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THE 


WANDERER; 


OR, 


FEMALE    DIFFICULTIES. 

BY 
THE    AUTHOR    OF 

EVELINA;  CECILIA;  and  CAMILLA. 


IN   FIVE    VOLUMES, 
VOL.  L 


LONDON: 

PRINTED   FOR  LONGMAN',  HUKST,   REES,    ORME,  AND  EBOWN, 

PATERNOSTER-ROW. 

I814. 


Vi\CKBLL 

vf        1 


TO 


DOCTOR   BURNEY, 

r«  R.  S. 

AND    CORRESPONDENT   TO    THE    INSTITUTE    OP 

FRANCE.  * 


T^HE  earliest  pride  of  my  heart  was 
to    inscribe  to  my  much-loved 
Father  the  first  public  effort  of  my 
pen  ;  though  the  timid  offering,  un- 
obtrusive and  anonymous,  was  long 
V  unpresented ;  and,  even  at  last,  reach- 
-  >  ed    its    destination   throuoh    a    zeal 

c^ 
Cj       *  To  which  honour  Dr.  Burney  was  elected,  by 
the  wholly  unsolicited  votes  of  the  members  des 
-  ^  beaux  arts.     His  daughter  brought  over  his  diploma 
from  Paris. 

^    VOL.1.  a 


(     vj     ) 

as  secret  as  it  was  kind,  by  means 
which  he  would  never  reveal  j  ^nd 

With    which,    till  within   these   last 

'  -  -  ■    -< 

few.,roc^nths^   I    have  iM4^f\^,}?^jBi? 
unacquainted. 

^.Mfex  Yb^^  grateftil ,  d^ligljt  d9,.I 
cast,  now,  at  the  same  revered  feet 

where  I  prp^trated  that  first^^s^ay, 

this,  my  latest  attempt ! 

Your  name  I  did  not  dare  then 

pronounce ;    and  myself  I  believed 

to   be  "  wrapt  up  in  a  mantle  of 

impenetrable    obscurity  */'      Little 

did   I   f9resee    the  indulgence   that 

would  bring  me  forward  !    and  that 

my  dear  fathej;  ^^bimself,  whom,  even 

Avhile,  urged  by  filial  feelings^  and 

y^t  nameless,  I  invoked  f-,  I  thought 

would  be  foremost  to  aid,  nay,  charge 

me  ito  ^hun  the  public  eye ;  that  He, 

*  Preface  to  Evelina,  - 

^  Inscription  of  Evelina,  **  O  AufBo?  of  my  be- 


.^  i» 


(     vii     ) 

whom  I  drea3ed  to  "see  blush  at  my 
pi^oducdon,   should   be  the  first   t6 
tell  me  not  to  blush  at  it  myself!  The 
KS|>py  moment  when   he  spoke   t6 
me  those  unexpected  words,  is  erer 
present,  and  still  gay  to  my  memory. 
The  early  part  of  this  immediate 
tribute  has  already  twice  traversed 
the   ocean   in   manuscript :     I    had 
■fnknri^cf  and  begun  it  befo^eWe  end 
kyf  the  last  centurjM   but  the  bitten 
\\\a^'€x&  to  be  ^deplbW^d   affliction 
with  which  this  new  era  opened  to 
SiiT  family,  in  depriv^ing' us  of  the 
darling  of  our  hearts  \^  at  the  very 
TOoment— when  — after    a   anevous 
^absence,  we  believed  her  restored  to 
lis,"  cast  it  frorh  my  thoughts,  and 
Seven    from  my   powers/  for  man}^ 
years.      I  took  with  me,  neverthe- 
less, my  prepared  materials   in  the 
year  1802,  to  France;  where,  uhi- 

*  Susanna  Elizabeth  Phillips. 

a  2 


mately,  though  only  ^t  gdji  iutervals, 
I  sketched  the  whole  work ;  which, 
ii^cthe  year  1812,  accompanied  i^ 
back  to  my  native  land.  And,  to 
the  honour  and  liberality  .pf  both 
nations,  let  me  mention,  that,  at  the 
Custom-hQuae  on  either  —  alas !  -r^ 
hostile  »hore,  upon  my  given  word 
that  the  papers, ;  .(Contained  neither 
letters,  nor  political  writings;  but 
simply  a  work  pfijnyentipn  aii4,  o^ 
servation ;  the  voluminous  manu- 
script, was  ^ufferje4;>tQ,,^ass,  w;ithout 
demur,  comment,  or  the  smallest 
examination. 

A  conduct  so  generous  on  one 
side,  so  trusting  on  the  otU^f^rin 
time  pf  war,  even  though  its  object 
be  unimportant,  cannot  but  be  read 
with  satisfaction  by  every  friend  of 
humanity,  of  either  rival  nation, 
into  whpse  hands  its  narrative  may. 
qhjance  to  ikJL       rii  ^  jba^y^  ~  v 


K   «   ) 

Such,  therefore,  —  if  any  such 
tliere  be,  —  who  expect  to  find  heih 
materials  for  pohtical  controversy; 
or  fresh  food  for  national  animosity; 
must  turn  elsewhere  their  disap- 
pointed eyes :  for  here,  they  will 
simply  meet,  what  the  Authour  has 
thrice  sought  to  present  to  them 
already,  a  composition  upon  general 
life,  manners,  and  characters ;  with- 
out any  species  of  personality,  either 
in  the  form  of  foreign  influence,  or 
of  national  partiality.  I  have  felt, 
indeed,  no  disposition,  —  I  ought 
rather,  perhaps,  to  say  talent,  —  for 
venturing  upon  the  stormy  sea  of 
politics ;  whose  waves,  for  ever  either 
receding  or  encroaching,  with  diffi- 
culty can  be  steihm*ed,  and  never 
can  be  tmsted. 

f*Ev^en  when  I  began,  —  how.  un- 
consciously you,  dear  Sir,  well 
know,  —  what  I  may  now,  perhaps, 

a  3 


(       X       ) 

venture  to  style  my  literary  career, 
nothing  can  more  clearly  prove  that 
Jo>turried^  instinctively,  from  that 
tempestuous  course,  than  the  equal 
feX'Our  with  which  I,  was  imme- 
diately distinguished  by  those  iwo 
celebrated,  immortal  authours, '  Dr. 
Johnson,  and  the  Right  Honourable 
^Edffitfnd  Burke;  whose  sentiments 
upon  public  affairs  divided,  almost 
separated  tiiem,  at  that  epoch ;  yet 
Who^  then,  and  to  their  last  hours, 
fl[  had  the  piide,  the  delight,  and  the 
tistonishment  to  find  the  warmest,  as 
^well  as  the  most  eminent  supporters 
«of  my  honoured  e&sp-ys.  Iiajterly, 
indeed,  their  political  opinions  assi- 
..milated  ;  but  when  ieacn,  separately, 
^'ihough  at  the  same  time,  conde- 
ascended  to  stand  forth  the  champion 
fof  piy  fitst  small  work;  ere  ever  I  had 
JaaAt^rfeappiness  jprbeing  presented 

to   either)   and  ere  they  knew  that 

1^  ^ 


/ 

I  bore,  my  Father !  3^our  honoured 
name;  that  small  work  was  nearly 
the  only  subject  upon  which  they 
met  without  contestation  *:  —  if  I 
except  the  equally  ingenious  and  in- 
genuous friend  whom  they  vied  with 
each  other  to  praise,  to  appreciate, 
and  to  love  ;  and  whose  name  can 
never  vibrate  on  our  ears  but  to 
bring  emotion  to  our  hearts ;  —  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds. 

If,  therefore,  then, — when  every 
tie,  whether  public  or  mental,  was 
single ;  and  every  wish  had  one  di- 
rection; I  held  political  topics  to  be 

■  '"■/*  So  strongly  this  coincidencG  of  sentiment  was 
felt  by  Mr.  Burke  himself,  that,  some  years  after- 
wards, at  an  assembly  at  Lady  Galloway's,  where 
each,  for  a  considerable  time,  had  seemed  to  stim- 
ulate the  other  to  a  flow  of  partial  praise  on  Evelina 
and  —  just  then  published  —  Cecilia;  Mr. Burke, 
upon  Dr.  Johnson's  endeavouring  to  detain  me  when 
I  rose  to  depart,  by  calling  out,  "  Don't  go  yet, 
little  character-monger!"  followed  me,  gaily,  but 
impressively  exclaiming,  "  Misg  Burney;   die  to- 

a  4 


withodf  f^fi^  sphere,   or  beyond  my 
skill;   who   shall  wonder  that  now, 
a^united,  alike  by  choice  and   b^ 
duty,    to   a  member   of   a    foreign 
hatiotij  yet  adhering,  with  primeevat 
enthusiasm,  to  the   countrj^  of  my 
birth,  I  should  leave  all  discussions^ 
of  national   rights,    and   modes,  or 
acts  of '  governmentf^- '  tcj'  those  wliose 
wishes    have    no     opposing    calk  5^ 
whose    duties   are  •  lindi vided ;  '  dnS ' 
whose  opinions  are  unbiassed  by  in- 
dividual    bosom     feelings ;     which, 
where  strongly  impelled  by  depend-^ 
ant  happiness,    insidiously,    uneorP-^ 
sciously    direct    our  views,    colour 
our  ideas,  and  entangle  oiu*  partialit^^ 
in  our  interests.  ^^  "^^ 

i^Nevertheless,   16  Woid    dissertin^^ 
upon  these  topics  as  matter  of  spe- 
culation; irnpir^^  'tiot'^Kn  observance 
ofiisilence  to  tbe  events  which  they 
produce,  >&$  niatt^^df  'faetr^^n  the 


*   r«a 


(     xiii     ) 

contrary,  tx)  attempt  to  delineate,  in 
whatever  form,  any  picture  of  actual 
human  life,  without  reference  to  the 
French  Revolution,  would  be  as 
httle  possible,  as  to  give  an  idea  of 
the  English  government,  without  re- 
ference to  our  own :  for,  not  more 
unavoidably  is  the  last  blended  with 
ttM?^history  of  ouf  nation,  than  the 
first,  with  every  intellectual  survey 
of  the  pregjPfit  times. 

Anxious,  however,  —  inexpressi- 
bly !  —  to  steer  clear,  alike,  of  all 
animadversions  that,  to  my  adoptive 
country,  may  seem  ungrateful,  or, 
to  the  country  of  my  birth  unna- 
tuj^al;  I  have  chosen,  with  respect  to 
what,  in  these  volumes,  has  any  re- 
ference to  the  French  Revolution,  a 
period  which,  completely  past,  can 
excite  no  rival  sentiments,  nor  . 
awaken  any  party  spirit ;  yet  of 
which  the  stupendous  iniquity  and 

a  5 


^-  -i    ^ 


(      XIV      ) 

^Have  'teillrac^s;  fliat,  handed  dowii, 
^ev^h  bi^t  traditidtiaHj,  inirbe  soifgllt 
-^yitli  curiosity,  though  reverted  to 
with'  liorrour,    from'  geitei^ation  to 

'^i^eneration.  "^'^ ''  "•  ^^•^'^^.^'^^^'  *^^iO(pi 

Every'  •jfriend  or' 'huiiianityj'^^JSf 
what  soil  ^or  Avhat  persuasion  soever 
he  mav  be,  miist^Tejbice  that  those 
dajs,  though  still  so  recent,  are  over ; 
truth  and  justice  cmi  tipon'me 
to  declare,  that,  durino;  the  ten  event- 
fal  years,  from  1802  to  181^'teit 
I  resided  in  the  capital  of  France,  I 
was  neither  startled  by  any  species 
of  investigation,  nor  distressed 
through  any  difB cutties  of  condtifct. 
Perhaps  unnoticed,  — certainly  un- 
annoyed,-^I  passed  my  time  either 

^f  my    own   small — but    precious 

fite-side ;  or  in  select  society ;  per- 

,fectly  ^    stranger    to    all    personal 

disturbance ;  save  what  sprang  from 


t|ie  pamful  Reparation  that  absented 

my  loved  family,  and  native  friends 

^and  country.     To  hear  this  fact  thus 

^pubhciy  attested,  you,  dear  biv,  will 

rejoice ;  and  feiv,  I  trust,  amongst  iu 

.  readers,  will  disdain  to  feel  some  Iittfe 

^sympathy  in  your  satisfaction.     \ 

^;^,^ith  regard   to  the  very  senous 

.  ^ubject  treated  upon,  from  time  jto 

^time,  in  this  work,  some, — perhaps 

^^^^any,  —  may  ask,  Is  a  Novel  the 

^  vehicle  for  such  considerations  ?  such 

:  discussions  ?    ^ 

.',,  Permit  me  to  answer ;  whatever, 
1^^^^  illvistrating  the  characters,  man- 
ners,  or    opinions   of  the   day,  ex- 
hibits what  is  noxious  or  reprehen- 
^  sible,  should  scrupulously  be  accom- 
,  panied   by   what  is   salubrious,    or 
chastening.     Not  that  poison  ought 
jj;p  be  infused  merely  to  display  the 
virtues  of    an   antidote;    but  that, 
^  a  6 


where  errour  and  mischief  bask  in 
the^Jbj-qai^  light  of  day,  truth  ought 
^not  to  be  suffered  to  shrink  titnidly 
into  the  shade. 

Divest,  for  a  moment,  the  title  of 
.Npyelfrom  ji,festi^tionary  standard  of 
insignificance,  and  say  !  What  is  the 
species  of  writing  that  offers  fairer 
opportunities  for  conveying  useful 
precepts?  It  is,  or  it  ought  to  be,  a 
picture  of  supposed,  but  natural 
and  probable  human  existence.  It 
holds,  therefore,  in  its  hands  our 
l^est  affections;  it  exercises  our  ima- 
ginations ;  it  points  out  the  path  of 
honour ;  and  gives  to  juvenile  cre- 
dulity knowledge  of  the  Avorld, 
without  ruin,  or  repentance ;  and 
the  lessons  of  experience,  without 
its  tears. 

And  is  not  a  Novel,  permit  me, 
also,  to  ask,  in  common  with  every 
other  literary  work,  entitled  to  re- 

lO 


^(     xvii     ) 

ceive  its  st^ni5f>' al  tis^M;  1nt?clire- 
V-gus,  or  nugatory,  from  its  execu- 
tion?  not  necessarily,  and  in  its 
changeless  state,  to  be  branded  as  a 
mere  vehicle  for  frivolous,  or  seduc- 
tive amusement?  If  many  may  turn 
aside  from  all  but  mere  entertain- 
ment presented  under  this  form, 
many,  also,  may,  unconscious!}^,  be 
allured  by  it  into  reading  the  sever^- 
est  truths,  who  would  not  even  open 
any  work  of  a  graver  denomination. 
What  is  it  that  gives  the  univer- 
sally acknowledged  superiority  to 
the  epic  poem  ?  Its  historic  truth  ? 
No ;  the  three  poems,  which,  during 
so  many  centuries,  and  till  Milton 
arose,  stood  unrivalled  in  celebrity, 
are,  with  respect  to  fact,  of  con- 
stantly disputed,  or,  rather,  dis- 
proved authenticity.  Nor  is  it  even 
the  sweet  witchery  of  sound  ;  the 
ode,     the    lyric,    the    elegiac,    and 


-Other  species  of  poetry,  have  risen 
,  to  equal  metricar  beauty :  — 
J     'Tis  the  grandeur,  yet  singleness 
iof  the  plan ;  the  never  brokeii,  yet 
,  never  obvjous  adherence  to  its  exe- 
icntion ;  the  delineation  and  support 
2  of  character ;  the  invention  of  in- 
Jcident ;    the  contrast   of  situation ; 
the  grace  of  diction,  and  the  beauty 
/ofi  hxiagery ;   joined  to   a  judicious 
choice     of    combinations,     and     a 
living  irlferest  in  every  partial   de- 
tail, that  give  to  that  sovereign  spe- 
cies   of   the   works  of   fiction,    its 
glorious  pre-eminence. 

