is young, beautiful, and accomplished, can suffer from pecuniary distress, if her character be not unimpeachable ?* Upon. that, struck with the truth of the re- mark, he voluntarily protested that he would make you all the amends in his power. So ended our visit ; and I cannot but hope that it will release you from all similar persecutions.*' Ellis expressed her sincere and warm ' gratitude ; and Lord Melbury, with an air of penetrated respect, took his leave; evidently much solaced, by the con- sciousness of serving one whom he had injured. Ellis had every reason to be gratified by this attention, which set heririind wholly at rest upon the' tenoui* of Lord Mel- bury's regard : while Elinor was so mucTi delighted, to find the acquaintance ad- vance so rapidly to confidence, that she embraced Ellis, wished her Joy, mocked all replies of a disci ai miner nature, and, accompanying her back Uj VOL. I. Q C 338 ) her room, made her a long, social, lively^ and entertaining visit ; hearing and talking over her project of becoming a governess, but laughing at it, as a ri- diculous idea, for the decided wife elect of Earl Melbury. She was succeeded by Selina, who exultingly came to acquaint Ellis, that Mr. Ireton had just made a formal re- nunciation of all ill opinion of her ; and had told Mrs. Maple, that he had indubit- able proofs that she was a person of the very strictest character. " So now,'* cried she, " Lady Aurora and I may vow our friendship to you for life." This was a very solid satisfaction to Ellis, to whom the calumny of Ireton had been almost insupportable. She now hoped that Mrs. Maple would favour her new scheme, and that she might re- main tranquilly in the house till it took place; and equip herself, from the dona- tion of Lady Aurora, for her immediate appearance in the situation which she sought. She resolved to seize the first ( ( 339 ) opportunity for returning Harleigh his bank notes, and the Miss Joddrels their half-guineas. She wished, also, to repay the guinea of the worthy Admiral, and to repeat to him her grateful acknow- ledgements : his name and address she concluded that she mihgt learn from Har- leigh ; but she deferred this satisfaction till more secure of success. The next day, Selina ran upstairs to her again. " Who do you think," she cried, " came into the parlour in the middle of breakfast ? Mr. Dennis Har- leigli ! He arrived at Brighthelmstone last night. Sister Elinor turned quite white, and never spoke to him ; she only just made a sort of bow to his asking^ how she did, and then swallowed her tea burning hot, and left the room. He can stay only one day, .for he must be in London to-morrow night. He is come for his final answer ; for he's quite out of pa- tience." Selina had hardly descended the stairs, when Elinor herself mounted them. She Q 2 ( 340 ) entered the chamber precipitately, her face colourless, and her eyes starting from her head. " Ellis !" she cried, " I must speak with you !" She seated herself, made Ellis sit exact- ly opposite to her, and went on: "There are two things which I want to say to you ; or, rather, to demand of you. Have you fortitude enough to tell truth, even though it should wound your self-love ? and honour enough to be trusted with a. com mission a thousand times more im- portant than life or death ? and to execute it faithfully, — though at the risk of seeing the greatest idiot that ever existed, shew sufficient symptoms of sense to run mad ?'* Alarmed by her ghastly look, and frightened at the abruptness of questions utterly incomprehensible, Ellis gently entreated to be spared any request with which she could not comply. " I do not mean,'* cried Elinor, with quickness, '' to make any call upon your confidence, or to put any fetters upon "( "341 ) your conduct. You will be as free after you have spoken as before. I want merely to ascertain a fact, of which my ignorance distracts me ! If you have to give me a negative, your vanity alone can suffer ; if an affirmative *' She put her ^hand upon her forehead, and then ra- pidly added, — " the suffering will not 'be yours! — give it, therefore, boldly! '^Twill be heaven to me to end this sus- fjpense, be it how it may !" Starting up, but preventing Ellis from 'rising, by laying a hand upon each of her shoulders, she gazed upon her eyes with a fixed stare, of ahnost frantic im- patience, and said, " Speak ! say Yes, or No, at once ! Give me no phrase — Let tifie see no hesitation ! — Kill me, or ^restore me to life ! — Has Harleigh — " .she gasped for breath — " ever made you any declaration ?" " None !" steadily, forcibly, and in- stantly Ellis answered. i " Enough!" criedshe, recovering some f^ composure. « 3 ( 342 ) She then walked up and down the room, involuntarily smiling, and her lips in a motion, that shewed that she was talking to herself. Then stopping, and taking Ellis by the hand, and half laughing, " You will think me," she cried, " crazy; but I assure you I had never a more ex- quisite enjoyment of my senses. I see every thing to urge, and nothing to oppose my following the bent of my own humour ; br,ln other words, throw- ing off the trammels of unmeaning cus- tom, and acting, as well as thinking, for myself." Again, then, w^alking up and down the chamber, she pursued her new train of ideas, with a glee which manifested that she found them deli2:htful. " My dear Ellis," she cried, pre- sently, " have you ever chanced to hear of such a person as Dennis Har- leigh ?" Ellis wished to avoid answ^ering this questibti,"oh' account of her informant, Selina ; but her embarrassment was ( 343 ) answer sufficient. " I see yes !** cried Elinor, " I see that you have heard of that old story. Don't be frightened,*' added she, laughing, " I am not going to ask who blabbed it. I had as lieve it were one impertinent fool as another. Only never imagine me of the tribe of sen- timental pedants, who think it a dis- grace to grow wiser; or who suppose that they must abide by their first opi- nions, for fear the world should know, that they think twice upon one subject For what is changing one's mind, but taking the ^ro one time, and the con another?" " But come," continued she, " this is no tune for rattling. Two years I have existed upon speculation ; I must now try how I shall fare upon practice. Is it not just, Ellis, that it should be vou who should ^xi^ me out of the slough of despond, since it was you who flung me into it r — However, now for your commission. Do you feel as if you could execute it with spirit?" Q 4 ^ ( 344 ) ^ *' With willingness, certainly, if I see any chance of success." ** No ifs, Ellis. I hate the whole tribe of dubiosity. However, that you may not make any blunder,! shall tell you my story myself; for all that you have heard from others, you must set down to ignorance or prejudice. Nobody knows my feelings, and nobody understands my reasons. So every body is at war against me in the dark. ** Now hearken 1 " Just as I came of age, and ought to have shaken off the shackles of Aunt Maple, and to have enjoyed my inde- pendence and my fortune together, ac- cident brought into my way a young lawyer — this Dennis Harleigh — of great promise in the only profession in the world that gives wit fair play. And I thought him, then, — mark me, Ellis, then ! — of a noble appearance. He de- lighted to tell me his causes, state their merits, and ask my opinions. I always took the opposite side to that which he C 345 ) •-C wa§ employed to plead, in order to trj nis powers, and prov^e, ii^y .QWg-i^^ The French Revolution had just then burst forth, into that noble flame th^ts nearly consumed the old world, to raise a new one, phoenix like, from its ashes. Soon tired of our every day; subjects and con- tests, I began canvassing with him the Rights of Man. He had fallen despe- rately in love with me, either for my wit or my fortune, or both; and therefore all topics were sure to be approved. Enchant- ed with a warfare in which I was certain to be always victorious, I grew so fond of conquest, that I was never satisfied but when combating ; and the joy I experi- enced in the display of my own talents, made me doat upon his sight. The truth is, our mutual vanity mutually de- ceived us : he saw my pleasure in his company, and concluded that it was per- sonal regard : I found nothing to rouse the energies of my faculties in his ab- sence, and imagined myself enamoured of my vanquished antagonist. Aunt ^ 5 ( 346 ■„)• Maple did her little best — for every thing she does is little — to forward the con- nexion ; because, though his fortune is trifling, his professional expectations are high ; and though he is a younger bro- ther, he is born of a noble family : and that sort of mean old stuff is always in her head ; for if the whole world were revolutionized, you could never make her conceive a new idea. And the g-reat fact of all is, she cannot bear I should leave her house before I marry, because, she is sure, in one of my own, I shall adopt some new system of life. Thus, in the toils of my self-love, I be- came entangled ; poor Dennis called himself the happiest of men ; the settle- ments were all drawn up ; and we were looking about us for a house to our fancy, and all that sort of stuff, when Dennis introduced his family to us. — Now the rest, I suppose, you can divine ?" This was, indeed, not difficult; but Ellis durst not risk any reply. With a rapidity scarcely intelligible, ^C 347 ) and in a manner wholly incolierent, she then went on : " Ellis, I pretend .not to any mystery. Why is one per- son adorable, and another detestable, but to call forth our love and our hatred ? ?to give birth to all that snatches us from mere inert existence ; to our passions, our energies, our noblest conceptions of all that' is towering and sublime? Whether you have any idea of this mental enlargement I cannot tell j but with it I see human nature endowed with capabilities immeasurable of per- fection ; and without it, I regard and treat the whole of my race as the mere dramatis personam of a farce ; of which I am myself, when performing with such fellow-actors, a principal buffoon." Nearly out of breath, she stopt a moment ; then, looking earnestly at Ellis, said , " Do you understand me ?