Mystery and Confidence Volume Iii Part 3

"Well then, my Lord, since in this contrariety of a.s.sertion and evidence it is impossible that I should know what to believe, I will for the present, at least, act as if I thought you innocent. Seek this De Sylva--seek him if you will throughout the world. I will breathe no word, hint no suspicion, that may impede you in the search. Should you be able to bring his confession in evidence of your integrity, I will then entreat your pardon for my disbelief. If, on the contrary, any new appearances of guilt arise against you--should any new discoveries inimical to your innocence be made, I shall still know how to reach you.

"Here let us part! As soon as my weak state will permit, I leave this fatal, this detested roof, and will join my grandfather at Madrid: from his letters I learn what you have led him to believe on this shocking subject. If, indeed, your tale be true, I ought most thankfully to acknowledge the lenient tenderness with which you have treated my poor sister's reputation.--But oh! could she, could she be so guilty?----At all events, it is well the Duke should credit your statement. At his age, the doubts which shake me thus would kill him!--Let us meet no more at present--Should De Sylva be found, write to me: write in English, and the people about me will not understand your letter. All farther search into this matter I must postpone till the commencement of my majority shall leave me my own master; then I must once more visit England, such is my father's will, to take possession of my estates in that country, and to receive the accounts from you. Then, my Lord, we will finally consider all the proofs which shall then have been obtained of your innocence or guilt; and I shall then either bewail the faults of Rosolia, or revenge her death, either by my sword or the hand of the law, as I may think most proper. I shall then be a man, and more able, both by improved judgment and bodily strength, to a.s.sert my own convictions. Most earnestly do I wish, long ere that period arrives, your character may be cleared: yet, ah! how can I wish it, if by that acquittal my poor Rosolia must be proved so guilty!'

"In a few days after this conversation, Edmund, under the care of a person in whom I could confide, set out for Madrid; and I soon after discharging all my servants, except Mrs. Bayfield and my valet, whom I sent to England, left also this fatal spot. I hired a mule, and alone pa.s.sed through the Sierra into La Mancha; and at Civedad I engaged a servant, not choosing to take one with me who had known any thing of the late painful transactions. On mules we proceeded, making every inquiry for De Sylva. Not even my servant knew my real name and rank; as I thought by concealing these I might have a better chance of finding the villain I sought: but still my search was vain. From Toledo, where I rested a short time, I wrote to some of the officers of De Sylva's regiment at Seville, to know if he had returned thither, though it appeared most improbable he should have done so: but I was desirous of trying every chance by which he might be discovered. In answer, I learnt De Sylva had obtained leave of absence about two months before; but though it had been some time expired, he was not yet returned: so that the charge of desertion was now added to those others, which I doubted not induced him to keep himself concealed. I travelled through Spain, avoiding Madrid, where I knew my friend and correspondent, the Marquis of Northington, who was resident there in a diplomatic capacity, would make every search for De Sylva; and pa.s.sing the Pyrenees, entered the frontier of France, though with great risk and hazard, had I been known to be English; but I pa.s.sed everywhere for a Spaniard, speaking the language as a native, having from my childhood been accustomed to speak it with Rosolia and Edmund; and I fancied in those wild mountains I might meet with De Sylva, who was likely to a.s.sort with the desperate characters with which they at that time abounded. But vain was my search, and at length I returned to England; and thinking that in London, perhaps, I might find this wretch connected with gamesters, I sought him at every house where such persons are likely to be found; but still, still the search was fruitless.

"I then came hither for awhile, to rest my wearied spirits. Here, vanquished by the constant hara.s.sings I had so long undergone, I fell into a severe fit of illness, through which my good Bayfield nursed me with the tenderest care; and as she alone knew all the griefs which oppressed me, I could without restraint give vent to my sorrows in her presence.

"Immediately after my recovery I had a letter from my friend Lord Northington, who had at my request, by himself and his agents, made every possible inquiry for De Sylva. He informed me that a person of suspicious character had lately been arrested, and stood charged with various crimes; and amongst the rest, of desertion; that from my description of him, he fancied this man to be De Sylva. I instantly wrote to Edmund, that I hoped the object of my long search was found; that I should go to Spain immediately, and would see him as soon as any thing was ascertained: but alas! after all my trouble and fatigue this man proved to be totally unlike De Sylva, and in no way connected with him.

