UNIVERSITY Of ILLINOIS LIBRARY AX URBANA CHAMPAIGN SlACivS Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2009 witii funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/mysteriouswander01reev THE MYSTEKIOUS WANDEKEB.. A NOVEL: IN THREE VOLUMES. Dedicated, by Permission, TO THE RIGHT HON. LADY ELIZABETH SPENCER. BY SOPHIA REEVE. VOL. I. LONDON: PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY C. SPILSBURY, ANGEL- COURT, snow-hill; AND SOLD BY RICHARDSON AND SON, ROYAL-EXCHANGE J J. HIGHLEY, FLEET-STREET J AND DIDIER AND TEBBETT, ST. JAMES'S-STREET. 1807. ADVERTISEMENT, ^XN eommitting the following sheets to >the press, I have acted in compliance witli r ^ the partial wishes of a few friends. I am r> aware that my story has many imperfec- ^tions ; but it being a first essay, and having - been written solely for my own amuse- ment^ during a winter season, I trust, " a will VI ADVERTISEMENT. will plead with a liberal public, to soften the severity of criticism : and if, whilst I furnish a few hours entertainment to my readers, I may hope to have implanted a generous sentiment — or to have checked the tendency to a vicious one — I shall es- teem myself happy, and feel my labours^ amply rewarded. THE AUTHOR. M, 1, 180r. TO TO THE RIGHT HOXOURABLE LADY ELIZABETH SPENCER, Madam, • JL HE protection your Lad}'- ship has so generously granted to this little offspring of my leisure hours, whilst it has impressjed my mind with the most grateful sen- timents, has fully evinced the benevolence and condescension a 2 which VIU DEDICATION. which so eminently distinguish your character. Truly a pupil of nature, I little expected that the productions of my fancy would please — or indeed be read by — any, but my intimate friends, till your Ladyship's flattering appro- bation of the following tale, en- couraged me to offer it to the world. Should The Mysterious Wanderer be favourably re- ceived by the public, it vv^ill be my highest pride to acknowledge my DEDICATION. IX my obligation to your Ladyship ; should it be consigned to obli- vion — I shall ever, with gratitude, remember the honour and favour you have conferred on, Madam, Your Ladyship's much obliged, and Most obedient humble servant, Sophia Reeve^ SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. Addison, Mr. Ashbv, Mr. R. 2 copies Ashhy, Mrs. Ashhy, Mr. H. Ansell, Mr. Austin, Mr. Ashley, Mrs. Allen, Mr. J. Barde, Comte de Burdon, Mr. Brooks, Mrs. Battey, I. Esq. Brooksbank, T. Esq. Bisshop, Mrs. Bennett, Miss Ball, C. Esq. Ball, C.jun. Esq. Ball, Mr. Bayley, I. Esq. Best, Miss Book-Club, Norwich Beckwith, Mrs. Browne, J. Esq. Barret, R. Esq. Bryant, Mr. T, Barker, Esq. Barton, J. Esq. Betts, Mr. A. Cox, Mrs. Cramer, J. Esq. Cramer, Mrs. Calendar, Mrs. Gierke, A. Esq. Cramer, F. Esq, Calkin, Mr. J. Cobham, Mr. Chaplain, Mis« Clarke, Mr. Crowe, Mr. Colman, Mr. T. Carr, J. Esq. Dryxien, Sir Ed. Bart, Dickenson, Mr. . Diirand, F. Esq. SUBSCRIBERS NAMES.- DlUon, I. Esq, Docksey, Mr. Day, Miss Day, — , Esq. Dixon, J. Esq. Deane, Mr, Davis, R. Esq. Dawson, Mr. Evans, C. Ju. Esq, Edwards, Mrs. Fountain, B. Esq. Fabre, L. Esq. Eraser, Miss Fountain, Mrs, Fish, Mr. Fisin, J. Esq. Field, Mrs. Fitzclarence, Miss Freeman, Mr. FJsher, Mrs. Forster, Mrs, Fuller, Mrs. Goodman, J. Esq, Gilbert, Miss Headfort, Marchioness Hullah, T. Esq. Hullah, R. Esq. Hardwick, Miss Hartshorne, Mrs. Horth, J. Esq. Hulme, Ardern, Esq, Hammond, G. Esq. Harper, Mr. Hodds, Mr. f Hunnock, Mr. Hogarth, D. Esq. Howes, Miss Harmer, Mr. Heath, Mr. Henry, Mr. hilIA Hick son, Mr, Kerrison, Mrs. Kingsbury, Miss King, Mr. King, Mrs. Goodwin, E. Esq. Griffith, — , Esq. Grimshaw, Mr. Griesbach, Mr, Lindiey, Mr. R. Lycett, Mr* J. Lowrey, Mrs. SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. Laurence, Mrs. G, Perceval, Viscountess ■1 Lane, Mr. Palgrave, W. |un, Es^l^^a Long, Miss Powell, Mr. saiM t\B(X Persse, — , Esq. - ^y£Es4.,bl3i1 Roberts, Mr. aan^fiebsti'l. Neate, Mr. C. Robinson, Mrs. Norie, Miss Rucker, Mrs. Korris, Miss Rawlings, T. Esq. Newman, Mr, Rawlings, Mr. Nichols, J. Esq. Richards, Mr. D. Norton, Mr. Rogerson, Mrs. Riissel, Mr. Riches, Mr. Orton, Mr. J. Rix, Mis. Osborn, J, Esq. Roberts, Mrs, SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. Spencer, Rt. Hon . Lady E. Spencer, Lord Charles Spencer, Right Hon. J. Smart, Mrs. Sharpe, Mr. W. Smart, Mr. G. i copies Smart, Mr. H. Sapio, A. Esq. SapiojL.W. Esq. a copies Shirewell, M. Esq. Slater, W. Esq. Solliers, N. Esq. Stanger, Mrs> Slater, Miss. Smith, Miss E. Simpson, D. Esq, Stables, Major Smart, Mr. T. Stuart, Miss Seamons, Mr. J. Smith, G. Esq. Stafford, Mrs. Saunders, Mr. C, Sutton, Mr. T. Scott, Miss Smith, Mrs. Sherrington, Mr. Tibbs, Miss Tressillan, Miss Templeman, J. Esq. Turner, Mr. Turnbull, Mr. Taylor, J. Esq. Turner, Mr. Thompson, Mrs. \^ c6pies Todd, Mr. Turner, Mr. G. Tyler, Mrs. VaudreuU, Comtesse dc Watkins, Mr. Wood, Mr. White, J. Esq. Wall, G. A. Esq. Williams, — , Esq. West, H. Esq. Wyche, Mrs. Wilson, Mrs. Ward, Mr. Willcocks, Mr. Watts, Mr. Vart, C. Esq. Young, Mrs. ERRATA IN VOL. I. 37. Line U for '' dis," read his/ 45, 10, for " to," reffrf by. 140, 18, ,for - for," read or. 209, 1, for " Booy. ers," T'cafi Eooycr; 218, 5, , dele " and ." 237, 11; .for " In," read On. ERRATA IN VOL. II. Page 75, Line !>, c^eZe " rae." 77, 15, »-c«(i " idea of a inoiher. ERRATA IN VOL. Ill, Page 2, iinc 19, for "of," read witb. 130, 15. /or "the," read this.] 206, 14, /or « them," read him. 226, 17, dek " with." THE MYSTERIOUS WANDEMEH. CHAPTER I. ^^ O^ ^^^ the passions inherent in man, I think pride the most despicable, and for which he has the least excuse ! If he have sense and abilities, they ought rather to guard his bosom from so con- temptible an inmate, than implant it there. It is a passion insulting to rea- son, beneath the generosity of human VOL. I. B nature, S: THE MYSTERIOUS nature, and in the highest degree de- grading to the character of a British sailor." Such were the sentiments of Frede- rick Howard, addressed to a fellow officer, (remarkable for his pride and haughtiness) as they walked toward the pier-head at Yarmouth, on their return to the Argo man of war, then stationed in the roads. Already were they in the boat which was to convey them on board, when a youth about seventeen ran up to them, and, with wildness and distress in his aspect, entreated they would take him with them. " Take you with us !" said Lieutenant Harland, sternly, '' who are you ?" '' For WANDERER. 3 " For God's sake, ask no questions, but take me with you, " said the youth, and immediately jumped into the boat. " Get back, fellow ! knock him over 1" cried the exasperated Lieutenant '^ Not in my presence, George;" said Frederick; — '' he entreats protection — if he deserve it, it ought to be granted : if he do not, we have no right to maltreat him." He pushed the boat off, and they were conveyed on board. Captain Howard, the uncle of Fre- derick, was justly esteemed for the ge- nerosity of his disposition; his heart, indeed, was the seat of philanthropy, and never did the indigent or unhappy B 2 bue 4 THE MYSTERIOUS sue in vain. On being informed by his nephew of his conduct to the stranger, he expressed, his approbation, at the same time desiring to see him. Tlie youth was accordingly summoned. He entered the cabin with a modest bow, and, to the Captains interrogation of who he was? answered — One brought up in expectation of a better fate ; till an ad- verse stroke of fortune had bereaved him of all his early prospects of happiness. *^ Do you belong to Yarmouth, young man?" asked the Captain. '' No, sir, I come from Caermarthen.'' '^ Ha — what — Caermarthenl Tell me, who is your father ? — what is your name ?" ^^ I have WANDERER. 5 ** I have not a father," sighed the youth, " My name is — (he faltered as he spoke it) — Henry St. Ledger/' The animated hope expressed in the countenance of the Captain, suffered a momentary depression on hearing the name of the vouth ; but returned with redoubled glow as he repeated — " You have not a father! — Oh God! — How did you lose him? — When did he die?" " About two years since," replied St. Ledger, dashing a tear from his cheek. The Captain's agitation increased, '' Are you certain he was your father ? Did no obscurity, — no secrecy, attend your birth?"' "Nei^ier, sir; my birth was B 3 honour- THE MYSTERIOUS honourable; welcomed with j oy : though I, alas ! was decreed by heaven to expe- rience the bitterest misery." Disappointment took possession of the Captain's features, on this informa- tion: he sighed deeply, and, leaning back in his chair, covered his face with his hand. He was recalled from his reverie, by his nephew expressing his surprise at the emotions St Ledger had occasioned him. *' Ah ! Frederick," replied the Cap» tain ; " there is something in his appear- ance " " Certainly WANDERER. 7 ^' Certainly not very prepossessing;" interrupted Lieutenant Harland : ^' to judge by that, I should take him for a pauper— or something worse." Till that moment the habiliments of St Ledger had been disregarded by Captain Howard and his nephew; it was St. Ledger himself, who engaged their attentions : he w^as pale and emaciated, but with features more than commonly handsome and expressive : at the insi- nuation of Harland, a momentary spark of passion suffused his cheek ; but, look- ing at his dress, he suppressed a sigh, and with an air of injured dignity turned to the window% The captain regarded George with a sternness which never failed to check him, and, again addressing :b 4 . St. fi THE MYSTERIOUS St. Ledger, asked if he wished to engage in the sea-faring life ? St. Ledger bowed— ** If such be your wish or intention, young man," continued the Captain, ^' you are welcome to remain here ; and depend on my friendship — as you de- serve !" ** As he deserves !" repeated George, with contemptuous haughtiness. ** Were he to have his deserts, sir, I believe your friendship would not be put to the test." ** Forbear ! Lieutenant," returned the Captain, ^' know your distance, young man, or take my word, my friendship to your ^^AXDERER. 9 your father shall not shield you from your deserts !" He waved his hand for St. Ledger to follow him, and left the cabin. Frede- rick likewise retired, leaving the Lieute- nant highly incensed at the reproof he had received, and the favourable recep- tion wiven to the indigent St. Ledo;er. Descended from an ancient and weal- thy family — an only child — Harland had early been taught to regard merit only in proportion to the birth of the indivi- dual ; and whilst the actions of his an- cestors were recited ..to raise an emula- tion in his bosom, they implanted a pride, the partial fondness of his parents but too much tended to increase. Thus regardinjT himself as superior to the ge- B 5 ncrality 10 THE MYSTERIOUS nerality of mankind, he expected an ob- servance and obedience few were willing to pay. The Captain's profession of friendship to St. Ledger, after he had so openly avowed his disapprobation of that youth, he looked on as an insult of- fered to himself, and as such determined to show his resentment by treating him with every mark of contempt in his power. This behaviour, however, failed in the desired effect ; and, instead of de- grading St. Ledger, was the means of gaining him the notice and protection of the other officers. By the austerity of his manners, Harland had long since rendered himself the object of their dis- like ; the injustice of his behaviour was therefore exaggerated in their opinion, and, independently of the Captain's avow- ed WANDERER. li ed partiality, or the interesting manners of the young adv^enturer, inclined them to regard him with sentiments of com- miseration and friendship. Already had St. Ledger been six weeks on board, during which time the Captain had repeatedly, but vainly, urged him to declare who he was ; neither could he be induced to appear when any strangers visited that gentleman ; when one day, being importuned by Fre- derick to accompany them to the house of a friend, he hesitatingly acknowledged it was not safe for him to be seen, " Not safe, St. Ledger?'' repeated the Captain. '' Of what action can you have been guilty, that like a midnight assassin, B 6 you 12 THE. MYSTERIOUS you should thus dread the observation of civilized society ?" ''None, Captain," answered St. Ledg- er firmly. " But the criminal is not the only one who has cause for fear. He who meets the hand of the assassin is in equal danger as he v>'ho gives the blow." '' Well, St. Ledger," returned the Captain, " I yield to your reasons, what- ever they may be. I entertain too good an opinion of you to think you guilty of any crime which could render you undeserving of the protection I have afforded. When you have known me longer, you may perhaps find me more worthy of your confidence." St. WANDERER. 15 St. Ledger felt relieved by their de- parture, though hurt at the reproach he thought the Captain's last words implied. For that gentleman, he sunk into a reverie as soon as he was seated in the barge ; which Frederick, whose imagi- nation was equally employed in conjec- tures respecting St. Ledger, never thought of interrupting ; and on being landed they silently pursued then' way till they arrived at the quay, when Frederick suddenly exclaimed — '^ I cannot form an idea who, or what St. Ledger is. Above the generality of mankind I must think him." ^' I have indeed," said the Captain, ^^ rarely seen his equal, and would freely give 14 THE MYSTERIOUS give a hundred guineas to know who he is, or his reason for wishing to be concealed. If he would intrust me with the secret, it might perhaps be in my power to prove a greater friend to him than I am at present" The concluding sentence brought them to the place of their destination. On being announced, a gentleman, who was seated with their invitor, hastily rose, and, eagerly surveying the Captain, ex- claimed — '* Does my memory deceive me; or is it my friend Crawton I have again the pleasure of beholding ?'* " I was once known by that name," answered WANDERER. 15 answered the Captain, with emotion ; " but at present bear that of Howard/' '' Tell me," said the other, with quick- ness, '* were you ever acquainted with one Talton, of Brighthelmstone ?" *' Brighthelmstone 1 — Taiton !" repeat- ed the Captain, taking his hand — ** Surely it is. — It is my old friend Taiton him- self! Yet scarcely can I credit the ex- istence of one I thought long since num- bered witJi the dead." ** I wonder not at your entertaining the idea," said Mr. Taiton. '' The years that have intervened since last we be- held each other, and a variety of cir- cumstances, 16 THE MYSTERIOUS cumstances, might justly give rise to such a supposition." The pleasure experienced by the Captain at thus meeting a man whose friendship had once constituted a con- siderable portion of his happiness, dif- fused itself to the bosoms of all, and some time elapsed ere he thought of asking an explanation of the occurrences by which he had been induced to believe the death of his friend. On Frederick and their entertainer likewise expressing a wish to hear his relation, Mr. Talton readily consented to gratify their curiosity. '' Though WANDERER. I? *' Though I would not, my friends," he continued, *^ liave you expect to hear any thing extraordinary in my history, as there is not any circumstance in the whole, but what daily and hourly hap- pens to hundreds of my fellow-beings, or that can render it interesting to any but the ear of friendship. " I believe, Howard, I need not reca- pitulate the circum.stances which eighteen years since induced me to leave Eng- land ; as I doubt not you well remember the death of my guardian, and the vil- lany of my steward in Barbadoes, who, on that event, endeavoured to defraud me of the property I inherited from my mother. " Our IS THE MYSTERIOUS " Our voyage Avas tempestuous and tedious ; and on landing at Barbadoes, I found Johnson regarded as the legal possessor of my lands. 1 carried suffi- cient proofs of my identity and the va- lidity of my claim ; but, irritated to the highest degree, declined an application to law as too tedious in its redress, and determined personally to assert and en- force my right. *' I accordingly went, accompanied by some friends, who had in vain endea- voured to dissuade m^ from such a pro- cedure, and was admitted into the pre- sence of Johnson, whom I accused with all the vehemence of un^overned rag;e, and declared my intention of maintaining possession from that period. He heard me WANDERER. 19 tne with an affectation of surprise ; and then, with the greatest effrontery, said — ' You the son of the late honourable Alric Talton, and the owner of these plantations ! This impudence exceeds all I ever witnessed ! No, sir, the son of my late master is too well known to me to admit of this imposition. From him I purchased these possessions, and from him, from you, and all the world, I will now withhold them.' ** Driven nearly to madness by this impudent assertion, I still insisted on the justness of my claim, and menaced him with the utmost severity of the law; whilst he in return pretended to treat me as an impostor, and threatened to liave me punished accordingly. '' My so THE MYSTERIOUS " My friends finding the inutility of the attempt, proposed my returning to Bridgetown, and seeking redress from the Governor. This I told them they were welcome to do, but I should re- main where I was; and, finding me ob- stinate to my purpose, they at last set out for town without me. " As soon as they were gone, John- son summoned two European servants, and commanded' them to search my pockets; and, whilst my arms were con- fined by his order, I had the mortifica- tion to see those papers concerning his stewardship, and which as of most con- sequence in my cause I carried about my person, torn to pieces and con- sumed! Then regarding me with a sarcastic WAXDERER. 21 sarcastic grin — ' As you are deter- mined to remain here, young man, it is as little as I can do to accommodate you with an apartment; though, per- haps, it may not prove altogether agree- able to your wishes.' '* He then ordered me to be con- ducted to a room he named, and which I afterwards found was used as a place of confinement to those slaves w^ho failed in their attempts for liberty. My arms were there unbound, and I was left to the solitary comfort of a bed of reeds. The first violence of passion subsiding, I perceived the folly oi my late behaviour; and, as I doubted not my friends would effect my liberation, I determined, if possible, to rectify the errors 22 THE MYSTERIOUS errors my rage had occasioned; and 1 had still sufficient proofs remaining, I doubted not, tobring Johnson to justice. " According to my expectations, my friends, the next day, came to Johnson's, and on being refused any satisfactory in- telligence respecting me, applied to the Governor, who issued an order, in con- sequence of which my villanous steward was obliged to release me, or stand in- dicted for my murder. A formal pro- cess of law was then commenced against him.; the cause finally brought to trial; and, as my witnesses and proofs were indisputable, the verdict pronounced in my favour. But the crafty villain ef- fectually screened himself from punish- ment by the evidence of his two servants, who WANDERER. 23 who positively swore their master had, previously to my arrival, purchased the plantations of a man who assumed my name; and that they were witnesses to the deeds, which were accordingly pro- duced. " The behaviour of Johnson in de- stroying the papers relative to the stew- ardship, and the question — where could he honestly have amassed money suffi- cient for the purchase — elFectually proved the falsity of this account: but as I had recovered my right, and could bring no witnesses of his conduct, I de- sisted from farther prosecution. *' Johnson, thus cleared from inten- tional fraud, unquestioned master of the money 24* THE MYSTERIOUS money he had amassed during his illegal tenure of the plantations, purchased one adjoining mine, and proved such a trou- blesome neighbour, that for five years I had occasion for all my forbearance and circumspection, to avoid a continual course of law-suits. During that time my affairs in England had been very litde attended to ; and as my overseer was a man on whose integrity I could rely, I determined to pay a visit to my native country. I accordingly came to England, passed some months at Bath, and went to Brighthelmstone, for the purpose of visiting you, to whom I had repeatedly written: but on my arrival there, was informed no person of the name of Crawton resided in the place ; nor viOY couki I gain the least intelligence respecting you. *^ Having settled my affairs to my sa- tisfaction, I again returned to Barbadoes, where I passed ten years more without any thing material occurring; except that Johnson had the impudence to pro- pose an alliance between me and his daughter, a girl of sixteen ; but the offer was rejected with the disdain it merited. He soon after died, and I once more vi- sited England, where some events which have happened, will most probably m* duce me to fix my future residence. I went to the continent about six weeks since, to settle accompts with my corres- pondents, whence I yesterday returned ; and happy indeed do I deem myself in the discovery of this afternoon." VOL. I. c A more ^6 THE MYSTERIOUS A more minute recapitulation of in- cidents beguiled the time till the period of the Captain's return on board, when he parted from his friend, who promised to pass the ensuing day with him. CHAP- WANDERER. OJ/ CHAPTER 11. 