*' EUis, in a fearful accent, answered, " I ... I am not quite sure." " Remove your doubts, then !" cried she, impatiently j " I despise what is a 6 ( 548 > obscure, still more than I hate what i» false. Falsehood may at least approach to that degree of grandeur which belongs to crime ; but obscurity is always mean,* always seeking some subterfuge, always belonging to art/* Again she stopt ; but Ellis, uncertain whether this remark were meant to in- troduce her confidence, or to censure her own secresy, waited an explanation in silence. Elinor was evidently, however, embarrassed, though anxious to persuade herself, as well as Ellis, that she was perfectly at her ease. She walked a quick pace up and down the room ; then stopt, seemed pausing, hemmed to clear her voice for speech ; and then walked backwards and forwards before the win- dow, which she frequently opened and shut, without seeming to know that she touched it ; till, at length, seized with sudden indignation against herself, for this failure of courage, she energetically exclaimed, " How paltry is shame where there can be no disgrace! — I disdain itl ( 349 ) — disclaim it ! — and am ready to avow to the whole world, that I dare speak and act, as well as think and feel for my- self!" Yet, even thus buoyed up, thus full fraught with defiance, something within involuntarily, invincibly checked her, and she hastily resumed her walks and her ruminations. " What amazing,unaccountable fools," she cried, "have we all been for these quan- tities of centuries ! Worlds seem to have a longer infancy taken out of the progress of their duration, even than the long imbeci- lity of the childhood of poor mortals. But for the late glorious revolutionary shake given to the universe, I should, at this very moment, from mere cowardly con- formity, be the wife of Dennis ! — -In spite of my repentance of the engage- ment, in spite of the aversion I have taken to him, and in spite of the con- tempt I have conceived — with one single exception — for the whole race of mankind, I must have been that poor t2 ( 350 ) man's despicable wife ! — O despicable indeed ! For with what sentiments could I have married him ? Where woidd have been my soul while I had given him my hand ? Had I not seen — known — adored — his brother 1" She stopt, and the deepest vermillion overspread her face; her effort was madej she had boasted of her new doctrine, lest she should seem impressed with confu- sion from the old one which she vio- lated ; but the struggle being over, the bravado and exultation subsided; female consciousness and native shame took their place ; and abashed, and unable to meet the eyes of Ellis, she ran out of the room. In the whole of this scene, Ellis ob- served, with mingled censure and pity, the strong conflict in the mind of Elinor, between ungoverned inclination, which sought new systems for its support ; and an innate feeling of what was due to the sex that she was braving, and the cus- toms that she was scorning. ( 35^ ) She soon re-appeared, but with a wholly new air ; lively, disengaged, al- most sportive. Her heart was lightened by unburthening her secret; the feminine delicacies which opposed the discovery, once broken through, oppressed her no more ; and the idea of passing, now, straight forward, to the purposes for which she had done herself this violence, re-animated her spirit, and gave new vi2:our to her faculties. She laughed at herself for having run away, without explaining the meaning of her communication ; and for charging Ellis with a commission, of which she had not made known even the nature. She then more clearly stated her situation. From the time of her first interview with Albert, her whole mind had recoiled from all thought of union with his bro- ther ; yet the affair was so far advanced, and she saw herself so completely re- garded by Albert as a sister, though treated by him with an openness, a frank- ness, and an affection the most captivat- 4t ( 35^ ) ing, that she had not courage to proclaim her change of sentiment. The conflict of her mind, during this doubting state, threatened to cast heir into' a consumption. She was ordered to the south of France. And there, happily arrived, new scenes, — a new world, rather, opened to her a code of new ideas, that soon, she said, taught her to scoff at idle misery : and might even, from the occupation given to her feelings, by the glorious confusion, and mad wonders around her, have recovered her from the thraldom of an over-ruling propen- sity, had not Dennis, unable, from pro- fessional engagements, to quit his coun- try, been so blind, upon hearing that her health was re-established, as to persuade his brother to cross the Channel, in order to escort the two travellers home. From the moment, the fated moment, that Albert arrived to be her guide and her guard, he became so irresistibly the master of her heart, that her destiny w^as determined. Whether good or ill. <( 353 ) she knew not yet -, but it was fixed. Ill had not occurred to her sanguine ex^ pectations, nor doubt, nor fear, till the eventful meeting with Ellis : till then, she had believed her happiness secure, for she had supposed that nothing stood in her way, save a little brotherly punctilio. But, since the junction of Ellis, the spon- taneous interest which Albert had taken in her fate, and her affairs, had appeared to be so marvellous, that, at every new view of his pity, his respect, or his ad- miration, she was seized with the most uneasy feelings 5 which sometimes worked her up into pangs of excruciating jea- lousy ; and, at others, seemed to be so ill founded, that, recollecting a thousand instances of his general benevolence, she laughed her own surmises to scorn. How the matter still stood, with regard to Iiis heart, she confessed herself unable to form any permanent judgment. The time, however, was now, happily, arrived, to abolish suspense, for even Dennis, now, could bear it no longer. She ex- ( 354 ) pected, she said, a desperate scene, but, at least, it would be a final one. She had only, for many months past, been re- strained from giving Dennis his dismis- sion, lest Albert should drop all se- parate acquaintance, from the horrour of seeming treacherously to usurp the place of his brother. Nevertheless, she \vould frankly have ended her disturb- ance, by an avowal of the truth, had not Albert been the eldest brother, and, con- sequently, the richest 5 and the disgrace- ful supposition, that she might be in- fluenced to desire the change from mer- cenary motives, would have had power to yoke her to Dennis, for the rest of her weary existence, had not her mind been so luminously opened to its own re- sources, and inherent right of choice, by her continental excursion. " The grand effect," she continued, '' of beholding so many millions of men, let loose from all ties, divine or human, gave such play to my fancy, such a range to my thoughts, and brought forth such ( 355 ) new, unexpected, and untried combina- tions to mj reason, that I frequently felt as if just created, and ushered into the world — not, perhaps, as wise as an- other Minerva, but equally formed to view and to judge all around me, without the gradations of infancy, childhood, and youth, that hitherto have prepared for maturity. Every thing now is upon a new scale, and man appears to be worthy of his faculties; which, during all these past ages, he has set aside, as if he could do just as well witiiout them } holding it to be his bounden duty, to be trampled to the dust, by old rules and forms, because all his papas and uncles were trampled so be- fore him. However, I should not have troubled myself, probably, with any of these abstruse notions, had they not of- fered me a new road for life, when the old one was worn out. To find that all was novelty and regeneration throughout the finest country in the universe, soon in- fected me with the system-forming spirit; and it was then that I conceived the ( 356 ) plan I am now going to execute ; but I shall not tell it you in its full extent, as I am uncertain what may be your strength of mind ibr measures of force and character ; and perhaps they may not be necessary. So now to your com- mission. .' ' iX " I am fixed to cast wholly aside the dainty common barriers, which shut out from female practice all that is elevated, or even natural. Dennis, therefore, shall know that I hate him j Albert . . . Ah, Ellis ! that I hate him not !" *' My operations are to commence thus: Act I. Scene I. Enter Ellis, seek- ing Albert. Don't stare so ; I know perfectly well what I am about. Scene II. Albert and Ellis meet. Ellis informs him that she must hold a confabulation with him the n^xt day ; and desires that he will remain at Lewes to be at hand. — " " Oh, Miss Joddrel!'' interrupted Ellis, " you must, at least, give me leave to say, that it is by your command that I make a request so extraordinary i" ( 357 ) " By no means. He must not sus- pect that I have any knowledge of your intention. The truth, like an explosion of thunder, shall burst upon, his he^d at once. So only shall I truly know whe- ther it will shake him with dismay-— or magnetize him by its sublimity.'' " Yet how, Madam, under what pre- tence, can I take such a liberty ?" '' Pho, pho; this is no time for delicate demurs. If he be not engaged to stay before I turn his brother adrift, he will accompany him to town, as a thing of course, to console him in his willowed state. The rest of my plot is not yet quite ripe for disclosure. But all is ar- ranged. And though I know not whe- ther the catastrophe will be tragic or comic, I am prepared in my part for either." "She then went away. .J V. C 358 ) ,',f\ CHAPTER XVII. T^LINOR returned almost instantly. " Hasten, hasten," she cried, " Ellisl There is no time to be lost. Scene the first is all prepared. Albert Harleigh, at this very moment, is poring over the county map in the hall. Run and tell him that you have something of deep importance to communicate to him to- morrow.*' " But may he not — if he means to go — desire to hear it immediately ?*' Elinor, without answering, forced her away. Harleigh, whose back was to the stair-entrance, seemed intently examining some route. The distress of Ellis was extreme how to call for his notice, and how to execute her commission when it should be obtained. Slowly and un- willingly approaching a little nearer, " I am afraid," she hesitatingly said, " that ( 359 ) I must appear extremely importunate, but—'' The astonishment with wliich he turned round, at the sound of her voice, could only be equalled by the pleasure with which he met her eyes ; and only sur- passed, by the sudden burst of clashing ideas with which he saw her own instantly drop ; while her voice, also, died away ; her cheeks became the colour of crimson : and she was evidentlv and wholly at a loss what to say. " Importunate?" he gently repeated, " impossible!'* yet he waited her own explanation. Her confusion now became deeper ; any sort of interrogation would have en- couraged and aided her ; but his quiet, though attentive forbearance seemed the result of some suspension of opinion. Ashamed and grieved, she involuntarily looked away, as she indistinctly pro- nounced, " I must appear .... very strange**. . but I am constrained .... Circumstances of which J am not the ( 36o ) mistress, force me to ... . desire — to request — that to-morrow mornings — ^or any part of to-morrow .... it might be possible that I could .... or rather that you should be able to .... to hear some- thinc: that .... that ....*' The total silence with which he listened, shewed so palpably his expectation of some competent reason for so singular an addresSj that her inability to clear herself, and her chagrin in the idea of forfeiting any part of an esteem which had proved so often her protection, grew almost insupportably painful, and she left her phrase unfinished: yet con- sidered her commission to be fulfilled, and was moving away. " To-morrow,*' he said, " I meant to have accompanied my brother, whose affairs — whatever may be his fate — oblige him to return to town : but if . . . . if to-morrow — " He had now, to impede her retreat, stept softly between her and the stair- case, and perceived, in her blushes, the ( ^3^^ ) force which she had put upon her modesty ; and read, in the expression of her ghstening eyes, that an innate sense of delicacy was still more wounded, by the demand which she had made, even than her habits of life. 