Will  my  dear  Father  smile  at  this 
seeming  approximation  of  the  com- 
positions which  stand  foremost,  with 
those  which  are  sunk  lowest  in  lite- 
.:  rary  estimation  ?  No ;  he  will  feel 
that  it  is  not  the  futile  presumption 
of  a  comparison  that  would  be  pre- 
posterous ;  but  a  fond  desire  to  sepa- 


(   (     xix  ;) 

tate,  — with  a  high  hand!, -^false- 
hood, that  would  deceive  i  to  evil, 
from  fiction,  that  would  attract 
another  way  ;  —  and  to  rescue  from 
ill  opinion  the  sort  of  production, 
call  it  by  what  name  we  may,  that 
his  daughter  ventures  to  lay  at  his 
feet,  through  the  alluring,  but  awful 
tribunal  of  the  public. 

/lir^He  will  recollect,  also,  how  often 
their  so  mutually  honoured  Dr.  John- 
sOn  has  said  to  her,  "  Always  aim 
at  the  eagle!— even  though  you  ex- 
pect but  to  reach  a  sparrow  l" 

The  power  of  prejudice  annexed 
to  nomenclature  is  universal:  the 
same   being  who,    unnamed,  passes 

''fihno^iced,  if  preceded  by  the  title 
of  a  hero,  or  a  potentate,  catches 
every    eye^    and    is    pursued    with 

^  ^clamorous  praise,  or, —  its  common 

^^ireverberator  !  —  abuse  :  but  in  no- 
thing is  the  force  of  denomination 


(      XX      ) 

more  striking  than  in  the  term 
Novel ;  a  species  of  writing  which, 
though  never  mentioned,  even  by 
its  supporter,  but  Avith  a  look  that 
ftai's  contempt,  is  not  more  rigidly 
excommunicated,  from  its  appella- 
tion, in  theor}^  than  sought  and 
fostered,  from  its  attractions,  in 
practice. 

So  early  was  I  impressed  myself 
with   ideas    that   fastened    degrada-r 
tion  to  this  class    of   composition,, 
that   at  the  age   of  adolescence,   I 
struggled     against    the     propensity 
which,  even  in  childhood,  even  from 
the  moment  I  could  hold  a  pen,  had 
impelled  me  into  its  toils ;  and  on 
my  fifteenth  birth-day,  I  made  sOo 
resolute  a  conquest  over  an  inclina- 
tion at  which  I  blushed,  and  that 
I  had   always   kept    secret,  that   I 
committed  to  the  flames  whatever, 
up  to  that    moment,    I  had   com*s. 


((    xxi     ) 

mitted  to  paper.  And  so  enormous 
Affes  the  pile;'th^"I  thoiight  it  pfli^ 
dent  to  consume  it  in  the  garden. 

^^Yoil,  (fear  Sir^  knew  nothing  of 
its  extinction,  for  you  had  never 
known  of  its  existence.  Our  darhng^ 
Susanna,  to  whom  alone  I  had  ever 
ventured  to  read  its  contents,  alone 
witnessed  the  conflagration  ;  and  — 
\ySell  I  remember ! — wept,  with  tender 
partiality,  over  the  imaginary  ashes 
of*  Caroline  Evelyn,  the  mother  of 
Evelina. 

yThe  passion,  however,  though  re- 
sisted, was  not  anniliilated :  my 
bureau  was  cleared  ;  but  my  head 
was  not  emptied  ;  and,  in  defiance 
of  every  self-effort,  Evelina  struggled 
herself  into  life. 

If  then,  even  in  the  season  of 
youth,  I  felt  ashamed  of  appearing 
to  be  a  votary  to  a  species  of  writing 
that  by  you,  Sir^  liberal  as  I  knew 


s 


(     xxii     ) 

you  to  be,  I  thought  condemned  : 
since  your  larse  library,  of  which! 
was  then  the  principal  librarian, 
contained  only  one  work  of  that 
class*;  how  much  deeper  must  now 
1be  my  blush,  —  now,  when  that 
spring  of  existence  has  so  long  taken 
^ts  flight,  —  transfeiTing,  I  must 
hope,  its  genial  vigour  upon  yout 
grandson  -f  !  - —  if  the  work  which  I 
here  present  to  3  ou,  may  not  shew% 
in  the  observations  which  it  contains 
upon  various  characters,  ways,  or 
excentricities  of  human  life,  that  an 
exteriour  the  most  frivolous  may 
enwrap  illustrations  of  conduct,  that 
the  most  rigid  preceptor  need  not 
deem  dangerous  to  entrust  to  his 
pupils ;  for,  if  what  is  inculcated  is 
right,  it  will  not,  I  trust,  be  cast 
aside,  merely  because  so  conveyed 

*  Fielding's  Amelia. 
"•*^'  t  Alexander  Charles  Lewis  d'ArbUijr. 


(     xxiii     ) 

as  not  to  be  received  as  a  task.  On 
the  contrary,  to  make  pleasant  the 
path  of  propriety,  is  snatching  from 
evil  its  most  alluring  mode  of  as- 
cendency. And  your  fortunate 
daughter,  though  past  the  period  of 
chusing  to  write,  or  desiring  to  read, 
a  merely  romantic  love-tale,  or  a 
story  of  improbable  wonders,  may 
still  hope  to  retain,  —  if  she  has  ever 
possessed  it,  —  the  power  of  interest- 
ing the  affections,  while  still  awake 
Jto  them  herself,  through  the  many 
much  loved  agents  of  sensibility, 
that  still  hold  in  their  pristine  energy 
her  conjugal,  maternal,  fraternal, 
friendly,  and,  —  dearest  Sir!  — her 
filial  feelings. 

.  Fiction,  when  animating  the  de- 
sign of  recommending  right,  has 
.always  been  permitted  and  culti- 
vated, not  alone  by  the  moral,  but 
by  tl)^  pjous,  instructor ;  not  alone 


(    xxiv     ) 

ta^embellish  what  is  prophane,  but 
to  promulgate  e^T^n, what  is  sacred,: 
from  the  first  sera  of  tuition,  to  the 
present  passing  moment.     Yet  I  am 
aware  that  all  which,  incidentally,  isf 
treated  of  in  these  volumes  upon  thei 
most   momentous   of  subjects,    mayt 
HERE,    in  this  favoured  island,  be 
deemed  not  merely  superfluous,  but,^ 
if  indulgence  be  not  shewn  to  its  in4i 
tention,  impertinent;  and  here,  had* 
I  always  remained,  the  most  solemni 
^hapter  of  the  wpjk,  —  I  will  not  an-s 
ticipate  its   number,  —  might  never 
have  been  traced  ;  for,  since  my  re- 
turn to  this  country,   I   have  beeni 
forcibly  struck   in   remarking,   thatc 
all   sacred   themes,  far   from  being^^ 
either  neglected,  or  derided,  are  he-tx 
come  almost  common  topics  of  com-'i; 
mpn  discourse ;   and  rather,  perhaps, 
from  varying  sects,  and   diversified /i 
opinions,   too    familiarly   discussed, 
than  defyingly  set  aside. 


(      XXV      ) 

hiBnt  \v\vd\,  I  observed  iii  my  long 
residence  abrOadrpr^s^Med' another 
picture ;  and  its  colours,  not,  indeed, 
with  cementing  harmony,'  btH  to 
produce  a  striking  contrast^  have* 
forcibly,  though  not,  I  hope,  glaringly 
tinted  my  pen. 

Nevertheless,  truth,  aiid  my  own 
satisfaction^  call  upon  me  to  mention, 
that,  in  the  circle  to  which,  in  Paris, 
liohad    the   honour,    habitually,   to 
belong,  piety,  generally,  in  practice 
as  well   as    in  theory,   held  its  just 
pre-eminence  ;   though  almost  every 
otheA  -society,     however     cultured, 
brilliant,  and  unaffectedly  good,  of 
which    occasionally    I  heard,  or  in 
which,  incidentally,  I  mixed,  com- 
monly considered  belief  and  bigotry 
as  synominous  terms. 

.iThey,  however,  amongst  my 
adopted  friends,  for  whose  esteem 
I  haaa    mfet "^S^Hdr6^s,^'i^ill    suifer 

.9t)r. 


(    xxvi    ; 

my  design  to  plead,  I  trust,  in  my 
jfavour ;  even  where  my  essa3^S5  whe- 
ther  for  their  projection,  or  their 
execution,  may  most  sarcastically  be 
criticised. 

Strange,  indeed,  must  be  my  in- 
gratitude, could  I  voluntarily  give 
offence  where,  during  ten  unbroken 
years,  I  should,  personall}^  have 
known  nothing  but  felicity,  lu\d  I 
quitted  a  country,  or  friends,  I 
could  have  forgotten.  For  me, 
however,  as  for  all  mankind,  con- 
comitant circumstances  took  their 
usual  charge  of  impeding  any  ex- 
ception to  the  general  laws  of  life. 

And  now,  dear  Sir,  in  leaving  you 
to  the  perusal  of  these  volumes, 
how  many  apprehensions  would  be 
hushed,  might  I  hope  that  they 
would  revive  in  3^our  feelings  the 
partial  pleasure  with  which  you 
cherished  their  predecessors ! 


(    xxvii    ) 

Will  the  public  be  offended,  it 
nere,  as  in  private,  I  conclude  my 
letter  with  a  prayer  for  my  dearest 
Father's  benediction  and  preserva- 
tion ?  No !  the  public  voice,  and 
the  voice  of  his  family  is  one,  in  re- 
verencino;  his  virtues,  admirino-  his 
attainments,  and  ardently  desiring 
that  health,  peace  of  mind,  and 
fulness  of  merited  honours,  may 
crowji  his  length  of  days,  and  pro- 
lontT  them  to  the  utmost  \erzo  of 
enjoyable  mortality ! 


;nv 


v» 


f. 


rf    f.l.rnv^  RB.d'ArBLAY. 


March  14.  1814. 


'      THE 


WANDERER 


■niai^nrw 


BOOK  L 


CHAPTER  L 


TAURING  the  dire  reign  of  the  ter- 
rific Robespierre,  and  in  the  dead 
of  night,  braving  the  cold,  the  darkness 
and  the  damps  of  December,  some  Eng- 
lish passengers,  in  a  small  vessel,  were 
preparing  to  glide  silently  from  the 
coast  of  France,  when  a  voice  of  keen 
distress  resounded  from  the  shore,  im- 
ploring, in  the  French  language,  pity 
and  admission. 

The    pilot    quickened    his    arrange- 
ments for  sailing  j  the  passengers  sought 

VOL.  I,  B 


(      2      ) 

deeper    concealment  5    but    no    answer 
%vas  returned. 

"  O  hear  me !"  cried  the  same  voice, 
*'  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  hear  me !" 

The  pilot  gruffly  swore,  and,  repress- 
ing a  young  man  who  was  rising,  pe- 
remptorily ordered  every  one  to  keep 
still,  at  the  hazard  of  discovery  and  de- 
struction. 

"  Oh  listen  to  my  prayers!"  was  called 
out  by  the  same  voice,  with  increased, 
and  even  frightful  energy ;  "  Oh  leave 
nie  not  to  be  massacred  !" 

"  Who's  to  pay  for  your  safety  r" 
muttered  the  pilot. 

^'  I  will!"  cried  the  person  whom  he 
had  already  rebuffed,  "  I  pledge  myself 
for  the  cost  and  the  consequence!" 

"  Be  lured  by  no  tricks  ;"  said  an  el- 
derly man,  in  English  j  "  put  off  imme- 
diately, pilot." 

The  pilot  was  very  ready  to  obey. 

The  supplications  from  the  land  w^ere 
now  sharpened  into  cries  of  agony,  and 
the  young  man,  catching  the  pilot  by  the 

6 


(    3    ) 

arm,  said  eagerly,  "  'Tis  the  voice  of  a 
woman !  where  can  be  the  dancrer  ? 
Take  her  in,  pilot,-  at  my  demand,  and 
my  charge  1" 

"  Take  her  in  at  your  peril,  pilot!" 
rejoined  the  elderly  man. 

Rage  had  elevated  his  voice  ;  the  peti- 
tioner heard  it,  and  called — screamed, 
ratlier,  for  mercy. 

"  Nay,  since  she  is  but  a  woman,  and 
in  distress,  save  her,  pilot,  in  God's 
name !"  said  an  old  sea  officer.  "  A 
woman,  a  child,  and  a  fallen  enemy,  are 
three  persons  that  every  true  Briton 
should  scorn  to  misuse." 

The  sea  officer  was  looked  upon  as 
first  in  command;  the  young  man,  there- 
fore, no  longer  opposed,  separated  him- 
self from  a  young  lady  with  whom  he 
had  been  conversing,  and,  descending 
from  the  boat,  gave  his  hand  to  the 
suppliant. 

There  was  just  light  enough  to  shew 
him  a  female  in  the  most  ordinary  attire, 
who  was  taking  a  whispering  leave  of 

B    2 


(     4     ) 

a   male   companion,  yet   more    meanly 
equipped. 

With  trembling  eagerness,  she  sprang 
into  the  vessel,  and  sunk  rather  than  sat 
upon  a  place  that  was  next  to  the  pilot, 
ejaculating  fervent  thanks,  first  to  Hea- 
ven, and  then  to  her  assistant. 

The  pilot  nov/,  in  deep  hoarse  ac- 
cents, strictly  enjoined  that  no  one 
should  speak  or  move  till  they  were 
safely  out  at  sea. 

All  obeyed  ;  and,  with  mingled  hope 
and  dread,  insensible  to  the  v;eather, 
and  dauntless  to  the  hazards  of  the 
sea,  watchful  though  mute,  and  joyful 
though  filled  with  anxiety,  they  set  sail. 

In  about  half  an  hour,  the  grumbling 
of  the  pilot,  who  was  despotic  master  of 
the  boat,  was  changed  into  loud  and  vo- 
ciferous oaths. 

Alarmed,  the  passengers  concluded 
that  they  were  chaced.  They  looked 
around,  —  but  to  no  purpose  ;  the  dark- 
ness impeded  examination. 

They    were    happily,    however,    mis- 


(     5    ) 

taken  ;  the  lungs  of  the  pilot  had  merely 
recovered  their  usual  play,  and  his  hu- 
mour its  customary  vent,  from  a  belief 
that  all  pursuit  would  now  be  vain. 

This  proved  the  signal  to  general  li- 
berty of  speech  ;  and  the  young  lady 
already  mentioned,  addressing  herself, 
in  a  low  voice,  to  the  gentleman  who 
had  aided  the  Incognita,  said,  *'  I 
wonder  what  sort  of  a  dulcinca  you 
have  brought  amongst  us !  though,  I 
really  believe,  you  are  such  a  complete 
knight-errant,  that  you  v/ould  just  as 
willingly  find  her  a  tawny  Hottentot  as  a 
fair  Circassian.  She  affords  us,  however, 
the  vivifying  food  of  conjecture,  —  the 
only  nourishment  of  which  I  never 
sicken  !  —  I  am  glad,  therefore,  that  'tis 
dark,  for  discovery  is  almost  always  dis- 
appointment." 