1 HE cheerfulness which had animated the countenance of the Captain, deserted him when he quitted the presence of Mr. Talton; a deep dejection succeeded, and. the half-stifled sigh evinced the re- collection of events painful to remem- brance. Frederick vainly endeavoured to divert his attention, but his voice had lost its wonted influence; nor, ^^'hen re- turned on board, was the interesting St. Ledger more successful in dispelling the saddened cloud from^ his brow. The Captain regarded him for some time in c 2 mournful ^iS THE MYS^TERIOUS mournful silence, then hastily bade him good night, and retired to his cabin, whence he was summoned in the morn- ing, on the arrival of Mr. Talton. His pallid countenance sufficiently showed how ill he had passed the night, nor could his efforts to assume a cheerful €ase succeed. Mr. Talton beheld the alteration with concern, and took the occasion of his absence to ask Frederick the reason of it. '^ Alas, Sir," replied Frederick, *^ I cannot resolve your question ; my uncle is frequently — nay generally dejected ; but with the cause I am unacquainted." " Iknow>» WANDERER. £9 '' I know/' said Mr. Talton, '' that early in life he experienced unhappiness from his family; yet, surely after so many years have elapsed — Yet it may : the enmity of his brother was too deeply rooted to yield to time — And shall I own my surprise at finding the son of that brother on board the Argo ? Excuse my curio&ity^ yo^^g gentleman, but are you here with or without the knowledge and approbation of your father?'* Frederick sighed. ^* My father, sir, knows and approves of my benig here." *' — Arc you," said Mr. Talton, after a moment's pause, *' acquainted with tlic cause of their quarrel I ' c a "I am 30 THE MYSTERIOUS '• I am not, sir/' answered Frederick. '^ rroiii my earliest remembrance the unhappy disagreement between my uncle and father has existed : and to such ex- cess did my father carry his inveteracy, he would not permit even the name of his brother to be mentioned in his pre- sence: and, except by name, I scarcely knew such a person existed. My early propensity for the sea, which my father in vain strove to eradicate, and the haughty ungenerous disposition of my elder brother, brought me continual anger and chastisement, till I was nearly fourteen ; when I accompanied my fa- ther to a race near Salisbury; and, where my uncle, without knowing who I was, saved my life, by extricating me from an unruly horse, which my curiosity to seethe course WANDERER. 31 course had tempted me to mount. lie afterwards accompanied me to m}^ fa- ther, who was beginning coolly to thank him, when he recalled to mind, his bro- ther in my preserver, and rage, in an instant, took possession of every facult}^ Me struck me down, and severely should I iiave suffered for the involuntary of- fence, if my uncle had not interposed — desiring to speak Vv^ith him in private. After a conference of about half an liour, they returned ; my father's brow still exhibited a formidable frown; and, as he entered, I heard liim say, * If you take him — you take him entirely : nor, after he is once under your guidance, shall I think myself necessitated to pro- vide for him in the least respect. I have other childien, more deserving my care C 4 and :i2 THE 3IYSTERI0 US f^steem: you have none — and, if you like, may adopt him ; your dispositions are exactly similar!' " My uncle smiled at the latter part of his speech, and asked if I would go to sea with him ? I readily acceded to the offer, and that very evening bade adieu to a parent, whose harshness rendered him an object of dread, and repressed every sentiment of filial affection. My uncle wrote twice to my father ; the first letter he answered, saying, he was glad I behaved to his satisfaction; and since that time, all intercourse has again ceased. My uncle, at his own expense, equipped me for the sea, and has ever supplied my wants with unbounded ge- nerosity.** At WANDEREB* $3 At this moment the Captain re-en-- tered. Mr. Talton beheld with Goncern his encreasing melancholy, and for some time strove to divert it ; but finding all his efforts ineifectual, he at last said= — *' What, Howard, is the cause of the dejection which oppresses you ? That cloud on your brow is by no means flattering to my present visit, and but little accords wiih your professions of friendship, or the honest pleasure that yesterday enlivened your features. I know you too well to think it occasioned by any trivial circumstances: what then^ my friend, is the reason ? — Your wife, you say, is^well." c 5 '' Nai^e 34 THE MYSTERIOUS " Name her not, I entreat," replied the Captain, severely hurt at the re- proach of his friend. '' She is, indeed, the source of all my unhappiness !" ^' The source of your unhappiness !" repeated Mr. Talton. *' Surely, How- ard, I do not understand you, or your sentiments are strangely altered since the time I gave the lovely EUenor Wor- ton to your arms. Then — " '' Oh, Talton," interrupted the Cap- lain, '' cease this subject, I conjure you. EUenor Worton ! My God, what ideas does that name recall ! Yes, far above my life I prized her : but those days are for ever fled ! I am wretched, and she is now WANDERER. 35 now a friendless fugitive in a merciless world !'^ '* What mean you, Howard ?" asked Mv. Talton. " There is a mystery in your words I do not uijderstand." ** Then I will explain them," returned the Captain. '^ Your friendship, your honour, I have proved ; and when you hear my tale, you will not wonder why, on heholding the friend of my earlier days, instead of smiles, my countenance should thus wear the semblance of sor- row and regret" Frederick would here have retired, as imagining what his uncle had to im- part, he might wish sliould only reach c 6 the 36 THE MYSTERIOUS the knowledge of his friend ; but the Captain bade him resume his seat. — " From my errors," he added, *' you 'may learn to avoid their attending un- happiness.'' Frederick obeyed ; %nd the Captain, addressing Mr. Talton, continued. *^ At the commencement of our ac- quaintance, I believe, I informed you I was a younger son, brought up to the sea, and deprived of the fortune I ex- pected, by the marriage of my elder brother. I was, at the period of that marriage, seventeen. Sir Thomas Grat- ton, the father of the lady my brother espoused, refused his consent to their union, unless Arthur's fortune were made adequate WAXDERER. 57 adequate to the one he gave dis daugh- ter; and my father, overcome by the entreaties of my brother, and perhaps dazzled with the idea of his marrying an heiress with three thousand a year, com- pUed so far as to resign two-thirds of his estate (which was equal to that of Sir Thomas) on the day of marriage, with the reversion of the remainder at his decease. " Arthur, in return, secretly, but so- lemnly, promised to present me and William, our other brother, with ten thousand pounds each, on our coming of age, or at the death of his father-in- - law. William died the ensuing year, as did Sir Thomas in less than nine months after. '' My S8 THE MYSTERIOUS " My brother had hitherto expressed the greatest affection for me : I stood godfather for my Frederick here, and every thing bore the appearance of har- mony and cordiality ; till, being at an assembly at Lavington, my ill fortune led me, through whim, ridicule, and the gaiety of youth, to pay particular atten- tions to a Miss Deborah Tangress, a maiden lady nearly fifty, noted for every unamiable quality, ugliness, and riches ! Little did I think the folly of that even- ing would have created me so many years of misery 1 " Pleased with the attentions and compliments she thought serious, and despising the delicacy requisite in her S3X, she sent proposals to my father, oflfering WANDERER. 39 offering to resign herself and fortune to my disposal. I was laughing at the ef- fects of my evening s mirth, when my brother entered the room ; my father gave him the letter, and, smiling, ob- served, he thought Miss Deborah had completed her character. " ^ I cannot so readily conceive the occasion of your immoderate laughter, Edward,' said my brother : ' the offer is advantageous, far beyond what you have a right to expect; and, instead of ridicuhng, I think you rather ought to accept it with thankfulness.' '^ ' Accept it with thankfulness !' I re- peated. * What, and chain myself to such an ugly old \ " 'As 40 THE MYSTERIOUS " ' As to her being old and ugly,' in- terrupted my brother, ' it is of very little consequence. You will recollect, sir, she has an ample fortune, and you have none V '^ * Not so destitute as that, Arthur,* said my father : * the fortune he is en- titled to from your hands, though small,, will render him so far independent that he may choose for himself/ *' • Excuse me, sir,' answered my bro- ther, ' I cannot say I think myself obliged to give Edward a fortune from my own purse, especially when one so large as that Miss Tangress possesses is offered. If he have any regard for his own interest, he will accept it, and not look WAN DEREK. 41 look to me for future supplies. I have nearer ties; my children .'^'But ex- cuse me, Talton, here is one" — (looking at Frederick, who appeared surprised and shocked at this account of his fa,- ther) " too nearly interested to be pleas- ed with this part of my narrative. Suf- fice it to say, — the mask was here thrown off by my brother, and I con- demned to poverty ! For the promise given to my father was merely verbal, and without witness, wdiilst the posses- sions of my father, in full confidence of Arthur's honour, had been secured to liim by the strongest ties of tiie law. '^ I^Iy father felt the stroke more severe- ly than I did ; he wept — and, in the bit- terest anguish, asked pardon of hcaveu and 42 THE MYSTERIOUS and me, for the step he had taken, and begged I would reconsider the proposal of Miss' Tangress, before I absolutely rejected it. In all probability, he said, a few years would terminate her exist- ence ; I had no particular attachment to restrict me ; and it would convey ease to his death-bed to know I was not only independent of my brother, but in a state of equal affluence. " In the passion of the momen*-, this last consideration determined me; I com- plied — and in less than three weeks be- came the husband of Miss Tangress. *^ The possession of her fortune, how- ever, could not recompense me for her haughty wayward disposition. In her domestic WANDERER. 43 domestic arrangements she was tyranni- cal and parsimonious, and so truly capri- cious, that the most studied attemions to please could not twice succeed in the same particular. Certain 1 had not mar- ried for love, her rancorous disposition soon led her to resent, or rather to re- venge, my Vv'ant of affection. My ex- penditure became extravagance, my wants superfluous, and my acquaintance by far too general. As such, by the most pointed slights and insults, my friends were severally driven from my house ; nor was even my father spared. *'Ibore with the temper of my wife till human patience could sustain it no longer; andoneday, after having been se- verely reproached with the favour she had con- 44 THE MYSTERIOUS conferred in uniting herself to a rnati not worth a shilling; I mounted my horse, ^d crossed the country to Bright- helmstone. " The second night after my arrival there, I went to the ball given in honour of Sir Henry Beechton, where I be- came acquainted with you, and first saw the lovely EUenor. *^ To mention my admiration is need- less : you are already well acquainted with it. To my anxious inquiries concerning her, the only intelligence I gained was — that she was an orphan of small fortune, and under the protection of the lion. Mrs. Radnor. Fortune, however, had then lost its allurements. EUenor shone with 'f^'ith all the graces of a fabled goddess, %vhich, added to the benignity that beamed in her eyes, and the ineffable sweetness of her manner, fixed her at once su- premely in my heart. Impelled by love, I pursued the acquaintance ; Ellenor owned her regard for me to her friend ; and as neither that lady nor she had the least suspicion of my being married, (for, on my arrival at Brighthelmstone, I had taken my mother's name of Craw- ton, to prevent my wife from tracing mc), my visits were welcomed with the greatest cordiality and friendship on the part of her protectress, and the sincerest affection to my Ellenor. ** It was then I fully experienced the wretchedness of my situation, in being united 46 THE MYSTERIOUS united to Deborah. Reason and honour bade me combat with my passion, and fly from Ellenor. But in vain ; each suc- ceeding interview discovered new per- fections, and by forcing a comparison, added to my love for her, and detesta- tion for my wife. Hard was the con- flict — but love prevailed : and I strove, by fallacious reasoning, to persuade myself, that my marriage with Miss Tan- gress was of no eflect, as I was led into it by passion and revenge; and that an union with Ellenor, though contrary to the laws of my country, being founded on mutual aflection, would not only be accepted in the eye of heaven, but ac- ceded to as just, by the unprejudiced part of mankind. *^ Meanwhile, WAXDERER. 47 '' Meanwhile, I kept the secret buried in my breast. Ellenor, not mistrusting my account of myself or family, sought not for farther information than I gave ; the banns were published in a village a few miles from Brighthelmstone, where, with your assistance, my friend, as father to my Ellenor, we were married ! *' Of my happiness, you, Talton, were a witness ; and the time flew with rapi- dity, till, by accident, I heard my father was dangerously ill ; when filial affec- tion for that best of parents, resumed its sway ; and, taking a tender leave of Ellenor, I arrived at Howard Hall time enough to receive his last blessing, *' My 48 THE MYSTERIOUS '^ My father left me wliat his economy had saved since the discovery of my brother's sentiments ; a few personal ef- fects, his picture, with that of my mo- ther, and her jewels. Inconsiderable as the bequest was, in comparison to the possessions devolved to Sir Arthur, he disputed my right to them; but as I prized them, not for their intrinsic va- lue, but the affection of him who gave them, and, looking on him as the primary cause of my marrying Deborah, I not only refused to resign them, but up- braided him with his sordidness on that •occasion. This produced a quarrel which has never been healed : he forswore — disowned me ! This scene was followed by one nearly equal to it with my wife ; which, WANDERER. 49 which adding to my disgust, I directed my lawyer where to remit my small for- tune-, (for as I lived not with Deborah, I disdained all thoughts of hers) and once more returned to the arms of my Eilenor. '' Months again flew ; when our hap- piness received its first shock by the sud- den death of our invaluable friend Mrs. Radnor ; and this was follo^ved by your departure for the West Indies. Love, however, overcame these afflictions; my Eilenor became pregnant, and I was in expectation of soon being hailed by the name of father ; when one day, sitting with my angel, fondly anticipating future felicities, the door was thrown open, and VOL. I. D Deborah, 50 THE MYSTERIOUS Deborah, accompanied by my lawyer, rushed into the room I ^ '* To describe the scene which followed, is impossible : even now the recollection of it nearly maddens me ! Deborah act- ed congenially to the fury of her cha- racter ; aspersed my Ellenor, and reviled me with every opprobrious epithet the wildest passion, heightened by jealousy, could dictate ; nor ceased — till Ellenor, overcome by the disclosure of the bale- ful secret, fainted in my arms; then, with the same violence as she entered, flew out of the room, followed by her companion, vowing to be revenged, though she expended her fortune in ac- complishing it I At ^' At last my Eilenor recovered : not a single reproach at my conduct escaped her lips, but her countenance plainly showed the agony of lier mind. Willing to lessen the idea of my guilt, -which had been exaggerated by the frantic De- borah, I recapitulated tlie circumstances I have now related, and, with all the eloquence I was master of, pleaded the aifection I entertained for her, as an ex- cuse for the deceit I had practised. She heard me in silence ; a convulsive sob swelled her bosom ; and, on my again urging her forgiveness, she regarded me with a look of mingled anguish and de- spair. Tears at last relieved her, and she requested to be conducted lo her chamber; I supported her there, and. leaving iier to the care of her moid, vc- X) 2 tiirnoiil UNIVERSITY OF, ILLINOIS LIBRARY 52 THE MYSTERIOUS turned to the parlour, my bosom filled with a sorrow and remorse that have never since deserted it ! I was roused from reflections painful in the extreme, by a message from Deborah, demanding my presence, with which I. was weak enough to comply, and for an hour and a half sustained the fury of her rage and reproaches, when, as neither would agree to the proposals of ^he other, we again parted. On my return home, I eagerly inquired after Ellen or. ' She is gone, sir !' said the girl, bursting into tears. ' Gone !' I repeated. ' How — when — where is she gone ?' ^ That, sir,' she answered, . ' I know not. Soon after you went out, my lady sent Susan for a chaise and four, which, the moment it arrived, she entered, leaving this letter for WANDERER. 63 for you. Susan put in a few parcels, and followed her mistress; but where they are gone to, God only knows !' " I seized the letter ; and you may judge of what I felt when I perused it." The Captain, with a sigh, drew a case from his bosom, and, taking out the letter, read as follows : " I mean not, Edward, to upbraid ■^ you with an action, which, though it " has involved your Eilenor in misery, ** was the offspring of affection ; or, by " unavailing complaints, add to the sor- " row that already fills your bosom. " No — rather let me speak peace to /^ your mind, and, if possible, soften D 3 " this, 64 the' MYSTERIOUS *' this, perhaps last, farewell ! 1 have '^ sustained the shock ! Your real wifa " —oh, Edward, Edward !— But I will " be calm. ** After the discovery of last night, ho- ** nour, religion, virtue, forbid my con- *' tinuance here. I am the child of mis- *' fortune ; to stay, would make me the " child of guilt ! Justice likewise de* ** mands, that whilst your wife exists, " yotj should think of Ellenor no other- " wise than as a friend; I cannot say — ** forget me ; that w ould be injustice to *' myself. No, Edward — pure has ever *^ been my affection; and if Heaven '* should release you from your vows, '* remember the hand, the heart of El- '^ lenor, may be demanded. Till then '' attempt ^yAN DEREK. SB *^ attempt not to discover me; the *' search would be fruitless. Justice de- " mands the sacrifice, and it must be " made ! Yet how can I say— fare- " well! How tear myself from him on ** whose existence th.at of Ellcnor de- ** pcnds; be merciful, Heaven — norin« *' flict a punishment past my power to " support! Stiir let me stay-— let me *' at least see my Edward, and hear hinr " speak ! — But it must not be. Oh, ** Edward, the punishment is just! You *' had your secrets, and I had mine ! " My hand is incapable of performing *' its office ; I would, but cannot proceed. " Oh, Edward ! think of your Ellenor ; *^ doubt not my love — my constancy: *' and Heaven yet may make us happy !'' D 4 *' You 66 THE MYSTEEIOUS '' You had your secrets, and I iiad mine ! O God ! what years of anxiety and painful conjecture, have those words occasioned I " A stupifying horror at first pervaded my faculties : I sunk into a chair, and, but for the officious attentions of Mary, should have experienced a total — happy had it been a lasting insensibility ! *' ' Where can she be goner' I faintly exclaimed, when recollection had re- gained sufficient power. *' ' She cannot be gone far,' sobbed Mary. ' Perhaps, sir, you yet may overtake her.' " The WANDERER. • 5? " The idea served effectually to rouse me : I commenced my search, and soon gained intelligence : a carriage, answer- able to that I described, with a lady and her attendant in it, had been seen on the London road,. To London I imme- diately directed my course ; and at last descried a carriage, my sanguine hopes led me to think was that containing the sum of my earthly happiness ; I instantly spurred my horse, when, owing to the badness of the road, or some other cause> he stumbled — fell, and threw me wit^ violence over his head. I was stunned by the fall, found by some travellers, and, in a state of insensibility, conveyed to the nearest inn. ** The hurts I received were not very p 5 material ; 58 THE MYSTERIOUS material ; but the agitation of my mind at being thus prevented from pursuing EUenor, brought on a fever which con- fined me to my apartment for nearly a fortnight. As soon as I was in a state to travel, I again pursued my way to- ward London, though with very little hope, after the time which had elapsed, of discovering her. " For weeks after my arrival at the metropolis, I wandered about in the faint hope fortune might direct my steps to the place where she was secreted; when, one evening, returning to my lodg- ing, I was surprised by the appearance of Deborah's equipage, who had like- wise been seeking for, and at last traced me to London. She saw me ere I could enter VANDERER. 