'With respect^ therefore, redoubled, and an interest beyond all calculation increased, he went on ; " If to-morrow .... or next day *-^ or any part of the week, you have any commands for me, nothing shall hurry me hence till they are obeyed.'* Comforted to find herself treated with unabated consideration, however shocked to have the -air of detaining hinn purposely for her own concerns, she was courtsying her thanks, when she^ caught a glance of Elinor on the stairs,^ in whose face, every passion seemed with violence at work. Ellis chanejed colour, not knowing how to proceed, or how to stop. Tha alteration in her countenance made Ilar- leigh look round, and discern Elinor; ye . sp pre-occupied was his attention^ it ^|. VOL. u R. ( 3^2. ) he was totally luimindfiilof her situation, and would have addressed her as usual, had she not abruptly remounted the stairs. Harleigh would then have asked some directions, relative to the time and man- ner of the purposed communication ; but Ellis instantly followed Elinor ; leav- ing him in a state of wonder, expecta- tion, yet pleasure indescribable ; fully persuaded tliat she meant to reveal the secret of her name and her history ; and forming conjectures that every moment varied, yet every moment grew more interesting, of her motives for such a confidence. Ellis found Elinor already in her cham- ber, and, apparently, in the highest, though evidently most factitious spirits : not, however, feigned to deceive Ellis, but falsely and forcibly elated to deceive, or, at least, to animate herself " This is enchanting T' she cried, " this is de- lectable ! this is every thing that I could wish ! I shall now know the truth ! All \ \ ( 363 ) C 371 ) " I can have no doubt,'* said he, gravely, ** that Miss Joddrel is con- cerned, for the length of time she has wasted in trifling with his feelings ; but this is all the apology her conduct re- quires : the breach of the engagement, when once she was convinced, that her attachment was insufficient to make the union as desirable to herself as to him, was certainly rather a kindness than an injury." *' Yes, — but, her motives — her rea- sons — " '* I conceive them all! she wanted courage to be sooner decided ; she ap- prehended reproach — and she gathered force to make her change of sentiments known, only when, otherwise, she must have concealed it for ever. — Pardon this presumptuous anticipation !'* added he, smiling ; " but when you talk to me of only ten minutes, how can I suffer them to be consumed in a commis- sion ?" He spoke in a low tone, yet, Ellis, R 6 ( 372 ) excessively alarmed, pointed expressively to the chamber-door. In a tone, then^ still softer, he continued : " I have been anxious to speak to you of Lord Mel- bury, and to say something of the indig- nation with which I heard, from him, of the atrocious behaviour of Ireton. Nothing less than the respect I feel for vou, could have deterred me from shew- ing him the resentment I feel for myself. I should not, however, have been your only champion ; Lord Meibury was equally incensed j but we both acknow- ledged that our interests and our feelings ought to be secondary to yours, and by yours to be regulated. The matter, therefore, is at an end. Ireton is con- vinced that he has done you wrong; and, as he never meant to be your enemy, and has no study but his own amusement, we must pity his w^ant of taste, and hope that the disgrace necessarily hanging upon detected false assertion, may be a lesson not lost upon him. Yet he de- serves one far more severe. He is a C 373 ) pitiful egotist, who seeks notliing but his own diversiron ; iudifFerent whose peace, comfort, or reputation pays its pur- chase." I am infinitely obliged," said ElHs, that you will suffer the whole to drop ; but I must not do the same by my com- mission ! — You must let mc, now, enter more particularly upon my charge, and tell you — " " Forgive, forgive me !*' cried he, eagerly ; *' I comprehend all that Miss Joddrel can have to sav. But mv im- f ft/ patience is irrepressible upon a far different subject j one that awakens the most lively interest, that occupies my thoughts, that nearly monopolizes my memory ; and that e:^hausts — yet never wearies my conjectures. — That letter you were so good as to mention to me ? — and the plan you may at length decide to pursue ? — permit mc to hope, that the commimication you intend me, has some reference to those points ?" " I should be truly glad of your ( 374 ) counsel, Sir, in my helpless situation : but I am not at this moment at liberty to speak of myself; — Miss Joddrel — '* Her embarrassment now announced something extraordinary ; but it was avowedly not personal, and Harleigh eagerly besought her to be .expeditious. " You must make me so, then,'* cried she, " by divining what I have to re- veal !" " Does Miss Joddrel relent ? — Will she give me leave to summon my brother back ?" " Oh no ! no ! no ! — far otherwise. Your brother has been indifferent to her .... ever since she has known him as such !" She thought she had now said enough ; but Harleigh, whose faculties w^ere other- wise engaged, waited for further expla- nation. " Can you not," said Ellis, " or will you not, divine the reason of the change ?" « I have certainly," he answered. ( Z7S ) *' long observed a growing insensi- bility ; but still — ^* " And have you never," said Ellis, deeply blushing, " seen, also, -. — its re- verse ?*' This question, and yet more the man- ner in which it was made, was too in- telligible to admit of any doubt. Har- leigh, however, was far from elated as the truth opened to his view : he looked grave and disturbed, and remained for some minutes profoundly silent. Ellis, already ashamed of the indelicacy of her office, could not press for any reply. " I am hurt," he at length said, " be- yond all measure, by what you intimate ; but since Miss Joddrel has addressed you thus openly, there can be no im- propriety in my claiming leave, also, to speak to you confidentially.'* " Whatever you wish me to say to ber. Sir, " " And much that I do not wish you to say to her," cried he, half smiling, " I hope you w^ill hear yourself! and that ( 376 ) then, you will have the goodness, accord- ing to what you know of her intentlonj^ and desire, to palliate what you may deem necessary to repeat." " Ah, poor Miss Joddrel!" said Ellis, in a melancholy tone, " and is this the success of my embassy?" '* Did you, then, wish — " Harleigh began, with a quickness of which he in- stantly felt the impropriety, and changed his phrase into, " Did you, then, expect any other ?" " I was truly sorry to be entrusted with the commission." " I easily conceive, that it is not such a one as you would have given ! but there is a dangerous singularity in the character of Miss Joddrel, that makes her prone to devote herself to whatever is new, wild, or uncommon. Even now, perhaps, she conceives that she is the champion of her sex, in shewing it the road, — a dangerous road ! — to a new walk in life. Yet, — these eccentri- cities set apart, — how rare are her qua- ( Zll ) lities ! how povverfiil is her mind ! how sportive her fancy ! and how noble is her superiority to every species of art or artifice !" " Yet, with all this," said Ellis, looking at him expressively, " with all this . . .'* she knev/ not how to proceed; but he saw her meaning. " With all this," he said, '• you are surprised, perhaps, that I should look for other qualities, other virtues in her whom I should aspire to make the companion of my life ? I beseech you, however, to believe, that neither inso- lence nor ingratitude makes me insen- sible to her worth ; but, though it often meets my admiration, sometimes my es- teem, and always my good will and re- gard, it is not of a texture to create that sympathy without which even friend- >ship is cold. I have, indeed, .... tiU now ....'* He paused. " Poor, poor Miss Joddrel !" exclaim- ed Ellis, " If you could but have heard, — or if I knew but how to repeat, even ' ( 378 ) the millloneth part of what she thinks of you ! — of the respect with which she is ready to yield to your opinions ; of the enthusiasm with which she honours your character ; of the devotion with which she nearly worships you — " She stopt short, ashamed ; and as fearful that she had been now too urgent, as before that she had been too cold. Harleiffh heard her with considerable emotion. " I hope^*' he said, " your feelings, like those of most minds gifted with strong sensibility, have taken the pencil, in this portrait, from your cooler judgment ? 1 should be grieved, indeed, to suppose — but what can a man sup- pose, what say, upon a subject so delicate that may not appear offensive ? Suffer me, therefore, to drop it ; and have the goodness to let that same sensibility operate in terminating, in such a man- ner as may be least shocking to her, all view, and all thought, that I ever could, or ever can, entertain the most distant project of supplanting my brother." ( 379 ) « Will you not, at least, speak to lier yourself?'* " I had flir rather speak to you ! — Yet certainly yes, if she desire it." " Give me leave, then, to say," cried Ellis, moving towards the bed-room door, " that you request an audience/* " By no means ! I merely do not ob- ject to it. You may easily conceive what pain I shall be spared, if it may be evaded. All I request, is a few moments with you ! Hastily, therefore, let me ask, is your plan decided ?" '^ To the best of my power, — of my ideas, rather, — yes. But, indeed, I must not thus abandon my charge i** " And will you not let me enquire what it is ?" " There is one thing, only, in which I have any hope that my exertions may tun) to account ; I wish to offer myself as a governess to some young lady, or ladies." " I beseech you," cried he, with sud- den fervour, " to confide to me the ( 38o ) liiatiire of yonr situation ! I know weU I have no claim ; I seem to have even no pretext for such a request ; yet there are sometimes circumstances that not only excuse, but imperiously demand extraordinary measures : perhaps mine, at this moment, are of that sort ! perhaps I am at a loss what step to take, till I know to whom I address myself 1" " O Sir !*' cried EUis, holding up her hands in act of supplication, '' you will be heard !*^ Harleigh, conscious that he had been off all guard, silenced himself immedi- ately, and walked hastily to the window. Ellis knew not whether to retire, at once, to her ovvU room ; or to venture into that of Elinor ; or to require any further answer. This last, however, Harleigh seemed in no state to give : h« leant his forehead upon his hand, and remained wrapt in thought. Ellis, struck by a manner which shewed that he felt, and, apparently, repented, the possible meaning that his last wordi ( 38i ) might convey, was now as much ashamed for herself as for EHnor ; and not wish- ing to meet his eyes, ghded softly back to her chamber. Here, whatever might be the fulness of her mind, she was not allowed an instant for reflection : lihnor folio Vved her immediately. She shut the door, and walked closely up to her. Ellis feared to behold her ; yet saw, by a glance, that her eyes were sparkling, and that her face was dressed in smiles. " This is a glorious day for me !