"  She  seems  to  be  at  prayers." 
"  At  prayers  ?  She's  a  nun,  then,  dcr 
pend  upon  it.      Mak?  her   tell   us  the 
history  of  her  convent." 

Why  what's  all  this,  woman  ?"  said 

^  3 


a 


(     6     ) 

the  pilot,  in  French,  "  are  you  afraid  oT 
being  drowned  ?'* 

"  No!"  answered  she,  in  the  same 
language,  "  I  fear  nothing  now — it  is 
therefore  I  am  thankful !" 

Retreating,  then,  from  her  rude  neigh- 
hour,  she  gently  approached  an  elderly 
lady,  who  was  on  her  other  side,  but  who, 
shrinking  from  her, called  out,  "  Mr.  Har- 
leigh,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  you  if  you 
will  change  places  with  me.'* 

"  Willingly  ;"  he  answered  ;  but  the 
young  lady  with  whom  he  had  been  con- 
versing, holding  his  coat,  exclaimed, 
"  Now  you  want  to  have  all*  the  stories 
of  those  monks  and  abbesses  to  yourself! 
I  won't  let  you  stir,  I  am  resolved !'' 

The  stranger  begged  that  she  might 
not  incommode  any  one  j  and  drew 
back. 

*'  You  may  sit  still  now,  Mr.  Har- 
leigh,"  said  the  elderly  lady,  shaking 
herself;  "  I  do  very  well  again." 

Harleigh  bit  his  lip,  and,  in  a  low 
voice,  said   to  his  companion,    "  It  is 


(     7    ) 

Strange  that  the  facility  of  giving  pain 
should  not  lessen  its  pleasure !  How  far 
better    tempered    should  we  all  be   to 
others,  if  we  anticipated   the  mischief 
that  ill  humour  does  to  ourselves  1" 

"  Now  are  you  such  a  very  disciple 
of  Cervantes,"  she  replied,  "  that  I  have 
no  doubt  but  your  tattered  dulcinea  has 
secured  your  protection  for  the  whole 
voyage,  merely  because  old  aunt  Maple 
has  been  a  little  ill  bred  to  her." 

''  I  don't  know  but  you  are  right,  for 
nothinn;  so  uncontrollably  excites  resist- 
ance,  as  grossness  to  the  unoffending," 

He  then^  in  French,  enquired  of  the 
new  passenger,  whether  she  would  not 
have  some  thicker  covering,  to  shelter 
her  from  the  chill  of  the  night ;  offering 
her,  at  the  same  time,  a  large  wrapping 
coat. 

She  thanked  him,  but  declared  that 
she  was  perfectly  warm. 

"  Are  you  so,  faith  ?"  cried  tlic  elderly 
man  already  mentioned,  "  I  wish,  then, 

B  4 


(     8     ) 

you  would  give  me  your  receipt^  Mistress; 
for  I  verily  think  that  my  blood  will  take 
a  month's  thawing,  before  it  will  run 
again  in  my  veins.'* 

She  made  no  answer,  and,  in  a  tone 
somewhat  piqued,  he  added,  "  I  believe 
in  my  conscience  those  out-Ian  dish  gentry 
have  no  more  feeling  without  than  they 
have  within  !" 

Encreasing  coldness  and  darkness  re- 
pressed all  further  spirit  of  conversation, 
till  the  pilot  proclaimed  that  they  were 
half  way  over  the  straits. 

A  general  exclamation  of  joy  now 
broke  forth  from  all,  while  the  new 
comer,  suddenly  casting  something  into 
the  sea,  ejaculated,  in  French,  "  Sink, 
and  be  as  nothing !"  And  then,  clasping 
her  hands,  added,  "  Heaven  be  praised, 
'tis  gone  for  ever  !" 

The  pilot  scolded  and  swore;  every 
one  was  surprized  and  curious  ;  and  the 
elderly  man  plumply  demanded,  "  Pray 
what  have  you  thrown  overboard. 
Mistress  ?** 


(    9    ) 

Finding  himself  again  unanswered,  he 
rather  angrily  raised  his  voice,  saying, 
*'  What,  I  suppose  you  don't  under- 
stand English  now?  Though  you  were 
pretty  quick  at  it  when  w^e  were  leaving 
you  in  the  lurch  !  Faith,  that's  convenien-t 
enough  !" 

"  For  all  I  have  been  silent  so  long," 
cried  the  old  sea  officer,  "  it  has  not 
been  for  want  of  something  to  say;  and 
I  ask  the  favour  that  you  won't  any  of 
you  take  it  ill,  if  I  make  free  to  mention 
what  has  been  passing,  all  this  time,  in 
my  mind  ;  though  it  may  rather  have  the 
air  of  a  hint  than  a  compliment ;  but  as 
I  own  to  beinf^  as  much  in  fault  as  vour- 
selves,  I  hope  you  won't  be  affronted  at 
a  little  plain  dealing." 

"  You  are  mighty  good  to  us,  indeed. 
Sir !"  cried  Mrs.  Maple,  "  but  pray 
Avhat  fault  have  you  to  charge  Me  w^ith, 
amongst  the  rest?" 

"  I  speak  of  us  in  a  body,  Madam, 
and,  I  hope,  with  proper  shame!  To 
think  that  we  should  all  get  out  of  that 

B  5 


(       10       ) 

loathsome  captivity,  with  so  little  re- 
verence, that  not  one  amongst  us  should 
have  fallen  upon  his  knees,  to  give 
thanks,  except  just  this  poor  outlandish 
gentlev^oman ;  whose  good  example  I 
recommend  it  to  us  all  now  to  follow.'* 
^  "  What,  and  so  overturn  the  boat,'* 
said  the  elderly  man,  "  that  we  may  all 
be  drowned  for  joy,  because  we  have 
escaped  being  beheaded  ?" 

"  I  submit  to  your  better  judgment, 
Mr,  Ililey,"  replied  the  officer,  "  with 
regard  to  the  attitude ;  and  the  more 
readily,  because  I  don't  think  that  the 
posture  is  the  chief  thing,  half  the  people 
that  kneel,  even  at  church,  as  I  have 
taken  frequent  note,  being  oftener  in  a 
doze  than  in  a  fit  of  devotion.  But  the 
fear  of  shaking  the  boat  would  be  but  a 
poor  reason  to  fear  shaking  our  gratitude, 
which  seems  to  me  to  want  it  abundantly. 
80  I,  for  one,  give  thanks  to  the  Author 
of  all  things  1" 

"  You  are  a  fine  fellow,  noble  Admi- 
ral!" cried  Mr.  llileyj  "  as  fine  a  fellow 


C    "    ) 

as  ever  I  knew!  and  I  honour  you,  faith  ! 
for  I  don't  beheve  there  is  a  thing  in  the 
world  that  requires  so  much  courage  as 
to  risk  derision,  even  from  fools." 

A  young  man,  wrapped  up  in  flannels, 
who  had  been  undisguisedly  enjoying  a 
little  sneering  laugh,  now  became  sud- 
denly grave,  and  j^retended  not  to  heed 
what  was  passing. 

Mrs.  Maple  protested  that  she  could 
not  bear  the  parade  of  saying  her  prayers 
in  public. 

Another  elderly  lady,  who  had  hi- 
therto seemed  too  sick  to  vspeak,  de- 
clared that  she  could  not  think  of  giving 
thanks,  till  she  were  sure  of  being  out  of 
danger. 

And  the  young  lady,  laughing  immo- 
derately, vowed  that  she  had  never  seen 
such  a  congress  of  quizzes  in  her  life; 
adding,  "  We  want  nothing,  now,  but  a 
white  foaming  billow,  or  a  shrill  whistle 
from  Boreas,  to  bring  us  all  to  confes- 
sion, and  surprise  out  our  histories." 

"  Apropos  to  quizzes,"  said  Mr.  Riley, 

B  6 


..y 


(       12      ) 

addressing  the  hitherto  silent  young 
man,  "  how  comes  it,  Mr.  Ireton,  that 
we  have  not  had  one  word  from  you  all 
this  time  ?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  apropos. 
Sir  ?''  demanded  the  young  man,  some- 
what piqued. 

"  Faith,  I  don't  very  well  know.  I 
am  no  very  good  French  dictionary. 
But  I  always  say  apropos,  when  I  am  at 
a  loss  how  to  introduce  any  thing.  Let 
us  hear,  however,  where  you  have  been 
passing  your  thoughts  all  this  time. 
Are  you  afraid  the  sea  should  be  im- 
pregnated with  informers,  instead  of 
salt,  and  so  won't  venture  to  give  breath 
to  an  idea,  lest  it  should  be  floated  back 
to  SignoK  Robespierre,  and  hodge- 
podged  into  a  conspiracy  ?" 

"  Ay,  your  thoughts,  your  thoughts! 
give  us  your  thoughts,  Ireton !"  cried 
the  young  lady,  ^^  I  am  tired  to  death  of 
my  own." 

"  Why,  I  have  been  reflecting,  for  thfs 
last  hour  or  two,  what  a  singular  circum- 

7 


(     13    ) 

stance  It  is,  tliat  in  all  the  domains  that  I 
have  scainpered  over  upon  the  continent, 
I  have  not  met  with  one  young  person 
who  could  hit  my  fancy  as  a  companion 
for  life." 

"  And  I,  Sir,  think,"  said  the  sea 
officer,  turning  to  him  with  some  se- 
verity, "  that  a  man  who  could  go  out 
of  old  Endand'to  cl.use  himself  a  wife, 
never  deserves  to  set  foot  on  it  again  ! 
If  I  knew  any  worse  punishment,  I 
should  name  it.*' 

This  silenced  Mr.  Ireton  ;  and  not 
another  word  was  uttered,  till  the  open- 
ing of  day  displayed  the  British  shore. 

The  sea  officer  then  gave  a  hearty 
huzza,  which  was  echoed  by  Harleigh  ; 
while  Riley,  as  the  light  gleamed  upon 
the  old  and  tattered  garments  of  the 
stranger,  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  ex- 
claiming, "  Faith,  I  should  like  to  know 
what  such  a  demoiselle  as  this  should 
come  away  from  her  own  country  for  i 
What  could  you  be  afraid  oi\  hay !  de- 
moiselle ?"  — 

•She  turned  her  head  from    him    in 


(     H     ) 

Silence.  Harleigh  enquired,  in  French, 
whether  she  had  escaped  the  general 
contagion,  from  which  almost  all  in  the 
boat  had  suffered,  of  sickness. 

She  cheerfully  replied,  Yes  1  She  had 
escaped  every  evil ! 

"  The  demoiselle  is  soon  contented,'* 
said  Riley;  "  but  I  cannot  for  my  life 
make  out  wlio  she  is,  nor  what  she 
wants.  Why  won't  you  tell  us,  de- 
moiselle ?  I  should  like  to  know  your 
history." 

"  Much  obliged  for  the  new  fellow 
traveller  you  have  given  us,  Mr.  Har- 
leigh!" said  Mrs.  Maple,  contemptuously 
examining  her ;  "  I  have  really  some 
curiosity  myself,  to  be  informed  what 
could  put  it  into  such  a  body's  mind  as 
that,  to  want  to  come  over  to  England.'* 

"  The  desire  of  learning  tlie  language, 
I  hope  1"  cried  Harleigh,  "  for  I  should 
be  sorry  that  she  knew  it  already!" 

"  I  wish,  at  least,  she  would  tell  us,'* 
said  the  yoimg  lady,  "  how  she  hap- 
pened to  find  out  our  vessel  just  at  the 
moment  v/e  were  sailing.'* 


(    15    ) 

"  And  I  should  be  glad  to  discover," 
cried  Riley,  "  why  she  understands 
English  on  and  off  at  her  pleasure,  now 
so  ready,  and  now  answering  one  never 
a  word.'* 

The  old  sea  officer,  touching  his  hat 
as  he  addressed  her,  said,  "  For  my 
part.  Madam,  I  hope  the  compliment 
you  make  our  country  in  coming  to  it, 
is  that  of  preferring  good  people  to  bad  ; 
in  which  case  every  Englishman  should 
honour  and  welcome  you." 

"  And  I  hope,"  cried  Harleigh, 
while  the  stran^-er  seemed  hesitatino- 
how  to  answer,  "  that  this  patriotic 
benevolence  is  comprehended  ;  if  not, 
I  will  attempt  a  translation." 

"  I  speak  French  so  indifferently, 
which,  however,  I  don't  much  mind," 
cried  the  Admiral,  "  that  I  am  afraid 
the  gentlewoman  would  hardly  under- 
stand me,  or  else  I  would  translate  for 
myself." 

The  stranger  now,  v/ith  a  strong  ex- 
pression of  gratitude,  replied  in  English, 


(     »6     ) 

but  with  a  foreign  accent,  "  It  is  only 
how  to  thank  you  I  am  at  a  loss.  Sir ;  I 
understand  you  perfectly.'* 

"  So  I  could  have  sworn !"  cried 
Riley,  with  a  laugli,  "  I  could  have 
sworn  that  this  would  be  the  turn  for 
understanding  English  again  !  And  you 
can  speak  it,  too,  can  you.  Mistress  ?" 

"  And  pray,  good  woman,''  demanded 
Mrs.  Maple,  staring  at  lier,  '^  how  came 
you  to  learn  English  ?  Have  you  lived 
in  any  English  family  ?  If  you  have,  I 
should  be  glad  to  know  their  names." 

"  Ay.  their  names !  their  names !"  was 
echoed  from  Mrs.  Maple  by  her  niece. 

The  stranger  looked  down,  and 
stammered,  but  said  nothing  that  could 
distinctly  be  heard. 

Riley,  laughing  again,  though  pro- 
voked, exclaimed,  ''There!  now  you 
ask  her  a  question,  she  won't  com- 
prehend a  word  more  !  I  was  sure  how 
'twould  be!  They  are  clever  beings, 
those  French,  they  are,  faith  !  always 
playing  fools'  tricks,  like  so  many  nion> 


(    >7    > 

kies,  yet  always  lighting  right  upon  their 
feet,  like  so  many  cats  !" 

"  You  must  resign  your  demoiselle, 
as  Mr.  Riley  calls  her,  for  a  heroine  j" 
whispered  the  young  lady  to  Mr.  Har- 
leigh.  "  Her  dress  is  not  merely 
shabby ;  'tis  vulgar.  I  have  lost  all 
hope  of  a  pretty  nun.  Slie  can  be 
nothing  above  a  house-maid." 

"  She  is  interesting  by  her  solitary 
situation,"  he  answered,  "  be  she  what 
she  may  by  her  rank :  and  her  voice, 
I  think,  is  singularly  pleasing." 

*'  Oh,  you  must  fall  in  love  with  her, 
I  suppose,  as  a  thing  of  course.  If, 
however,  she  has  one  atom  that  is  native 
in  her,  how  will  she  be  choaked  by  our 
foggy  atmosphere !" 

"  And  has  our  atmosphere,  EHnor, 
no  purifying  particles,  that,  in  defiance 
of  its  occasional  mists,  render  it  salu- 
brious ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  alone  the  foggy 
air  that  she  must  inhale  ;  but  the  fo^i^y 
souls  whom  she  must  see  and  hear.     If 


(  IS  ) 

she  have  no  political  bias,  that  sets 
natural  feelings  aside,  she'll  go  off  in  a 
lethargy,  from  cn?iiu,  the  very  first  week. 
For  myself  I  confess,  from  my  happiness 
in  going  forth  into  the  world  at  this 
sublime  juncture,  of  turning  men  into 
infants,  in  order  to  teach  them  better 
how  to  grow  up,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  never 
awaked  into  life,  till  I  had  opened  my 
eyes  on  that  side  of  the  channel." 

