Mystery and Confidence Volume Ii Part 5

"Whom were you pitying?--Of what was my Ellen thinking?"

"Pitying a woman, who, having once possessed your love, lost it so entirely, as to render her very name unpleasant to you. Thinking--ah, heaven!--thinking--should such ever be _my_ lot!"

She paused, struggling with a sudden gush of tears, and sobs which almost choaked her.

"Impossible, impossible!" exclaimed St. Aubyn, clasping her to his bosom: "you will never deserve it, never bring disgrace and dishonour on my name, and blast with misery the most acute, the best years of my life!--Agitate not yourself, my best love, with these frightful ideas.

Ah, had the hapless Rosolia been like thee!--but oh! how different were her thoughts and actions!----No more of this, compose yourself, my love, and tell me what more pa.s.sed with this strange proud woman."

After a few moments, Ellen recovered enough to repeat the remainder of the conversation, with the result of which he appeared very well pleased, and prophesied from the latter part of it they should soon be on good terms with Lady Juliana Mordaunt, an event for which he appeared so anxious, that Ellen could not fail to wish it also; and, indeed, that lady's good sense and just sentiments had made a very favourable impression on her mind, though her manners were so sour and repulsive.

This day Miss Cecil dined with her amiable friends, as they had no other company; indeed, except by a few gentlemen, their dinner hour had generally pa.s.sed uninterrupted, Ellen not being yet sufficiently acquainted with any ladies to mix with them in dinner parties. The report of St. Aubyn's male friends had, however, been so favourable towards her, as to incline Lady Meredith to wish a more intimate acquaintance, and to attract so much youth, beauty, and grace to her evening parties, while Lady Juliana was pleased to hear that she possessed qualities in her eyes far superior, namely, modesty, talents, and a demeanor towards her husband equally delicate and affectionate.

After dinner, St. Aubyn having some engagement, left the fair friends alone, and they enjoyed a long and confidential conversation.

From Laura, Lady St. Aubyn learnt that Lady Juliana was well known to her, and that in spite of her austere and forbidden manners, and the pleasure she undoubtedly took in contradicting almost every thing she heard, she was yet a woman of good sense, and would most certainly, could her esteem be once engaged, prove to Ellen a steady and valuable friend: "Especially," added Laura, "should any thing happen to Lord St.

Aubyn, for she is his only near relation to whom he could confide the future interests, either of his wife or child; and young and beautiful as you are, my dear Ellen, no doubt St. Aubyn thinks such an additional support would be highly desirable for you." Seeing she was deeply affected, for Ellen now believed she could discern the cause of St.

Aubyn's anxiety for her being on good terms with his aunt, and connected it with the painful circ.u.mstances he had told her were hanging over him, Laura now added, with a pensive smile, "Nay, my dear friend, do not be distressed. I have of late thought so much of mortality, I was not sensible how much you would be pained by the suggestion; but certainly, St. Aubyn will not leave you a moment the sooner for my hinting the possibility of such an event."

Ellen endeavoured to shake off the painful ideas which forced themselves upon her, and asked Miss Cecil if she had known much of the former Countess. "Not very much," said Laura: "she was very handsome, but the character of her beauty was so different from yours, that I have often wondered how St. Aubyn came to _choose_ two so different; though, indeed, I believe I should hardly say choose, for Lady Rosolia de Montfort was not so much his choice as that of his relations--at least, I believe he would never have thought of her as a wife if they had not."

"Who was she? Do tell me a little about her: I am quite a stranger to all particulars."

"I know little more than I have told you, except that she was the only daughter of the late Earl de Montfort, a distant relation of Lord St.