*' she cried ; " 'tis the pride of my life to have brought such a one into the history of my existence 1" Ellis officiously got her a chair ; ar- ranged the fire; examined if the windows were well closed; and sought any occu- pation, to postpone the moment of speak- ing to, or looking at her. Slic was not offended ; she did not appear to be hurried ; she seemed en- chanted with her own ideas; yet she had a strangeness in her manner that Ellis thought extremely alarming. C 3^2 ) ** Well," she cried, when she had taken her seat, and saw that Ellis could find no further pretext for employing herself in the little apartment ; " what garb do you bring me ? How am I to be arrayed ?" Ellis begged to know what she meant. " Is it a wedding-garment ?" replied she, gaily; or...." abruptly changing her tone into a deep hoarse whisper, " a shroud ?'* Elhs, shuddering; durst not answer. Elinor, catching her hand, said, " Don't be frightened ! I am at this moment equal to whatever may be my des- tiny : I am at a point of elevation, that makes my fate nearly indifferent to me. Speak, therefore ! but only to the fact. I have neither time nor humour for narratory delays. I tried to hear you; but you both talked so whisperingly, that I could not make out a sentence." " Indeed, Miss Joddrel," said Ellis, trembling violently, " Mr. Harleigh's regard — his affection — " ( 383 ) " Not a word of that trite class!'* cried Elinor, with sudden severity, " if you would not again work all my passions into inflammation, involve me no more in doubt! Fear nothing else. I am no where else vulnerable. Set aside, then, all childish calculations, of giv- ing me an inch or two more, or an inch or two less of pain, — and be brief and true!" Ellis could not utter a word : every phrase she could suggest seemed to teem with danger ; yet she felt that her silence could not but indicate the truth which it sought to hide ; she hung her head, and sighed in disturbed perplexity. Elinor looked at her for some time with an examining eye, and then, hastily rising, emphatically exclaimed, " You are mute ? — I see, then, my doom ! And I shall meet it with glory !" Smiles triumphant, but wild, now played about her face. " Ellis," she cried, " go to your work, or whatever you were about, and take no manner of ■• ( 3U' ) heed of me., .kJuhaiY.e somefcluug of im- portance to arrange, and can brook no ;, interruption." n? ;ecial care that she should never lack materials. Elinor spoke to her no more ; but her ruminations, though undisturbed by her companion, were by no means quiet, ovj silent. She paced hastily up and down the room ; sat, in turn, upon a chair, a * window seat, and the bed; talkedito herself, sometimes with a vehemence tliat made several detached w^ords, though no sentences, intelligible ; sometimes in softer accents, and with eyes and gestures of exultation ; and, frequently, she went into a corner by the side of the window, where she looked, in secret, at something in a shagrin case that she held in her hand, and had brought out of her chamber ; and to which she occasionally addressed herself, with a fervency that shook her whole frame, and wath ex*- 13 ( 385 ) pressions which, though broken, and halt pronounced, denoted that she considered it as something sacred. At length, with an air of transport, she exclaimed, " Yes 1 that will produce the best effect ! what an ideot have I been to hesitate !" then, turning with quickness to Ellis: " Ellis," she cried, " I have withheld from any questions relative to yourself, because I abominate all subterfuge ; but you will not suppose 1 am contented with my ignorance ? You will not imagine it a matter of indifference to me, to know how I have failed ?** She reddened ; passion took possession of every feature, and for a moment nearly choaked her voice : she again walked, with rapid motion, about the room, and then ejaculated, " Let me be patient ! let me not take away all grandeur from my despair, and reHuce it to mere common madness! — Let me wait the fated moment, and then — let the truth burst, blaze, and flume, till it devour me ! VOL. u s wsk EiJ^ gflg presently ^addeii, " find Harleigb ; tell him I will wish him a good journey from the summer-house in the garden. Not a soul ever enters it at this time of the year. Bid him go thither directly. I shall soon join him. 1 will wait in my room till you call me. Be quick !" Ellis required not to have this order repeated : to place her under the care of Harleigh, and intimate to him the excess of her love, with the apprehen- sions which she now herself conceived of the dangerous state of her mind, was all that could be wished ; and where so essential a service might be render- ed, or a mischief be prevented, personal punctilio was out of the question. ^^ He w^as not in the hall ; but, from one of the windows, she perceived him walking near the house. A painful sen- sation, upon being obliged, again, to force herself upon his notice, disturbed, though she would not suffer it to check Her. He was speaking with his groom. ( 387 ) She stopt at the hall-door, with a view to catch his eye, and succeeded ; but he bowed without approaching her, and continued to discourse with his groom. To seem bent upon pursuing him, when he appeared himself to think that he had gone too far, and even to mean to shun her, dyed her cjieeks of the deepest vermilion j though she com- pelled herself, from a terrour of the danger of delay, to run across the gravel- walk before the house, to address him. He saw her advance, with extreme sur- prise, but by no means with the same air of pleasure, that he had manifested in the morning. His look was embar- rassed, and he seemed unwilling to meet her eyes. Yet he awaited her with a respect that made his groom, unbidden, retire to some distance ; though to await her at all, when he might have met her, struck her, even in this hurried and ter- rified moment, as offering the strongest confirmation which she had yet received, s 2 ■( 388 ) that it was not a man of pleasure or of gallantry, but of feeling and of truth, into whose way she was thus singularly and frequently cast : and the impression which she had made upon his mind, had never, to her hitherto nearly absorbed faculties, appeared to be so serious or so sincere, as now, when he first evidently struggled to disguise a partiality, which he seemed persuaded that he had, now^ first betrayed^ The sensations which this discovery might produce in herself were unexamined: the misery with which -it teemed for Elinor, and a desire to relieve his own delicacy, by appearing unconscious of his secret, predominated : and she assumed sufficient self-command, to deliver the message of Elinor, with a look, and in a voice, that seemed insen- sible and unobservant of every other subject. ^^iy He soon, now, recovered his usual tone, and disengaged manner. " She must certainly,'' he said, " be obeyed '^ though I so little expected such a sum- mows, that I was giving directions for my departure.*' ♦'> t- " Ah, no!" cried Ellis, " rather again defer it." " You would have me again defer ^it ?" he repeated, with a vivacity he tried still more, though vainly, to sub- due than to disguise. The word again did not make the cheeks of Ellis paler ; but she answered, with eagerness, " Yes, for the same pur- pose and same person ! — I am forced to speak explicitly — and abruptly. In- deed, Sir, you know not, you conceive not, the dreadfully alarming state of her nerves, nor the violence of her at- tachment. — You could scarcely else — '* she stopt, for he changed colour and looked hurt : she saw he comprehended that she meant to add, you could scarcely else resist her : she finished, therefore, her phrase, by " scarcely else plan leaving her, till you saw her more composed, and more reconciled to herself, and to the world." \y s 3 ( 390 ) *' You may imagine,*' said he, pen- sively, " it is any thing rather than my inclination that carries me hence .... but I greatly fear 'tis the only prudent measure I can pursue." *' You can best judge by seeing her," said Ellis : " her situation is truly de- plorable. Her faculties are all disor- dered ; her very intellects, I fear, are shaken ; and there is no misfortune, no horrour, which her desperation, if not feoftened, does not menace." Harleigh now seemed awakened to sudden alarm, and deep concern ; and Ellis painfully, with encreasing embar- rassment, from encreasing consciousness, added, " You will do, I am sure, what is possible to snatch her from despair !" and then returned to the house: satisfied that her meaning was perfectly compre- hended, by the excess of consternation into which it obviously cast Harleigh. C 39^ ) n iJoY ^' CHAPTER XVIII. r^OMFORTED, at least, for Elinor, whose situation in being known, seemed to lose its greatest danger, Ellis, with less oppression upon her spirits, returned to the dressing-room. Elinor was writing, and too intently occupied to heed the opening of the door. The motion of her hand was so rapid, that her pen seemed rather to skim over, than to touch her paper. Ellis gently approached her ; but, finding that she did not raise her head, ven- tured not even to announce that her orders had been executed. At length, her paper being filled, she looked up, and said, " Well ! is he there ?" " I have delivered to him. Madam, your commands." " Then," cried she, rising with an s 4 k '39^ ) "exuhiu^''^^ ■*' the moment of ''iny triumph is come ! Yes, Harleigli ! if meanly I have offered you my person, nobly, at leasf, T will consecrate to ybii my soul !*' '■ '^^^oB'^ Hastily rolling up what she had been writing, and putting it into a desk, ** Ellis !" she added, " mark me well ! should any accident betide me, here will be found the last and unalterable codicil to my will. It is signed, but not witnessed : it' is Woii however, of a nature to be disputed j it is to desire only that Harleigh will take care that my bones shall be buried in the same charnel-house, in which he orders the in- terment of his own. All that remains, finally^ of either of us, there, at least, may meet !" Ellis turned cold with horrour. Her first idea was to send for Mrs. Maple ; yet that lady was so completely without influence, that any interference on her part, might rather stimulate than im- pede what it was meant to oppose. It '■J ( 393 ) seemed, therefore, safest to trust wholly to Harleigh, The eyes of Elinor were wild and fierce, her complexion was lividjher countenance was become haggard ; and, while she taJked of triumph, and fancied it was what she felt, every feature exhibited the most tortured marks of impetuous sorrow, and ungoverned disappointment. She took from her bureau the sha- green case which she had so fondly ca- ressed, and which Ellis concluded to contain some portrait, or cherished keep-sake of Harleigh ; and hurried down stairs. Ellis fearfully followed her. No one happened to be in the way, and she was already in the garden, when, turning suddenly round, and per- ceiving Ellis, " Oh ho 1" she cried, " you come unbidden ? you are right j I shall want you." She then precipitately entered the summer-house, in which Harleigh was awaiting her in the keenest anxiety. , His disturbance was augmented upon '( 394 ) observing her extreme paleness, though she tried to meet him with a smile. She shut and bolted the door, and seated herself before she spoke. Assuming then a mien of austerity, though her voice betrayed internal tremour, " Harleigh !" she cried, " be hot alarmed. I have received your an- sv^^er ! — fear not that I shall ever expect *— or would, now, even listen to another! 