59 enter the house, when, more than ever detesting the idea of an interview, I immediately removed to another part of the town. ** The next day I passed as usual in wandering about, and returned in the evening dejected and fatigued, when, taking up a book belonging to the hostess, a paper fell from it; it was a sonnet to Hope : but, good Heavens, think of my astonishment when I found it was the writing of my EUenor ! At first I dis- credited the evidence of my senses, till reiterated examinations convinced me I was not mistaken. I flew to the mistress of the house, and, in answer to my in- coherent inquiries, gained intelligence, that she had left those apartments but a D G few 60 THE MYSTERIOUS few days before I took them ; that she had there been delivered of a son, and was then gone to reside in Caermar- then, her native county ; though to what part, the hostess could not tell. To Caermarthen I determined to go, and accordingly the next morning com- menced my journey ; but all my search was indeed fruitless 1 ** At last, overcome by fatigue, preyed on by a fever occasioned by my repeated disappointments, and, to own the truth, not having money to prosecute my search, having expended that left me by my father, I was necessitated to retire to my habitation at Brighthelmstone, where Deborah again obtained informa- tion of me, and again laid me under the lash WANDERER. 61 lash of her malignant power. Willingly %vould I have sought relief in a formal separation; but that she refused with the most contemptuous disdain, telHng me I should never enjoy a portion of her wealth without her. I would then have resigned all pretensions to her fortune ; but she started into phrensy, vowed she would follow me to the utmost extremity of the globe, and sooner deprive herself of every comfort in life, than leave me at liberty to renew an acquaintance with a woman I preferred to herself. Find- ing it in vain to gain her accordance to my proposal, I desisted from the at- tempt, and again commenced a search after Ellenor ; Deborah, like my evil genius, still following me from place to place, till wearied, regardless of exist- 62 THE MYSTERIOUS ence, and as the only means of escap- ing from her, I again went to sea. The interest of my friends gained me pro- motion; and fortune, by an influx of wealth during seventeen years,' has been willing, as far a& her power extends, to make me amends for the misery she has occasioned me in the loss of EUenor, the continued torments I endure froni Deborah, and the unkind neglect of my brother, whom I have seen but once since the death of my father, " And here, Talton, I must apologize for my neglect to you. Your first letter, informing me you had regained your property, I received a few days preced- ing the discovery of my marriage with Deborah; but the distraction of my mind WANDERER. ^3 mind at that time prevented me from answering it When I had in some de- gree regained my tranquillity, I wrote ; but the person to whose charge I in- trusted my packet, nearly two years af- ter returned it, with the account that you were either dead, or had left the island ; and as during that time, nor since, I never heard from you, I was in- duced to believe the former part of his intelligence. ** The pleasure I yesterday experi- enced on beholding you, for the time banished every other reflection ; but no sooner did I quit you, than remem- brance, with the keenest powers, revived every former ecene, and added not only to 64 THE MYSTERIOUS to my compunction for my injuries to — , but to my sorrow, for the irre- trievable loss of my beloved Ellenor.'^ WANDERER. 65 CHAPTER IIL iVlR. Talton remained thoughtful some minutes after the Captain had ceased speaking ; then addressing him — " If you were some years younger, Howard, I should censure you severely for your conduct; but as it is, and in conside- ration of the punishment you have al- ready endured, I shall suspend my lec- ture ! Poor EUenor ! It is strange, Howard, in the course of so many years you should never have gained any intel- ligence, nor met with the least circuni i stance 66 THE MYSTERIOUS Stance from which you could judge of her destiny." *' It is strange, Talton. A few weeks back my nephew introduced a youth on board, whose appearance raised such emotions in my breast as I cannot at- tempt to describe. He was the exact resemblance of myEUenor; his age too agrees with my son's, if living ; but every hope was soon destroyed, his answers plainly proved he was not her child." A sigh of regret here burst from the bosom of the Captain ; nor cowld he re- frain an impatient exclamation against the severity of his fate, in being thus deprived of those he regarded as the blessings of his exi.stence. '' Though WANDERER. 6t **' Though your life, Howard," said Mr. Talton, '^ has been rather out of the dull track of common occurrences, yet I would not have you think you have had more than your share of human ills ; of those, believe me, all have an equal dispensation, and, sooner or later, feel the hand of adversity ! As your morning of life has been clouded, vou should, I think, look forward to a clear evening. You yet may find your Elle- nor, and your son be restored, all your fondest desires could wish. You still have hope I Many, suffering afflictions, are bereaved of that blessing, by a fatal, certainty of ill, where tiieir happiness depends." ** Certainty of ill — ^' repeated the Captain 69 THE MYSTERIOUS? Captain — '' Ah, Talton, am I not chained to a woman I detest, deprived of her I idolized, and a son whose endearments and attentions might have soothed the little sorrows of my bosom ? But you are a bachelor, unrestrained by any ties which can justly interest the heart, and therefore cannot judge for me." " Pardon me, my friend," returned Talton. " I speak not from conjecture; neither am I altogether unacquainted with those anxieties which have rendered you unhappy ; and if you will listen to the tale of the woman I love, you may> perhaps, be convinced of the justness of my assertion.** ^^The WANDERER. 69 The Captain bowed his consent — , " Miss Holly, Howard, was an only daughter, and brought up by an old hu- mourist of a father, whose idol she was, whilst she yielded every sense to his guidance. Many proposals of marriage w^ere offered, but none thought worthy her acceptance by ]\Ir. Holly, till he accidentally met with Sir Horace Cor- bet, an old schoolfellow, and as great an oddity as himself, with whom he re- newed his acquaintance ; and an union was proposed between their children — agreed on, the writings drawn, and the w^edding-day fixed, before the young people were acquainted with the least circumstance, or their sentiments re- specting it; asked I Miss Holly received the 70 THE MYSTERIOUS the mandate of her father, to regard Mi\ Corbet as the husband he had se- lected, with the greatest distress ; and at last informed hira her affections were ir- revocably fixed on another. But vain were her supplications and tears: the old gentleman was peremptory — and ]\Iiss Holly eloped I '^ I shall not attempt to describe the rage of the fathers on this occasion ; six months elapsed without their being able to discover the place of her retreat; when her aunt, who had for years es- tranged herself from all intercourse with the family, arrived at Holly seat, and, with great formality, acquainted her brother his daughter had taken refuge with her, and, hoping by that time his resentment WANDERER. 71 resentment had subsided, had engaged her to attempt a reconcihation. The old gentleman appeared dehghted ; a mes- senger was dispatched for her, and, on her arrival, she was received with every demonstration of joy and affection I The calm, however, was deceitful ; fo rthe next morning he led her to the chapel, where Sir Horace and his son were wait- ing, and there forced her to give her hand to the latter ! Could happiness result from such an union ? — Oh no ! What followed might naturally have been expected ; indifference on one side, dis- gust on the other. '' Soon after the nuptials, Mrs. Cor- bet's aunt died; and, considering her niece highly injured by the measures which 72 THE MYSTERIOUS which had been pursued, left her the whole of her fortune, amounting to thirty thousand pounds, independent of her husband. In less than a twelve- month Mr. Holly died, leaving them eight thousand a year : Sir Horace sur- vived his friend but a few weeks, and Sir Henry succeeded to nearly fifteen thousand a year more. Their decease, however, which a year before would have been the means of Lady Corbet's happiness, was then of no avail ; the gentleman on whom her early affections had been placed, on hearing of her mar- riage, retired to France, where he lite- rally died of a broken heart. " Sir Henry now, uncontrolled by parental authority, yielded to the wildest passions WANDERER. 73 passions of his heart. The mild dignity of his wife was disregarded, her beauty insufficient to restrain him from iUicit connexions, and, whilst she w^as restrict- ed wdth a parsimonious hand to her marriage settlement, she had the morti- fication of beholding immense property squandered on his worthless mistresses. As a landlord and master, Sir Henry was certainly beloved; but his character as a husband degenerated into that of a brutal tyrant. *^ Soon after the decease of her fa- ther, Lady Corbet was delivered of a son, and in him (being deprived of all other) she concentrated her future hap- piness. VOL. I. E '• On 74 THE MYSTERIOUS " On my first return from America, as I yesterday informed you, I passed some months at Bath, where I was introduced to Lady Corbet, and, had she been sin- gle, I should have said. Here Talton rest for ever ! — as it was, nothing passed but what the strictest prude might have witnessed, though the censuring world imputed actions to me, I was innocent of, even in intention. Sir Henry was on an excursion with some friends, when I first became acquainted with his family; on his return, Lady Corbet presented me to him ; he scarcely deigned a percepti- ble bow, but, throwing himself into a chair, called for his son, who was then about five years old, and, without once addressing me, amused him elf in talking to, and answering his infan- tine WANDERER. *J5 tine questions. I regarded Lady Cor- bet with a look, I believe, sufficiently expressive of my surprise at his unpo- liteness; the silent tear trembled in her eye, and, with a sigh which seemed to say, it was such behaviour as she was used to, she walked to the window. I had then an opportunity of observing Sir Henry. He was rather small in his person, his eyes black and penetrating, and his face expressive of care and dis- content " He continued playing with the child some time; then, starting up — ' Has your ladyship any commands to the St. Ledger family ?' * None, sir,' answered Lady Corbet, attempting to spealc with unconcern. ^ If you have, you must E 2 write 76 THE MYSTERIOUS write to-night ; as I depart for London early to-morrow morning ;' then taking the child by the hand, without even bow- ing to me, left the room. *^ The emotions Lady Corbet had endeavoured to repress, then gained the ascendancy, and she burst into tears. The subject was delicate ; I, however, ventured to speak, though I could offer little consolation. It was then she ac- quainted me with the preceding particu- lars, and regretted the obdurate infa- tuation of her father, who had sacrificed her happiness for the possession of wealth. ** Sir Henry, as I was afterwards in- formed, swayed by the report which was cir- WANDERER. /7 circulatedof my attentions to his lady, in- sisted on her accompanying him to Lon- don ; and as I soon after left England, I neither saw nor heard any thing of her till about a year and a half since ; when, being in London, I one morn- ing went to breakfast with Sir John Dursley, and was there surprised by the appearance of Lady Corbet. Her dress instantly informed me she was a wddow ; yet, as knowing her abhorrence of Sir Henry, I was perplexed to account for the sorrow depicted in her counte- nance. '' The mystery was soon explained. For some time after my departure, Sir Henry's conduct and behaviour conti- nued invariably the same, when her hap- E 3 piness 78 THE MYSTERIOUS piness received an additional shock, by the total alienation of his affections from his son, who, as his years and sensibility increased, severely felt the estrangement, which produced an habitual melancholy. His amusements were disregarded ; com- pany became disagreeable ; and the only pleasure or recreation he seemed to experience, or would take, was in wan- dering through the grounds and plan- tations ; where, when the servants his anxious mother sent in search of him, could not trace his haunts, he used even to pass the night, " At last Sir Henry fell a victim to a decline : he still retained his dislike to his son ; but, to make his lady amends, as he termed it, fbr the unhappiness he had WANDERER. . 79 had occasioned her, he left her every part of his fortune, without resti'iction, exclusive of the family estate (about eight thousand a year) which the pre- sent Sir Henry comes to the possession of, on attaining his one-and-twentieth year. " The attention of Sir Henry to Lady Corbet, on the death of his father, was the richest balm to her heart, and she looked forward to that happiness of which she had so many years regretted the deprivation : but the flattering il- lusion soon fled ! Her son, on a sud- den, became thoughtful, reserved, and mysterious : his answers, when address- ed, were incoherent, his dress disorder- ed, and his whole appearance indicative E 4 of 80 THE MYSTERIOUS of internal wretchedness, lie avoided his mother and passed the greatest part of his time in the apartment where his father died, and where, at last, he to- tally secluded himself. Lady Corbet >vas grieved and alarmed at this change, which the domestics openly imputed to a mental derangement ; and some pa- pers they found, nearly induced Lady Corbet to concur in iheir opinion. They contained unconnected sentences, which showed a mind ill at ease, if not bereft of reason. " The mild persuasions and entreaties of his mother, were ineffectual to draw from him the cause of his dejection, which still increased; and one night, about six months after the death of his father, WANDERER, 81 father, he privately left the hall ! This circumstance was soon discovered, and the domestics dispatched in pursuit of him ; but the only intelligence they could gain of him was from a peasant, w^ho affirmed, that passing by the church early in the morning, he had seen Sir Henry ascend from the vault where the remains of the Corbet family were in- terred : that he was without his hat, held his handkerchief to his face, and, on leaving the church, ran with wildness across the fields toward the village. This account was farther corroborated by the sexton, w ho attested that Sir Henry had called him up after midnight, and de- manded the keys of the church, which he did not think himself authorised to refuse. E 5 " This 82 THE MYSTERIOUS " This information but served to per- plex and raise painful conjectures in the breast of Lady Corbet: Sir Henry was not to be traced, and it was not till some time after, she received a letter from Lady Dursley, informing her of his having been seen in London. To London she immediately came, where she had been nearly three weeks, when I met her at Sir John's. ** Lady Corbet recounted these events during breakfast ; and we were endea- vouring to give her consolation, in a case I believe we all thought equally hopeless as mysterious, when the cl^erk (for my friend is in the commission for the peace) entered the room, and in- formed Sir John, a party of dissolute young WANDERER. 8S young men, who, the night before, had committed several depredations, had been conveyed to the round-house, and were then waiting at the office. Two of them, he said, who were accused as the princi- pal offenders, entreated to speak with Sir John previously to their examina- tion. This, Sir John peremptorily re- fused ; and asking me if I would ac- company him, we proceeded to the office. " When I beheld the extreme youth of the offenders, (for one was not more than sixteen, the others somewhat older), I knew not whether to pity or feel in- dignant at their depravity. I was, how- ever, recalled from my reflections by Sir John; earnestly inquiring the names of E 6 those 84 THE MYSTERIOUS those who were reported as the ring- leaders? The youth who had princi- pally engaged my attention, unwillingly pronounced — ' Henry Corbet' *' ' Yes,' said Sir John with severity ; * if I mistake not, it is Sir Henry Cor- bet ! — For the respect I bear your fa- mily, young gentleman, I am sorry to see you here !' ** Sir Henry, for him it really was, shrunk abashed from the penetrating eyes of Sir John, who now proceeded to inquire into the nature of the of- fence. " The constables reported, that they had the preceding night been alarmed by WANDERER. ^5 by the cry of murder, accompanied by their nightly signal for assistance ; that on hastening to the spot whence the alarm had been given, they had disco- vered one of their fraternity on the ground ; Sir Henry had then hold of his throat — another who had a bludgeon in his hand, with which it appeared the watchman had been assaulted, had like- wise hold of one arm. Several others, on the approach of the watch, fled ; and those who remained, after an obstinate resistance, had been secured. " Sir Henry denied the charge. He declared that, so far from assaulting, he and his companions had, on the cry of murder, gone to the rescue of the watch- man ; that his friend, St. Ledger, had wrested 85 THE MYSTERIOUS wrested the bludgeon from one of the assailants, and at the moment the other watch came up, was assisting him to raise the man from the ground, for which purpose he, Sir Henry, had passed his hand behind his neck ; that, without making the least inquiry, they had at- tacked his companions, who acted only on the defensive. " With these particulars, he said, he wished to have privately acquainted Sir John, without exposing himself or friends to the ignorant and undeserved accusa- tion of the watchmen. ** Sir John checked the vivacity of the youthful pleader; but as the man who had been assaulted did not appear. WANDERER. 87 and the constables could not prove the defence to be false, he, after reprimand- ing them for exposing themselves to such night adventures, set them all at liberty, except Sir Henry, whom he desired to attend him into another room. *' Sir Henry readily obeyed, and there, with greater humility than I had expect- ed from his late spirited behaviour, apo- logized for the manner in which he had been brought before him. '* Sir John admitted his excuse, and asked the occasion of his being in Lon- don ? Sir Henry's face became suffused with a blush of the deepest dye, as he replied, he was on a visit at an old friend's of his father. '' Your 88 THE MVSTERIOUS^ " ' Your father,' said Sir John, ' I had not the pleasure of knowing. Your mother I sincerely respect, and as I honour myself with the title of her friend, I must insist on your passing the remain • der of the day with me.' *' Sir Henry instantly assented, and continued with me, till Sir John had finished the business of the morn- ing. *' Pleased with the opportunity, I engaged my young companion on a va- riety of subjects, and, though prepos- sessed against him by the account of his behaviour to his mother, I must, in justice, acknowledge I never met with Ills superior. His delivery was elegant, his WAxVDERER. 