Aubyn's. Lord de Montfort, during the life of his elder brother, went to Spain in a diplomatic situation, and there married the daughter of the Duke de Castel Nuovo: this marriage with an English protestant, was, for a long time, opposed by the lady's relations: but, at length, moved by fear and compa.s.sion for her, whose attachment threw her into a lingering disease, which threatened her existence, they consented on one condition, namely, that the sons of the marriage should be educated Roman Catholics, and on the death of their father, be placed with their maternal grandfather, while they permitted the daughters to be brought up in the Protestant religion, hoping, perhaps, that the influence of a mother over females might ultimately bring them also over to her faith: but the Countess died young: one son and one daughter were her only children, the boy some years younger than his sister: they both remained with their father (who soon after his marriage became Earl de Montfort), sometimes in Spain, sometimes in England, till the marriage of Lady Rosolia with Lord St. Aubyn, though she was frequently his mother's guest, both in London and at St. Aubyn Castle, where the young Edmund also often spent some time: he was a very fine and amiable boy, and excessively attached to his sister.

When Lord de Montfort died, the son was claimed by his maternal grandfather, and Lord and Lady St. Aubyn went to Spain with him, where she died: report spoke unfavourably of her conduct during her abode on the Continent; indeed, in England, the gaiety of her manners, especially after the death of Lord St. Aubyn's mother, approached more nearly to the habits of foreign ladies than those of England. It was said, that while abroad, Lord St. Aubyn was involved in many unpleasant circ.u.mstances by her behaviour: certain it is, that on his return, he appeared overwhelmed with melancholy, which was the more extraordinary, as it was well known they had not lived on very affectionate terms even before they had quitted this country."

"And what became of her brother: where is the young Lord de Montfort?"

asked Ellen. "He has remained ever since in Spain," replied Laura; "but as he will very soon be of age, he must then, I suppose, return to England to take possession of his estates, of which Lord St. Aubyn is the guardian."

"Oh," thought Ellen, "is it to his return St. Aubyn looks with so much apprehension and dismay? What! O! what is the strange mystery in which this story seems to be involved?"

CHAP. VI.

"Within 'twas brilliant all, and light, A thronging scene of figures bright: It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight, As when the setting sun has given Ten thousand hues to summer's even; And from their tissue fancy frames, aerial knights and fairy dames."

LADY OF THE LAKE.

The next morning, Ellen, who felt a little fatigued from the various circ.u.mstances of the day before, some of which had considerably agitated her spirits, declined going out; and after breakfast retired to her own dressing-room; Laura, at the same time, going to her's, having letters to write to her father and some other friends.

Lady St. Aubyn was soon surrounded by her favourite books, some maps, a drawing she was finishing, and all those resources with which she now knew so well how to fill up her time. In one corner stood an elegant harp, on which Ellen had been taking lessons, and had made a considerable proficiency; in another sat her faithful Jane busy at her needle, at which she was very expert; and Ellen detesting to see any one idle, kept her generally employed either in fine work, or making linen for the poor, to seek out, and relieve whom, was one branch of Jane's business. A simple, though graceful taste, regulated the ornaments and furniture of this favourite retirement; no velvet cushions, no overwhelming perfumes, were met with here; all was elegant, but all was modest, and generally useful: a small bookcase, a porte-feuille, a netting box, shewed that its inhabitant loved to be employed.

By a cheerful fire this fair inhabitant was now seated: the modesty of her demeanor, the delicacy of her dress, were such as suited one, who, though young, and even girlish, was a wife, and likely to be a mother; the tout-ensemble, in short, was a perfect contrast to the figure, dress, and apartment of the luxurious Lady Meredith. A complete silence prevailed (for Jane had learned when her lady chose, which as now was sometimes the case, to have her in her apartment, to be quiet), and had lasted at least half an hour, when a step was heard in the anti-room; and a footman knocking at the door, Jane opened it, and the servant requested her to tell her lady that----A voice behind interrupted him, by saying, "You need not trouble yourself, Sir; I know my way, and shall announce myself." Ellen rose, and looked surprised, for visitors were never shewn to this room: still more was she amazed when she saw the sharp countenance and stiff figure of the old lady she now supposed to be Lady Juliana Mordaunt, who, pushing by the man, gave him one of her express nods, and said, "You may go, Sir."--She then advanced, and seeing Jane, who rose and stared at this extraordinary visitant, she said, with another nod to Ellen, "So, you make your maid work at her needle: I am glad of it; but send her away now, for I want to talk to you." Ellen seeing that Jane hesitated to leave her with this stranger, whom the poor girl began to believe was deranged, told her to go to her own room, and she, gathering up her work, very readily obeyed; though she went to the housekeeper and told her she thought they had better both go and stay in the anti-room, for she really believed a mad-woman was gone into her Lady's dressing-room. "Nonsense!" said the housekeeper: "I saw the lady go up: it is my Lord's aunt, Lady Juliana."