'Tis to vindicate, not to lower my cha- racter that I am here. I have given you, I am aware, a great surprise by what you conceive to be my weakness ; prepare yourself for a yet greater, from an opposite cause. I come to explain to you the principles by which I am actuated, clearly and roundly ; without false modesty, insipid affectation, or artful ambiguity. You will then knov/ from what plan of reasoning I adopt my measures ; which as yet, believing to be urged only by my feelings, you attri- bute, perhaps, — like that poor scared Ellis, to insanity.*' C 395 ) Eliis forced a smile, and, seating her- self at some distance, tried to wear the appearance of losing her apprehensions^ while Harleigh, drawing a chair near Elinor, assured her that his whole mind was engaged in attention to what she might disclose. Her voice now became more steady, and she proceeded. , " You think me, I know, tarnished by those very revolutionary ideas through which, in my own estimation, I am en- nobled. I owe to them that I dare hold myself intellectually, as well as per- sonally, an equal member of the com- munity ; not a poor, degraded, however necessary appendant to it : I owe to them my enfranchisement from the mental slavery of subscribing to unex- amined opinions, and being governed by prejudices that I despise : I owe to them the precious privilege, so shame- fully new to mankind, of daring to think tor myself. But for them — should ^^ not, at this moment, be pining away my s 6 ( 396 ) lingering existence, in silent consump- tion ? They have rescued me from that slow poison !" " In what manner/' said Harleigh, ** can I presume — " She interrupted him. " Imagine not I am come to reproach you ! or, still less, to soften you !'' She stopt, confused, rose, and again seated herself, before she could go on. " No ! littleness of that description belongs not to such energies as those which you have awakened ! I come but, I repeat, to defend myself, from any injurious suspi- cion, of having lightly given way to a mere impulse of passion. :.;I come to bring you conviction that reason has guided my conduct; and I come to solicit a boon from you, — a last boon, before we separate for ever !'* " I am charmed if you have anything to ask of me,^' said Harleigh, " that my zeal, my friendship, my attachment, may find some vent ; but why speak of 80 solemn a separation?" ti ( 397 ) " You will grant, then, what I mean to request ?^* " What can it be I could refuser" " Enough ! You will soon know. Now to my justification. Hear me, Harleigh 1'' She arose, and, clasping lier hands, with strong, yet tender, emotion, ex- claimed, " That I should love you — " She stopt. Shame crimsoned her skin. She covered her face with both her hands, and sunk again upon her chair. Harleigh was strongly and painfully affected. " O Elinor !" he cried, and was going to take her hand ; but the fear of misinterpretation made him draw back ; and Elinor, almost instantly recovering, raised her head, and said, " How tenacious a tyrant is custom ! how it clings to our practice ! how it embarrasses our conduct ! how it awes our very nature itself, and bewilders and confounds even our free will ! We are slaves to its laws and its follies, till we forget its usurpation. Who should have ( 398 ) tokl me, only five minutes ago, that, at an instant such as this ; an instant off liberation from all shackles, of defiance to all forms ; its antique prescriptions should still retain their power to confuse and torment me ? Who should have told me, that, at an instant such as this, I should blush to pronounce the attach-, ment in which I ought to glory ? and hardly know how to articulate .... That^ I should love you, Harleigh, can sur^ prise no one but yourself!'* Her cheeks were now in flames ; and those of Harleigh were tinted with nearly as high a colour. Ellis fixed her eyes stedfastly upon the floor. t. Shocked, in despite of her sunk ex^. pectations, that words such as these, could be heard by Harleigh in silence, she resumed again the haughty air with which she had begun the con- ference. " I ought not to detain you so long, for a defence so unimportant. What, tp yoH, can it matter, that my valueless ( 399 ) preference should be acknowledged from the spur of passion, or the dictates of reason ? — And yet, to the receiver, as well as to the offerer, a sacrifice brings honour or disgrace, according to its motives. Listen, therefore, for both our sakes, to mine : though they may lead you to a subject which you have long since, in common with every man that breathes, wished exploded, the' Rights of woman : Rights, however, which all your sex, with ail its arbitrary assumption of superiority, can never disprove, for they are the Rights of human nature ; to w-hich the two sexes equally and unalienably belong. But I must leave to abler casuists, and the slow, all-arranging ascendance of truth, to raise our oppressed half of the human species, to the equality and dignity for which equal Nature, that gives us Birth and Death alike, designs us. I must spend my remaining moments in egotism ; for all that I have time to attempt is my per- sonal vindication. Harleigh ! from the ( 400 ) i ^ first instant that I saw you — heard you —•knew yoii — " She breathed hard, and spoke with difficulty; but forced herself on. " Froni that first instant, Harleigh ! I have lived but to cherish your idea !*' Her features now regained their highest expFessictii ''^6f vivacity; and, rising, and looking at him with a sort of wild rapture, " Oh Harleigh !" she con- tinued, " have I attained, at last, this ex- quisite moment? What does it not pay of excruciating suspense, of hateful, laborious forbearance, and unnatural self-denial ? Harleigh ! dearest Ha^- leigh ! you are master of my soul ! you are sovereign of my esteem, my admira- tion, my every feeling of tenderness, and every idea of perfection ! — Accept, then, the warm homage of a glowing heart, that beats but for you ; and that, beating in vain, will beat no more !" The crimson hue now mounted to her foreliead, and reddened her neck : her eyes became lustrous ; and she was pre- ( 401 ) paring, With an air or extacy, to opert the shagreen case, which she had held folded to her bosom, when Harleigh, seizing her hand, dropt on one knee, and, hardly conscious of what he did, or what he felt, from the terrible impres- sion made by a speech so full of love, despair, and menace, exclaimed, " Eli- nor! you crown me, then, with honours, but to kill me with torture ?*' With a look of softness new to her features, new to her character, and ema- nating from sensations of delight new to her hopes, Elinor sunk gently upon her chair, yet left him full possession of her hand ; and, for some instants, seemed silent from a luxury of inward enjoy- ment. " Is it Harleigh," she then cried, " Albert Harleigh, I see at my feet ? Ah ! what is the period, since 1 have known him, in which I would not joyfully have resigned all the rest of my life, for a sight, a moment such as this ! Dear, dear, delicious poison ! thrill, thrill through my veins! throb at ( 402 ) my heart! new string every fibre of my frame ! Is it, then, granted me, at last, to see thee thus ? and thus dare speak to thee ? to give sound to my feelings ; to allow utterance to my love ? to dare suffer my own breath to emit the purest flame that ever warmed a virgin heart I — Ah! Harleigh ! proud Harleigh ! — " Harleigh, embarrassed, had risen, though without quitting her hand, and reseated himself. " Proud, proud Harleigh !" she con- tinued, angrily snatching away her hand; " you think even this little moment of sympathy, too long for love and Eli- nor ! you fear, perhaps, that she should expect its duration, or repetition^ Know me, Harleigh, better ! I come not to sue for your compassion, — I would not accept it! — Elinor may fail to excite your regard, but she will never make you blush that you have excited her's. My choice itself speaks the pu- rity of my passion, for are not Harleigh and Honour one ?" \ C 403 ) She paused to recover some compo- sure, and then went on. " You have attached neither a weak, giddy, unguarded fool, nor an idly wilful or romantic voluptuary. My de- fence is grafted upon your character as much as upon my own. I could divide it into many branches j but I will content myself with only striking at its root, namely, the Right of woman, if endowed with senses, to make use of them. O Harleigh! why have I seen you wiser and better than all your race ; sounder in your judgment, more elegant in your manners, more spirited in your conduct ; •ii- lively though benevolent, — gentle, though brilliant, — Oli Albert ! Albert ! if I must listen to you with the same dull ears, look at you with the same un marking eyes, and think of you with the same unmeaning coldness, with which I hear, see, and consider the time- wearing, spirit-consuming, soul-wasting tribe, that daily press upon my sight, and offend my understanding ? Can you C ^^4 ) i^sk, can you expect, can you wish to doom half your species to so degraded a state ? to look down upon the wife, who is meant for the companion of yout existence; and upon the mother, of whose nature you must so largely partake ; as upon mere sleepy^ slavish, uninterest^ ing autoniatons ? Say ! speak ! answer^ Harleigh ! can such be your lordly, yet most unmanly desire ?" -J i*' And is it seriously that Elinor would have me reply to such a ques* tion ?'* ^^' ff'^^f^* j'TOf ^ *' No, Harleigh ! your noble, liberal nature answers it in every w^ord, in every look ! You accord, then, — you conceive, at least, all that constitutes my defence, in allowing me the use of my faculties ; for how^ better can I em- ploy them than in doing honour to ex- cellence ? Why, for so many centuries, has man, alone, been supposed to possess, not only force and power for action and defence^ but even all the rights of taste ; all the fine sensibilities which impel our ( 405 ) liapplest sympathies, in the choice of our life's partners ? Why, not alone, is woman to be excluded from the exertions of courage, the field of glory, the immortal death of honour ; — not alone to be de- nied deliberating upon the safety of the state of which she is a member, and the utility of the laws by which she must be governed : — must even her heart be circumscribed by boundaries as narrow as her sphere of action in life ? Must she be taught to subdue all its native emo- tions ? To hide them as sin, and to deny them as shame? Must her aiiections be bestowed but as the recompence of flat- teryreceived; not of merit discriminated? ^lust every thing that she does be pre- scribed by rule ? Must every thing that she says, be limited to what has been said before? Must nothing that is spontaneous, generous, intuitive, spring from her soul to her lips? — And do you, even you, llarleigh, despise unbidden love!" " No, Elinor, no! — if I durst tell you what I think of it-r— " ( 4o6 ) He stopt, embarrassed. ** I understand you, Harleigh ; yoa know not how to find expressions that may not wound me ? Well ! let me not pain you. Let us hasten to con- clude. I have spoken all that I am now capable to utter of my defence ; nothing more remains but the boon I have to beg. Harleigh ! — if there be a question you can resolve me, that may mitigate the horrour of my destiny, without dimi- nishing its glory — for glory and horrour go hand in hand ! would you refuse me — when I solicit it as a boon ? — would you refuse, Harleigh, to satisfy me, even though my demand should be perplex-r ing ? could you, Harleigh, refuse me? — . And at such a moment as this ?'' " No, certainly not !'