"  And  can  you,  Elinor,  with  a  mind 
so  powerful,  however  —  pardon  me!— 
wild,  have  witnessed " 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean!  — 
but  those  excesses  are  only  the  first 
froth  of  the  cauldron.  When  once  'tis 
skimmed,  you  will  find  the  composition 
clear,  sparkling,  delicious !" 

*^  Has,  then,  the  large  draught  which, 
in  a  two  years'  residence  amidst  that 
combustion,  you  have,  perforce,  quaffed, 
of  revolutionary  beverage,  left  you,  in 
defiance  of  its  noxious  qualities,  still  t^ius 


jj 


♦  • 


He  hesitated. 


"  Inebriated,  you  would  say,  Albertj** 


(     19     ) 

cried  she,  laughing,  "  if  you  blushed 
not  for  me  at  the  idea.  But,  in  this  one 
point,  your  liberality,  though  matchless 
in  every  other,  is  terribly  narrowed  by 
adhesion  to  old  tenets.  You  enjoy  not, 
therefore,  as  you  ought,  this  glorious 
enoch,  that  lifts  our  minds  from  sla- 
very  and  from  nothingness,  into  play 
and  vigour ;  and  leaves  us  no  longer, 
as  heretofore,  merely  making  believe 
that  we  are  thinkin^r  bein2:s.'' 

"  Unbridled  liberty,  Elinor,  cannot 
rush  upon  a  state,  without  letting  it 
loose  to  barbarism.  Nothing,  without 
danger,  is  suddenly  unshackled  :  safety 
demands  control  from  the  baby  to  the 
despot." 

"  The  opening  essays  here,"  she  re- 
plied, "  have  certainly  been  calamitous : 
but,  when  all  minor  articles  are  pro- 
gressive, in  rising  to  perfection,  must 
the  world  in  a  mass  alone  stand  still, 
because  its  amelioration  would  be  costly? 
Can  any  thing  be  so  absurd,  so  prepos^ 
terous,  as  to  seek  to  improve  mankind 


(       20      ) 

individually,  yet  bid  it  stand  still  collec- 
tively ?  What  is  education,  but  reversing 
propensities;  making  tlie  idle  industrious, 
the  rude  civil,  and  the  ignorant  learned  ? 
And  do  you  not,  for  every  student  thus 
turned  out  of  his  likings,  his  vaga- 
ries, or  his  vices,  to  be  new  modelled, 
call  this  alteration  improvement  ?  Why, 
then,  must  you  brand  all  similar  efforts 
for  new  organizing  states,  nations,  and 
bodies  of  society,  by  that  word  of  un- 
meaning alarm,  innovation  ?'* 

"  To  reverse,  Elinor,  is  not  to  new 
model,  but  to  destroy.  This  education, 
with  which  you  illustrate  your  maxims, 
does  it  begin  w^ith  the  birth  ?  Does  it 
not,  on  the  contrary,  work  its  way  by 
the  gentlest  gradations,  one  part  almost 
imperceptibly  preparing  for  another, 
throughout  all  the  stages  of  childhood 
to  adolescence,  and  of  adolescence  to 
manhood?  If  you  give  Homer  be- 
fore the  Primer,  do  you  think  that  you: 
shall  make  a  man  of  learning  ?  If  you 
shew  the  planetary  system  to  the  child 


(       21       ) 

who  has  not  yet  trundled  his  hoop,  do 
you  believe  that  you  will  form  a  mathe- 
matician ?  And  if  you  put  a  rapier  into 
his  hands  before  he  has  been  exercised 
with  foils,  —  what  is  your  guarantee  for 
the  safety  of  his  professor  r" 

Just  then  the  stranger,  having  taken 
off'  her  gloves,  to  arrange  an  old  shawl, 
in  which  she  was  wrapt,  exhibited 
hands  and  arms  of  so  dark  a  colour,  that 
they  might  rather  be  styled  black  than 
brown. 

Elinor  exultingly  drew^  upon  them  the 
eyes  of  Harlefgh,  and  both  taking,  at 
the  same  instant,  a  closer  view  of  the 
little  that  w^as  visible  of  the  muffled  up 
face,  perceived  it  to  be  of  an  equally 
dusky  hue. 

The  look  of  triumph  was  now^  re- 
peated. 

"  Pray,  Mistress,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Riley,  scofRngly  fixing  his  eyes  upon 
her  arms,  "  what  part  of  the  world 
might  you  come  from  ?  The  settle- 
ments in  the  West  Indies?  or  somewhere 
off*  the  coast  of  Africa  ?" 


(      22      ) 

She  drew  on  her  gloves,  ^vlthout  seem- 
hm  to  hear  him. 

"  There  1"  said  he,  "  now  the  de- 
moiselle don't  understand  English  again! 
Faith,  I  begin  to  be  entertained  with 
her.     I  did  not  like  it  at  first." 

"  What  say  you  to  your  dulcinea 
now,  Harleigli  ?"  w^hispered  EHnor; 
'<=  you  will  not,  at  least,  yclep  her  the 
Fair  Maid  of  the  Coast." 

"  She  has  very  fine  eyes,  how^ever  !'* 
answered  he,  laughing. 

Tiie  wind  just  then  blowing  back  the 
prominent  borders  of  a  French  night- 
cap, which  had  almost  concealed  all  her 
features,  displayed  a  large  black  patch, 
that  covered  half  her  left  cheek,  and  a 
broad  black  ribbon,  which  bound  a  ban- 
dage of  cloth  over  the  right  side  of  her 
forehead. 

Before  Elinor  could  utter  her  rallying 
congratulations  to  Harleigh,  upon  this 
sight,  she  was  stopt  by  a  loud  shout 
from  Mr.  Riley  ;  "  Why  I  am  afraid  the 
demoiselle  has  been  in  the  wars  1"  cried 


(       23       ) 

he.  "  Why,  Mistress,  have  you  been 
trying  your  skill  at  fisty  cuffs  for  the 
good  of  your  nation  ?  or  only  playing 
Avitli  kittens  for  your  private  diversion  ?" 

'•  Now,  then,  Harleigh,"  said  Elinor, 
*'  what  says  your  quixotism  now  ?  Are 
you  to  become  enamoured  with  those 
plaisters  and  patches,  too  ?'' 

"  Why  she  seems  a  little  mangled,  I 
confess  ;  but  it  may  be  only  by  scramb- 
ling from  some  prison." 

''  Really,  Mr.  Harleigli,"  said  Mrs. 
Maple,  scarcely  troubling  herself  to 
lower  her  voice  as,  incessantly,  she  con- 
tinued surveying  the  stranger,  "  I  don't 
think  that  we  are  much  indebted  to  you 
for  bringing  us  such  company  as  this  into 
our  boat  !  We  did  not  pay  such  a  price 
to  have  it  made  a  mere  common  hoy. 
And  without  the  least  enquiry  into 
her  character,  too !  without  considering 
what  one  must  think  of  a  person  who 
could  look  out  for  a  place,  in  a  chance 
vessel,  at  midnight  !'* 

"  Let  us  hope,"  said  Harleigh,  per- 


(     24     ) 

ceiving,  by  the  down-cast  eyes  of  the 
stranger,  that  she  understood  what 
passed,  ''  that  we  shall  not  make  her 
repent  her  choice  of  an  asyhuii." 

"  Ah !  there  Is  no  fear !"  cried  she, 
with  quickness. 

"  Your  prepossession,  then,  is,  hap- 
pily, in  our  favour  ?" 

"  Not  my  prepossession,  but  my  gra- 
titude 1" 

"  This  is  true  practical  philosophy,  to 
let  the  sum  total  of  good  out-balance 
the  detail,  which  little  minds  would  dwell 
upon,  of  evil." 

"  Of  evil  1  I  think  myself  at  this 
moment  the  most  fortunate  of  human 
beings  1'' 

This  was  uttered  with  a  sort  of  trans- 
port that  she  seemed  unable  to  control, 
and  accompanied  with  a  bright  smile, 
that  displayed  a  row  of  beautifully  white 
and  polished  teeth. 

Riley  now,  again  heartily  laughing, 
exclaimed,  <'  This  demoiselle  amuses  me 
mightily  !  she  does,  faith  !  with  hardly  a 


C     25 


J 


rag  to  cover  her  this  cold  winter's  nighty 
and  on  the  point  of  going  to  the  bottom 
every  moment,  in  this  crazy  Httle  vessel ; 
with  never  a  friend  to  own  her  body  if 
she's  drowned,  nor  an  acquaintance  to 
say  a  word  to  before  she  sinks  j  not  a 
countryman  within  leagues,  except  our 
surly  pilot,  who  grudges  her  even  life- 
room,  because  he's  afraid  he  shan't  be 
the  better  for  her  :  going  to  a  nation 
■where  she  won't  know  a  dog  from  a  cat, 
and  will  be  buffetted  from  pillar  to  post, 
if  she  don't  pay  for  more  than  she 
wants ;  with  all  this,  she  is  the  most  for- 
tunate of  human  beings  !  Faith,  the  de- 
moiselle is  soon  pleased  !  She  is,  faith  ! 
But  why  won't  you  give  me  your  re- 
ceipt. Mistress,  for  finding  all  things  so 
agreeable  ?" 

"  You  w^ould  be  sorry,  Sir,  to  take  it!" 
"  I  fear,  then,"' said  Harleigh,  "  it  is 
only  past  suffering  that  bestows  this  cha- 
racter of  bliss  upon  simple  safety  ?" 

"  Pray,    Mr.  Riley,"    cried  Mrs.  Ma- 
pie,  "  please  to  explain  what  you  mean, 

VOL.  I,  c 


(  =6  ) 

by  talking  so  freely  of  our  all  going  to 
the  bottom  ?  I  should  be  glad  to  know 
what  right  you  had  to  make  me  come 
on  board  the  vessel ^  if  you  think  it  so 
crazy  ?" 

She  then  ordered  the  pilot  to  use  all 
possible  expedition  for  putting  her  on 
shore,  at  the  very  first  jut  of  land  j; 
adding,  "  you  may  take  the  rest  of  the 
company  round,  wherever  you  chuse, 
but  as  to  me,  I  desire  to  be  landed 
directly/' 

She  could  notjhowever^  prevail ;  but,  in 
the  panic  which  had  seized  her,shegrewas 
incessant  in  reproach  as  in  alarm,  bitterly 
bewailing  the  moment  that  she  had  ever 
trusted  herself  to  such  an  element,  such 
a  vessel,  and  such  guides, 

"  See,'*  said  Harleigh,  in  a  low  voice 
to  the  stranger,  '^  how  little  your  philo- 
sophy has  spread  ;  and  how  soon  every 
evil,  however  great,  is  forgotten  when 
over,  to  aggravate  the  smallest  discom* 
fort  that  still  remains !  What  recom- 
pence,  or  what  exertion  would  any  one 


(     27     ) 

of  us  have  thought  too  great,  for  obtain- 
ing a  place  in  this  boat  only  a  few  liours 
ago  !  Yet  you,  alone,  seem  to  have  dis- 
covered, that  the  true  art  of  supporting 
present  inconvenience  is  to  compare  it 
with  past  calamity, —  not  with  our  dis- 
appointed wishes." 

"  Calamity  !".  repeated  she  with  viva- 
citv,  "  ah  !  if  once  I  reach  that  shore* 
—  that  blessed  shore!  shall  I  have  a 
sorrow  left  ?'^ 

"  The  belief  that  you  will  not,"  said 
he,  smiling,  "  will  almost  suffice  for  your 
security,  since,  certainly,  half  our  afflic- 
tions are  those  which  we  suffer  through 
anticipation." 

There  was  time  for  nothing  more  j 
the  near  approach  to  land  seeming  to 
fill  every  bosom,  for  the  instant,  witk 
sensations  equally  enthusiastic. 


c  2 


(     28     ) 


CHAPTER  II. 

T  TPON  reaching  the  British  shore, 
while  Mrs.  Maple,  her  niece,  the 
elderly  lady,  and  two  maid- servants, 
claimed  and  employed  the  aid  of  the 
gentlemen,  the  Incognita,  disregarding 
an  offer  of  Harleigh  to  return  for  her, 
darted  forward  with  such  eagerness,  that 
she  was  the  first  to  touch  the  land, 
where,  with  a  fervour  that  seemed  re- 
sistless, she  rapturously  ejaculated, 
"  Heaven,  Heaven  be  praised  i" 

The  pilot,  when  he  had  safely*  dis. 
embarked  his  passengeis,  committed  the 
charge  of  his  vessel  to  a  boy,  and, 
abruptly  accosting  the  stranger,  de- 
manded a  recompence  for  the  risk  which 
he  had  run  in  savins;  her  life. 

She  was  readily  opening  her  work  bag 
to  seek  for  her  purse,  but  the  old  sea 
x)flicer,    approaching,    and   holding    her 


(       29       ) 

arm,  gra\;e]y  asked  whether  she  meant 
to  affront  him  ;  and,  turning  to  the  pilot, 
somewhat  dictatorially  said,  "  Harkee, 
my  lad  !  we  took  this  gentlewoman  in 
ourselves  ;  and  I  have  seen  no  reason  to 
be  sorry  for  it :  but  she  is  our  passenger, 
and  not  your's.  Come  to  the  inn,  there- 
fore, and  you  shall  be  satisfied,  forthwith, 
for  her  and  the  rest  of  us,  in  a  lump." 

*'  You  are  infinitely  good.  Sir,"  cried 
the  stranger,  "  but  I  have  no  claim — ." 

''  That's  your  mistake,  gentlewoman. 
An  unprotected  female,  provided  she's 
of  a  good  behaviour,  has  always  a  claim 
to  a  man's  care,  whether  she  be  born 
amongst  our  friends  or  our  foes.  I  should 
be  ashamed  to  be  an  Englishman,  if  I 
held  it  my  duty  to  think  narrower  than 
that.  And  a  man  who  could  bring  him- 
self to  be  ashamed  of  beino;  an  Ens^lish- 
man,  would  find  it  a  difficult  solution, 
let  me  tell  you,  my  good  gentlewoman, 
to  discover  what  he  might  glory  in. 
However,  don't  thitik  that  I  say  this  to 
affront  you  as  a  foreigner,  for  I  hope  I 

c  3 


(     30     ) 

am  a  better  Christian.  I  only  drop  it  as 
a  matter  of  fact.'* 

"  Worthy  Admiral,'*  said  Mr.  Har- 
leigh,  now  joining  them,  «  you  are  not, 
I  trust,  robbing  me  of  my  office  ?  The 
pecuniary  engagement  with  the  pilot  was 
mine." 

"  Bat  the  authority  which  made  him 
act,"  returned  the  officer,  ^'  \vas  mine." 

A  bright  smile,  which  lightened  up  the 
countenance  of  the  Incognita,  again 
contrasted  her  white  teeth  with  her 
dingy  complexion  ;  while  dispersing  the 
tears  that  started  into  her  eyes,  "  Fie 
upon  me  1"  she  cried,  "  to  be  in  England 
and  surprised  at  generosity !" 

"  Gentlewoman,"  said  the  Admiral, 
emphatically,  "  if  you  want  any  help, 
command  my  services  ;  for,  to  my  seem- 
ing, you  appear  to  be  a  person  of  as 
right  a  way  of  thinking,  as  if  you  had 
lisped  English  for  your  mother-tongue." 