89 his judgment appeared solid, and his understanding higlily cultivated: as I traced in him the resemblance of his father, I could, however, easily recon- cile myself to the idea, that his mo- ther's character of him was just. ''' Sir John being by this time at leisure, we returned to Soho-square. He had not mentioned the name of Lady Cor- Ijet ; and now, without any previous in- timation respecting her, conducted him into the room where she was. '^ I never beheld surprise more strongly expressed in the countenance of any one, than in Sir Henry's, on per- ceiving his mother ; it approached in- deed nearly to horror. As for Lady Cor- bet— go THE MYSTERIOUS bet — a scream of mingled surprise and delight escaped her lips, as she hastened to clasp him in her arms ; but springing on one side, he eluded her embrace, and murmuring some inarticulate sounds, attempted to rush out of the room. In this he was prevented by Sir John, who, catching him by the arm, said — ' Not so fast, young gentleman. Your mo- ther has suffered too much unhappiness by your first elopement : I shall not so easily permit you to quit her a second time. Justice has delivered you into my hands, and I resign you to her. Recollect, as your mother and sole guardian, she has an unlimited autho- rity to control your actions ?' '' Sir Henry answered, but with a groan, WANDERKR. Ql groan, and clasping his hands on his forehead, seemed for some moments to struggle with contending passions ; then hastily asked what was required of him ? " * Not wilfully to destroy the peace of your mother!' replied Sir John, pointing to Lady Corbet, who had sunk nearly lifeless on a sofa. ** The sight appeared to rouse Sir Henry. , He flew to her, and, by the tenderest appellations, endeavoured to recall her senses. Recollection soon re- turned, when, clasping his hand — • *' 'Oh, Harry !' she cried, ' I needed not this last instance of vour indiffer- ence 92 THE MYSTERIOUS cnce to show how little claim I had to your regard. The ties to a mother with you are now forgotten ; it once was otherwise : but Corbet will follow the steps of his father I' '* Sir Henry regarded her wildly — * My father, Lady Corbet! ' he stopped, his lip trembled, and quitting her, he paced the room with agitated steps. Lady Corbet burst into tears — . '' ' Harry, do not, I entreat you^ torture me with this behaviour, I have not merited it. To you I have looked for that consolation and support which, as a widow and a mother, I had a right to expect. How it has been rendered, I need not say. Silence and mystery have been WANDERER. <)3 been the return to my solicitude — your desertion in the hour of sorrow, the re- ward of niy tenderness T " Sobs impeded her utterance — she could not proceed ; but Sir John, with great strength of reasoning, endeavoured to convince Sir Henr}^, how wrong his conduct had been, and to persuade him to act consistently with the duty he owed his mother, and to his own cha- racter, in the eyes of the world. The young gentleman listened to him some time in silence ; a sigh only now and then swelled his bosom. At last, on Sir John urging him to return to Wales, with his mother, he looked earnestly in his face, and with a tone of voice highly impressive, pronounced the simple de- nial — 94 THE MYSTERIOUS nial — ^ I cannot, Sir John, return to the seat of my forefathers I* " ' No !' said Sir John. ' Whither then would you go ?' " Sir Henry waved his hand — . ^ The world is before me !' ** I had been, during this time, en- deavouring to soothe Lady Corbet ; but on hearing the replies of her son, she again hastened to him, threw her arm round his neck, and, leaning her head on his shoulder, wept in silence. Sir 'Henry gently disengaged himself, and reconducting her to the sofa, seated himself by her. WANDERER. QS " ^ Why, my mother,' he said, ^ do you wish my return to Corbet Hall ? Do not, I conjure you, thus wantonly seek to plunge me into greater unhap- piness. Of my wretchedness you have been a witness : of what I have suffered in my mind, you can form no idea ! To me, the spot where my father expired is a place of horror — of dis- traction ! to which, if confined, neither my head nor my heart can long sustain me in existence !' '* Sir John listened to this address with some surprise; then, shaking his head at me, pointed his finger to his forehead, as implying he thought the young wanderer impaired in his intel- lects. '' Lady gt) THE MYSTERIOUS '^ Lady Corbet, whose emotions had at first hurried her into the little indig- nant reproof I have related, with ten- derness replied — she had indeed, with concern, beheld his dejection before he quitted the hall ; but if any thing there had disgusted, or been the means of rendering him unhappy, she would rea- dily consent to reside at Holly seat, or any other of her estates he chose to name, provided he would return to her protection. " To this Sir Henry did not deign to return an answer, but, folding his arms, sat with his brow contracted, and his eyes fixed on the floor, deaf alike to the solicitations of his mother and the chid- in^s of Sir John; nor was it till after we WANDEXIER. 97 we were joined by Lady Dursley, that he yielded an unwilling assent to our lunited entreaties. ** Lady Corbet's satisfaction at thus regaining her fugitive, expressed itself more in her countenance than her words: Sir Henry's was overspread with gloom ; he scarcely spoke, but in the evening wrote a farewell letter to his friend St, Ledger, and early the next morning attended his mother from the metro-' polis. ** You will not, perhaps, Howard, wonder that the admiration I formerly evinced for Lady Corbet, should give rise to more tender sentiments, on finding her released from her vows, and at li- VOL, I. F berty gS THE MYSTERIOUS berty to select a partner better calcu- lated to ensure her happiness, than the one her father had chosen. I accordingly followed her to Wales, and sought the eaxliest opportunity to avow the state of my heart. She answered my declaration with a frankness which endeared her still more to me, though discouraging to my addresses. She never, she acknow- ledged, entertained but one idea of affection, and that had long since been blighted and destroyed : the happiness of her son was the only thing in which she then looked forward for her ov/n. As a lover she could not receive me, but, as a friend, I should ever be welcomed to the hall. ** As a friend then I have visited, and WANDERER. i^ and am not without hopes of one day obtaining her hand. The assistance I have been able to render her in the dis- posal of her property, has impercepti- bly worn away the reserve of our earlier acquaintance ; and as I have purchased a considerable estate adjoining Sir Henry's, I have every opportunity of increasing the esteem of this valuable woman. Sir Henry I have rarely be- held ; his reserve to me has ever been in the extreme, and baffled all my endea- vours to gain his friendship or confi- dence. " On their return from London, Lady Corbet endeavoured to develope the cause of his conduct, but in vain. Sir Henry became again the prey of mystery F 2 and 100 THE MYSTERIOUS and melancholy, till the arrivalof some gypsies in those parts ; with them he had several times been seen to converse, and, notwithstanding the vigilance of his mo- ther, who, suspecting his intention, had appointed several of the domestics to watch him, he again, about two months since, eloped, and as it was supposed, with those itinerant outcasts ! ** Lady Corbet's grief, on this second elopement of her son, was calm, but deeper than on the former occasion ; all her attempts to discover him proved in- effectual, and, as a last resource, she determined on going to London to the young St. Ledger, who being the bosom friend of Sir Henry, she thought might perhaps be acquainted with his proceed- ings. WANDERER. 101 ings. As I was likewise going to Lon- don, I accompanied Lady Corbet, and, at her request, went with her to St. Ledger's : but that family was in equal confusion — young St. Ledger had like- %vise absconded ! *^ At that time I was obliged to leave England, therefore am ignorant how their search after the fugitives has ended. This, however, Howard, I think you must acknowledge, that Lady Corbet has far greater cause for unhappiness than yourself. You still may indulge the hope of again seeing your Ellenor — a fatal certainty assures her, she is de- prived of the man she loved for ever ! You never knew your son ; and though you may regret the deprivation of those F 3 attentions 102 THE MYSTERIOUS attentions and endearments filial affec- tion bestov/s; yet you, like her, never experienced the bitter pang of having those blessings changed to unkindness and neglect !" CHAPTER WANDERER. 103 CHAPTER IV. 1 HE Captain sighed — thanked Tai- ton for his admonition — ** which, if it do not carry conviction to my reason/' he continued, *^ has at least given a ckie to my ideas on another subject, and may perhaps be the means of gaining you intelligence concerning the son of Lady Corbet. Young St. Ledger, if I mistake not, is now on board, and I doubt not vi^ill give you any information in his power." F 4 Mr. 104 THE MYSTERIOUS Mr. Talton expressed his surprise, and earnestly entreated to see him. St, Ledger was accordingly summoned. On his entering the cabin, the sur- prise in Mr. Talton's countenance in- creased to the highest degree. " Sir Henry Corbet !" he exclaimed — starting from his seat, '' Good God ! what is the meaning of this ?" The fictitious St. Ledger appeared equally amazed at the sight of Mr. Tal- ton, whose name he faintly articulated, and, staggering a few paces, sunk on a chair ! Mr. Talton soon recollected himself, and going to him — " Little WANDERER. 105 " Little did I think, Sir Henry, of seeing you on board the Argo; how- ever, as fortune has given me the op- portunity, excuse me if I endeavour to convince you of the impropriety — the cruelty I must term it, of your conduct I The friendship your worthy mother ho- nours me with, authorises me in thus speaking, independently of the duty I feel incumbent on myself, as a man whose years and experience claim the privilege of dictating to unwary youth. Beside rendering the declining days of your mother unhappy, you do not re- collect the idea you are implanting in the minds of the world ! In the enjoy- ment of every blessing affluence could obtain — every wish gratified — what could be the reason of your clandestine pro- F 5 cedure ? 106 THE MYSTERIOUS cediire ? This is not the age of romance, Sir Henry ! Your conduct, then, can claim only the excuse of lunacy ! — a charge which, if authorised by a continu- ance of your mysterious behaviour, may, in the end, deprive you of those pos- sessions you now appear to shght and con- temn ! For your own sake, I conjure you, stop ere it be too late. I shall shortly return to London ; go with me, and re- store the peace of your mother, whose early days, you are well convinced, were too much embittered by your father, to need an additional pang from his son r '* He shall return," said the Captain ; " at least he shall not remain with me ! As St. Ledger, the victim of mis- fortune, WANDERER. 107 fortune, I received him ; as such, Sir Henry, you should ever have been wel- come to my purse, my interest, and pro- tection ! As Sir Henry Corbet, the re- gard due to my own name obliges me to insist on your returning to your friends !" Sir Henry's countenance underwent various changes during the speech of Mr. Talton : but the Captain's positive renunciation awakened every painful sensation. He precipitately rose, and seizing his hand— ^^ Give not your judg- ment too hastily, Sir ; nor deprive me of your protection before you are cer- tain I am in reality undeserving of it!" Then turning to Mr. Talton, with a modest spirit that glowed on his cheek — ^ F 6 " I am 108 THE MYSTERIOUS '* I am well aware, Mr. Talton, of the censure to which I expose myself in the opinions of the world ; but as the world cannot give me happiness, neither shall it altogether bias my conduct ! You, sir, have questioned me with free- dom, and now excuse me if I answer you in the same style. Your friendship for my mother, I am well assured, will induce you to acquaint her with this rencounter : I do not wish it to be con- cealed. Of my regard — my love, she is well convinced ; and the name of mother will never let the force of those ties di- minish ; but tell her, till authorised by the will of my father, no power on earth shall induce me to return ! Ask me not — why, Mr. Talton. There is a rea- son, to me a dreadful one ! one — which * drove WANDERER. 109 drove me from my home, an outcast — a wretched mysterious wanderer !" *^ Romance I Sir Henry," exclaimed Mr. Talton. " Your conduct has been mysterious, but you need not be a wan- derer. Return to your mother — ." ** Mr. Talton," interrupted Sir Henry solemnly, *' urge me not ! I am neither so ignorant nor weak, as to be influenced by a childish romance. I again repeat — there is a cause I If the sacrifice of my life could secure my mother's happi- ness, freely would I resign it ; but I must not — dare not see her ! My wish is to remain with Captain Howard." ** At present, Sir Henry," said the Captain, lia THE MYSTERIOUS Captain, '^ I think it more eligible for you to be under the immediate care of the guardian appointed by your father." " Be you my guardian," said Sir Henry, again eagerly clasping his hand. ** My heart acknowledged you as such, the first moment I beheld you ; when,, not knowing you were the Captain How- ward whom I sought, I told you my name was St. Ledger. Can you forgive the falsehood ? When informed who you were, a false shame withheld me from retracting the assertion, especially as you had given that protection, as Sir Henry Corbet I should have en- treated ! Under that protection let me still remain ! It is a child of sorrow, Captain WANDERER. Ill Captain Howard," he continued, sink- ing on his knee, " begs — conjures you not to desert — not to drive him again an outcast on the world !" The Captain was affected — but an expressive look from Mr. Talton, re- pelled each sentiment of commiseration, and in an instant decided the cause of the supplicating Sir Henry. Ad- dressing him with a coldness ill ac- cording with the generosity of his dis- position — *' I am almost induced. Sir Henr^-, for your sake, to wish this discovery had not happened: as some particulars re- cited respecting you, by Mr.Talton, must prevent my proving the friend you wish, I certainly 112 THE MYSTERIOUS I certainly cannot oblige you to return to your mother — but here you cannot be till you have previously obtained her approbation." " Recited respecting me, by Mr. Talton !" repeated Sir Henry, rising in- dignantly. ** It is well, Captain How- ard !" He was leaving the cabin, but, turning at the door, regarded the Captain with a look expressive of anguish and dis- appointment: the tear trembled in his eye —he faltered—" When the child of El- lenor Worton needed protection, my father did not refuse it ! Edward — EN lenor 1" He laid his hand on his breast, — burst into tears — and rushed in an in- stant from their sight, Surprise, WANDEKEH» 113 Surprise, approaching to agony, for a moment bereft the Captain of utterance ; but, recovering, he exclaimed — '• He named my Ellenor and her child ! Fly, Frederick, and bring him back. Oh God ! Could he give me in- formation of them — !" '' Be calm, Howard," said Mr. Tal- ton. " Sir Henry, take my word, knows not of your Ellenor." " Why then did he name her?" asked the Captain, with quickness. " That, I cannot say;" answered Mr, Talton : ** but, so well acquainted as I am with every concern of the late and present Sir Henry, the occurrence he 114 THE MYSTERIOUS he insinuates, could not possibly have escaped my knowledge." At that moment Frederick re-entered with a letter for his uncle, which Sir Henry had desired one of the men to deliver. " It is from Ellenor !" said the Cap- tain, attempting with a trembling hand, but in vain, to open it.'' *^ Take it — read it, Frederick," he continued; ** I am so agitated I can scarcely support myself!" Frederick obeyed, and read as fol- lows : — *^ After seventeen years silence, El- ** lenor Worton again addresses her be- " loved WANDERER, 115 "^ loved Edward — addresses him whose '^ idea has ever lived in her heart; nor *' fears the world should tax her with in- " delicacy. It is for a child of sorrow '• she writes ! It is Ellenor sues — nor ''- will Edward refuse her boon ! " For reasons which I cannot ex- *^ plain, Sir Henry Corbet, the bearer " of this letter, is necessitated to with- " draw from the guardianship of his " mother. His father sheltered your ** Ellenor and her child in the hour of ** keen adversity. He has equally been " our preserver I To him I am indebted *^ for the blessings I enjoy — to him, ** your son (Oh Edward, can you for- " give my hitherto concealing him from " your knowledge ?) is beholden for a ^' competency! 116 THE MTSTERIOUS " competency! Will my Edward repay " the obligation, by affording him an ** asylum? From him you may learn " what has hitherto befallen me; but *' attempt not my retreat, it must yet " be sacred ! '' Seek not to know more of his his- '^ tory than he freely communicates : and " love him, my Edward, for he is worthy *' of your richest regard. You must '^ hereafter clear the mysteries in w^hich *^ he is involved — from him it is, you '* must receive your son, and — Ellenor." *^ But he has denied your boon, my EUenor !" said the Captain. '' Shame — shame to him for it ! Yet it is not too late : seek Sir Henry immediately : my life WANDERER. 117 life were little in recompence for friendship shown to my Ellenor !'' Sir Henry, however, was gone ! — The moment he left the letter, he sprang into a boat which was putting off for the shore ; nor with the strictest search and inquiry could they trace the way he had taken. For three days the Captain expe- rienced the torture of suspense, when he received intelligence, that the corpse of a youth, answering the description of Sir Henry, had been washed on shore about two miles from LowestofF. Alarmed by this account, he went to the cottage where it had been conveyed, accompa- nied by his nephew and Mr. Talton; and where their fears were fully con- firmed, by the people producing the clothes. 118 THE MYSTERIOUS clothes, and a watch the Captain had himself presented to the unfortunate Sir Henry: who, they informed him, had that morning been interred, A tear fell on the cheek of the Cap- tain as he resigned the hope so lately raised, of hearing of — and seeing his Ellenor; accompanied by one for the unhappy fate of his favourite St. Ledger : nor did the severity of Mr. Talton refuse the tribute of a sigh : the faults of Sir Henry sunk beneath the sod which en- circled him, and left to his remembrance only the youth he regarded iipr the sake of his mother. With his mind deeply depressed, the Captain returned oo board; long had WANDERER. lip had he experienced unhappiness, but the events of the last week had struck the shaft still deeper in his heart; nor could the friendship of Mr. Talton, or the affection of Frederick, preserve him from a corroding melancholy. The death of Sir Henry, as St. Ledger, was universally regretted ; even the obdurate Harland, for a moment, forgot his enmity, and expressed a senti- ment of pity; whilst the generous Fre- derick, who had regarded him with fra- ternal friendship, paid that tribute to his memory his merits demanded ; and whilst he dwelt with praises on the name of his friend, the faltering accent and half-suppressed sigh evinced the sin- cerity of his grief for his loss. Mr, 120 THE MYSTERIOUS Mr. Talton finding the impracticability of his endeavours to alleviate the sor- row of the Captain, took his leave, and set out for London, to acquaint Lady Corbet with the death of her son : as, however disagreeable the task, he rather chose to inform her himself, than hazard an abrupt disclosure from an uninte- rested person, or even by epistolary communication. The Captain felt relieved at his de- parture, as he wished to visit the grave of Sir Henry, but was unwilling to be- tray the weakness of his heart, even to his friend. The ensuing morning, therefore, he went on shore, and, unat- tended, pursued his way to the church- yard; where a simple flag of fragrant turf WAKDEREJR. 