* " Tell me, then, and fear not to be sincere. Is it to some other attach- ment — " a sort of shivering fit stopt her for a moment, but she recovered from it by a pride that seemed to burn through, every vein, as she added, " or is it ta ( 4o7 ) innate repugnance that I owe your His- like r " Dislike ? repugnance ?** Harleigh repeated, witli quickness, " can Elinor be, at once, so generous and so unjust Can she delineate her own feelings with so touching and so glowing a pencil, yet so ill describe, or so wilfully fail in com- prehending mine ?'* - " Dare, then, to be ingenuous, and save me, Harleigh, — if with truth you can, the depression, the shame, of being rejected from impenetrable apathy ! I ought, I know, to be above such narrow punctilio, and to allow the independ- ence of your liberty ; but I did not fall into the refining hands of philosophy, early enough to eradicate wholly from my mind, all dregs of the clinging first impressions of habit and education. Say, then, Harleigh, if it be in your power so to say, that it is not a free heart which thus coldly disdains me ; that it is not a disengaged mind which refuses me its sympathy ! that it is not to personal < 4o8 ) aversion, but to some previous regard, that I owe your insensibility ! To me the event will be the same, but the failure will be less ignoble." " How difficult, O Elinor! — how next to impossible such a statement makes every species of answer 1" .^j'.At a period, Harleigh, awful and finite to our intercourse like this, fall not into what I have hitherto, with sa much reverence, seen you, upon all occasions, superiour to, subterfuge and evasion 1 Be yourself, Harleigh! — what can you be more noble ? and plainly, simply let me into the cause, since you cannot conceal from me the effect. Speak, then ! Is it but in the sullen majesty of masculine superiority, *' Lord of yourself, uncumber'd by a wife," * that you ^y all marriage-bonds, with insulated, haughty singleness ? or is it that, deceived by my apparent engage- * iJryden. ( 409 ) : tnent, your heart never asked itself the worth of mine, till ah'eady all its own pulsations beat for another object?" Harleigh tried to smile, tried to rally, tried to divert the question ; all in vain ; Elinor became but more urgent, and more disordered. " O Harleigh!" slie cried, " is it too much to ask this one mark of your confidence, for a creature who has cast her whole destiny at your fe^t ? Speak ! — if you would not devoto me to distraction ! vSpeak ! — if you would not consign me to immediate delirium 1" " And what," cried he, trembling at her vehemence, " would you have me say ?" " Tliat it is not Elinor whom you despise — but another whom you love.'* " Elinor ! are you mad ?" *' No, Harleigh, no! — but I am wild with anguish to dive into the full depth of my disgrace ; to learn whether it were inevitable, from the very nature of things, — from personal tintipathy, — VOL. I, l> ( 410 ) gloss it over as you will with esteem, fe^^ard, and professions; — or whether yqn had found that you, also, had a soul, before mine was laid open to you. No evasion ! no delay !" continued she, with augmenting impetuosity ; *' you have promised to grant my boon, — speak, Hat'leigh, speak 1 — was it my direful fate, or your insuperable antipathy?" " It was surely not antipathy 1'' cried he, in a tohe the most soothing ; yet with a look affrighted, and unconscious, till he had spoken, of the inference to which his words might be liable. " I thank you !" cried she, fervently, <« Harleigh, I thank you ! This, at least, is noble ; this is treating me with dis- tinction, tliis is honouring me with trust. It abates the irritating tinglings of mor- tified pride ; it persuades me I am the victim of misfortune, not of contempt." Suddenly, then, turning to Ellis, whose eyes, during the whole scene, had seemed rivetted to the floor, she expressively added, " I ask not the object !'* .( 4M ) Harleigh breathed hard, yet kept his lace in an opposite direction, and endea- voured to look as if he did not under- stand her meaning. Ellis commanded her features to remain unmoved 5 but iier complexion was not under the samie controul : frequent blushes crossed her cheeks, which, though they died away almost as soon as they were born, va- nished only to re-appear; evincing all the consciousness that she struggled to suppress. A pause ensued, to Harleigh un- speakably painful, and to ElHs indis- cribably distressing; during which Elinor fell into a profound reverie, from which, after a few minutes, wildly starting, *' Harleigli," she cried, " is your wed- ding-day fixed r" " My wedding-day ?** he repeated, with a forced smile, " Must not mv wedding itself be fixed first ?" " And is it not fixed? — Does it de- pend upon EUis?" He looked palpably disconcerted j T 2 , ( 412 ) while Ellis, hastily raising her head, ex- claimed, " Upon me, Maciam r no, in- deed ! I am completely and every way oiiiot the question* ''^^ ' '^^ ■^, J' Of you,'* said Elinor, with severity, " I mean not to make any enquiry] You are an adept in the occtilt sciences ; and such I venture not to encounter. But you, Hadeigh, will you, also, practfse disgifise r and tall so in love with ftiys- tery, as to lose your nohler nature, in a blind, irifatuated admiration of the mar- vellous and obscure?" ' /lau ^ m Ellis resentfully reddened; but^'^H^r cheel^s were pale to those of Harleigft. Neither of them, however, spoke ; and Elinor continued. ' ^^^^"^ ^^"^^'^ « I cannot, Harleisjli,^ Be de(!eWe^, and I will not be trifled with. When J/^'oiicame over i:6 fetch me from France ; ^ when the fatal name of sister gave iti'^^'a right to interrogate you, I frankly asked thf staitfe^of yofii^'hfekrt, arid yofe^ iinhesi- ;^ tatingly told me that it was wholly free. Since that period, whom have you seen, 3 ( 413 ) whom noticed, except Ellis ! Ellis ! Ellis I From the first moment that you have beheld her, she has seemed the mistress of your destiny,' the arbitress of your will. My boon, then, Harleigh, my boon ! without a moment's further delay ! Appease the raging ferment in my veins ; clear away every surmize ; and generously, honestly say 'tis Ellis !-;- or it is another, and not Ellis, I prefer to you !" " Elinor! Elinor!" cried Harleigh, in a universal tromour, " it is I that you will make mad !" while Ellis, not daring to draw upon herself, again, the rebuke which rnight follow a single disclaiming word, rose, and turning from them both, stood facing the window. ^, .j>f It js 3urely then Ellis ! what you .will, not, Harleigh, avow, is precisely ,-> what you proclaim — it is surely Ellis I" ^ Ellis opened the window, and leant ^.j/tHit,, he^, head; Hajieigh, clapping his hand upon Jus crimsoned forehead, ^jjiyalked with hasty steps round the little apartment. T 3 ( 414 ) Losing now all self-command, and wringing her hands, in a transport of ungovernable anguish, " Oh, Harleigh ! Harleigh !" Elinor cried, " to what a chimera you have given your heart ! to an existence unintelligible, a character unfathomable, a creature of imagination, ^though visible ! O, can you believe she ^ill ever love you as Elinor loves ? with ,^:^he warmth, with the truth, with the tenderness, with the choice ? can ^he show herself as disinterested? can she prove herself as devoted ? — " " She aims. Madam, at no rivalry !'* said Ellis, gravely, and returning to her «eat : while Harleigh, tortured between resentment and pity, stood still ; without venturing to look up or reply. " Rivalry ?" repeated Elinor, with high disdain : " No ! upon what species of -J competition could rivalry be formed, between Elinor, and a compound of cold caution, and selfish prudence ? Oh, -.Harleiffh ! how is it vou thus can love ■ all you were \vont to scorn ? double ( 4'5 ) dealing, false appearances, and lurking dissruise ! without a family she dare claim, without a story she dare tell, with- out a name she dare avow !" A deep sigh, which now burst from Ellis, terminated the conflict between indignation and compassion in Harleigh, who raised his eyes to meet those of Elinor, with an expression of undisguised displeasure. " You are angry ?'* she cried, clasping her hands, with forced and terrible joy ; *' you are angry, and I am thankful for the lesson. I meant not to have lingered thus; my design was to have been abrupt and noble/* Looking at him, then, with uncon- trolled emotion, " If ever man deserved the sacrifice of a pure heart," she con- tinued, " 'tis you, Harleigh, you ! and mine, from the period it first became conscious of its devotion to you, has felt that it could not survive the certitude of your union with another. All else, of slight, oi' failure, of inadequate pre- T 4 \ 416 ) tensions, mignt be borne ; for where "iieitner jparty is happy, misery is not aggravated by. . No, Harleigh ; I must not trust my- self to your fascinations ! How do I know but they might bewitch me but of my . C 418 ) reason, and entangle me, again, in those antique superstitions which make misery so cowardly ? No, Harleigh ! the star of Ellis has prevailed, and I sink beneath its influence. Else, only sometimes to see you, to hear of you, to watch you, and to think of you always, I would still live, nay, feel joy in life; for still my imagina- tion would gift you, ultimately, with sensibility to my regard. But I antici- pate the union which I see to be inevita- ble, and I spare my senses the shock which I feel would demolish them. — Harleigh ! — dearest Harleigh, Adieu ! '* A paleness like that of death over- spread her face. ** What is it/' cried Harleigh, in- expressibly alarmed, " what is it Elinor means ?'