He  then  peremptorily  insisted  that 
the  boat's  company  should  discharge  the 
pilot,   without  ^ny  interference  on  the 


(     3«     ) 

part  of  the  lone  traveller,  as  soon  as  it 
had  done  with  the  custom-house  officers. 

This  latter  business  was  short ;  there 
was  notliing  to  examine  :  not  a  trunk, 
and  scarcely  a  parcel,  had  the  hurry 
and  the  dangers  of  escape  hazarded. 

They  then  proceeded  to  the  principal 
inn,  where  the  Admiral  called  all  the 
crew,  as  he  styled  the  party,  to  a  spa- 
cious room,  and  a  cheering  fire,  of  which 

he  undertook  the  discinline. 

i. 

The  sight  of  this  meanly  attired  per- 
son, invited  into  the  apartment  both  by 
the  Admiral  and  Mr.  Harleigh,  with  a 
civility  that  seemed  blind  to  her  shabby 
appearance,  proved  so  miracidous  a  re- 
storative to  Mrs.  Maple,  that,  rising 
from  a  great  chair,  into  which,  with  a 
declaration  that  she  was  half  dead  from 
her  late  fright  and  sickness,  she  hud 
thrown  herself,  she  was  endowed  with  sud- 
den strength  of  body  to  stand  stiffly  up- 
right, and  of  lungs  to  pronounce,  in 
shrill  but  powerful  a-ccents,  *'  Pray,  Mr. 
Harleigh,  are  we  to  go  on  any  farther  as 

c  4 


i  32  ) 

It  we  were  to  live  all  our  lives  in  a  stap'e 
coach  ?  Why  can't  that  body  as  well 
stay  in  the  kitchen  ?" 

The  stranger  would  hastily  have  re- 
tired, but  the  Admiral,  taking  her  softly 
by  the  shoulder,  said,  "  I  have  been  a 
commanding  otHcer  the  best  part  of  my 
life,  Gentlewor/ian ;  and  though  a  devil 
of  a  wound  has  put  me  upon  the  super- 
annuated list,  I  am  not  sunk  into  quite 
such  a  fair  weather  chap,  as  to  make 
over  my  authority,  in  such  a  little  pitiful 
skiff^s  company  as  this,  to  petticoat 
government ;  —  though  no  man  has  a 
better  respect  for  the  sex,  in  its  proper 
element ;  which,  however,  is  not  the  sea. 
Therefore,  Madam,"  turning  to  Mrs. 
Maple,  "  this  gentlewoman  being  my  own 
passenger,  and  having  comported  herself 
without  any  offence  either  to  God  or  man, 
I  shall  take  it  kind  if  you  will  treat  her 
in  a  more  Christian-like  manner." 

While  Mrs.  Maple  began  an  angry 
reply,  the  stranger  forced  herself  out  of 
the  apartment.     The  Admiral  followed* 


(     33     ) 

*^  I  hope,  gentlewoman,"  he  was 
beginning,  "  you  w^on't  be  cast  down, 
or  angry,  at  a  few  vagaries — "  when, 
looking  in  her  face,  he  saw  a  countenance 
so  gaily  happy,  that  his  condolence  was 
changed  into  pleased  astonishment. 
"  Angry  !"  she  repeated,  "  at  a  moment 
such  as  this! — a  moment  of  so  blessed 
an  escape!  —  T  should  be  the  most 
graceless  of  wretches,  if  1  had  one  sensa- 
tion but  of  thankfulness  and  joy  !*' 

"  You  are  a  very  brave  woman,"  said 
the  Admiral,  ''  and  I  am  sorry,"  looking 
at  her  tattered  clothing,  "  to  see  you  in 
no  better  plight :  though,  perchance,  if 
you  had  been  born  to  more  ghtter  with- 
out, you  might  have  had  less  ore  within. 
However,  if  you   don't  much   like   the 
vapouring  of  that  ancient  lady,  which  I 
have   no   very   extraordinary   liking   io 
myself,   neither,    v/hy    stay    in  another 
room  till  we  have  done  witli  the  pilot; 
and  then,  if  I   can   be    of    any  use  in 
helping  you  to  your  friends,   I  shall  be 
glad  to  be  at  your  service.     For  I  take 
it  for  granted,  though  you  are  not  in 

c  5 


(     34    ; 

your  own  country,  yon  are  too  good  a 
woman  to  be  without  friends,  as  I  know 
no  worse  sign  of  a  person's  character.*' 

He  then  joined  his  fellow-voyagers, 
and  the  stranger  went  on  to  enquire  for 
the  master  of  the  house. 

Sounds  from  without,  that  seemed  to 
announce  distress,  catching,  soon  after, 
the  attentive  ear  of  Harleigh,  he  opened 
the  door,  and  perceived  that  the  stranger 
was  returned  to  the  passage,  and  in 
evident  disorder. 

The   sea  officer  briskly  advanced  to 
her.      "  How  now  !"    he  cried,  "  dis- 
heartened at  last  ?  Well !  a  woman  can 
be  but  a  woman  !  However,   unless  vou 
have  a  mind  to  see  all  my  good  opinion 
blown  away  —  thus!  —  in  a  whiff,   you 
won't  think  of  drooping,  now  once  you 
are  upon  British  ground.     For  though  I 
should  scorn,  I  hope,  to  reproach  you  for 
not  being  a  native  born,  still,  not  to  be 
overjoyed  that  you  can  say.  Here  1  am  ! 
v/ould  be  a  sure  way  to  win  my  contempt. 
However,  as  I  don't  take  upon  me  to 
be  your  governor,  I'll  send   your  own 


C-35    } 

countryman   to  you,    if  you   like  him 
better,  —  the  pilot  ?" 

"  Not  for  the  universe  !  Not  for  the 
universe  !"  she  eagerly  cried,  and, 
darting  into  an  empty  room,  with  a 
hasty  apology,  shut  the  door. 

"  Mighty  well,  indeed !"  said  Mrs. 
Maple,  who,  catching  the  contagion  of 
curiosity,  had  deigned  to  listen  ;  "  so  her 
own  countryman,  the  only  person  that 
she  ought  to  belong  to,  she  shuts  the 
door  upon  !" 

She  then  protested,  that  if  the  woman 
were  not  brought  forth,  before  the  pilot, 
who  was  already  paid  and  gone,  had  re- 
embarked,  slie  should  always  be  con- 
vinced that  she  had  lost  something, 
though  she  might  not  find  out  what  had 
been  taken  from  her,  for  a  twelvemonth 
afterwards; 

The  landlord,  coming  forward,  en- 
quired whether  there  were  any  dis- 
turbance ;  and,  upon  the  complaint  and 
application  of  Mrs.  Maple,  would  have 
opened  the  door  of  the  closed  apart Qient  j 

c  6 


(     36     ) 

but  the  Admiral  and  Harleigb,  each 
taking  him  by  an  arm,  declared  the 
person  in  that  room  to  be  under  their 
protection. 

"  Well,  upon  my  word,'*  cried  Mrs. 
Maple,"  this  is  more  than  I  could  have 
expected  !  We  are  in  fine  hands,  indeed, 
for  a  sea  officer,  and  an  Admiral,  that 
ought  to  be  our  safe-guard,  to  take  part 
with  our  native  enemy,  that,  I  make  no 
doubt,  is  sent  amongst  us  as  a  spy  for 
our  destruction  !" 

^'  A  lady,  Madam,"  said  the  Admiral, 
looking  down  rather  contemptuously, 
"  must  have  liberty  to  say  whatever  she 
pleases,  a  man's  tongue  being  as  much 
tied  as  his  hands,  not  to  annoy  the 
weaker  vessel ;  so  that,  let  her  come  out 
with  what  she  will^  she  is  amenable  to 
no  punishment;  unless  she  take  some 
account  of  a  man's  inward  opinion ;  in 
which  case  she  can't  be  said  to  escape  quite 
so  free  as  she  m.ay  seem  to  do.  This, 
Madam,  is  all  the  remark  that  I  tliink 
fit  to  make  tp  you.      But  as  for  you. 


•       (     37     ) 

Mr. Landlord,  when  tlic  gentlewoman  in 
this  room  has  occasion  to  consult  you, 
she  speaks  English,  and  can  call  you 
herself.'' 

He  would  then  have  led  the  wTty  to  a 
general  retreat,  but  Mrs.  Maple  angrily 
desired  the  landlord  to  take  notice,  that 
a  foreigner,  of  a  suspicious  character, 
had  come  over  with  them  by  force, 
whom  he  ought  to  keep  in  custody, 
unless  she  would  tell  her  name  and  bu- 
siness. 

The  door  of  the  apartment  was  now 
abruptly  opened  by  the  stranger,  who 
called  out,  "  O  no !  no  !  no  !  —  Ladies  ! 
—  Gentlemen!  —  I  claim  your  protec- 
tion !" 

"  It  is  your's,  Madam  !"  cried  Har- 
leigh,  with  emotion. 

"  Be  sure  of  it.  Gentlewoman  !''  cried 
the  old  officer ;  "  We  did  not  brino- 
you  from  one  bad  shore  to  another. 
We'll  take  care  of  you.     Be  sure  of  it !" 

The  stranger  wept.  "  I  thought 
not,"  she  cried,  "  to  have  shed  a  tear  in 


(     38     ) 

England ;    but   my  heart   can   find   no 
other  vent." 

"  Very  pretty !  very  pretty,  indeed, 
,  Gentlemen!"  said  Mrs.  Maple;  "  If 
you  can  answer  all  this  to  yourselves, 
well  and  good ;  but  as  I  have  not  quite 
so  easy  a  conscience,  I  think  it  no 
more  than  my  duty  to  inform  the  ma- 
gistrates myself,  of  my  opinion  of  this 
foreigner." 

She  was  moving  off;  but  the  stranger 
rushed  forth,  and  with  an  expression  of 
agonized  affright,  exclaimed,  *'  Stay ! 
Madam,  stay  !  hear  but  one  word  !  I  am 
no  foreigner,  — I  am  English  !" — 

Equal  astonishment  now  seized  every 
one;  but  while  they  stared  from  her  to 
each  other,  the  Admiral  said :  "  I  am 
cordially  glad  to  hear  it!  cordially! 
though  why  you  should  have  kept  secret 
a  point  that  makes  as  much  for  your 
honour  as  for  your  safety,  I  am  not  deep 
enough  to  determine.  However,  I 
won't  decide  against  you,  while  I  am 
in  the  dark  of  your  reasons ;   though  I 


(     39     ) 

own  I  have  rather  a  taste  myself  for 
thiiiiiics  more  above  board.  But  for  all 
that.  Ma'am,  if  I  can  be  of  any  use  to 
you,  make'no  scruple  to  call  upon  me." 
He  walked  back  to  the  parlour,  where 
all  now,  except  Harleigh,  assembled  to  a 
general  breakfast,  of  which,  during  tliis 
scene,  Kiley,  for  w^ant  of  an  associate, 
had  been  doing  the  honors  to  hiinself. 
The  sick  lady,  Mrs.  Ireton,  was  not  yet 
sufficiently  recovered  to  take  any  re- 
freshment; and  the  young  man,  her  son, 
had  commanded  a  repast  on  a  separate 
table. 

Harleigh  repeated  to  the  stranger,  as 
she  returned,  in  trembling,  to  her  room, 
his  offer  of  services. 

"  If  any  lady  of  this  party,"  she  an- 
swered, "  would  permit  me  to  say  a  few 
words  to  her  not  quite  in  public,  I  should 
thankfully  acknov/ledge  such  a  conde- 
scension. And  if  you,  Sir,  to  whom 
already  I  owe  an  escape  that  calls  for 
my  eternal  gratitude,  if  you,  Sir,  could 
procure  me  such  an  audience " 


(     40     ) 

"  What  depends  upon  me  shall  surely 
not  be  left  undone,"  he  replied ;  and, 
returning  to  the  parlour,  "  Ladies,"  he 
said,  "  this  person  whom  we  have  brought 
over,  begs  to  speak  with  one  of  jou 
alone." 

"  Alone  !"  repeated  Mrs.  Maple, 
^^  How  shocking !  Who  can  tell  w-hat 
may  be  her  designs  ?" 

"  She  means  that  we  should  go  out  to 
^  hold  a  conference  with  her  in  the  passage, 
I  suppose  ?"  said  Mrs.  Ireton,  the  sick 
lady,  to  whom  the  displeasure  raised  by 
this  idea  seemed  to  restore  strength  and 
speech  j  "  or,  perhaps,  she  would  be  so' 
good  as  to  receive  us  in  the  kitchen  ?. 
Her  condescension  is  really  edifying !  I 
am  quite  at  a  loss  how  I  shall  shew  my 
sense  of  such  affability." 

"  What,  is  that  black  insect  buzzing 
about  us  still?"  cried  her  son,  "  Why 
what  tlie  deuce  can  one  make  of  such  a 
grim  thing  ?" 

"  O,  it's  my  friend  the  demoiselle,  is 
it?"  said  Riley ^  "  Faith,  I  had  almost 


C     41     ) 

forgotten  her.  I  was  so  confoundedly 
numbed  and  gnavvn,  between  cold  and 
hunger,  that  I  don't  think  I  could  have 
remembered  my  father,  I  don't,  faith  1 
before  I  had  recruited.  But  where's 
poor  demoiselle  ?  What's  become  of 
her  ?  She  wants  a  little  bleaching,  to 
be  sure  ;  but  she  has  not  bad  eyes;  nor  a 
bad  nose,  neither." 

*'  I  am  no  great  friend  to  the  mysti- 
cal," said  the  Admiral,  "but  I  promised 
her  my  help  while  she  stood  in  need  of 
my  protection,  and  I  have  no  title  to 
withdraw  it,  now  that  I  presume  she  is 
only  in  need  of  my  purse.  If  any  of  the  la- 
dies, therefore,  mean  to  go  to  her,  I  beg 
to  trouble  them  to  carry  this."  He  put 
a  guinea  upon  the  table. 

"  Now  that  she  is  so  readv  to  tell  her 
story,"  said  Elinor,  "  I  am  confident 
that  there  is  none  to  tell.  V/hilc  she 
was  enveloped  in  the  mystical,  as  the 
Admiral  phrases  it,  I  was  dying  with  cu- 
riosity to  make  some  discovery." 

"  O  the  poor  demoiselle!"  cried 
Riley,  «*  why  you  can't  think  of  leaving 


(      42      ) 

her  in  the  lurch,  at  last,  ladies,  after 
bringing  her  so  far?  Come,  lend  me 
one  of  your  bonnets  and  your  fardingales, 
or  what  is  it  you  call  your  things  ?  And 
twirl  me  a  belt  round  my  waist,  and 
something  proper  about  my  neck,  and 
I'll  go  to  her  myself,  as  one  of  your 
waiting  maids  :  I  will,  faith  1" 

"  I  am  glad,  at  least,  niece  Elinor, 
that  this  once,"  said  Mrs.  Maple,  "  you 
are  reasonable  enough  to  act  a  little  like 
me  and  other  people.  If  you  had  really 
been  so  wild  as  to  sustain  so  glaring  an 
impostor  — ." 

"  If,  aunt  ?  —  dont  you  see  how  I  am 
scalding  my  throat  all  this  time  to  run 
to  her  ?"  replied  Elinor,  giving  her 
hand  to  Harleigh. 