121 turf marked the spot where the remains of the unfortmiate youth were laid. '• Humble indeed is thy bed of rest, my poor St. Ledger," he exclaimed : ^^ by far too humble for the virtues which I am certain were the real posses- sors of thy breast! — In thee my EU lenor has lost the friend she too, perhaps, fondly hoped, would one day have re- stored her to the arms of her Edward. With thee rested the knowledge of her retreat; and with thee — it may have pe- rished I" The idea w^as too much : he sank on his knee by the grave — to Heaven his heart was open. VOL» I. G ^' Oh 15^ THE MYSTERIOUS " Oh God 1" he cried, '' hnmutable are thy decrees, nor can the proudest knowledge of man explore the mystery of thy ways ! Greatly against thee have I offended, and just is the punishment thou hast inflicted: yet still let mercy blend with thy power, nor crush the head thou hast deigned to rear from the dust ! Mine w^as the guilt ; on me let thy ven- geance fall : but spare my EUenor the anguish which swells my heart ; and if thy justice prohibit moi'e, let me at Least prove (however late the date) a friend to her I deceived, a parent to the off- spring of our love !" He bowed his head on his knee, and for some minutes continued in mental supplication ; till a sigh^ responsive to that WA^^DERER, 123 tliat which burst from his own bosoiti, aroused him, and, on raising his head,, he beheld his iiephew within a few paces of the grave. *^ The same reason, my dear uncle," said Frederick, advancing, '' I find, hag separately brought us to this spot, that of taking a last farewell of the ashes of our worthy young friend, before we bid adieu to this part of England." " Such w^as my intention," answered the Captain, '^ though remembrance at the moment has hurried me into greater weakness." " Regret it not,'' said Frederick, affectionately taking his hand. '* Sir G 2 Henry 1214 THE MYSTERIOUS Henry was deserving of the tear you have shed! — Peace to his spirit! — Nor need we doubt it: the God to whom he is gone, will condemn or acquit us ac- cording to the rectitude of our hearts, not the frailties of our words or ac- tions." " That reflection may conduce more toward restoring peace to my bosom," said the Captain, *'than all the sophisms of philosophy ! " But come, Frederick, you have witnessed my weakness, let me retire from this spot, or I may relapse.'* He took the proffered arm of Frede- rick, and, giving a last look at the grave, dejectedly WAXDERER* 125 dejectedly retraced his steps from the chmxh-yard. A few days after, he received his ex- pected orders to sail for Weymouth', previously to his convoying a fleet of Indiamen to the coast of China. A sigh swelled his hosom as he passed the cliffs of Brighthelmstone, and be- held the spot where he had once resided with his Ellenor, now lost to him, he feared, for ever. Remembrance, with keener powers, recalled her perfections ; the sweetness of her manners, her chaste affection; each look, each tender en- dearment, dwelt on his memory, and was cherished in his heart as all that re- mained to him of her whom he loved. G 3 The 1^6 TPIE MYSTERIOUS The idea of Mrs. Hov/ard involurvtarily obtruded— ^. " Weak man!" he softly sighed, " ever to listen to the futile reasoning3 of resentment! Had I not yielded to thee, JJllenor might honourably have been mine; her arms my haven, her smiles the reward of my toils and anxi- eties ! But now — no welcome ever greets my arrival to my native shore, no offspring bless my return ; Ellenor ,ftnd her son are lost to me; and he who only could have restored them, has re- signed his being to the Gk)d who gave it r Frederick, with concern, observed the increasing melancholy of his uncle, and WANDERER. 12/ and his anxiety on that accomt was considerably augmented by the arrival of jMrs. Howard ! That lady, whose hatred to the Captain increased with her years, no sooner gained intelli- gence of his being at Weymouth, than she hastened there, well knowing her presence was a far greater punishment to him than any the law could have in- flicted; and as such; it proved more gra- tifying to her revenge than any it could afford ! The Captain bore her wayward humour with apparent composure ; yet it preyed on his heart, and, by forcing a comparison with the happy period he had passed with EUenor, rendered each nioment as secretly unhappy as the ran- cour of his wife could wish. G 4 From 128 THE MYSTERIOUS From this disagreeable situation be- was relieved by a vist from Mr. Talton, who, on beholding Mrs. Howard, no longer wondered at the measures his friend had formerly pursued. ** Surely, Howard," he cried, *' for- tune has selected thee from the rest of prjankind, as an object on whom to dis- play the worst of her capricious hu- ihours. My God I what a contrast to the gentle Ellenor ! I can now, How- ard, more sincerely feel for your loss of her, from that I am afraid I shall soon experience myself. " I informed you, when at Yarmanth, I had left Lady Corbet with the St. Ledger family, who were soon relieved from WANDERER. 129 from their apprehensions on their son's account, by his return from an hymeneal expedition with a young lady, whom they, from a family pique, had objected to his marrying ; their joy, however, at his return, obliterated every unfavourable sentiment, and they received the wife of his choice with every demonstration of affection. — Of his friend, Sir Henry, he could not give the least intelligence. " On my arrival in London, I hast- ened to St. Ledger's ; but I cannot at- tempt to describe the agonies of Lady Corbet at the intelligence I brouo-ht. It appeared, indeed, nearly to shake her reason, and make her regard the relater of her son's death, as the cause of it. She instantly retired to Wales, G 5 wiiither 130 THE MYSTERIOUS whither I likewise followed, but could not obtain the favour of an interview. She secluded herself from company, nor admitted the presence of any one but her own servant. Thus she continued nearly a fortnight, when a report was raised, that Sir Henry had been seen in the village ; and the next morning I re- ceived a message from Corbet Hall, en- treating my immediate presence. " Pale — wild and breathless — the wretched mother, on my entrance, started from her seat — *My Heniy, my son !' she exclaimed, wringing her hands, * Oh, give me back the darling of my widowed heart ! It is his mother s bosom only he has wrung with anguish ; he never injured thee ! Why then say he is dead, why WANDERER. 131 why tear him from my si^ht ? Dead I' she repeated, with a scream. * Oh no ; it was but last night he blessed my sight Even now his accents hang on my ear, as he told me that he lived !' " Thus she raved — and it was a con- siderable time before I could soothe her to any degree of composure. When I had in some measure succeeded, I dis- patched an attendant to the village, to inquire into the particulars of this strange story, and, if he could possibly discover those who were said to have seen Sir Henry, to bring them to the Hall. He soon returned with an old man, who affirmed' he had seen Sir Henry, or his spectre, pass down the church hill the preceding evening ; that G 6 although 132 THE MYSTERIOUS although frightened, as Sir Henry was said to be dead, he had retained re- solution to follow him till he arrived at the village ; but what became of him then, he could not say, as he suddenly lost sight of him. *' This account was delivered with such hesitation, I should have con- demned the whole as the effect of intoxi- cation, had not the wretched mother again declared she had seen her son ! The repetition recalled her frenzy, and for some time baffled my endeavours to calm her perturbation, by assurances, if her son in reality lived, he must soon be discovered, in which case I would use every endeavour to restore him to her. Lady WANDERER, 133 " Lady Corbet has recovered from her derangement, though I do not think she ever will from the shock occasioned by the loss of her son. She is now at Bath for the benefit of the waters : but as my presence appears to recall the fate of Sir Henry more forcibly to her mind, I have determined to absent myself till time shall have mitigated her sorrow. I cannot, however, expe- rience ease in my present state, and must therefore seek it in a change of objects. What say you, Howard, to an excursion for a few weeks ? Fortune, perhaps, may grant us intelligence of your EUenor." As his presence was not essentially necessary on board, the Captain rea- dily 134 THE MYSTERiaUS dily acceded to the proposal, and a few days after they set out for Caermarthcn, accompanied by Frederick. Fortune, however, favoured not their hopes; and, after three weeks spent in fruitless inquiries, they once more directed their course toward Dorsetshire. CHAPTER WANDERER. 135 CHAPTER V. Already had they reached a vil- lage near LlandafF, where they proposed to pass the night, when the fineness of the evening tempted them to enjoy the beauties they beheld in an extensive landscape. In passing along a bank from which the ancient walls of the church-yard rose, a groan, replete with anguish, assailed their ears. The heart of Frederick ever felt for the distresses of his fellow-creatures, and, on direct- ing his eye to the spot whence the sound pro- 136^ THE MYSTERIOUS proceeded, a scene presented itself, which awakened every sentiment of pit}'. A man, whose maimed condition im- plied the service he had rendered his country, was bending over a grave re- cently made ; his hat was off, and the sun shed his last beams on a face that showed the wreck of every manly beauty, t\'hiist his hair, gently waving in the evening breeze, shaded," and added a softness to the settled grief impressed on his countenance. A lovely girl lay at his feet, embracing the senseless turf, then raising herself, wrung her hands, and, clasping that of her companion sank on the^sod in a state of insensi- bility ! '' Ellen, WANDERER. 137 *' Ellen, Ellen, my child !" exclaim- ed the mourner. Frederick could re- frain no longer, but, rushing through the gateway, raised the senseless Ellen in his arms. Life soon returned, when the Captain (who, with Mr. Talton, had followed Frederick) took the hand of the unhappy man ; the softened accent of commiseration hung on his lips, but, the mourner murmuring an entreaty to be spared, withdrew his hand from the friendly grasp, and, taking the weeping girl by the arm, slowly directed his steps from the compassionate intruders. His sorrow was sacred — the Cap- tain felt it; but Frederick, whose at- tention was fixed on Ellen, perceiving her scarcely able to support herself, again 138 THE MrSTERIOUS again hastened to her assistance, and the Captain waving his hand for his servant to attend him, returned with Mr. Talton to the inn. The scene they had witnessed was too impressive to be erased from their minds; they communicated it to their host, who said — " Ah, your Honour, it was Lieutenant Booyers. Poor gentle- man — he is the pity of all who know him, though I knew^ him w^hen the sun rose not on a happier man : but that time is passed." " And pray, my worthy friend," said the Captain, *' to what misfortune does he owe this unhappy change?" a >' lis WANDERER, 139 " 'Tis a mournful tale, your Honours," answered the compassionate Jarvis, '' never, I believe, did any man expe- rience more sorrow and misfortune than he has." " If my curiosity be not impertinent," said the Captain, '' I would thank you for a few particulars respecting him. I remember a Francis Booyers, who some years since served, at the time I did, on board the Agamemnon; and what I have beheld I acknowledge has interested me. You appear to have known him long."' ^' From his birth. Sir: and, I believe, there are few circumstances of his life with which I am unacquainted. '* I was 140 THE MYSTERIOUS ** I was, Sir, in my youth a soldieiv and served under the father of the gen- tleman you this evening beheld : as brave a man as ever fought beneath the British standard, and as well beloved by his whole regiment. During our cam- paign, I had the good fortune several times to gain his notice, and in the last engagement where I fought, had the happiness to save his life I It was by that, indeed, I was disabled ; for I had my knee broken, and received a musket shot in my side ; but that I did not re- gret, for, wounded as I was, there was not a man left of the regiment but envied me an action I shall ever regard as my greatest glory : Aye, your Honours, for who would not have changed situa- tions with me, could he have said, he had liad been the means of preserving the gallant Colonel Booyers ! I was at- tended with as much tenderness as our harassed situation would admit of: the Colonel himself visited me, and when I recovered, not only procured me a pension, but took me as an attendant on his person. ^* Soon after, we returned to England, ^here the Colonel involved himself in ruin, by marrying the daughter of a poor clergyman. For his father. Lord Boo- yers, was no sooner informed of what he had done, than he forbade him his sight, and passed from one act of un- kindness to another, till at last he disin- herited him 1 The Colonel, at first, sought a reconciliation' by means of their common 142 THE MYSTERIOUS common friends ; but, finding it of no effect, resigned all thoughts of the for- tune he had expected. His lady was too amiable to let him regret the step he had taken, and, in her affection, he found a sufficient recompense for the loss of his father's. " In the course of five years she made him the father of three lovely children, and, during that time, theif happiness never received the least inter- ruption : but our regiment w^as then again ordered abroad ; and leaving his family in this village, under the protec- tion of Sir James and Lady Elvyn, the Colonel bade adieu to Wales, and be- neath the walls of Carthagena found a soldier's grave ! " Ah, M'ANDERER, 143 '' Ah, Sir ! five-and-thirty years have not worn away the remembrance of that day. Still fresh in my memory is the moment I saw him borne in the arms of the soldiers from the field. Many times had I faced death, regardless of the car- nage which surrounded me — but the sight of my noble master's corpse made me a coward ! The shout of victory, which had been wont to rouse me to an enthu- siastic madness of joy, ceased to vibrate on my heart ; and, though a soldier, I cursed the ravages of war ! *' At such a time, but little ceremony can be used : — a shell was hastily pre-% pared, into which he was laid, and the following evening carried on the shoul- ders of his men to the, grave they had pr©» 144 THE MYSTERIOUS previously prepared. I followed — a real mourner 1 The half-suppressed groans of my comrades were answered by my own, and each stroke on the drum sank deeper in my heart. I however marched to the grave : but when I heard the earth rattle on the coffin of him, whom the day before I had beheld in the pride of health; surrounded with honour; whose words the oldest officers listened to with respect, and whose presence could animate and lead his men to the greatest dangers, then bereft of life, and hur- ried to the dust — to think of his wife — his children ! — My heart already swelled with anguish to the utmost, could bear no more — I threw myself in the half- filled grave — in bitter terms lamented his untimely fate, and franticly accused the ^rA N'DKREK. 145 the hand of Providence, that had not shielded him from the stroke of death ! In vain my fellow-soldiers endeavoured to recall me to reason, to arouse me to a sense of apprehended danger from the scouts of the enemy : I was insensihle to all but the remembrance of my mas- ter ! At last they tore me from the sacred spot, and hurried me back to the battery, where I was suffered unmo- lested to indulge in my grief. '^ Some days after, the General sent for me ; he praised my honest affection, as he termed it, for my deceased master, and would have received me into his own service ; but, finding me averse to the proposal, consented to my bearing the intelligence of the Colonel's deadi VOL. T. H to Ii6 THE MYSTERIOUS to my Lady. The property belongiiig \o my master was therefore entrusted to my care, and I once more returned to Wales ; Avhen I found an account of his death had reached his wife by means of the public papers. She bore her loss with that meek resignation which marked her character, and, being then destitute ^f other support than her pension, de- termined, for the sake of her children, to humble herself before their stern grand- sire, and entreat his pity and protection. But his heart was too obdurate to yield to the orphan's or widow's tears ; and that forgiveness he had refused to his own child, he vowed never to extend to hers. ** She then applied to his sons, my late WANDERER. 147 late master's brothers, the eldest of whom had a very large fortune, which he inherited from a relation : but they, like the old gentleman, were deaf to her claim of relief or protection ; their pride of blood, indeed, would not let them stoop to acknowledge the poor descendants of an obscure country cler- gyman. '^ ]My Lady returned to Sir James, who, on being informed of her unsuc- cessful application, said — * It is not more, Mrs. Booyers, than I expected from the w^ell-known character of his Lordship and his sons : but let not this disappointment of your wishes rather than your hopes depress you. In Lady Elvyn, you have a sincere and afFection- H 2 ate 148 THE MYSTERIOUS ate friend : your hearts are congenial : stay then with her, and let her attentions and commiseration soothe the sorrows of your widowhood : as for your chil- dren — I will supply the place of the father they have lost.' — And truly did Sir James keep his word. My Lady remained at the Hall till her death, which ha[ipened about two years after; when she and her little girl both died of the small-pox. ** Till then I had been retained in the family as her servant : but, a few days after the funeral, Sir James sent for me into his study — ' I know your w^orth, Jarvis,' he said, ^ and respect the fidelity and attachment you have ever evinced for my unfortunate friend and his wife ; and WANDERER 149 and, as I believe you wish still to be near their children, I now offer vou the place of butler ; in which I doubt not you will acquit yourself as much to my satisfaction, as in your preceding service you did to your late master and his widow.' *^ I joyfully accepted the offer, and as butler passed the remainder of my servitude. ** As for the sons of his friend^ Sir James reared and educated them at his own expense, and indeed ever loved them as though they had been his own : himself had only three daughters, the loveliest girls, I think, that ever I be- held; but, alas! beauty could not secure their happiness ! H 3 '^ About 150 THE MVSTERIOU^ ** About three years after the decease of Mrs. Booyers, Lady Elvyn died : the affection of Sir James, however, scarcely allowed them to be conscious of the loss ; his wife, he would say, still existed in her offspring, and for their sake he never would wed another. " Well, Sir; early in life, Miss Mary and Hannah, the two elder, showed an attachment to the young gentlemen, and Sir James declared their want of an adequate fortune should never be a hindrance to their union with his children. For the eldest he obtained a commission in the army; the youngest had long been at sea ; and, as my master's interest was great, the fairest prospect of promotion was before them. An active war then called them abroad ; WAXDEKER. 151 itbroad ; and well I remeniber the morn- ing they bade Sir James and the young ladies farewell My master took a hand of each, as they were preparing to step into the carriage which was to convey them away, and, pressing them to his bosom, said — * Farewell, my dear boys; and remember, whether good or ill for- tune attend your pursuits in life, here vou v/ili ever meet with friends, whose hearts, pi-judiy conscious of your real worth, will prize you for that alone. Your country now demands your ser- vices : seek then the acquirement of horjour, if not of fortune; and. at your return, doubt not my ready assent to the union you so ardently wish/ ^* It was two years after this, before II 4 we 152 THE MYSTERIOUS we saw either of the young gentlemen again. At that time Mr. Francis re- turned from Barbadoes, and Captain Booyers arrived from Ireland, accompa- nied by a son of Sir Horace Corbet. My old master, who had drooped in their absence, revived at their return, and for six weeks we had nought but feasts and merriment. About that time Mr. Corbet disclosed a passion he en- tertained for Miss Eliza ; and Sir James instantly wrote to Sir Horace, who a few days after likewise arrived. Ah ! all then was truly a scene of happiness I — for Sir Horace immediately gave his con- sent to the match, and preparations were begun for the three marriages. But, alas ! Sir, nothing in this life is certain ; for, in the midst of our joy, my good old WANDERER. 