* ** To re-conquer, by the courage of my death, the esteem I may have for- feited by my jealousy, my envy, my littleness in life 1 You only could have corrected my errours ; you, by your '^ascendance over my feelings, might 7 ( 419 ) have refined them inta virtues. Oh, Harleigh ! weigh not alone my imperfec- tions when you recollect my attachment! but remember that I have loved you so as woman never loved !" nrrc r^ Her voice now faultered, and she shook so violently that she could not support herself. She put her hand gently upon the arm of Harleigh, and, gliding nearly behind him, leant upon his shoulder. He would have spoken words of comfort, but she seemed inca- pable of hearing him. " Farewell V* she cried, " Harleigh ! Never will I live to see Ellis your's ! — Farewell ! — a long farewell r Precipitately she then opened the shagreen case, and was drawing out its contents, when Ellis, darting forward, caught her arm, and screamed, ratlier than articulated, " Ellis will never be his ! — Forbear ! forbear ! — EUis never will be his 1" The astonished Harleigh, who, hither- to, had rigorously avoided meeting the T 6 mWlfk^g'm^ Wfied foWards' her. With an expre^sioh in'wnicn all that was riot surprise wa;^ resentment ; while Eli- ^Br, seeming siiclclerily Suspended, fdintly pronounced, " Ellis— =^ deluding Ellis! — Svhat is it you say ?" ^ '^^ r am no deluder!" cried Elh's, yet more eagerly : '*' P-ely, rely upon my -plighted honoirr !" Harleigh now looked utterly con- founded ; but Ellis only saw^ and seemed <)nly to breathe for Elinor, who recover- ing, as if by miracle, her complexion, her voice, and the brightness of her eyes, rapturously exclaimed, " Oh Har- leigh ! — Is there, then, sympathy in our fate? Do you, too, love in vain ?^' — And, from a change of emotion, top sudden and too mighty for the shattered state of her nerves, she sunk senseless upon the floor. The motive to the strange protesta- tions of Ellis was now apparent : a poniard dropt from the hand of Eh nor as she fell, of which, while she spoke lier farewell, Ellis had caught a glance. ( 4.2^ ) Harlclgli seeraed himself to require 4he aid that he was called urqu to bestow. ,He looked at Elinor with a jmixtiire of compassion and horrour, and, taking possession of the poniard, ** Uii happy Elinor !*' he cried, " into what a chaos of erroiir and of crime have these fatal liew systems bewildered thee !" The revival of Elinor was almost im- mediate; and though, at first, slie seemed to have lost the remembrance of what had happened, the sight of Ellis and Harleigh soon brought it back. She looked from one to the other, as if searcliing her destiny ; and then, v^'ith quick impatience, though somewhat checked by shame, cried, " Ellis ! have you not mocked me ?*' , j^llis, covered with blushes and con- fusion, addressing herself to Harleigii, said, " Pardon, ]\Ir. Ilarleigli, my seem- ing presumption, where no option has been offered me ; and Vv'here such an option is as wide fi'om my ex])ectations as it would be from my desert. This terrible crisis niust jifi uiy apology." ( 422 ) A shivering like that of an ague-fit again shook the agitated Elinor, who^ ejaculating, " What farce is this ? — Fool! fool! shall I thus sleepily be duped ?" looked keenly around for her lost weapon. « Duped ? no. Madam,*' cried Ellis, in a tone impressive of veracity : " if I had the honour to be better known to Miss Joddrel, one assertion, I flatter myself, would suffice : my word is given; it has never yet been broken 1" While this declaration, though softened by a sigh the most melancholy, struck cold to the heart of Harleigh, its effect upon Elinor was that of an extacy which seemed the offspring of frenzy. " Do I awake, then," she cried, " from agony and death — agony, impossible to sup- port ! death, willing and welcome ! to renewed life? to an interesting, how- ever deplorable, existence ? is my fate in harmony with the fate of Harleigh ? Has he, even he ! given his soul, — his noble «oul ! — to one who esteems and admire* ( 4^3 ) him, yet who will not be Iiis ? Can ^lar- leigh love in vain ?" Tears now rolled fast and unchecked down her cheeks, while, in tones of en- thusiasm, she continued, " I hail thee once again, oh life! with all thy arrows 1 Welcome, w^elcome, every evil that asso- ciates my catastrophe with that of Har- leigh ! — Yet I blush, methinks, to live ! — Blush, and feel little, — nearly in tlie same proportion that I should have gloried to die !" With these words, and recoiling frota a solemn, yet tender exhortation, begun by Harleigh, she abruptly quitted the little building ; and, her mind not more highly wrought by self-exaltation, than her body was weakened by successive emo- tions, she was compelled to accept the fearfully offered assistance of Ellis, to regain, with tottering steps, the house. ( 424 ) CHAPTER XIX. T7 LLIS entered ibto the cKamber with i Elinor ; who, equally exhausted in^ body ' and' in fhihd, flung h ersel f upon her bed, where she remained some time totally mute : her eyes wide open, yet-^ lool;:ing'¥t ftoth'irTg,"Sppareritly in a state of stupefaction; but from which, in sl' few minutes, suddenly starting, and talking Ellis by the hand, with a com- ' manding air, she abruptly said, " Ellis, '^ are you fixed to marry Lord Melbury ?" Ellis positively disclaimed any such idea. ** What am I to infer?'* cried Elinor, with returning and frightful agitation ; ** Will you be firm to your engagement ? Is it truly your decision to refuse the hand of Harlergh, though he were to offer it you ?'' ^^ ^^"^ ^ r Ellis shuddered, and looked downj, C 425 ) but answered, " I will surely, Madam, never forget my engagement !** The most perfect calm now succeeded to the many storms which had both im- pelled and shattered Elinor ; and, after swallowing a copious draught of cold water, she laid her head upon her pillow,, and fell into a profound and heavy, though not tranquil sleep. Ellis, unable to conjecture in what frame of mind she might awake, did not dare leave her. She sat watch-rt fully by her side, amazed to see, that, with such energy of character, such quickness of parts, such strength of com- prehension, she not only gave way to all her impulses like a child, but, like a child, also, when over-fatigued, could suddenly lose her sufferings and her re- membrance in a sort of spontaneous slumber. ' But the balmy rest of even spirits, and ,j a composed mind, was far from Elinor; exhausted nati^re claimed some respite from frantic exertion, and obtained it; ( 426 ) but no more. She awoke then; yet, though it was with a frighful start, even this short repose proved salutary, not only to her nerves, but to her intellects. Her passions became less Inflamed, and her imagination less heated; and, though she remained unchanged in her plans, and impenitent in her opinions^ she ac- knowledged herself sensible to the {Strangeness of her conduct ; and not without shame for its violence. These, however, were transitory sensations: one regret alone hung upon her with any serious weight : this was, having suffered her dagger to be seen and seized. She feared being suspected of a mere puerile effort, to frighten fj'om Harleigh an offer of his hand, in menacing what she had not courage, nor, perhaps, even intention to perform. This suggestion was intolerable : she blushed with shame as it crossed her mind. She shook with passion, as she considered, that such might be the dis- graceful opinion, that might tarnish the glory that she meant to acquire, by ( 427 ) Jjing fit the feet of the object of her adoration, at the very moment of yielding to the happier star of an acknowledged rival; a wilHng martyr to successless, but heroick love. She was now tempted to prove hsr sincerity by her own immediate de- struction. " And yet," she cried, " shall I not bear what Harleigh bears ? Shall I not know the destiny of Harleigh ?" This idea again reconciled her to pre- sent life, though not to her actual situation ; and she ruminated labori- ously, for some time, in gloomy silence ; from which, however, breaking wdth sudden vivacity, " No, no 1" she cried: " I will not risk any aspersing doubt; I will shew him I have a soul that strenuously emulates the nobleness of his own. He shall see, he shall con- fess, that no meanness is mixt with the love of Elinor. He shall not suppose, because she glories in its undisguised avowal, that she waits in humble hope for a turn in her favour ; that she is a * candidate for his regard ; a suppliant ( 428 ) for his compassion! No! he shall see that she is frank without weakness, and free from every species of dissimulation or stratagem." She then rushed out of the room) shutting the door after her, and com- manding Ellis not to follow : but Ellis, fearing every moment some dreadful catastrophe, softly pursued her, till she saw her enter the servants' hall ; whence, after giving some orders, in a low voice and hurried manner, to her own footman, she remounted to her chamber; into which, without opposition, or even notice, Ellis also glided. Here, eagerly seizing a pen, with the utmost rapidity, though with many blots, and frequent erazures, she wrote a long letter, which she read and altered repeatedly before she folded ; she then wrote a shorter one ; then rang for her maid, to whom she gave some secret directions, which she finished by com- manding that she w^ould find out Mf Harleigh, and desirie that hj3 would go immediately to the summer-house. "In about a quarter of an hour, which slie spent in reading, revising', seah'ng, and directing her letters, tlie maid re- turned ; and, after a long whisjjer, said, that she had given the niodsage to Mr. Harleigh. f^' Turning- now to Ellis, with a voice and air of decision, that seemed imperi- ously to forbid resistance, she put into her hand the long letter which she had just written, and said, " Take this to him immediately; and, while he reads it, mark every change of his countenance, so as to be able to deduce, and clearly to understand, the sensations which pass in his mind." X^^AVh.en Ellis expostulated upon the Alttor impropriety of her following Mr. Harleigh, she sternly said, " Give the letter, then, to whatever other person you judge most proper to become a third in my confidence !" ''TT'She then nearly forced her out of the room, •-'o EHig did not dare venture to keep the ( 43^ ) letter, as she wished, till some oppor- tunity should offer for presenting it quietly, lest some high importance shoukl be annexed to its quick delivery ; yet she felt that it would be cruel and in- delicate to make over such a commission to another ; in opposition, therefore, to the extremest personal repugnance, she compelled herself, with fearful and un- willing, yet hasty steps, to proceed again to the summer-house. She found Harleigh, with an air at once pensive and alarmed, waiting for EHnor ; but at the unexpected sight of vEllis, and of Ellis alone, every feature brightened; thovjgh his countenance, his manner, his whole frame, evinced in- creased agitation. Anxious to produce her excuse, for an intrusion of which she felt utterlv ashamed, she instantly presented him the letter, saying, *• Miss Joddrel would take no denial to my being its bearer. She has even charged me to remain with you while you read it." ( 431 > " Were that," said he, expressively, '' the severest pain she iaflicts upon me, I should soon become her debtor for feelings that leave pain apart! — Urgent, indeed, was my desire to see you again, and without delay ; for after what has passed this morning, silence and for- bearance are no longer practicable." " Yet, at this moment," said Ellis, striving, but ineffectually, to speak with- out disturbance ; " it will be impossi- ble for me to defer returning to the house.