As  they  re-entered  the  passage,  the 
stranger,  rushing  from  her  room  with  a" 
look  the  most  scared  and  altered,  ex- 
claimed, that  she  had  lost  her  purse. 

"  This  is  complete!"  cried  Elinor, 
laughing  ;  "  and  will  this,  too,  Harleigh, 
move  your  knight-errantry  ?     If  it  does 


(     43     ) 

—  look  to  your  heart  !  for  I  won't  lose 
a  moment  in  becoming  black,  patched, 
and  pennyless !" 

She  flew  with  this  anecdote  to  the 
breakfast  parlour ;  while  the  stranger, 
yet  more  rapidly,  flew  from  the  inn  to 
the  sea-side,  where  she  carefully  retraced 
the  ground  that  slie  had  passed  ;  but  all 
examination  was  vain,  and  she  returned 
with  an  appearance  of  increased  dismay. 

Meeting  Harleigh  at  the  door,  his 
expression  of  concern  somewhat  calmed 
her  distress,  and  she  conjured  him  to 
plead  with  one  of  the  ladies,  to  have  the 
charity  to  convey  her  to  London,  and 
thence  to  help  her  on  to  Brighthelm- 
stone.  "  I  have  no  means,'^  she  cried, 
"  now,  to  proceed  unaided  ;  my  pur^e, 
I  imagine,  dropt  into  the  sea,  when,  so 
unguardedly  !  in  the  dark,  I  cast  there 
— "  She  stopt,  looked  confused,  and 
bent  her  eyes  upon  the  ground. 

"  To  Brighthelmstonc  ?*'  repeated 
Harleigh  ;  "  some  of  these  ladies  reside 
not  nine  miles  from  that  town.  I  will 
see  what  can  be  done.*^ 


(     44     ) 

She  merely  entreated,  she  said,  to 
be  allowed  to  travel  in  their  suite,  in 
any  way,  any  capacity,  as  the  lowest  of 
attendants.  She  was  so  utterly  reduced 
by  this  dreadful  loss,  that  she  must  else 
beg  her  way  on  foot. 

Harleigh  hastened  to  execute  this 
commission  ;  but  the  moment  he  named 
it,  Elinor  called  out, "  Do,  pray,  Mr.  Har- 
leigh, tell  me  where  you  have  been  se- 
creting your  common  sense  ?  —  Not  that 
I  mean  to  look  for  it !  —  'twould  despoil 
me  of  all  the  dear  freaks  and  vagaries 
that  give  zest  to  life  !" 

"  Poor  demoiselle  1'*  cried  Riley, 
throwing  half  a  crown  upon  the  table, 
"  she  shall  not  be  without  my  mite,  for 
old  acquaintance  sake." 

"  What !  has  she  caught  even  you, 
Mr.  Cynical  Riley  ?"  cried  Elinor  : 
"  you,  who  take  as  much  pleasure  in 
lowering  or  mortifying  your  fellows-crea- 
tures, as  Mr.  Harleigh  does  in  elevating!, 
or  relievinsc  them  ?'' 

"  Evciv  one   after   his  own  fashion^. 


(     45     ) 

Miss  Nelly.  The  best  amongst  us  has 
as  little  taste  for  being  thwarted  as  the 
worst.  He  has,  faith  !  We  all  think  our 
own  way  the  only  one  that  has  any  com- 
mon sense.  Mine,  is  that  of  a  diver  :  I 
seek  always  for  what  is  hidden.  What 
is  obvious  soon  surfeits  me.  If  this 
demoiselle  had  named  herself,  I  should 
never  have  thought  of  her  again  ;  but 
now,  I'm  ail  agog  to  find  her  out." 

"  Why  does  she  not  say  who  she  is 
at  once  ?"  cried  Mrs.  Maple.  "  I  give 
nothing  to  people  that  I  know  nothing 
of;  and  what  had  she  to  do  in  France  ? 
Why  don't  she  tell  us  that  ?" 

"  Can  such  a  skin,  and  such  a  garb, 
be  worth  so  much  breath  ?"  demanded 
Ireton,  taking  ud  a  newspaper. 

Haileigh  enquired  of  Mrs.  Ireton, 
Avhether  she  had  succeeded  in  her  pur- 
posed seaich,  of  a  young  woman  to  re- 
place ihe  domestic  v;hom  she  had  left  in 
France,  and  to  attend  her  till  she  ar- 
I'ived  at  her  house  in  town. 


(     46     ) 

^'  No,  Sir,"  she  answered  ;  "  but  you 
don't  mean,  I  presume,  to  recommend 
this  vagabond  to  be  about  my  person  ? 
I  should  presume  not ;  I  should  presume 
you  don't  mean  that?  Not  but  that  I 
should  be  very  sensible  to  such  a  mark 
of  distinction.  I  hope  Mr.  Harleigh 
does  not  doubt  that?  I  hope  he  does 
not  suspect  I  should  want  a  proper  sen- 
sibility to  such  an  honour  ?" 

"  If  you  think  her  a  vagabond. 
Madam,"  replied  Harleigh,  "  I  have 
not  a  word  to  offer:  but  neither  her 
language  nor  her  manners  incline  me  to 
that  opinion.  You  only  want  an  at- 
tendant till  you  reach  your  family,  and 
she  merely  desires  and  supplicates  to 
travel  free.  Her  object  is  to  get  to 
Brighthelmstone.  And  if,  by  waiting 
upon  you,  she  could  earn  her  journey 
to  London,  Mrs.  Maple,  perhaps,  in  com- 
passion to  her  pennyless  state,  might 
thence  let  her  share  the  conveyance  of 
some  of  her  people  to  Lewes,  whence 
she  might  easily  find  means  to  pro- 
ceed." 


(    47     ) 

The  two  eltlerly  ladies  stared  at  each 
other,  not  so  much  as  if  exchanging  en- 
quiries how  to  decline,  but  in  what  de- 
gree to  resent  this  proposition  ;  while 
Elinor,  making  Harleigh  follow  her  to  a 
window,  said,  "  Now,  do  inform  me,  seri- 
ously and  candidly,  what  it  is  that  urges 
you  to  take  the  pains  to  make  so  ridicu- 
lous an  arrangement  ?" 

^^  Her  apparently  desolate  state.'' 

"  Now  do  put  aside  all  those  fine  sort 
of  sayings,  which  you  know  I  laugh  at, 
and  give  me,  instead,  a  little  of  that 
judgment  which  you  so  often  quarrel 
with  me  for  not  giving  to  you ;  and  then 
honestly  tell  me,  can  you  really  credit 
that  any  thing  but  a  female  fortune- 
hunter,  would  travel  so  strangely  alone, 
or  be  so  oddly  without  resource  ?" 

"  Your  doubts,  Elinor,  are  certain] v 
rational ;  and  I  can  only  reply  to  them, 
by  saying,  that  there  are  now  and  then 
uncommon  causes,  which,  when  deve- 
loped, shew  the  most  extraordinary  situa- 
tions to  be  but  their  mere  simple  efiect." 


(     48     ) 

"  And  her  miserable  accoutrement  ? 
—  And  all  those  bruises,  or  sores,  and 
patches,  and  bandages  ?  — '' 

"  The  detail,  I  own,  Elinor,  is  unac- 
countable and  ill  looking :  I  can  defend 
no  single  particular,  even  to  myself;  but 
yet  the  whole,  the  ail-together,  carries 
with  it  an  indescribable,  but  irresistible 
vindication.  This  is  all  I  can  say  for 
befriending  her." 

"  Nay,  if  you  think  her  resilW  dis- 
tressed," cried  Elinor,  "  I  feel  ready 
enough  to  be  her  handmaid  ;  and,  at  all 
events,  I  shall  make  a  point  to  discover 
whom  and  what  she  may  be,  that  I  may 
know  how  to  value  your  judgment,  in 
odd  cases,  for  the  future.  Who  knows, 
Harleigh,  but  I  may  have  some  to  pro- 
pose for  your  decision  of  my  ownr" 

The  Admiral,  after  some  deliberation, 
said,  that,  as  it  was  certainly  possible 
that  the  poor  woman  might  really  have 
lost  her  purse,  whicji  ho,  for  one,  believed 
to  be  the  simple  truth,  he  could  not  re- 
fuse to  help  her  on  to  her  friends ;  and, 

7 


(     49     ) 

ringing  for  the  landlord,  he  orerded  that 
■a  breakfast  should  be  taken  to  the  gen- 
tlewoman in  the  other  room,  and  that  a 
place  should  be  secured  for  her  in  the 
next  day's  stage  to  London  ;  for  all 
which  he  would  immediately  deposit  the 
money. 

"  And  pray,  _Mr.  Landlord,"  said 
Mrs.  Maple,  **  let  us  know  what  it  was 
that  this  body  wanted,  when  she  desired 
to  speak  with  you  ?" 

"  She  asked  me  to  send  and  enquire 
at  the  Post-office  if  there  were  any  letter 
directed  for  L.  S.,  to  be  left  till  called  for; 
and  when  she  heard  that  there  was 
none,  I  thought,  verily,  that  she  would 
have  swooned." 

Elinor  now  warmly  united  with  Har- 
leigh,  in  begging  that  Mrs.  Maple  would 
let  her  servants  take  charge  of  the  young 
woman  from  London  to  Lewes,  when, 
through  the  charity  of  the  Admiral,  she 
should  arrive  in  town.  Mrs.  Maple  pro- 
nounced an  absolute  negative  ;  but  when 
Elinor,  not  less  absolutely,  declared  that, 

VOL.  U  D 


(     50     ) 

in  that  case,  she  would  hire  the  traveller 
for  her  own  maid ;  and  the  more  readily 
because  she  was  tired  to  death  of  Gold- 
ing,  her  old  one,  Mrs.  Maple,  though 
with  the  utmost  ill  will,  was  frightened 
into  compliance ;  and  Elinor  said  that 
she  would  herself  carry  the  good  news  to 
the  Ircognita. 

The  landlord  desired  to  know  in  what 
name  the  place  was  to  be  taken. 

This,  also, Elinor  undertook  to  enquire, 
and,  accompanied  by  Harleigh,  went  to 
the  room  of  the  stranger. 

They  found  her  standing  pensively 
by  the  window;  the  breakfast,  which  had 
been  ordered  for  her  by  the  Admiral, 
untouched. 

"  I  understand  you  wish  to  go  to 
Brighthelmstone  ?"  said  Elinor. 

The  stranger  courtsied. 

"  I  believe  I  know  every  soul  in  that 
place.  Whom  do  you  want  to  see  there  ? 
—  Where  are  you  to  go  ?" 

She   looked   embarrassed,   and    with 


(f 


'•5»     ) 


'-'iiii^iH  hesitation,  answere'^r^  To  .  .  .the 
"^'Post-office,  Madam/'   ' 

"  O !  what,  you  are  something  to  the 
'  post-master,  are  you  ?*' 

"  No,  Madam  ...  I  ...  I  ...  go  to 
the  Post-office  only  for  a  letter  1" 

"  A  letter  ?  Well !  an  hundred  or  two 
miles  is  a  good  way  to  go  for  a  letter !" 

"  I  am  not  without  hopes  to  find  a 
friend. — The  letter  I  had  expected  here 
was  only  to  contain  directions  for  the 
meeting." 

"  O!  if  your  letter  is  to  be  personified, 
I  have  nothing  more  to  say.  A  man,  or 
a  woman  ?  —  which  is  it  r" 

"  A  woman,  Madam." 

*'  Well,  if  you  merely  wish  to  go  to 
Brighthelmstone,  I'll  get  you  conveyed 
within  nine  miles  of  that  place,  if  you 
will  come  to  me,  at  Mrs>  Maple's,  in 
Upper  Brooke-strejt,  when  you  get  to 
town." 

Surprise  and  pleasure  now  beamed 
brightly  in  the  eyes  of  the  stranger,  who 
said    that   she    should    rejoice    to    pa>s 

D    2 


(      52      ) 

through  London,  where,  also,  she  parti- 
cularly desired  to  make  some  enquiries. 

"  But  we  have  no  means  for  carryinp: 
you  thither,  except  by  the  stage  ;  and 
one  of  our  gentlemen  offers  to  take  a 
place  in  it  for  you/* 

The  stranger  looked  towards  Harlei^h, 
and'  confusion  seemed  added  to  her  em- 
barrassment. 

Harleigh  hastily  spoke,  "  It  is  the 
old  officer,  —  that  truly  benevolent  ve- 
teran, who  wishes  to  serve  you,  and 
whose  services,  from  the  nobleness  of 
his  character,  confer  still  more  honour 
than  benefit." 

Again  she  courtsied,  and  v/ith  an  air  in 
which  Harleigh  observed,  with  respect, 
not  displeasure,  her  satisfaction  in  chang- 
ing the  object  of  this  obligation. 

"  Well,  that's  settled,'*  said  Elinor; 
'*«  but  now  the  landlord  wants  your  name, 
for  taking  your  place." 

"  My  place  ?  —  Is  there  no  machine. 
Madam,  that  sets  of!*  immediately?" 

'-  None  sooner  tlian  to-morrow*  What 
name  am  I  to  tell  him  ?" 


(    53    ) 

"  None  aboner  than  to-morrow  ?" 

"  No;  and  if  you  do  not  give  in  your 
name,  and  secure  it,  you  may  be  de- 
tained till  the  next  day." 

"  How  very  unfortunate !"  cried  she^ 
walking  about  the  room. 

"  Well,  but  what  is  your  name  ?'' 

A  crimson  of  the  deepest  hue  forced 
its  way  through  her  dark  complexion : 
her  very  eyes  reddened  with  blushes,  as 
she  faintly  answered,  "  I  cannot  tell  my 
name  1'' 

She  turned  suddenly  away,  with  a  look 
that  seemed  to  expect  resentment,  and 
anticipate  being  abandoned. 

Elinor,  however,  only  laughed,  but 
laughed  "  in  such  a  sort"  as  proclaimed 
triumph  over  Harleigh,  and  contempt  for 
the  stranger. 

Harleigh  drew  Elinor  apart,  saying, 
"  Can  this,  really,  appear  to  you  so 
ridiculous  r" 

"  And  can  you,  really,  Harleigh,  be 
allured  by  so  glaring  an  adventurer  ?  a 
Wanderer, —  without  even  a  name!" 

D   3 


(  ,  54     ) 

'•  She  is  not,  at  least>  without  probity, 
since  sbe  prefers  any  risk,  and  any  sus- ^7 
picion,  to  falsehood.     How  easily,  other-  ;^ 
wise,  might  she  assume  any  appellation 
that  she  pleased  !'* 

"  You  are  certainly  bewitched,  Har- 
lelgh!" 

"'  You  are  certainly  mistaken,  Elinor! 
yet  I  cannot  desert  her,  till  I  am  con^  ., 
vinced  that  she  does  not  merit  to  be  pro- 
tected." 

Elinor  returned  to  the  stranger.   "  You  ^ 
do  not  chuse,  then,  to  have  your  place 
secured  ?" 

*^  O  yes  Madam  !  — if  it  is  impossible 
for  me  to  attend  any  lady  to  town." 

"  And  what  name  shall  you  like  for 
the  book-keeper  ?  Or  what,  initials  ?  — 
What  think  you  of  L.  S.  ?" 

She  started ;  and  Harleigh,  again  tak- 
ing Elinor:  aside,  more  gravely  said, 
"  Elinor,  I  am  glad  I  am  not  —  at  this 
moment  —  my  brother  !  —  for  certainly 
I  could  not  forbear  quarrelling  with 
YOU  !" 