This intelligence quieted Jane, who really was under some fears for Ellen, to whom she was become tenderly attached.

In the meantime, Lady Juliana seeing that Ellen continued standing, said--"Sit down, child, and don't be frightened." Ellen gladly obeyed, for she could not help feeling a little agitated by Lady Juliana's strange mode of visiting.

The old lady looked round the room, and after a moment's pause, said--"Why, you are an unfashionable young woman, I see; work, books, maps, and the furniture remaining nearly as it was seven years ago!

What, has n.o.body told you, child, the whole house ought to be new furnished?"

"Indeed, Ma'am, if they had, I should have paid no attention to them,"

said Ellen. "I must, indeed, be a strange ungrateful creature, if the magnificent furniture of this house was not more than equal to my wishes."

"So much the better, I am glad of it," returned Lady Juliana.--"Do you know me?" she added, turning in her usual abrupt manner to Ellen.

"I believe--I think I can guess."

"Oh, I suppose you told St. Aubyn you had met with a cross, disagreeable old woman at Lady Meredith's, and he told you it must have been his aunt, Lady Juliana Mordaunt."

"Indeed, Madam," said Ellen, blushing a little at a statement so near the truth.

"Nay, don't tell lies, child," bluntly replied the old lady. "I hate flattery; besides, your countenance won't let you. I know what I am, which is more than every body can say. And do you generally spend your mornings in this manner?"

"Generally, unless my Lord wishes me to go any where with him."

"And what do you do in the evening?"

"Lord St. Aubyn, Miss Cecil, and myself, sit together: we net or work, while he reads to us, unless Miss Cecil is sufficiently in spirits to give us some music."

"And have you no idea, child, how ridiculous the fashionable people think all this?"

"I am sorry for it."

"But will you persist in the same plan?" Ellen smiled.

"And do you mean to go on in this way all the time you are in town?"

"Not exactly perhaps. I am to see a little more of the public places; but my Lord wished me to wait till----"

"Till what? You may as well tell me, for I see you have an old-fashioned way of speaking your thoughts."

"It is true, your Ladyship sees in me one so little accustomed to the habits of the great world, that I have not yet learned to dissemble: will you permit me to say, and not be displeased, that Lord St. Aubyn anxiously wished to procure a chaperon, whose sanction should be unexceptionable--in short, Lady Juliana Mordaunt."

"I believe you are a little flatterer after all," said Lady Juliana, relaxing into a smile. "With all your talk of sincerity, I hardly believe St. Aubyn thought of me at all; and how, if he did, he could fancy I should ever get the better of the shock he gave my pride, call it prejudice if you will, by marrying _you_--for I love plain-dealing, child. I don't know but it is all over now--I like you; and if you will continue as modest and unaffected as you are now, keep your neck and arms covered, and bring your Lord an heir, that these de Montforts may not succeed to his t.i.tle, I will love you, and do all I can to a.s.sist and support you."

Seeing that Ellen blushed at the last hint, she added,--"Nay, you need not blush, though I like to see you can: for I promise you, it was observing the probability of such an event that did more to reconcile me to you than all your beauty and merit could have done; so take care of yourself, and don't disappoint me; and now, my dear, kiss me, and call me _aunt_ whenever you please."

Ellen modestly and gracefully bent to receive the old Lady's embrace, and at that instant St. Aubyn opened the dressing-room door, and found the two people he loved best in the world in each other's arms, with tears of tenderness on the cheeks of both.

"What do I see!" he exclaimed.--"Is it possible!"

"Yes," said Lady Juliana, "it is very possible you see a foolish old woman, who loves you too well not to love one so dear to you, and so worthy of being loved."

St. Aubyn respectfully and affectionately kissed the hand she gave him, and clasping Ellen in his arms, exclaimed, "My dearest Ellen, how happy has all this made me!"