"Mortified and disappointed, I yet went to Seville, where Edmund then was. The Duke de Castel Nuovo had been dead a few months, and his grandson, under the care of Mr. O'Brien, and some other ecclesiastics, appointed by the Duke's will to be the guardians of his person and his Spanish estates during his minority. It was not without difficulty that I obtained a private conference with him; for these Catholics were jealous of my supposed influence over his mind.

"I found him greatly altered in person, and evidently a prey to gloomy and anxious thoughts, which the life he led amongst persons of severe and superst.i.tious habits did not tend to dissipate. His prejudices I still found unconquerable, and that he was determined on coming to England, should I be unable clearly to substantiate my innocence, either to avenge his sister's death by the sword, or to impeach me as her murderer--a dreadful alternative, and one from which I knew not how to free myself: for to find De Sylva seemed impossible, and if found, I knew not how to bring him to confession; and even of his having been at my villa, near the Sierra Morena, I had no witness but Mrs. Bayfield, whose evidence in my favour might, and most probably would, be deemed partial.

"Thus, and with this shocking prospect constantly before me, the time has pa.s.sed since the fatal day of Rosolia's death. Anxious for your peace and safety, I wrote to Edmund, who ought to have been here three months ago, and entreated him to delay coming hither till this time, stating my reasons, with which he complied, and arrived in England only a week since. Hither he was obliged to come, as Mordaunt had all the papers belonging to his estates in his possession. You know he has been too ill lately to go from home, and his signature was absolutely necessary.

"After O'Brien and Mordaunt went into the library last night, I again endeavoured to convince Edmund of my innocence; and although I think now his judgment is matured, and his pa.s.sions have had time to cool, he is more inclined to believe me, and to let the matter rest where it is, I could by no means get him explicitly to acquit me; and this house reviving the memory of his sister, and all the past events so forcibly, no doubt was the cause of his nocturnal wandering.

"What will be the event of all this I know not; but if I find him still inexorable in a conference I mean this day to hold with him, I think appearances are so much against me, I must at least for a time withdraw with you and our boy to some safe retreat.

"I have wearied you, my Ellen, and am myself weary with speaking so long, on such an agitating subject: but tell me, my love, oh! tell me, that you at least think me guiltless of this direful act!"

"Guiltless!" cried Ellen (whose many tender exclamations and agitated interruptions had given frequent proof of the interest with which she had heard this melancholy narrative). "Oh, heavens! the evidence of my own senses would fail to make me think you otherwise. But in this case all appears to me so clear, so easy to be traced, that I am astonished the generous youth you have described can hesitate in his belief a moment.--Ah! my dear St. Aubyn, let _me_ speak to him; let me tell him of your virtues, of your gentle nature, of your tender and affectionate disposition. Surely he will hear me: surely he must yield to the conviction these must give, that you were not, could not have been guilty of a deed so horrid!"

"Yes, my dearest, my beloved Ellen," replied St. Aubyn, "it shall be so.

Your soft, your persuasive words and looks will, I am sure, impress him with conviction that the man you love cannot be a villain.

"Yet, Ellen, do not meanly compromise my honour or your own dignity; argue, and even, if you can, persuade him to believe me innocent: but if in this you fail, do not sue to him. I could not accept of life and honour merely from his _forbearance_; yet for your sake, and that of our child, I will in some measure set my proud spirit aside, and yield to terms I would otherwise disdain."

Here they parted, and Ellen retired to her dressing-room, to refresh her wearied spirits, to kiss and weep over her infant, and to offer up a fervent prayer for every grace of speech, which might subdue and convince the prejudiced but generous Edmund.

CHAP. IV.

We do not know How he may soften at the sight o' the child.

The silence often of pure innocence Persuades when speaking fails.

WINTER'S TALE.

With an air how different from the usual cheerful greetings of the morning at St. Aubyn Castle, did the party now there a.s.semble in the breakfast-room.

The Earl and Countess, wearied with the alarm of the night and the late agitating conversation, scarcely could a.s.sume spirits to smile upon their guests and give them that hospitable reception which every one generally felt a.s.sured of from them. Lady Juliana, stiff and severe of countenance, scarcely deigned a bow to the salutations of Mr. O'Brien; and the pale melancholy Edmund, who, constraining his feelings, advanced towards Lady St. Aubyn, and attempted an apology for what had pa.s.sed the evening before, for of his nocturnal wanderings, and her consequent alarm, he had not the least idea: from St. Aubyn he appeared to shrink with less aversion than usual, but when seated at the breakfast-table, his eyes and whole attention seemed fixed on Ellen, who, pale and mournful as were her looks, yet spoke with such gentle sweetness, as appeared instantly to attract him, while the soft and pensive character her beauty had a.s.sumed was precisely formed to sooth and tranquillize the too vehement emotions of this deeply feeling young man. Her power, indeed, over the heart, of which all who saw her were sensible, arose from the united charms of voice, person, and demeanor, all of which were so sweetly harmonized with each other as to form one charming and consistent whole, and that, so regulated by the most perfect purity of manners, the most refined delicacy of sentiment, and the most affectionate tenderness of heart, as ensured not only the admiration, but the respect and love of all who knew her; yet more, of all she sought to win or soften. No wonder then if the young and generous heart of Edmund leaned towards her, and felt before the breakfast hour was over that for worlds he could not have pained or wronged her.