153 old master was seized witli an apoplectic fit, and a few hours after expired ! " Sir Horace undertook the care of the funeral, and to settle the affairs of Sir James ; but, on searching his papers, no will could be found ! The whole of my master's property, therefore, went, with the title, to a distant relation; a proud sordid man, who came the day after the funeral, and, without the least feeling or ceremony, told my young la- dies to provide themselves another ha- bitation; and Sir Horace, who had pre- tended the greatest friendship and affec- tion, instantly changed, and perempto- rily told liis son, he must cease his addresses to ]\Iiss Eliza. This, Mr.. Cor- bet refused, and declared his resolution H O tO' 154 THE MYSTERIOUS to espouse her, whatever consequence might ensue: but Sfa* Horace hurried him away to his seat in Caermarthen ; nor was this all, for about a week after, Miss Eliza received a letter, as they supposed, from Mr. Corbet, entreating her to meet him at a place appointed; and my young lady, wholly unsuspicious of treachery, went without attendants (for indeed all the servants but one fe- male had been dismissed) — and from that time. Sir, has never been heard of!" " Not heard of I" repeated the Cap- tain and Mr. Talton, as with one voice. " No, your Honours," reiterated the landlord, with a deep sigh — " has never been heard of! My young master and his brother WANDERER. 155 Brother used every means to discover what was become of her ; but, though they entertained not the least doubt it was Sir Horace who had trepanned her, yet, as they could not bring any proof, no redress could be obtained.. " My young ladies, being now depri- ved of fortune, insisted that all thoughts of marriage should be relinquished till the Captain and his brother could acquire a competence more adequate to the ex- penses of a family ; and, finding all en- deavours to alter their resolution inef- fectual, my young masters at last yielded an unwilling assent; the Captain returned to his regiment in Ireland, and Mr. Fran- cis set sail for somewhere quite the other side of the globe. H 6 "About 156 THE MYSTERIOUS ^' About a year and a half after his departure, Captain Booyers was pro- moted to the rank of Major ; when Miss Alary yielded to his solicitations, and they were married. But her happiness was of short duration : she died in less than a twelvemonth, in giving birth to a daughter ! *^ From that time the Major dragged on a wretched existence, till his regi- ment was ordered abroad, where, like his father, he lost his life in the field ; leaving the little orphan Ellen to the protection of his brother and' Miss Hannah. " The Lieutenant went again to sea, in hopes of attaining a higher rank, or amassing WANDEUEll. 157 amassing a little fortune; without which, reason forbade his marrying to involve the woman he loved in greater difficul- ties: and the marriage was still and still deferred, in hopes fortune would prove more favourable; till the ship he served in was put out of commission ; and, after having been many times wounded, and lost an arm, he is now returned, with no other support or reward than half- pay ! Poor Miss Hannah had been in a decline for a long time ; her heart, I know, Sir, was broken : she lived just to see him, and take a last farewell — and that was all I" CIIAPTEH 158 THE MYSTERIOUS' CHAPTER YL Jl he honest innkeeper wiped a tear from his cheek as he concluded, and a pause of some moments ensued, when the Captain, addressing, Mr. Talton, said — *' What a character, Talton, is that of Sir Horace ! My own misfor- tunes sink in the comparison with these unhappy people's : and I think you will allow, even Sir Henry is entitled to a- portion of your pity.'' "He WANDERER. 159 " He deserves it, indeed, Sir," said Jarvis. ^^ '* Soon after I settled in this inn, he stopped here on his way to my ladies ; and I declare I scarcely knew him, he looked so pale and unhappy. When I told him Miss Mary w^as mar- ried, he started fror»i his seat in an agony, and, wringing my hand^ said, ' Yes, Jarvis, and I am married ! I am married,' he repeated, * and to one — .' He struck his forehead — walked about in great agitation, and at last, throwing himself into a chair, covered bis face, and sighed to that degree, my heart ached to hear him. Poor ijentle- man 1 I never saw him after that day. Had his father possessed a heart like my old master's, they might all have been happy : but many a dark deed has Sir 160 THE MYSTERIOUS Sir Horace to answer for, beside those I have related: there were his wife and daughter disappeared in a very strange manner." At this moment Frederick entered. Jarvis, being summoned to another part of the house, made his humble bow, and left the room ; and tlie Captain, address- ing his nephew, asked if he had accom- panied the Lieutenant and Miss Booyers to their habitation? ** I did, my dear Sir," answered Frederick; '' and have beheld a scene equally distressing, I think, as the one you witnessed in- the church-yard. I supported the lovely Ellen to her resi- dence, and would then have taken my leave, WANDERER. iGl leave, but the Lieutenantj \vho I after- wards found was her uncle, entreated me to walk into the house. ' It is the abode of sorro^^V he added, * but not of ingratitude ; and never will Lieu- tenant Booyers turn the compassionate stranger from his gate,' *' I was easily prevailed on to enter, •when the Lieutenant, opening the door of an inner room, presented to my view a lady and a youth in deep njourning. They did not perceive our entrance. The silent tear Avas trickling down the face of the youth ; but his mother, for such she proved, wrung her hands, and, in a voice broken by sobs, exclaimed — * Oh, my Henry, to wiuit distress has thy death reduced us !' She fell on the neck 1621 THE MYSTERIOUS neck of her son, when the lovely Ellcu hastening to her, with accents of the inildeBt pity, entreated she would be composed. *' ' I could, Ellen/ answered the LadVr * were I the only sufferer ; but, alas ! a prison awaits us ; and my child — my Edward, what must then become of you f ^ '* * Fear not for rne, my dear mother,* answered her son, with rising spirit. * I will follow the steps of my brave father, and if I fall, I cannot die more nobly than in the cause of my country !' His voice, his manners, vvere all St. Ledger's. — By Heavens, I could have loved him as a brother ! "His WAN DEREK, l53 ** His mother pressed liiin to h^r bo- som, but tears choaked her utteraiioe. The Lieutenant regarded her witii a look of commiseration, which seemed, for the moment, to banish all thoughts of his own affliction. * Yield not thus to despondency,,' he cried, * my worthy friend ; the God whose power can cahn the turbulence of the storm, and raise the sinking mariner, will never desert thee or thy offspring/ ** She answered but with her tears, when a beautiful girl, whose counte- nance, like the rest, bore marks of the deepest grief, entered, and in a voice, I thougiit, of alarm, entreated licr as- sistance in an adjoining room. ^She, 164 THE MYSTElllOUS *^ She instantly complied, and retired, followed by her son and the lovely Ellen. ** * Child of misfortune/ sighed the Lieutenant, * may you one day expe- rience happiness, proportionate to the sorrow you now endure/ *^ Then, addressing me, he thanked me, in elegant terms, for the assist- ance I had afforded his niece : her name revived the anguish of his own breast, and, perceiving me interested by what I had beheld, he gave me the outlines of his life, a life marked, indeed, by misfortune ! I thanked him for the con- fidence he had reposed in me, and, apologizing for the freedom of the offer, entreated WANDERER. l65 entreated to know if it were in my power, or that of my uncle, to render any assistance to the lady I had seen. ^' The Lieutenant shook his head. — It was not, he said. — ' Pecuniary dis- tresses/ he continued, ' are but the secondary causes of her affliction. Early in life she lost a beloved husband, and for many years experienced the keenest unhappiness : at last Heaven sent a friend, who promised to redress the in- juries she had suffered ; but it was not to be : death has bereaved her of her protector ; and for him it is she grieves, independently of the misery which awaits her.' " Delicacy forbade my urging any farther, ^66 THE MYSTERIOUS farther, and^ unwilling to intrude, I took a reluctant leave. — But, surely, iny dear um:le, something niay be done ; theirs is not a common distress : they need a friend, and, had I the wealth of the universe — " Frederick v/as interrupted by his uncle's servant, who rushed into the room with looks of the wildest delight, exclaiming — ^* She is found — she is found, your Honour ! My Lady is now in the village !" The Captain's countenance indi- cated displeasure. " Am I never to be free from the persecution of this wo- man ?" he cried. *' Order my horses ; I will be gone immediately !" " What, WANDERER. ' l67 *^ What, Sir !" said James, surprised :and dejected : " not see my Lady, now vou have found her?'* '* Found her — found whom ?'' asked the Captain hastily. ** My honoured Lady, Sir; Madam Crawton, who lived atBrighthelmstone/' ** My Ellenor here !" exclaimed the Captain, starting from his seat, every feature instantly illumined with joy. — ^* O God of Heaven ! tell me where she is, this instant!" " At the house, your Honour, where Mr. Frederick went with the gendeman and lady : I saw Madam Crawton as she 16B the mysterious she came out of the parlour. I could not at the moment be certain it was her; but, wiUing to satisfy myself, I returned as soon as my young master reached the inn, and saw Mrs. Susan putting some parcels into a carriage. I remembered Mrs. Susan perfectly well ; and at that moment my Lady came to the door. I was then convinced, and hastened back to acquaint your Honour." The Captain could scarcely retain patience till James concluded ; when, quick as lightning, he darted out of the room, followed by his nephew arid Mr. Talton, and in a few minutes reached the residence of Lieutenant Booyers. With a beating heart he raised the knocker ; WANDERER, 1^9 knocker ; but all remained silent : no ready footstep answered to the sum- mons. Again he knocked — when a pea- sant slowly advanced from the back of the garden, and, with a surly voice, demanded their business ?'* ** Is Mrs. Crawton, or Lieutenant Booyers, at home?'" asked the Captain. " They are not," answered the man. '' They have left the village." *' Left the village!" faltered the Captain. '' Yes," replied the man. '' So, for once you have missed your aim." VOL. I, I '' Missed 1/6 THE MYSTERIOUS " Missed indeed!" he cried. " But say — where are they gone ? — Tell me, I conjure you." ** I will perish first,'' answered the man. *' I know your business too well !" " It is impossible," said the Cap- tain, " you should know my business." " Is not your name Talton !^ inter- rupted the man. *' My name is/' answered Mr. TaltotJ. •' But I cannot conceive what concern that has with the lady in question." ^* A great deal/' said the man. ** So, once more I tell you, you have missed your WANDERER. I7i your aim. My lady will not go to pri- son this time T' *' God forbid she should," exclaimed the Captain. '' Yet tell mc, I entreat you — . But the peasant disregarded his en- treaties, and, again repeating his obser- vation, pursued his way to his own home. The disappointment was too se- vere for the Captain to support with his wonted firmness: he sunk on the shoulder of his nephew, whose asto- nishment could only be equalled by his concern, at finding the house so sud- denly deserted: he begged his uncle (who would have followi^d the peasant) to return to the inn, declaring he 1 2 would 372 THE MYSTERIOUS would himself go after him, and, either by money or threats, extort from him what he knew concerning Mrs. Craw- ton. The Captain complied, and, ac- companied by Mr. Talton, retraced^ his steps to the inn, where he or- dered the horses to be immediately saddled. Jarvis (who had been informed by James, of what he knew concerning the Captain and the unfortunate Elle- nor) observing the agitation of his guest, begged to know if any thing disagree- able had happened ? Mr. Talton satis- fied his curiosity, so far as saying, the Lieutenant and his friends, with whom they had particular business, had left ^••the village, and at the same time asked if WANDi:RER. 173 if he knew any thing respecting IVIrs. Crawton ?" " There were a Mrs. Crawton and another lady, your Honour," answered Jarvis, " came here just before Miss Hannah died ; but I cannot say I ever saw either of them. The young folks, (for one has a son, and the other a daughter) I have frequently seen. As for the Lieutenant leaving the village, the man must be mistaken, though he may be accompanying the ladies to their ov/n habitation : however, if it be that which concerns your Honours, I will be bound to gain you intelligence to what part of the country they are gone, in the space of an hour," I 3 The 174 THE MYSTERIOUS The Captain thankfully accepted the offer, and impatiently waited the return of Frederick, who, with a dejected coun- tenance, soon entered the room. " I have not been able to succeed, my dear Sir," he cried; " the mai> is sworn to secrecy; and all I have been able to learn from him, is — they have fiedj to avoid Mr. Talton and a jail.^ " Avoid me !" exclaimed Mr. Talton, with surprise, ** There is some mystery in this, which I cannot develope. From the time I first left England, till this evening, I have never heard of Mrs. Crawton ; and to Lieutenant Booyers I am a perfect stranger." " My " My EUenor flying, and from fear of a prison !" cried the Captain, '' Ta what distress may she not be reduced ! Would that Jarvis was returned ! the torments I endure are insupportable f Jarvis soon after re-entered—^* I have gained but little information, your Honour,"' he began, ^' and that I believe not strictly true. Tiie Lieutenant has certainly left the village. It v»as the appearance of you, Sir, (to Mr. Tal- ton) it seems, v.hich has driven them £0 abruptly from their home. They have taken the road to Chepstow ; but whether they propose staying there, k Dot known." '* That information is sufiicient,'' I 4 said 176 THE MYSTERIOUS said the Captain. *^ I will instantly follow them. Let me but recover El- lenor and my son — it is all I ask of Heaven I" Jarvis, who was liberally rewarded for his trouble, procured them a guide, and they immediately directed their course toward Chepstow. But the Cap- tain was doomed to experience disap- pointment; no such carriage or persons as he described had been seen ; and he could only suppose Jarvis had been misinformed, or that they had pursued their way farther into the country. In- dulging this last idea, he determined to continue the pursuit ; but every effort proved ineffectual to discover the lost Ellenor ; and, to add to his dis- tress, WANDERER. 177 tress, he received an express to re- turn on board, the fleet being ready to sail. Reluctantly he obeyed, and, on reach- ing Weymouth, was met by Mrs. Howard, who with increasing malignancy endea- voured to revenge herself for the tempo- rary respite he had enjoyed. Mr. Tal- ton accompanied the Captain on board, where, promising to use every endeavour during his absence from England to dis- cover Ellenor, he bade him adieu, and, returning on shore, proceeded to Bath, to renew his addresses to Lady Corbet. No particular occurrence marked the voyage : the name of St. Ledger was still mentioned with regret by the crew, and I 5 dwelt 178 THE MYSTERIOUS dwelt on with a painful delight by Fre^ derick and his uncle ; who passed his hours in painful retrospects, and conjec- tures for the present state of his EUenor, enlivened only by the praises the friendly Frederick bestowed on the person and interesting manners of his son, so greatly resembling those of the deceased Sir Heory. CHAPTER WANDERER-. 279 CHAPTER VIL iVlORE than twelve months had elap- sed since the death of Sir Henry, when the fleet returned to St Helena. The pleasure experienced hy his officers and crew, on. attaining^ this favourite spot, extended itself to the bosom of the Captain i the mind of Harland too yielded to its influence ; the stern con- traction of his brow gave place to the smile of satisfection, and, with a heart unwontedly attuned to cheerfulness, he accompanied the Captain and Frederick to the Governor's, where a large party 1 6 were ISO * THE MYSTERIOUS were assembled, not only of the principal inhabitants, but several officers and pas- sengers belonging to some French vessels bound for Pondicherry, and which had arrived there the preceding day. Amongst the passengers, the Marchio- ness de Valois, her daughters, and a Mademoiselle de St. Ursule, claimed pre-eminence ; the beauty of the latter, indeed, gained universal admiration, nor could the bosom of Harland long resist the influence of a softer passion. The Governor's nephew likewise yielded an unresisting captive to charms unequalled in the Eastern clime ; and, uncontrolled by any authority but that of an uncle, whose partiality ever extenuated his faults, and exaggerated the few amiable qualities WANDERER. 181 qualities he possessed to the height of human perfection, he looked on success as certain wherever he chose to prefer his suit. ; Harland observed the freedom of his addresses with an eye of jealousy, height- ened by the diffidence he for the first time experienced of himself Humbled, yet indignant, he returned on board, and hastened to his cabin; whence, in the morning, he was roused by the informa- tion, that they were to pass the day with the Marchioness, with whom the Cap- tain had been acquainted in England. Impetuous in every pursuit, this in- telligence in an instant dissipated every mortifying reflection, and he impatiently waited 18^ THE MYSTERIOUS waited for the hour which would again present the lovely Louise to hi$ sight The sentiments with which she had inspired him, he attempted not to con- ceal ; his conduct through the day suf- ficiently evinced them ; whilst the blush- ing sweetness with whiot noble ! The day succeeding this, he accom- panied the Captain and Frederick to a fete at the Governor's, where the Marchioness and her family were like- wise present : but the pleasure Louise's presence would have created, was de- stroyed by the marked attentions of young Ferrand, the Governor's nephew; and^ unable to endure the seeming satisfac- tion, or even the presence of hb rival, which prevented his conversing freely with Louise, he entreated to spea^k with her ^ WANDERER. 187 her in private, and, without waiting for an answer, conducted her into an ad- joining room. He there acquainted her \yith his application to the Marchioness ; her rejection of his suit; and vehemently urged her to a private marriage. Louise was concerned at the Mar- chioness's refusal, but declared she never would consent to any engagement with- out her approbation; and gently chid Harland for the rudeness of his beha- viour to Ferrand. Harland could not conceal his chagrin at this second re- jection, and accused Louise of an unjust preference to his rival; against whom he vowed the severest vengeance. The East-Indian, who had equally observed 188 THE MYSTERIOUS observed the assiduities of Harland, and equally felt the influence of jealousy, had followed them unperceived, and heard the whole of their conversation. He now sprung from his concealment, and would have commenced hostilities on the spot, had not the terrified Louise en- treated Harland to reconduct her to the company. Though hurried nearly to madness by the violence of passion, the voice of Louise recalled him to reason; or rather her request, trivial as it was, implied, he thought, a preference to him over his rival, which, by gratifying his wishes, conduced to calm the tumult raised in his bosom. Louise, though she had given a de- nial to his suit, could not behave to him with WANDERER. 189 -vrith indifference : on the contrary, she ei^eavoured, by many little attentions, to soften her rejection, and which Harland was too happy at the moment in receiv- ing, to bestow a thought on the motive whence they arose. Amidst the festivity which reigned, young Ferrand was the only one really unconscious of pleasure. Ungovernable in his passions, he could as little brook an appearance of slight, as Harland could refusal A sentiment of respect and awe he entertained for his uncle, withheld him from disturbing the mirth of the evening by an open quarrel with the Lieutenant; he therefore determined on a surer revenge than he was certain of being able to inflict with his own hand. It 190 THE MYSTERIOUS It was late when the company sepa- rated, and Harland, with the Captain and Frederick, were returning to the Bay, when they w^ere attacked by four men, m ho in a moment struck the Cap- tain to the ground. Harland, whose cou- rage equalled his passions, immediately drew, as did Frederick, and endeavoured to guard the Captain, against whose life the ruffians seemed principally to direct their attention. A sharp conflict ensued, in which their assailants had evidently the superiority, and they were nearly overpowered, when a man, wrapped in a large roquelaure, hastily approached. Frederick apprehended an associate of the ruffians, but was agreeably unde- ceived by one of them being instantly levelled with the dusi by the contents of a pistol ! WANDERER. 