*' " Yet if not now, when ?" *' I know not — but she will be very impatient for some account of her letter." " She will, at least, not be desperate, since she expects, and therefore will wait for you ; how, then, can I hope to find a more favourable opportunity, for obtain- ing a few instants of your time ?" '^ But, though she may not be des- perate just now, is it not possible, Sir, that my staying may irritate, and make her so ?" ( 43^ ) " That, unhappily, is but too true ! There is no relying upon the patience, or the fortitude, of one so completely governed by impulse ; and who con- siders her passions as her guides to glory, — not as the subtlest enemies of every virtue ! Nevertheless, what I feel for her is far bevond what, situated as I now am with her, I dare express. — Yet, at this moment — " " Will you not read her letter ?'* " That you may run away ?" cried he, half smiling ; " no ; at this moment I will not read her letter, that you may be forced to stay !'* " You cannot wish me to make her angry r" '' Far, far from it ! but what chance have I to meet you again, if I lose you now ? Be not alarmed, I beg : she will naturally conclude that I am studying her letter ; and, but for an insuperable necessity of — of some explanation, I could, indeed, think of no other subject: for dreadful is the impression which the ( 435 ) scene that I have just had with her has made upon ray nerves. — Ah I how could she imagine such a one calculated to engage ray heart ? How wide is it from all that, to me, appears attractive ! Her spirit I admire ; but where is the sweet- ness I could love ? I respect her under- standing ; but where is the softness that should make it charm while it en- lightens ? I am grateful for her par- tiahty ; but where is the dignity that might ennoble it, or the delicacy that might make it as refined as it is flattering? Where — where the soul's fascination, that grows out of the mingled excellencies, the blended harmonies, of the under- standing with the heart and the man- ners ?" Vainly Ellis strove to appear uncon- scious of the comparison, and the ap- plication, which the eyes of Harleigh, yet more pointedly than his words, marked for herself in this speech : her quickly rising blushes divulged all that her stillness, her unmoved features tried VOL. I. V ( 434 ) to disguise; and/ to get rid of her confusion, shW' ''again desired that he would open the letter, and with an urgency which he could not resist. He merely stipulated that she would wait to hear his answer ; and then read what follows. ./. •• 'j i • f ^**.. " For Albert Harleigh. ^' I am sick of the world, yet still I crawl upon its surface. I scorn and defy the whole human race, yet doom my- self to be numbered in its community. While you, Albert Harleigh, you w4iom alone, of all that live and breath, I prize, — you, even your sight, I, from this moment, eternally renounce ! Such the mighty ascendance of the passion which you have inspired, that I will sooner forego that only blessing — though the universe without it is a hateful blank to my eyes — than risk opposing the sway of your opinion, or suffer you to think me ignoble, though you know iriT to be enslaved. O Harleigh! how ( 435 ) fkt from all that is vile or debasing is the flame, the pure, though ardent flame that you have kindled ! To its animating influence I am indebted for one precious moment of heavenly truth ; and for having snatched from the grave, which in its own nothingness will soon moul- der away my frame, the history of my feelings. 1 " I have conquered the tyrant false pride ; I have mocked the puerilities of education 5 I have set at nought and defeated even the monster custom ; but you, O Harleigh ! you I obey, with- ■ out waiting for a command; you, I i 3eek to humour, without aspiring to r- please ! To you, my free soul, my liber- /^ated mind, my new-born ideas, all yield, ' slaves, willing slaves, to what I only — conceive to be your counsel, only con- jecture to be your judgment ; that since I have failed to touch your heart, after having opened to you my own, a total separation will be due to my fame for the world, due to delicacy for myself. . u 2 C 436 ) " Be it SO5 Albert . . . we will part ! — Though my fame, in my own estimation, would be elevated to glory, by the pub* lication of a choice that does me honour; though my delicacy would be gratified, would be sanctified, by shewing the pu- rity of a passion as spotless as it is hope- less — yet will I hide myself in the remotest corner of the universe, rather than resist you even in thought. O Al- bert! how sovereign is your power! — more absolute than the tyranny of the controlling world ; more arbitrary than prescription ; more invincible than the prejudices of ages! — You, I cannot re- sist ! you, I shall only breathe to adore ! — to bear all vou bear, — the tortures of disappointment, the abominations of in- certitude ; to say, Harleigh himself en- dures this ! we suffer in unison ! our woes are sympathetic 1 — O word to charm all the rigour of calamity! .... Harleigh, I exist but to know how your destiny will be fulfilled, and then to come from my concealment, and bid ( 437 ) you a last farewell ! to leave upon the record of your memory the woes of my passion ; and then consign myself for ever to'^my native oblivion. Till when, adieu, Albert Harleigh, adieu ! " ELI^30R JODDREL.'* Harleigh read this letter with a dis- turbance that, for a while, wholly ab- sorbed his mind in its contents. " Mis- guided, most unfortunate, yet admirable Elinor !'* he cried, " what a terrible per- version is here of intellect! what a con- fusion of ideas ! what an inextricable chaos of false principles, exaggerated feelings, and imaginary advancement in. new doctrines of life T^ He paused, thoughtfully and sadly, till Ellis, though sorry to interrupt his meditations, begged his directions what to say upon returning to the house. " What her present plan may be," he answered, "is by no means clear j but so boundless is the licence wliich the followers of the new svstems allow u ? ( 438 ) themselves, that nothing is too dreadful to apprehend. Religion is, if possible, still less respected than law, prescrip- tive rights, or any of the hitherto ac- knowledged ties of society. There runs through her letter, as there ran through her discourse this morning, a continual intimation of her disbelief in a future state ; of her defiance of all revealed religion; of her high approbation of suicide. — The fatal deed from whieh you rescued her, had no excuse to plead from sudden desperation ; she came prepared, decided, either to dis- prove her suspicions, or to end her ex- istence ! — poor infatuated, yet highly gifted Elinor ! — what can be done to save her ; to recal her to the use of her reason, and the exercise of her duties ?" " Will you not. Sir, see her ? Will you not converse with her upon these points, in which her mind and understanding are so direfuUy warped ?" " Certainly I will; and I beg you to entreat for my admission. I must seek to \ ( 439 ) dissuade her from the wild and useless scheme of seclusion and concealment. But as time now presses, permit me to speak, first, upon subjects which press also, — press irresistibly, unconquer- ably ! — Your plan of becoming a gover- ness — " " I dare not stay, now, to discuss any thing personal ; yet I cannot refrain from seizing a moment that may not again offer, for making my sincerest apologies upon a subject — and a decla- ration — I shall never think of without confusion. I feel all its impertinence, its inutility, its presumption ; but you will make, I hope, allowance for the ex- cess of my alarm. I could devise no other expedient." " Tell me," cried he, " I beg, was it for her . . .or for me that it was uttered ? Tell me the extent of its pur- pose 1" " You cannot, surely. Sir, imagine — cannot for a moment suppose, that I was guided by such egregious vanity as ( 440 ) to believe — " She stopt, extremely em- barrassed. " Vanity," said he, " is out of the question, after what has just passed ; spare then, I beseech, your own can- dour, as well as my suspense, all unne- cessary pain.'* " I entreat, I conjure you, Sir/* cried Ellis, now greatly agitated, " speak only of my commission 1" " Certainly," he answered, " this is not the period I should have chosen, for venturing upon so delicate — I had near- ly said so perilous a subject ; but, so im- periously called upon, I could neither be insincere, nor pusillanimous enough, to disavow a charge which every feeling rose to confess! — Otherwise — just now, .— -my judgment^ my sense of propriety, — all in the dark as I am — would se- dulously, scrupulously have constrained my forbearance, till I knew — " He stopt, paused, and then expressively, yet gently added, '' to whom I addressed myself!" ( 441 ) Ellis coloured highly as she answered, " I beg you. Sir, to consider all that was drawn from you this morning, or all that might be inferred, as perfectly null — unpronounced and unthought." " No !" cried he with energy, " no ! To have postponed an explanation would have been prudent, — nay right : — but every sentiment of my mind, filled with trust in your worth, and reverence for your virtues, forbids, now^, a recantation! Imperious circumstances precipitated me to your feet — but my heart was there already 1" So extreme was the emotion with which Harleigh uttered these words, that he 'perceived not their effect upon Ellis, till, gasping for breath, and nearly fainting, she sunk upon a chair j when so livid a paleness overspread her face, and so deadly a cold seemed to chill her blood, that, but for a friendly burst of tears, whicli ensued, her vital powers appeared to be threatened with imme- diate suspension. ( 442 ) Harleigh was instantly at her feet ; grieved at her distress, yet charmed with a thousand nameless, but potent sensa- tions, that whispered to every pulse of his frame, that a sensibility so powerful could spring only from too sudden a concussion of pleasure with surprise. • He had hardly time to breathe farth a protestation, when the sight of his posture brought back the blood to her cheeks, and force to her limbs ; and, hastily rising, with looks of blushing confusion, yet with a sigh that spoke internal anguish, " I cannot attempt," she cried, " Mr. Harleigh, — I could not, indeed, attempt — to express my sense of your generous good opinion 1 — yet — if you would not destine me to eternal misery, you must fly me — till you can forget this scene — as you would wish me to fly perdition 1'' She rose to be gone ; but Harleigh stopt her, crying, in a tone of amaze- ment, " Is it possible, — can it be possible, that with intellects such as ( 443 ) yours, clear, penetrating, admirable, you can conceive eternal misery will be your portion, if you break a forced engage- ment made with a mad woman ? — and made but to prevent her immediate self- destruction ?'* Shaking her head, but averting her eyes, Ellis would neither speak nor be detained ; and Harleigh, who durst not follow her, remained confounded. END OF THE FIRST VOLU^IE, Strahan and Preston, Printers-Street, Loudon. _\^' "^- "^{"A ^ \ / » la%.* ' ^ . N, ^ i \ d^ 's'/, ^M '.fii' *■ ■..-J-' ' ;^-A b^