(     55     ) 

"I  heartily  wish,  then,"  cried  she, 
with  quickness,  "  that, — at  this  moment! 
—  you  were  your  brother  !" 

Harleigh, now,  addressing  the  stranger, 
in  whose  air  and  manner  distress  seemed 
palpably  gaining  ground,  gently  said, 
''  To  save  you  any  further  trouble,  I 
will  take  a  place  in  my  own  name,  and 
settle  with  the  landlord,  that,  if  I  do  not 
appear  to  claim  it,  it  is  to  be  made  over 
to  the  person  who  produces  this  card. 
The  book-keeper  shall  have  such  another 
for  a  check." 

He  put  into  her  hand  a  visiting  ticket, 
on  which  was  engraven  Mr.  Harleigh, 
and,  not  waiting  for  her  thanks,  con- 
ducted Elinor  back  to  the  parlour, 
saying,  "  Pardon  me,  Elinor,  that  I 
have  stopt  any  further  enquiries.  It  is 
not  from  a  romantic  admiration  of 
mystery,  but  merely  from  an  opinion 
that,  as  her  wish  of  concealment  is  open 
and  confessed,  we  ought  not,  through 
the  medium  of  serving  her,  to  entangle 
her  into  the  snares  of  our  curiosity." 

D  4 


^  56  ) 

**  Oh,  you  are  decided  to  be  ahvajB 
/ight,  I  know  I"  cried  Elinor,  laughing, 
though  piqued  ;  "  and  that  i3  the  very 
reason  I  always  hate  you  !  However^ 
you  excite  iny  curiosity  to  fathom  h.er ; 
iSO  let  her  come  to  me  in  town,  and 
I'll  take  her  under  my  own  care,  if 
only  to  judge  your  discernment,  by 
linding  out  how  she  merits  your  quix- 
otism." 

Harleio;h  then  returned  to  the  vouni^ 
"woman,  and  hesitatingly  said,  "  Pardon 
my  intrusion,  but — permit  me,  as  you 
have  so  unfortunately  lost  your  purse — '* 

"  If  my  place,  Sir,'^  hastily  inter- 
rupted the  stranger,  "  is  taken,  1  can 
require  nothing  else.'* 

«  Yet — you  have  the  day  to  pass 
here  ;  and  you  v/ill  with  difficulty  exist 
merely  upon  air,  even  where  so  de- 
lightedly you  inhale  it  ;  and  Miss 
Joddrel,  I  fear,  has  forgotten  to  bring 
you  the  little  offering  of  your  veteran 
friend;  therefore — " 

"  If  he  has  the  infinite  goodness  to 
intend  me  any,  .Sir,  permit,    at   least. 


(  sr  ) 

that  he  may  be  my  only  pecuniary 
creditor!  I  shall  want  no  addition  of 
that  sort,  to  remember, — gratefully  and 
for  ever  !  to  whom  it  is  I  owe  the  deep- 
est obligation  of  my  life!" 

Is  this  a  house-maid?  thought  Har- 
leigh  ;  and  again  he  rejoiced  in  the  per- 
severance with  which  he  had  supported 
her ;  and,  too  much  respecting  her 
refusal  to  dispute  it,  expressed  his  good 
wishes  for  her  welfare,  and  took  leave ; 
yet  would  not  set  out  upon  his  journey 
till  he  had  again  sought  io  interest  the 
old  officer  in  her  favour. 

The  guinea  was  still  upon  the  tea- 
table  ;  but  the  Admiral,  who,  in  the  fear 
of  double  dealing,  had  conceived  some 
ideas  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  Incog- 
nita, no  sooner  heard  that  she  had  de- 
clined receiving  any  succour  except  from 
himself,  than,  immediately  softened,  he 
said  that  he  would  take  care  to  see  her 
well  treated. 

Harleigh  then  drove  after  the  carriage 
of  Mrs.  Maple  and  Elinor,  who  were 
already  on  their  way  to  London. 

i>  5 


(    58     ) 


CHAPTER  III. 

'"PHE  Admiral  immediately  repaired  to 
the  stranger.  "  Young  woman,"  he 
cried,  "  1  hope  you  don't  take  it  into 
your  mind,  that  I  was  more  disposed 
to  serve  you  while  I  thought  you  of  fo- 
reign culture,  than  now  I  know  you  to 
be  of  our  own  growth  ?  If  I  came  for- 
warder then,  it  was:onIy..because  I  was 
afraid  that  th  ose  who  have  h  ad  less  occasion 
than  I  have  had,  to  get  the  upper  hand 
of  their  prejudices,  would  keep  back- 
warder." 
The  stranger  bowed  her  thanks. 
^*'  But  as  to.me,'.'  he  continued, "  I  have 
had  the  experience  of  what  H  is  to  be  iu 
a  strange  land;  and,  moreover,  a  prisoner: 
in,  which  time  I  came  to  an  agreement 
with  myself — a  person  over  whom  I  keep 
a  pretty  tight  hand!  becaufewhy?  If 
I  don't  the  devil  will !    So  I  came,  I  say, 

I 


(     59     ) 

to  an  agreement  with  myself,  to  remem- 
ber all  the  ill-usage  I  then  met  with,  as 
a  memonto  to  forbear  exciting  in  others, 
those  black  passions  which  sundry  un- 
handsome tricks  excited,  in  those  days, 
in^hiyself.'^  ; 

'  Observing  her  breakfast  to  be  utterly 
neglected,  he  demanded,  with  an  air  of 
some  displeasure,  whether  she  had  rib 
longing  to  taste  the  food  of  her  mother 
country  again  ? 

The  fulness  of  her  mind,  she  answered, 
had  deprived  her  of  appetite. 

"  Poor  girl !  poor  woman  !"  cried  he, 
compassionately,  "  for  I  hardly  know 
which  to  call  you,  those  cap-flounces 
upon  the  cheeks  making  a  young  woman 
look  no  better  than  an  old  one.  How- 
ever, be  you  which  you  may,  I  can't 
consent  to  see  you  starve  in  a  land  of 
plenty ;  which  would  be  a  base  ingrati- 
tude to  our  Creator,  who,  in  dispensing 
the  most  to  the  upper  class,  grants  us 
the  pleasure  of  dispensing  the  overplus, 
Oiirselves,  to  the  under  class:   which  I 

»  6 


(     6o     ) 

take  to  be  the  true  reason  of  Providence 
for  ordering  that  difference  between  the 
rich  and  the  poor  5  as,  most  like,  we 
shall  all  find,  when  we  come  to  give  in 
our  accounts  in  t'other  world."^ 

He  then  enquired  wh.at  it  was  she  intend- 
ed to  do;  adding,  "I don't  mean  as  to  your 
secrets,  because  they  are  what  I  have  no 
right  to  meddle  v/ith  ;  though  I  disap- 
prove your  having  any,  they  being  of 
little  ser\ace,  except  to  keep  foul  deeds 
from  the  light ;  for  what  is  fair  loves  to 
be  above  board.  Besides,  as  every  thing 
is  sure  to  come  out,  sooner  or  later,  it 
only  breeds  suspicion  and  trouble  for 
nothing,  to  procrastinate  telling  to-day 
with  your  own  free  will,  what  you  may 
be  certain  will  be  known  to-morrow,  or 
rtext  day,  with  or  without  it.  Don't  be 
discomposed,  however,  for  I  don't  say 
this  by  way  of  a  sift,  nor  yet  for  a  re- 
proach y  1  merely  drop  it  as  a  piece  of 
advice." 

"  And   I   should  be  happy,  Sir,   to 
^indeavour   to    deserve    it,    by  frankly 

6 


(    6i     ) 

explaining  my  situation,  but  that  the 
least  mistake,  the  smallest  imprudence, 
might  betray  me  to  insupportable  wretch- 
edness.'* 

"  Why  then,  if  that's  the  case,  you  are 
very  right  to  hold  your  tongue.  If  the 
lav/  never  makes  a  person  condemn  him- 
self, much  less  ought  a  little  civility. 
There  are  dangers  enough  in  the  world 
without  running  risks  out  of  mere  com- 
pliment." 

Then  putting  his  guirhea  before  her, 
upon  the  table,  he  charged  her  to  keep  it 
unbroken  till  she  set  out,  assuring  her 
that  he  should  himself  order  v/hatever 
she  could  require  for  her  dinner,  supper, 
and  lodging,  and  settle  for  the  whole 
with  the  landlord;  as  w^ell  as  with  the 
book-keeper  for  her  journey  to  London, 

The  stranger  seemed  almost  over- 
powered with  gratitude  ;  but  interrupt- 
ing what  she  attempted  to  say,  "  No 
thankings,"  he  cried,  "  young  woman ! 
it's  a  bad  sign  when  a  good  turn  sur- 
prises a  person,     I  have  not   escaped 


from  such  hard  fare  with  my  body,  to 
leave  my  soul  behind  me  ;  though^  God 
knows,  I  may  forget  it  all  fast  enough. 
There's  no  great  fear  of  mortal  man's 
being  too  good." 

Then,  wishing  her  farewell,  he  was 
quitting  the  room,  but,  thoughtfully 
turning  back,  "  Before  we  part,''  he 
said,  "  it  will  be  but  Christian-like  to 
give  you  a  hint  for  your  serious  profit. 
In  whatever  guise  you  may  have  de- 
meaned yourself,  up  to  this  present  date, 
which  is  a  solution  !•  don't  mean  to 
meddle  with,  I  hope  you'll  always  con 
duct  yourself  in  a  becoming  manner,  for 
the  rest  of  your  days,  in  remembrance 
of  your  great  good  fortune,  in  landing 
safely  upon  this  happy  shore." 

He  was  going,  but  the  Incognita  stopt 
him,  and  again  the  dark  hue  of  her  skin, 
was  inadequate  to  disguise  the  deep 
blushes  that  were  burning  upon  her 
cheeks,  as  she  replied,  *'  I  see,  Sir^ 
through  all  your  benevolence,  tliat  you  ■ 
^  believe  me  to  be  one  of  thoise  unhappy 


(     63    ) 

persons,  whose   misfortunes  have  been^ 
the  effect  of  their  crimes :  I  have  no  way 
tQ.  prove  my  innocence ;    and  assertion 
may  but  make  it  seem  more  doubtful; 
yet-'' 

"  You  are  right !  you  are  right  i''  in- 
terrupted he ;  "I  am  no  abettor  of 
assertions.  They  are  but  a  sort  of  cheap 
coinage,  to  make  right  and  wrong  pass 
current  together." 

"  I  find  1  have  been  too  quick/'  she 
answered,  "  in  thinking  myself  happy  !         "^k, 
to  receive  bounty  under  so  dreadful  a 
suspicion,  proves  me  to  be  in  a  desolate 
state  indeed !" 

"  Young  woman,"  said  the  Admiral, 
in  a  tone  approaching  to  severity,  "  don't 
complain  !  We  must  all  bear  what  we 
have  earned.  I  can't  but  see  what  you 
are,  though  it's  what  I  won't  owii  to  the 
rest  of  the  crew,  who  think  a  flaw  in  the* 
character  excuse  plenty  for 'letting  a 
poor  weak  female  starve  alive  ;  for  which, 
to  my  seeming,  they  deserve  to  want  a 
crust  of  bread  themselves.     But  I  hope . 


(     64     )       , 

I  know  better  than  that  where  the  main 
fault  is  apt  to  lie ;  for  I  aai  not  ignorant 
how  apt  our  sex  is  to  misbehave  to 
yours  ;  especially  in  slighting  you,  if  you 
don't  slight  them ;  a  thing  not  to  be 
defended,  either  to  God  or  man.  But 
for  ail  that,  young  woman,  I  must  make 
free  to  remark,  that  the  devil  himself 
never  yet  put  it  into  a  man's  head,  nor 
into  the  world's  neither,  to  abandon,  or 
leave,  as  you  call  it,  desolate,  a  v;omaii 
who  has  kept  tight  to  her  own  duty, 
and  taken  a  modest  care  of  herself," 

The  eyes  of  the  stranger  were  now 
no  longer  bright  from  their  mere  natural 
lustre,  nor  from  the  beams  of  quick  sur- 
prize, or  of  sudden  vivacity ;  'twas 
with  trembling  emotion  that  they  shone, 
and  with  indignation  that  they  sparkled. 
She  took  up  the  guinea,  from  which 
her  sight  seemed  averted  with  horror, 
and  said,  "  Pardon  me,  Sir,  but  I  must 
beg  you  to  receive  this  again." 

"  Why,  what  now  ?  do  you  think, 
because  I  make  no  scruple  to  give  you  an 


item  that  I  don't  fancy  being  imposed 
upon  ;  do  you  think,  I  say,  because  of 
that,  I  have  so  little  Christian  charity,  as 
not  to  know  that  you  may  be  a  very 
good  sort  of  woman  in  the  main,  for  all 
some  flainity  coxcomb  may  have  played 
the  scoundrel,  and  left  you  to  the  wide 
world,  after  teacliing  you  to  go  so  awry, 
that  he  knows  the  world  will  forsake  you 
too  ?  a  thing  for  which,  however,  he'll 
pay  well  in  time  ;  as  I  make  no  doubt 
but  the  devil  takes  his  own  notes  of  all 
such  actions." 

She  now  cast  the  guinea  upon  the 
table.  "  I  would  rather.  Sir,"  she  cried, 
"  beg  alms  of  every  passenger  that  I  may 
meet,  than  owe  succour  to  a  species  of 
pity  that  dishonours  me  !" 

The  Admiral  looked  at  her  with 
earnestness.  "  I  don't  well  know,"  he 
said,  "  what  class  to  put  you  in  ;  but  if 
you  are  really  a  virtuous  woman,  to  be 
sure  I  ought  to  ask  your  pardon  for  that 
little  hint  I  let  drop  ;  and,  moreover,  if 
I  asked  it  upon  my  knees,  I  can't  say  I 


(     66     ) 

should  think  it  would  be  overmuch,  for 
affronting  a  virtuous  woman,  without 
cause.  And,  indeed,  if  I  were  free  to 
confess  the  truth,  I  must  own  there^s 
something  about  you,  which  I  don't 
over-much  know  what  to  call,  but  that 
is  so  agreeable,  that  it  goes  against  me 
to  think  ill  of  you.*' 

"  Ah,  Sir !  think  well  of  me,  then  ! 
•—  let  your  benevolence  be  as  liberal  as 
it  is  kind,  and  try,  for  once,  to  judge 
favourably  of  a  stranger  upon  trust !" 

«  Well,  I  will!  I  will,  then  i  if  you 
have  the  complaisance  to  wish  for  my 
good  opinion,  I  will !"  cried  he,  nodding, 
while  his  eyes  glistened  ;  "  though  it's 
not  my  general  method,  I  can  tell  you, 
young  woman,  to  go  the  direct  opposite 
road  to  my  understanding.  But,  out  of 
the  way  as  things  may  look,  you  seem  to 
me,  in  the  main,  to  be  an  innocent  per- 
son ;  so  pray.  Ma'am,  don't  refuse  to  ac- 
cept this  little  token  of  my  good  will." 

The  countenance  of  the  stranger  ex- 
hibited strong  indecision.     He  enjoined 


(     67     ) 

her,  however,  to  keep  the  guinea,  and, 
after  struggling  vainly  to  speak,  she 
sighed,  and  seemed  distressed,  but  conx- 
plied. 