191 a pistol ! The sti'anger then flew to his side, and, seizing the Captain's sword, obHged the assassins in their turn to act on the defensive. Alarmed by the report of the pistol, the boat's crew, who were waiting for the Captain, followed the direction of the sound, and arrived at the moment the ruffians, unable to perpetrate their design, fled ; leaving their companion behind tliem, severely wounded. Frederick instantly assisted to raise his tincle ; and the sailors, mistaking the stranger for one of the assassins, as in- stantly secured him, and, finding the fort alarmed, took the Captain in their arms and returned to the boat. When 192 THE MYSTERIOUS When they arrived on board, proper applications were used to restore the Captain, who had been rendered sense- less by the blow; and who, after assur- ing his nephew he was not materially hurt, inquired after the men who had assaulted them. Frederick, whose anxiety for his uncle had till that moment precluded every other idea, immediately recalled to mind the generous stranger; and, with the warmest praises on his bravery, related the service he had rendered them. The glow of impatient gratitude for a mo- ment warmed the cheek of the Captain, as he looked round for this unknown friend : but not discovering him, he ea- gerly asked where he xvas ? — and, to his great %VANDERER. Ip3 great surprise, was informed the men had confined him till his pleasure re- specting him should be known. *' Merciful Heaven !" he ejaculated. '' What a return !— Frederick — " Frederick flew out of the cabin, and in a short time re-entered, conducting the stranger, who held his cloak to his face, as wishing to be concealed. The Captain rose, supported by Har- land, and, extending his hand, said — '^ I know not, Sir, how to offer an apology for the injurious treatment you have re- ceived, from the honest but mistaken zeal of my men, but, misled by appearance, they could not distinguish whether you VOL. I. K were 194? I'HE MYSTERIOUS were friend or foe. To the aid you so generously afforded, I am undoubtedly indebted for the preservation of my life, for which I return my most sincere thanks. Will you now inform me to whom I am thus obliged, that I may like- wise by my actions prove my gratitude." The stranger appeared agitated, clas- ped his hands, then, hastily advancing to the Captain, sunk at his feet, and, throwing off the roquelaure, discovered to his astonished senses — Sir Henry Corbet ! With a countenance pale as though oppressed by death, the Captain re- garded him, whilst Sir Henry, seizing his hand, pressed it to his breast, and ex- WANDERER. IC)5 exclaimed—*' Repay the obligation, then, by restoring me to that place in your friendship I once possessed, and grant- ing that protection I still must entreat!'' The Captain endeavoured to raise and' answer him, but, unable to speak, gave a faint groan, and sunk into tlie arms of Frederick; who, confounded and amazed at the apparition, could scarcely credit the evidence of his senses, or believe the person of his friend to be real. Sir Henry, equally alarmed at the state of the Captain, assisted to convey him to his cabin: and, when reco- vered, joined iiis entreaties to the sur- geon's, that he would seek the repose he so much required. The Captain unwil- K 2 ungly 1^6 THE MYSTERIOUS lingly yielded to' their solicitations ; as he wished to have had an immediate ex- planation respecting the re-appearance of one whom he had so long thought dead; but, Sir Henry promising to satisfy his curiosity on the morrow, retired — having been previously assured that his request for protection should not a se- cond time be refused, '" Accordingly, in the morning, he attended with Frederick; and the Captain, as soon as he beheld him, gave him his hand, saying with a smile — *M find, Sir Henry, I must be doubly your debtor : your assistance last night preserved my life and now to you I must look for those oJessings which can alone render life desirable. To you, my Ellenor, WANDLRER. 197 Ellenor, in her letter, refers me for in- telligence : tell me then what fate she has hitherto experienced ; for much I fear fortune may have in every respect proved unfavourable." ** Of Ellenor and your son, Captain," answered Sir Henry, *' I have litde to re- late. At the time she left London with her infant, she sought the protection of my father, who procured her an honourable asylum in the family of the Reverend Mr. Blond; with his relict I believe she at present resides. Edward, when I first quitted England, was pursuing his studies at the University ; which he left previously to the report of my death ; and, with his mother and Mrs. Blond, fled — to avoid the unfeeling hand of K 3 oppresion ; igS THE MYSTERIOUS oppression ; but where to — I know not." " I feared as much !" sighed the Cap- tain. — *^ But Heaven/' he continued with a more cheerful accent, may yet befriend me: I have by a miracle, I cannot call it less, recovered you from the grave : and from your hand I still hope to re- ceive my Ellenor. I am, I find, neces- sary to the elucidation of the mysteries Mr. Talton formerly mxntioned : the friendship you have shown to my son, independendy of the regard I entertain for yourself, demands from m^e the rea- diest assistance : tell me, then, what course I am to pursue, and doubt not my proving the friend you wish." Sir WANDERER, 199 Sir Henry warmly thanked the Cap- tain for the generous offer. ^' Personal protection," he continued, '• is all I at present request..." He paused a moment, then again continued — '*' I last night, Captain Howard, promised to explain to you the accident by which you were led into the belief of my death, and, as far as I am at liberty, to relate the par- ticulars of my conduct. Of the latter, I can say but litde ; and only entreat you will not judge or condemn me by appearances. ** Mr.Talton, I presume, has already acquainted you with the marriage of my parents ; of which I am the only off- spring : the offspring, indeed, of indiffe- rence ! Since reason dawned, I have K 4 drunk 200 THE MYSTERIOUS drunk the bitter draught of unhappiness ; my childhood passed in sorrow; paren- tal hatred still pursued me — and the events of one night, soon after the death of my father, I acknowledge, nearly be- reft me of reason ! To fly from scenes I had not strength of mind to support, 1 left my home, and sought relief in the bosom of friendship ; till a mother's tears won me to return, when again 1 became the prey of midnight horrors ! ** Long I sustained them ; till nature sunk beneath their influence, and nearly resigned me to the grave ! Again I re- solved to fly. — * Seek my Edward,' said your Ellenor; ' his generous hand will sustain thee, and hereafter bear thy cha- racter open to the world !' She accord- ingly WANDERER. 201 ingly wrote, and, with the assistance of a gypsey, from whom I procured an humble disguise, I eluded the watchful- ness of my mother, and again became an itinerant, " I was nearly three weeks, in the weak state of my health, crossing the kingdom ; as I had gained intelligence you were stationed at Yarmouth; where I was inquiring if any of your crew were on shore, when the appearance of Mr. Talton nearly annihilated me I Imagining he was in quest of me, I heeded not the ansv/er to my question ; but fled — and Providence conducted me to your nephew. Not wishing to be known to any other than the Captain Howard, whom I sought, I assumed the name of K 5 mv £02 THE MYSTERIOUS my friend, which shame afterwards with- held me from resigning, or delivering the letter I had received from Ellenor. — Refused your protection when disco- vered by Mr. Talton, and fearing, if persuasion failed, he would force me to return with him, I had no alternative but to leave the ship. Scarcely knowing what I did, I gave the letter to one of the men, and, hastily descending to the boat, was conveyed on shore. I pur- sued my way toward Lowestoff, when, recollecting Talton probably would en- deavour to traee me, I changed clothes with a lad I overtook, and, giving him my watch, he promised secrecy, should any inquiries respecting me be made. My intention then was to have proceeded to Harwich; whence I thought it probable I might WANDERER. , 203 I rnight find some vessel going to th« Continent: but, late in the evening, I was met by some smugglers. Without cere- mony, they demanded who I was, and where I was going ? I answered these questions to their satisfaction ; when, judging by my garb I should suit their service, they, without farther interroga- tion, informed me I must go with them. As my life was fully in their power, I thought it most prudent to assent with an appearance of good-will, and there- fore readily accompanied them on board a cutter they had lying a litde distance from the shore. Our sails were imme- diately set, and we passed before the wind with such rapidity as soon freed me from my fears of Talton. We pro- ceeded to the coast of Holland, where K 6 with 204 THE MYSTERIOUS with some difficulty I escaped from my companions, and got on board a trading vessel belonging to Cardigan ; and, wish- ing to see your Ellenor and Mrs. Blond, immediately on my arrival there set out for Caermarthen, which I reached in the evening. " Fearful of passing near the hall, lest any of the servants should discover me, I went by the village ; but, my pre- caution was useless : an old man, who had formerly been in the service of my grandiather, accidentally followed, and knew me notwithstanding my disguise ; and, misled by the report of my death, declared to some of his neighbours he had seen my spectre I As I was has- tening to the humble dwelling of Mrs. Blond, WANDERER. 205 Blond, I was stopped by the appearance of Mallet, my mother's steward; and, knowing the consequence which must ensue if I were seen by him, I fled to the cottage of old Owen for shelter. Owen had that instant entered, and was re- lating his tale to his wife, when my re- appearance and voice convinced him of his mistake. He acquainted me with the tale which was circulated of my death, and regretted the freedom with which he had mentioned seeing me that evening: for Owen well knew the cir- cumstances which had driven me from my home; and, as Mr. Talton w-as re- turned, advised me instandy to fly Caer- marthen; promising, if any notice should be taken of what he had uttered, to con- duct himself in such a manner as should effec- §06 THE MYSTERIOUS effectually screen me from danger. I thanked him, and, finding Mallet was gone, hastened to the residence of your Ellenor. But, alas ! Captain, it was de- serted; she had left her ancient asylum, with Mrs. Blond, but a fewdays before t This intelligence I learned from a servant who was left in the house, and who like- wise told me some particulars, that"— - Sir Henry paused — hesitated ! ^^ I was obliged to enter the walls of Corbet Hall — what passed, I may here- after relate; though, would to Heaven it could be for ever blotted from my re- membrance ! ** Spiritless and truly forlorn, every hope WANDERER. £07 hope destroyed, I retraced my steps to Cardigan; and engaged as a com- mon sailor, in a merchantman trading ta Havre-de-Grace; but not hking the Captain, I left him on our arrival there, and led a wandering life : till I entered ©n board a vessel at L'Orient bound for Pondicherry ; which arrived at this island with others a few days since. ** The restraint imposed on me by the presence of my messmates, was too se- vere to support continually : beside the anguish which preyed on my mind, my heart was with you ; I wished to eradi- cate those sentiments you entertained^ from the misrepresentations of Talton, and regain that place in your friendship^ I once enjoyed. To 208 THE MYSTERIOUS '^ To indulge these wishes, and enjoy the freedom of reflection, I last night sought for solitude ; when the clashing of swords drew me to your assistance. I first distinguished the voice of Frede- rick, which brought with it the idea that Mr. Talton (as he once mentioned an intention of visiting the Indies) might be with you : as the most probable means of concealment, I therefore determined on silence ; tmsting that in the hurry of their attendance on you, I might unob- served satisfy my suspicions, and, if they were just, escape again to shore." *' Yet, tell me," said the Captain, " on what account you so anxiously wish to avoid Mr. Talton ? or why my Ellenor so precipitately fled from Lieutenant Booyers, Booyers, on hearing of his arrival in the village ? He hinted that she was in- volved in pecuniary difficulties; to which Talton's name was annexed. Is she an- swerable to him for any money ?" Sir Henry answered in the negative, and begged to know what he particularly alluded to, as he had not mentioned the immediate cause of her flight. The Captain related what had passed at Lieutenant Booyers', and the idea he entertained, that Mr. Talton, notwith- standing his assertion to the contrary, had proved an enemy to his Ellenor. Sir Henry gave a sigh to the sorrows of poor Booyers ; who, he said, would prove a real protector to Ellenor till it pleased £10 THE mysterious; |)Ieased Heaven to conduct them to hen " But, alas !" he continued, " the cloud which envelopes me, likewise extends its pernicious influence to her/' CHAPTER -WANDERER, £U CHAPTER VIIL Frederick now turned the dis- course to the occurrence of the prece- ding night ; and proposed going on shore, to learn, if possible, who were the assailants, as he could not from their conduct think them robbers. The Cap- tain consented ; when Harland, who burned with impatience to revenge his quarrel with young Ferrand, asked per- mission to accompany him ; which hav- ing obtained, he hastily took his pistols, and, with Frederick, was conveyed to eiiore. The ^12 THE MYSTERIOUS The soldiers who the night before, on the report of the pistol, hastened to the spot where the Captain had been as- saulted, found the wounded man, and conveyed him to the fort ; he was there discovered to be one of the Governor's attendants: and, on being questioned, declared he had been attacked by several men, against whom he defended himself, till one of them shot him; that, as soon as he fell, the rufHans fled, imagining, he supposed, that they had effectually executed their purpose, and he was soon after found by the soldiers. The Governor was accordingly in- formed of the circumstance, and ordered an immediate search to be made after the supposed assassins. At this juncture, the com- WANDERER. 213 companions of the wounded, who were likewise in the service of the Governor, returned, and endeavoured to get un- perceived to their apartment ; but the blood with which one of them was plen- tcously bedewed, betrayed them to their fellows: they were seized, confined, and, as soon as the Governor rose in the morning, conveyed into his presence. At first they refused to answer to the charge against them ; till the Governor threatened to have them instantly pu- nished for their cruelty ; when they ve- hemently protested their innocence; but, on being further urged, confessed they had been instigated by a considerable gratuity from young Ferrand, to under- take the assassination of Lieutenant Har- land ; in the attempt of which their com- panion had been wounded. This 5214 THE MYSTERIOUS This, the wounded man was at last likewise induced to acknowledge ; and, with great apparent contrition, implored the clemency of the Governor. That gentleman, justly incensed at this pro- ceeding of his nephew, ordered him to be immediately called; and committed the men to strict confinement, till he should learn whether or not they had perpetrated their design. At this instant Frederick and Harland arrived ; on beholding the latter, young Ferrand turned pale ; and the Governor, with some surprise, demanded an ex- planation of Frederick, of what he knew concerning the affair. Frederick gave an account of the assault, and concluded with the assurance; that his uncle, whom jthe WANDERER. £15 the men had mistaken for Harland, was not in the least danger. The Governor expressed his satisfaction at the latter in- telligence; so much more favourable than he had expected : but, as he could not readily pardon the violent measures his nephew had pursued, he commanded him immediately to retire to his country seat: and, to prevent his having an opportu- nity of meeting Harland, ordered the Lieutenant instantly to return and re- main on board. Inconceivable was the rage of Har- land and Ferrand at this restriction : but they were obliged to obey; each secretly tormented with the idea, that his rival would fmd opportunities of seeing Louise, and gaining her aflections. The keen eye 216 THE MYSTERIOUS eye of jealousy had soon told Ferrand Louise preferred Harland to himself; wounded pride and indignation now led to the desire of revenge ; and before he reached the abode, appointed by his uncle, he resolved to carry her off; by Avhich means he should effectually punish her disregard for himself, and triumph over his rival. He had trusty slaves, and a retreat well calculated to secrete his prize from the knowledge of her friends and his uncle, who might other- wise severely resent his committing this second outrage. Whilst Ferrand was setding his plan of procedure, Harland returned on board; one moment glowing with rage to chastise the East-Indian; the next, nearly WANDERER. 21/ nearly frantic, lest his rank, and the interest of his uncle, should ultimately gain him the hand of Louise. The be- ing debarred from seeing her> likewise added to the tumult of his mind ; which the presence of Sir Henry, or the com- mendations bestowed on him by others, did not tend to alleviate. Often in secret had he sighed for that cordiality and esteem Sir Henry expe- rienced, instead of the cold respect with which himself was treated: but pride would not let him deviate from the con- duct he had hitherto pursued ; and, at the moment he regretted its influence, it hurried him into greater excesses. In a few days the Captain, being per- VOL. I. L fectly 218 THE MYSTERIOUS fectly recovered, sent an invitation to the Governor^ and the principal part of the company he had met at that gentle man's, to pass the ensuing day on board the Argo: and, at the time appointed, the impatient Harland anxiously watched the approaching boats, and with joy perceived the lovely Louise seated by the Marchioness. * On beholding the fair European, the gaiety Sir Henry had assumed, suddenly deserted him; in vain he endeavoured to withdraw his eyes and attention from the fascinating maid ; emotions but too perceptible agitated him, and the con- sciousness of betraying his feelings, in- creased them to the most painful degree. Harland M'ANDERtR. 21^ Ilarland at last observed him, and jealousy whispered that Sir Henry loved Louise. The idea, in an instant, clouded the happiness her presence had given rise to; as Sir Henry, he well knew, must prove a far more formidable rival than Ferrand, whose chief recommen- dations were rank and fortune; but Sir Henry, to equal attractions, united a person, in which every manly beauty, fast springing to perfection, received addi- tional lustre from an innate elegance of hianners. Melancholy, indeed, had too apparently '' marked him for her own,'* but that melancholy rendered him still more interesting. Louise heeded not his agitation or attention, till an accident, trivial in L 2. itself, 220 THE MYSTERIOUS itself, forced it to her observation, and confirmed the suspicion of Harland. In extending her hand to re-place some fruit, a miniature fell from her bosom; Sir Henry took it up, but in restoring it to the fair owner, glanced his eyes on the features it represented. ** Oh God, it is herself!" — he exclaimed, and grasped the hand of Louise — but checking the rising sentence, hastily gave the picture, and rushed pa&t Frederick out of the cabin, Frederick instantly followed to ask an explanation, and found Sir Henry in the utmost agitation. " For Heaven's sake, my friend," he exclaimed, '^ what is the occasion of this strange behaviour ? Recollect yourself; nor nor force the company to surmises perhaps equally injurious to Mademoi- selle St. Ursule and yourself. Yield not thus to the influence of your pas- sions, or I shall indeed fear for your* reason. Believe me, Sir Henry, I wish not impertinently to pry into tiio'^e se- crets honour forbids your revealing — yet to those you can confide, I must as- sert my right. You know my heart : it beats with the sincerest friendship to- ward you: trust it then, Sir Henry — and let it at least share your sorrows !" Sir Henry wrung his hand — *' Oh Fre- derick, that night — that fatal night! — ■ and now Louise" — *' Is, I am afraid, attached to George," L 3 said 222 THE MYSTERIOUS said Frederick. Sir Henry did not notice the observation, but continued — '' Yet why should I shrink from an explana- tion ? No — I Aviil wait on the Mar- chioness to-morrow."