Mr. Mordaunt had fixed one o'clock at noon to finish the settlement of all legal concerns between Lord St. Aubyn and Lord De Montfort, the weak state of his health not permitting him to come earlier to the Castle. As soon as breakfast was over, therefore, St. Aubyn invited his guests to walk or ride round the grounds. O'Brien gladly consented, and Laura said she should like to ride with them; but Edmund coldly refused, saying if he went out at all, he should merely stroll by himself a short distance, as he felt languid and unwell. "To you then, my Ellen," said St. Aubyn, "I recommend our n.o.ble guest. I need not I am sure request you to pay him every attention; if possible, prevail on him to stay and dine with us: he talks of going the instant his business is completed."

"I hope, my Lord," said Ellen to De Montfort, "you will not do so. The evenings now close in abruptly, and it will be late before you reach the end of the first stage from hence."

He bowed in silence.

The gentlemen and Miss Cecil went to prepare for their ride; and Ellen, ringing the bell, desired Jane to bring her netting-box thither, for she feared if she went as usual to the nursery, Edmund might escape her, and no other opportunity offer for the conference on which her heart was set.

Lady Juliana, as usual, went to her own room, where she always chose to spend two or three hours of her morning alone.

Edmund had, by the time Ellen was seated at her work, thrown himself in a meditating att.i.tude on a sofa, and was apparently lost in a reverie; yet his eyes were frequently fixed on her, and his countenance seemed to soften as he gazed upon her. She soon saw the little party ride into the park, and then feeling herself secure from interruption, she considered how best to begin her intended conversation:--her heart fluttered, and her fingers entangled her work so completely, that it was impossible to proceed with it. Painful, indeed, was her situation; for to converse on topics so deeply interesting with a young man so very lately an entire stranger was indeed a severe task for the gentle, the timid Ellen.

Rousing her spirits, however, for she felt that time fled swiftly, she with a tremulous voice said,

"My Lord, I fear you will think I take too great a liberty with one so lately a stranger, if I venture to enter on a subject of the most delicate nature, indeed; but one to me so deeply interesting, I cannot consent to let this opportunity pa.s.s, since it may be the last I shall ever have of speaking to your Lordship without witnesses."

From the moment she began to speak, De Montfort started from his reverie, and fixed on her an earnest attention, which had, however, so much softness in it, as emboldened her to proceed in a voice somewhat firmer and more a.s.sured.

"You may believe, my Lord," she said, "that Lord St. Aubyn has not withheld from me the real cause of the painful scene I last night witnessed, and a decree of agitation in you, not to be accounted for, but by a recital which out of tenderness he till this morning never ventured to make to me."

"Has he then," said Edmund (in that low, solemn, impressive tone which so deeply interested his hearers) "has he then ventured to reveal to you that horrid event, that deed of blood, the guilt of which he has never been able to throw from him?"

"He has, my Lord, explained to me the meaning of many painful hints; of much uneasiness which I have perceived in him from the first of our acquaintance: but ah! generous, though misled, Lord de Montfort, can you really believe him guilty? Can you doubt the innocence of a man whose life of virtue, whose tender affectionate nature, surely point him out as of all men the least likely to have committed an action so horrid!

Surely he cannot have fully and clearly explained to you all the circ.u.mstances which preceded this sad event. May I, without too much wounding your feelings, venture to recapitulate what he has told me.

Surely a story so clear, so consistent, must at once exonerate him from having had any part in that guilty, that horrid deed."

He bowed a.s.sent, and Ellen as succinctly, but as clearly as possible, brought into one point of view, all the circ.u.mstances which were favourable to St. Aubyn, yet veiling with the most touching delicacy and consideration those which bore hardest on the fame of Rosolia; affecting to believe that the wretch De Sylva (whom she a.s.serted St. Aubyn and Mrs. Bayfield had certainly seen at her window the night before) had come without her knowledge, and that the same man, meeting her in the lonely hermitage, had committed the shocking deed for the sake of the valuables she wore.

It seemed as if Edmund had chiefly resisted the evidences in St. Aubyn's favour, lest by yielding to them, he must have p.r.o.nounced his sister guilty: whether this being now less pressed upon him, or that Ellen herself, fully convinced of St. Aubyn's innocence, and perhaps less impa.s.sioned than he had been when stating the same story, had placed circ.u.mstances more clearly before him, he evidently gave greater credence to the tale than he had ever before done. Her sweetness of voice and manner, and the graceful tenderness with which she spoke of St. Aubyn's virtues; or his honourable and disinterested conduct to her, both before and since their marriage, and of the perfect love which bound them to each other, and wrapt her life in his; tears of tenderness and blushes of indignation marked the varying sensations which filled her bosom at the bare idea of his being suspected of such a crime, and animated her beauty with new graces, appeared to impress him deeply with sentiments of admiration and esteem. When she paused, he sighed and said:--

"Is it in nature to resist such a pleader, or to believe the man so loved by one so pure and spotless, can be himself capable of the blackest crimes? No, Lady St. Aubyn, were your natures so dissimilar it would be impossible that you could so love, so confide in him."

At that instant a soft plaintive voice was heard at the opening door, the voice of an infant. Edmund started, for he had forgotten Lady St.

Aubyn had recently become a mother, and a painful recollection pressed on his heart of the infant so dearly loved, so deeply lamented, the child of his idolized Rosolia!

The nurse now appeared with the babe in her arms, for wondering at her Lady's usually lengthened absence from the nursery, she came to request some directions concerning the child: supposing all the gentlemen were gone out together, when she saw Lord de Montfort she would have retreated but Ellen advancing, took the infant in her arms and said:

"Give him to me, nurse; I will but shew him to Lord de Montfort, and bring him to the nursery myself:" then unfolding his mantle, she pressed him to her tender bosom: and when the nurse was gone, with light graceful steps advancing towards Edmund, (who rose from his seat to meet her) she said:

"See here, my Lord, a still more powerful pleader; one pure and spotless indeed, whose opening prospects must be clouded, whose innocent name must be blasted, if you persist in your intentions, if you seek his father's destruction. Look at this babe, and tell me if your gentle nature can doom him to such cruel misfortunes as your denunciation of his father must bring upon his guiltless head."

Edmund, the n.o.ble Edmund, stooped, and gazing on the child, was not ashamed to shed tears of tenderness and compa.s.sion on his sweet face.

The lovely creature opened its eyes, and with the same soft look of confiding innocence which marked his mother's features, stretched out his little hands and smiled.

"Oh! this is too much! indeed too much!" exclaimed De Montfort. "I must not be a man to see this sweet, this lovely infant, and you, angelic woman, and dare to breathe one injurious wish against that man on whom the happiness of both depends! From henceforth I dismiss for ever all my revengeful, perhaps my ill-founded schemes: never shall word or look of mine attempt to injure the happy, the enviable St. Aubyn. Surely Heaven would not have favoured him with felicity so rare, had a deed so cruel as that of which I suspected him stained his soul! I will try to think, to believe so. a.s.sure yourself, at least, loveliest of women, that from me he has nothing more to fear; and may Heaven's choicest blessings be showered on you, and on this sweet, this lovely infant!"

He bent one knee to the ground, and, with reverential awe, kissed Ellen's hand, lifting his expressive eyes towards that Heaven he was invoking in her favour: then rising, he took the babe from her arms, kissed its hands, its cheeks, its lips, and returning it to its mother, with hasty and agitated steps quitted the apartment: leaving her impressed with feelings of joy, grat.i.tude, and the tenderest esteem for this n.o.ble, though somewhat eccentric being.

Folding her babe to her fond maternal heart, which seemed to feel even increased affection for it from the late trying scenes, she pa.s.sed with it to the nursery, where Laura found her a few minutes after, and announced the return of the gentlemen from their ride.

"Where is St. Aubyn?" said Ellen, with a countenance where tears and smiles contended: "I must see him immediately."

"It is near the time appointed by Mr. Mordaunt to conclude Lord de Montfort's business," said Laura, "and I believe he is gone to his study: but what is the matter, Ellen, you look agitated yet joyful? I never saw you more radiant in beauty; something I am sure has happened to light up your face in this manner."