— " To that you must first have my con- sent!" exclaimed Harland, bursting into the cabin. *' I love Louise; and, be- fore I will resign the thoughts of her, I will resign my life ! You had better, therefore, withdraw your pretensions." *' What means this interruption, Lieutenant Harland?" said Sir Henry. *^ My pretensions to Louise are founded on ties far above your power to contro- vert or forbid!" ( Passion Passion gleamed in the eyes of Har- land; and Frederick, fearing a quarrel would ensue, entreated they would cease the subject, and return to the company : but Sir Henry declared he was too much indisposed to experience pleasure in so- ciety. Harland, whose jealousy had in- duced him to follow Sir Henry, to de- mand an explanation of his words, con- cluding the attempt would prove inef- s fectual, yielded to the remonstrances of Frederick, and returned to the gentle Louise; yet, the idea of Sir Henry's application to the Marchioness, and the fear that his overtures would be accepted, added poignancy to his torments. Harland determined, how- ever, if possible, to frustrate his design ; accordingly, as soon as the company L 4 returned, £24 THE MYSTERIOUS returned on shore, he sought Sir Henry, and demanded a conference; this was refused; and he passed the night in re- flections ill calculated to calm the passion which rage and jealousy had excited. In the morning Sir Henry was taking advantage of the earliest boat, when Harland, who had been watching his ap- pearance, hurried after him, and spring- ing into it, declared he should not go unaccompanied. Sir Plenry could not conceal his chagrin, but, seating himself in silence, they were conveyed on shore. Meanwhile, Frederick, anxious to prevent the consequences he appre- hended from the passionate Harland, as soon as he rose, went to his cabin, to exert WANDERER, 2£5 exert his influence in conciliating the jealous difference : but, being informed he was gone on shore with Sir Henry, and missing his pistols, he hastened to his uncle, and, acquainting him with the preceding transactions, begged he would permit him to follow them, to prevent hostilities. The Captain said he was too well assured of Sir Henry's forbear- ance to fear a duel : he rather sup- posed they were gone to the Marchioness, whither orderinoj the barege, he imme- diately proceeded, accompanied by Fre- derick : but Sir Henry and Harland had not been there. On being landed, Harland took Sir Henry by the arm, and, conducting kirn fxond the town, asked if he recoi- ls 5 lected 226 THE MYSTERIOUS lected the sentiments he had avowed the preceding evening: these the Lientenant repeated, at the same time declaring he would oppose every pretension for the favour of Louise, and more especially from him, whom he hated ! *' As I am certain, no part of my con- duct," said Sir Henry, ** has given just cause for your hatred, I can forgive that arising from jealousy. On no account, however, shall I defer my intended visit to the Marchioness, in which you have altogether mistaken my motive/' *^ Mistaken your motive 1" repeated Harland haughtily. '* Do you not love • Louise — what other proof, then, is re- c^uisite ?* '' That WANDERER. 227 ^^ That I love Louise, said Sir Henry, I acknowledge ; but, as we cannot agree upon this subject, I will wish you good morning." He coolly bowed, and was leaving him, when Harland, catching hold of his arm, presented his pistols, and desired he would take his choice. *^ I shall not fight. Lieutenant," said Sir Henry: but Harland forced a pistol into his hand, and, retiring a few paces, fired; but fortunately without effect. Sir Henry discharged his pistol in the air, and, returning it, asked if he was satis- fied ? Passion had by this time so far overpowei^d the Lieutenant as to de- prive him of articulation; and Sir Henry continued — "From my general conduct, Harland; you must be convinced it is L 6 not 228 THE MYSTERIOUS not fear which deters me from fighting : but as you are mistaken in the motive which induces you to this action, I should think myself unpardonable to resent it, otherwise than by assuring you of your mistake. Conscious of the rectitude of my intentions, I do not fear any scrutiny you may make on my conduct ; for which, if you hereafter demand satisfac- tion, you shall find me ready to render it, in any way you require/ He again bowed, and, repeating his salutation, walked on. *^Stay! Sir Hen- ry," vociferated Harland : *' at least you shall not go alone to the Marchioness : and beware how you act ; for, depend upon it, you shall hereafter render me account .^" They ^ WANDERER. £29 They arrived at the Marchioness's, as the Captain concluded the account he had received from Frederick. She smiled when they entered ; and Harland, with all the incoherence that anxiety and jealousy could excite, renewed his en- treaties, that she would permit his ad- dresses to Louise. He offered to settle the whole of the fortune he then pos- sessed on her : and even to eDo;ao;e his parents to make an addition, if required. The Marchioness listened calmly to his offer, and gently chid him for his disobedience of the Governor's orders; but, on being farther importuned by the impatient Harland, repeated her former motives for refusinsr him : then addressing Sir Henry — "The same rea- sons, I presume, Sir Henry, will answer your pretensions." *^ My 2130 THE MYSTERIOUS " My pretensions, Madam," faltered Sir Henry, *' are different from those of Lieutenant Harland, I seek a child, %yho nineteen years since was left at the gates of St Ursule, in Rennes : whether Louise be that child, is easily known : tell me, Madam, if you have ever beheld a miniature similar to this ?" He drew one from his bosom, and presented it to the Marcliioness. ** Similar to this!'* she repeated with surprise. '^ Good Heavens, this is the miniature that was found with Louise ! Tell me, I entreat you, Sir Henry, how k came into your possession ; or if yoa know aught which could develope the mystery of her birth r'* At -^TANDERER. S3 1 At that moment Louise entered, and the Marchioness continued—'^ St. Ur- sule, my child, come hither. You are in the highest degree interested in the present subject. Sir Henry Corbet has brought this miniature, and inquires for a child who some years back was left at the gates of St. Ursule, in Ilennes." The colour fled the interesting face of Louise at this account: with a trembling hand she took the miniature, and com- pared it with that she constantly wore ; the resemblance was exact. *' Oh, Sir Henry !" she exclaimed ; " tell me, I conjure you, whence this picture ? You seek a child — say, do you know my pa- rents, or the reason of their cruel de- sertioa of me in my infancy ?'' '' Cruel 232 THE MYSTERIOUS " Cruel desertion indeed I" said Sir Henry; ^^ arising from shame to acknow- ledge their offspring 1 But no longer shall you be a dependent I My heart claimed you tfie moment I beheld you ; and a view of your mother's picture, last night, but confirmed my suspicion, that you were — my sister !" He clasped her in his arms in an affec- tionate embrace, unresisted by Louise ; who, surprised and bewildered at the unexpected claim, was for some mo- ments incapable of speaking. " Your sister !" exclaimed the Cap- tain and the Marchioness. *'Good God ! Sir Henry, by what strange circum- stances ?" " Seek WANDERER. 233 " Seek not an explanation, now," said Sir Henry, *^ which must expose the^ fiailties of a parent. The time is ap- proaching, when every action must bo revealed ; but till then, spare me — spare Louise !'* Louise now disengaged herself from the arms of Sir Henry, and, throwing herself into those of the Marchioness, cried — '^Oh, Madam, congratulate your Louise; she is no longer the child of desertion : she has found a relation-^ she has found a brother !" The INIarchioness embraced her affec- tionately ; and Sir Henry then presented her to the Captain and Frederick, as his sister. '' And S34 TPIE MYSTERIOUS " And will not you too participate in the happiness of this moment?" said the smiling Louise, advancing to Harland ; who had witnessed the discovery with sensations of horror rather than surprise. Roused from his torpor by this address, he regarded her a moment, then, wildly dashing his forehead, exclaimed — " By Heavens, my brain is on fire I" and ran precipitately out of the room. This incoherent behaviour of Harland re- pressed the joy arising in the bosom of Louise : she looked round as entreating an explanation, ** Do not be alarmed, my sweet girl," said the Captain : *' these flights of Har- land's arenotunfrequent: reflection will restore him to himself," The WANDERER. 235 The Marchioness would have urged the particulai:s of Louise's birth : but Sir Henry again entreated to be spared the relation, at the same time expressing. a wish that Louise should accompany him to England. The validity of hi* claim, the Marchioness could not doubt: the account she had received of him from the Captain would not admit the idea ; yet she declared she could not consent to part with Louise till the diffi- culties in which he appeared involved, were terminated ; she would then with pleasure resign the office of guardian. With this determination Sir Henry was obliged to comply, and, after passing an interesting and agreeable day, returned with Frederick on board. Here 236 THE MYSTERIOUS Here the servant of Harland, with a pallid countenance, informed them, his master had returned in the morning, in a state approaching to frenzy, which, after many inconsistent actions, had pro- duced an attempt on his life ! Alarmed at this account, they hastened to his ca- bin, where they found him in a raging fever. The shock he had experienced on finding that Sir Henry, to whom he had avowed such enmity, was the brother of Louise, and who in all probability would have the guidance of her future conduct, was to be equalled only by the know- ledge of her birth, which, contrary to his sanguine expectations, was ignoble : yet this consideration yielded to the idea, that that Sir Henry, in revenge, would in- fluence his sister against him, and per- haps withdraw her from his knowledge. Plurried into an excess of desperation on this supposititious disappointment to iiis love, he had madly attempted self- destruction ; in which he was prevented by his servant ; but his mind, unable to regain its wonted powers, had resigned him a prey to a burning fever. In beholding Sir Henry, every tortu- ring reflection rose with additional poi- gnancy : his friendly inquiries he deemed insulting, and desired to be left alone, or to the care of the surgeon and his servant. Sir Henry compHed, fearing his refusal would recall that frenzy, which T3S THE MYSTERIOUS %vhich a few hours after returned from the violence of his disease. For two days his life vvas despaired of: youth and medicine, however, prevailed : and the first object which presented it- self to his returning senses, w^as Sir Henry performing the little offices of friendship. He shrunk from the view ; but Sir Henry took his hand, and in the most cordial manner expressed bis satis- faction at his amendment. Pride, shame, remorse, and gratitude, contended a moment, for pre-eminence in his bosom; but his mind, softened by illness, yielded to the latter, and, press- ing the hand of Sir Henry, he faintly said — " Why must I regard you as an enemy?" Sir WANDERER. 239 Sir Henry, who beneath the haughty exterior of Harland s manners, had dis- covered the virtues which were in reality the possessors of his bosom, though warped by the prejudices of education, answered — " Put me to the test, and let me prove myself a friend ! Not my actions, but the passions of Harland, have induced him to entertain the idea : would he yield to the philanthropy na- ture implanted in his heart, and regard mankind as worthy his esteem, Corbet would indeed hail him as a friend and brother 1" The word Brother occasioned a tu- mult in the breast of Harland, which the surgeon observing, insisted on their ceasing farther conversation ; and Sir ' Henry 51:40 THE MVSTERlcbs*' Henry soon after left him to his re- pose. From this time Harland rapidly re- covered, and a few days after ventured to mention Louise. Sir Henry assured him of his ready concurrence in his ad- dresses to his sister ; and, observing a latent spark of pride rekindling at the idea of her birth, said — " The circum- stance of Louise's birth cannot, I admit, be justified: but reason, if not love, will acquit her of the fault and shame which must reflect on her parents. Her intrinsic virtues have gained her the admiration and friendship of her own sex; can ours then hesitate a moment in acknowledging them ? And remember, if it were not originally for their virtues, wc should none WANDER EH. 241 none have cause to boast of our an- cestors." Harland acknowledged the justness of his observation ; and Sir Henry, at his request, undertook to plead his cause to the Marchioness and Louise. The ^f archioness no longer objected to his addresses ; more especially as the anxiety Louise had experienced during his illness, convinced her he was not indifferent to her. Harland, therefore, had permission to visit as an accepted lover; the Governor, unapprehensive of any further danger respecting his ne- phew, readily consenting to free him from his interdiction. With an exultation he neither strove VOL, r. M to 242 THE MYSTERIOUS to repress, nor wished to conceal, Har- iand received the inteUigence of his en- franchisement, with the Marchioness's invitation ; nor would the Captain, by iinrjecessary delays, add to his impa- tience to behold Louise. Sir Henry was with his sister; the Captain and Frede- rick therefore accompanied him to the Marchioness's. Louise, now authorised by her patro- ness' as well as Sir Henry's approbation, received Harland as the lover of her choice : and his entreaty that she would unite her fate to his before they quitted St. Helena, was no longer refused. Louise was too ingenuous to conceal the senti- ments of her heart; and as she presented her hand, the chastened delight which sparkled WANDERER. £43 sparkled in her eyes, and the blush that suffused her cheek, told a tale to Har- land, which amply compensated for all tho anxiety he had suffered on her account. At his ardent request, the Marchio- ness appointed an early day for their nuptials; and Harland/ more enamoured than ever, in the evening hade adieu to Louise, and returned with the Captain and his youthful companions on board ; his heart replete with every pleasurable sensation that love and the gavest illu- sions of hope could inspire. But short was his promised happiness — the suc- ceeding morning, on going to tlie Mar- chioness's, he found that worthy lady and her daughters in tears, and the family in M 2 the 244 THE MYSTERIOUS the wildest confusion : Louise was not to be found ; nor could the least trace be dis- covered to direct them to the place where she had fled, or been forced 1 '* I have dispatched a servant for Captain Howard and Sir Henry," said the Marchioness, still weeping; " and have likewise sent for the Gover- nor; as I strongly, suspect it to be Fer- rand who has torn the sweet girl from my protection." The name of Ferrand recalled the sus- pended faculties of Harland : his brow contracted, fire flashed in his eyes, and ia dissonant terms of the maddest pas- sion, he vowed the destruction of his rival ! At 17AN DEREK. 245 • At this moment the Captain and Sir Henry arrived : the pallid countenance* of the latter spoke more forcibly than lano;ua2;e his concern at this accident, as, with trembling lips, he entreated the Marchioness to explain the particulars of the account they had received from the messenger. Little intelligence could be given. — Louise had, the preceding night, retired to her usual apartment; but in the morn- ing the Marchioness, surprised at her non-attendance at her toilet, (a duty Louise had never neglected) sent one of her daughters to inquire if she were indisposed, who immediately re- turned with the account, that she was not in her room, nor, from the appear- M 3 ance 246 THE MYSTERIOUS ance of the bed, had it that night been slept in ; one of the windows was like- wise open ; and, from the disorder of the furniture, and a handkerchief Louise had worn the preceding day lying on the floor, torn, they had every reason to suppose she had been forced away. The relation of these circumstances increased the frenzy of Harland, who would that instant have gone in pursuit of Ferrand. Sir Henry started up to accompany him, " This madness must not be," said the Captain, detaining them. "Though suspicion points at Ferrand, you are not certain he is the aggressor ; and if he be, it is to the friendship of his uncle you must %7ANDERER, 247 must look for redress : do not then, by an avowed act of violence, induce him to espouse the cause you want him to condemn. But iiere comes the Gover- nor ; and I beg, Harland, you will at least restrain your passion, and hear his opinion, before you deterniine on your procedure." Harland's feelings were at that moment too tremblingly alive to the insults Louise might experience, to admit the reason- ableness of the Captain's request. Louise was the prize on which he had fixed his happiness; nor could he, with even an appearance of indifference, see a man so nearly related to him, who had torn her from his arms. He could not, how- ever, 5248 THE MYSTERIOUS ever, reply, as the Governor was that instant announced. On being informed of their distress, that gentleman expressed such a gene- rous concern for the occasion of it, as nearly disarmed Harland of his resent- ment. He assured the Marchioness, if it were his nephew who had committed the outrage, Louise should be restored ; as, independently of her prior engage- ment to the Lieutenant, and amiable as he acknowledged her to be, he did not wish Ferrand to form an alHance with her. That no unnecessary time might be lost, he ordered two of his attendants to proceed immediately to his country- seat, with orders, if Louise had been carried WANPEREK. 5245 Carried there, to re-conduct |ier to the Marchioness. The impatience of Har- land could be no longer restrained ; he entreated the Governor would permit him to accompany the messengers. No one, he pleaded, was so interested in the issue of the search as himself; no one, then, so proper to undertake it. " I cannot grant your request, Lieu- tenant," answered the Goveraor, ''how- ever I may wish to oblige you ; as the life of my nephew might be endangered by my compliance. I know his dispo- sition — I have had proofs of yours : nor dare I trust you in the presence of each other. If it will be any satisfiiction to you, Sir Henry may go ; and if he be unsuccessful in his mission, you shall have i60 THE MYSTERIOUS have full liberty to search any, or every part of the isle, except the spot whei'e Ferrand is/* Harland thought the restriction un* just ; but the expressive aye of Sir Henry checked the impetuous sally of his ini* patience. " The anxiety I feel for the recovery of our Louise," said Sir Henry, address- ing him, *' can be exceeded, Harland, by none but your own : and for the per- mission offered me of accompanying the messengers, I accept it with thank- fulness. You, Harland, will remam with the Marchioness till my return ; when if I be unsuccessful, we will pro- ceed on a further search." The WANDERER. 251 The brow of Harland was still con- tracted : a darkened passion rolled over his soul : his eye glanced to the Gover- nor, who was conferring with the Mar- chioness and the Captain. Sir Henry read the tumult of his mind, and, draw- ing him aside, endeavoured to reconcile him to the Governor's commands. '^ And what," answered Harland ve- hemently, * ' must Louise think ^ To be rescued from the hand of villany — per- haps of dishonour, by the hand of a brother, or menials, whilst he who nearly claims the name of Husband stands by like a dastard, in the moment of danger 1 By Heavens, Sir Henry, it must not — shall not be!" ^52 THE MYSTERIOUS, &C. ^' It must, Harland," said Sir Henry. ** In this respect the Governor's will is law : and Louise is too just — too gene- rous, to impute to you as a slight, that which proceeds from necessity. Then cheer up, man ; in a few hours, I trusty all will be well" A servant now entered, to inform Sir Henry the attendants were waiting. H^ shook Harland by the hand, and, taking a hasty leave, set out for the Gover- nor's seat END OF VOLUME I. Printed by C. Spilsbury, Angel-Court, Snowbillr HECKMAN |±J BINDERY INC. |e| OCT 95 B..„..T„.P,„..N^ MANCHESTER,