He  nodded  again,  saying,  "  Be  of 
good  cheer,  my  dear.  Nothing  comes 
of  being  faint-hearted.  I  give  you  my 
promise  I'll  see  you  in  town.  And, 
if  I  find  that  you  turn  out  to  be  good ;  or, 
moreover,  if  you  turn  good,  after  having 
unluckily  been  t'other  thing,  I'll  stand 
your  friend.    You  may  depend  upon  it/* 

With  a  look  of  mingled  kindness  and 
concern,  he  then  left  the  room. 

And  here,  shocked,  yet  relieved,  and 
happy,  however  forlorn,  she  remained, 
till  a  waiter  brouglit  her  a  fowl,  a  tart, 
and  a  pint  of  white  wine,  according  to 
commands  issued  by  the  Admiral.  She 
then  heard  that  the  whole  of  the  boat- 
party  had  set  oft  for  London,  except 
Mrs.  Ireton,  the  sick  lady,  who  did  not 
think  herself  sufficiently  recovered  to 
travel  till  the  next  day,  and  who  had 
enquired  for  some  genteel  young  lady 
to  attend  her  to  town  ;   but  she  was  so 


(    68    ) 

difficultj  the  waiter  said,  to  please,  that  she 
had  rejected  half-a-dozen  candidates  who 
had  been  presented  to  her  successively. 
She  seeaied  very  rich,  he  added,  for  slie 
ordered  things  at  a  great  rate,  though 
she  found  fault  with  them  as  fast  as  they 
were  carried  to  her ;  but  what  had  put 
her  the  most  out  of  humour  of  all,  was 
that  the  young  gentleman,  her  son,  had 
set  off  without  her,  in  a  quarrel :  which 
was  not,  however,  so  much  to  be  won- 
dered at,  for  the  maids  of  the  two  other 
ladies  said  that  the  gentlewoman  was  of  so 
aggravating  a  humour,  that  nobody  could 
live  with  her ;  which  had  provoked  her 
own  woman  to  leave  her  short  in  France, 
and  hire  herself  to  a  French  lady. 

The  little  repast  of  the  stranger  was 
scarcely  over,  when  the  waiter  brought 
her  word  that  the  sick  lady  desired  to 
see  her  up  stairs. 

Extremely  surprised,  she  demanded  for 
what  purpose. 

He  answered,  that  a  seventh  young 
person  whom  he  had  talixjn  into  the  lady's 


(     69     ) 

room,  with  an  offer  to  serve  her,  upon 
being  sharply  treated,  had  as  sharply 
replied  ;  which  had  so  affronted  her,  that 
^he  had  ordered  that  no  one  else  should 
be  brought  into  her  presence  ;  though 
in  two  minutes  more,  she  had  rung  the 
bell,  said  she  w^as  too  ill  to  be  left  alone, 
and  bid  him  fetch  her  the  woman  w^ho 
came  over  from  France. 

The  stranger,  at  first,  refused  to  obey 
this  imperious  summons;  but  the  wish 
of  placing  herself  under  female  protec- 
tion during  her  journey,  presently  con- 
quered her  repugnance,  and  she  accom- 
panied  the  messenger  back. 

Mrs.  Ireton  was  reclining  upon  an  easy 
chair,  still  somewhat  disordered  from  her 
Toyage,  though  by  no  means  as  much  in 
need  of  assistance  for  her  shattered 
frame,  as  of  amusement  for  her  restless 
mind. 

"  So  !"  she  cried,  "  you  are  here 
still?  Pray, — if  I  may  ask  so  confidential 
a  question, — what  acquaintance  may  you 
have  found  in  this  inn  ? — The  waiters? 
—  or  the  grooms  r" 


(     70     ) 

«  I  was  told,  Madam,  that  y oil' tiad 
some  commands  for  me." 

"  O,  you  are  in  haste,  are  you  ?  you 
want  to  be  shewing  off  those  patches  and 
A  bandages,  perhaps  ?  You  won't  forget  a 
veil,  I  hope,  to  ^  preserve  your  white 
skin  ?  Not  but  'twould  be  pity  to  make 
any  sort  of  change  in  your  dress,  'tis  so 
prodigiously  tasty !" 

The  stranger,  offended,  was  now  mov- 
ing off,  but,  calling  her  back,  "  Did  not 
the  waiter,"  Mrs.  Ireton  demanded,"  give 
you  to  understand  that  1  sent  for  you  ?" 

<*  Yes,  Madam ;  and  therefore  — " 

*'  Weil,  and  what  do  you  suppose  it 
was  for  ?  To  let  you  open  and  shut  the 
door,  just  to  give  me  all  the  cold  wind  of 
the  passages?  You  suppose  it  was  for  that, 
do  you?  You  surmize  that  I  have  a  passion 
for  the  tooth-ache  ?  You  conclude  that 
I  delight  in  sneezing  ?  —  coughing  ?  — 
and  a  stuft-up  nose  ?" 

"  I  am  sorry,  Madam,  — " 

«'  Or  perhaps  you  think  me  so  robust, 
that  it  would  be  kind  to  give  me  a  little 


(■  71     ) 

indisposition,  to  prevent  my  growing  too 
boisterous  ?  You  may  deem  my  strength 
and  health  to  be  overbearing  ?  and  be  so 
good  as,  to  intend  making  me  more  de- 
licate ?  You  may  be  of  opinion  that  it 
would  render  me  more  interesting  ?'* 

"  Indeed,  Madam, — " 

**  Or,  you  may  fancy  that  a  friendly 
catarrh  might  be  useful,  in  furnishing  me 
with  employment,  from  ordering  water- 
gruel,  and  balm-tea,  and  barley-water, 
and  filling  up  my  leisure  in  devising  suc- 
cessive slops  ?" 

The  difficulty  of  being  heard  made  the 
stranger  now  cease  to  attempt  speak- 
ing; and  Mrs.Ireton,  after  sundry  similar 
interrogatories,  angrily  said,  "  So  you 
really  don't  think  fit  to  initiate  me  into 
your  motives  for  coming  to  me,  without 
troubling  yourself  to  learn  mine  for  ad- 
mitting you  into  my  presence  ?" 

"  On  the  contrary.  Ma'am,  I  desire — *' 

"  O !  I  am  mistaken,  am  I  ?  It's  on 
the  contrary,  is  it  ?  You  are  vastly  kind 
to  set  me  right  j   vastly  kind,  indeed ! 


(    7^    ) 

Perhaps  you  purpose  to  give  me  a  few 
lessons  of  behaviour  ?'* 

"  I  am  so  wholl}^  at  a  loss.  Madam, 
why  I  have  been  summoned,  that  I  can 
divine  no  reason  why  I  should  stay.  I 
beg,  therefore,  to  take  my  leave.*' 

Again  she  was  retreating;  but  Mrs.  Ire- 
ton,  struck  by  her  courage,  began  to  con- 
ceive  that  the  mystery  of  her  birth  and 
business,  might  possibly  terminate  in  a 
discovery  of  her  belonging  to  a  less  ab- 
jectclassthan  herappearanceannounced; 
and  therefore,  though  firmly  persuaded 
that  what  might  be  diminished  in  po- 
verty, w^ould  be  augmented  in  disgrace, 
her  desire  was  so  inflamed  to  develop  the 
secret,  that,  softening  her  tone,  she  asked 
the  young  person  to  take  a  chair,  and 
then  entered  into  discourse  with  some 
degree  of  civility. 

Yet  with  all  this  restraint,  inflicted 
upon  a  nature  that,  to  the  privilege  of 
uttering  whatever  it  suggested,  claimed 
that  of  hearing  only  what  it  liked,  she 
could  gather  no  further  intelligence,  than 


(    73     ) 

that  the  stranger  had  received  private 
information  of  the  purposed  sailing  of 
the  vessel,  in  which  they  all  came  over : 
but  her  birth,  her  name,  her  connexions, 
her  actual  situation,  and  her  object  ia 
making  the  voyage,  resisted  enquiry, 
eluded  insinuation,  and  baffled  con- 
jecture. Nevertheless,  her  manners 
were  so  strikingly  elevated  above  her 
attire,  that,  notwithstanding  the  disdain 
w^ith  which,  in  the  height  of  her  cu- 
riosity, Mrs.  Ireton  surveyed  her  mean 
apparel,  and  shrunk  from  her  dusky  skin, 
she  gave  up  her  plan  of  seeking  for  any 
other  person  to  w^ait  upon  her,  during 
her  journey  to  town,  and  told  the  Incog- 
nita that,  if  she  could  make  her  dress  a 
little  less  shocking,  she  might  relinquish 
her  place  in  the  stage-coach,  to  occupy 
one  in  a  post-chaise. 

To  avoid  new  and  untried  risks,  in 
travelling  wholly  alone,  the  stranger  ac- 
ceded to  this  proposal ;  and  immediately, 
by  the  assistance  of  the  maid  of  the  inn, 
appropriated  the  guinea  of  the  Admiral 

^     VOL.  I.  E 


(     74    ) 

to  purchasing  decent  clothing,  though 
of  the  cheapest  and  coarsest  texture. 

The  next  morning  they  set  off  together 
for  London. 


C  IS    ) 


CHAPTER  IV. 

npHE  good  understanding  with  which 
the  eagerness  of  curiosity  on  one 
side,  and  the  subjection  of  caution  on  the 
other,  made  the  travellers  begin  their 
journey,  was  of  too  frail  a  nature  to  be 
of  long  endurance.  'Tis  only  what  is 
natural  that  flows  without  some  stimulus; 
wdiat  is  factitious  prospers  but  while  fresh- 
ly supplied  with  such  materials  as  gave  it 
existence.  Mrs.  Ireton,  when  she  found 
that  neither  questions,  insinuations,  nor 
petty  artifices  to  surprise  confessions,  suc- 
ceeded in  drawing  any  forth,  cast  off  a 
character  of  softness  that  so  little  Daki 
the  violence  which  its  assumption  did  her 
humour ;  while  the  stranger,  fatigued  by 
finding  that  not  one  particle  of  benevo- 
lence, was  mixed  with  the  avidity  for 
amusement  which  had  given  her  a  place 
in  the  chaise,  ceased  all  efforts  to  please, 
and  bestowed  no  further  attentions,  than 

£    2 


(    76     ) 

such  as  were  indispensably  due  to  the  mis- 
tress of  the  vehicle  in  which  she  travelled. 

At  a  little  distance  from  Rochester, 
the  chaise  broke  down.  No  one  was 
hurt ;  but  Mrs.  Ireton  deemed  the  mere 
alarm  an  evil  of  the  first  magnitude ; 
remarking  that  this  event  might  have 
brought  on  her  death ;  and  remark- 
ing it  W'ith  the  resentment  of  one  who 
had  never  yet  considered  herself  as  ame- 
nable to  the  payment  of  that  general, 
though  dread  debt  to  natur^  She  sent 
on  a  man  and  horse  for  another  carriage, 
and  wa"s  forced  to  accept  the  arm  of  the 
stranger,  to  support  her  till  it  arrived. 
But  so  deeply  was  she  impressed  with 
her  own  ideas  of  the  hardships  that  she 
en^iii'ed,  that  she  put  up  at  the  first  inn, 
went  to  bed,  sent  for  an  apothecary,  and 
held  it  to  be  an  indispensable  tribute  to 
the  delicacy  of  her  constitution,  to  take  it 
for  granted  that  she  could  not  be  removed 
for  some  days,  without  the  most  imminent 
hazard  to  her  life. 

Having  now  no  other  resource,   she 


(   n   ) 

hung  for  comfort,  as  well  as  for  assist- 
ance, upon  her  fellow-traveller,  to  whom 
she  gave  the  interesting  post  of  being 
the  repository  of  all  her  complaints, 
whether  against  nature,  for  constructing 
her  frame  with  such  exquisite  daintiness, 
or  against  fate,  for  it's  total  insensibility 
to  the  tenderness  which  that  frame  re- 
quired. And  though,  from  recently 
quitting  objects  of  sorrow,  and  scenes  of 
woe,  in  the  dreadful  ^apparel  of  awful 
reality,  the  Incognita  had  no  superfluous 
pity  in  store  for  the  distresses  of  offended 
self-importance,  she  yet  felt  relief  from 
experiencing  milder  usage,  and  spared 
no  assiduity  that  might  purchase  its  con- 
tinuance. 

It  was  some  days  before  Mrs. 
Ireton  thought  that  she  might  venture 
to  travel,  without  appearing  too  robust. 
And,  in  this  period,  one  only  circum- 
stance called  forth,  with  any  acri- 
mony, the  ill  humour  of  her  disposition. 
This  was  a  manifest  alteration  in  the 
complexion   of   her   attendant,    which, 

E  3 


'(    7«    ) 

from  a  regular  and  equally  dark  hue, 
appeared,  on  the  second  morning,  to  be 
smeared  and  streaked;  and,  on  the  third, 
to  be  of  a  dusky  white.  This  failed  not 
to  produce  sundry  inquisitive  comments; 
but  they  never  succeeded  in  obtain- 
ing any  explanatory  replies.  When, 
however,  on  the  fourth  day,  the  shutters 
of  the  chamber,  which,  to  give  it  a  more 
sickly  character,  had  hitherto  been 
closed,  were  suffered  to  admit  the  sun- 
beams of  a  cheerful  winter's  morning, 
Mrs,  Ireton  was  directed,  by  their 
jays,  to  a  full  and  marvellous  view,  of  a 
skin  changed  from  a  tint  nearly  black, 
to  the  brightest,  whitest,  and  most  daz- 
zling fairness.  The  band  upon  the  fore- 
head, and  the  patch  upon  the  cheek, 
were  all  that  remained  of  the  original 
appearance. 

The  first  stare  at  this  unexpected  me- 
tamorphosis, was  of  unmingled  amaze- 
ment ;  but  it  was  soon  succeeded  by  an 
expression  of  something  between  mock- 
ery and  anger,   evinced,  without  cere- 


(     79     ) 

moiiy  or  reserve,  by  the  following  speech: 
"  Upon  my  word.  Ma'am,  you  are  a 
very  complete  figure !  Beyond  what  I 
could  have  conjectured !  I  own  that ! 
I  can't  but  own  that.  I  was  quite  too 
stupid  to  surmize  so  miraculous  a  change. 
And  pray.  Ma'am,  if  I  may  take  the 
liberty  to  enquire, — who  are  you  ? 

The  stranger  looked  down. 

**  Nay,  I  ought  not  to  ask,  I  confess. 
It's  very  indelicate,  I  own  ;  very  rude,  I 
acknowledge;  but,  I  should  imagine,  it 
can  hardly  be  the  first  time  that  you 
have  been  so  good  as  to  pardon  a  little 
rudeness.  I  don't  know,  I  may  be  mista- 
ken, to  be  sure,  but  I  should  imagine  so." 

The  Incognita  now  raised  her  eyes. 
A  sense  of  ill  treatment  seemed  to  endue 
her  with  courage ;  but  her  displeasure, 
which,  though  not  uttered,  was  not  dis- 
guised, no  sooner  reached  the  observa- 
tion of  Mrs.  Ireton,  than  she  conceived 
it  to  be  an  insolence  to  justify  redoubling 
her  owii. 

"  You  are  affronted,  I  hope.  Ma'am  ? 

E  4 


(     8o     ) 

Nay,  you  have  reason  enough,  I  acknow- 
ledge ;  I  can't  but  acknowledge  that !  to 
s^^  me  impressed  with  so  little  awe  by 
your  wonderful  powers;  for  'twas  but  an 
hour  or  two  since,  that  you  were  the 
blackest,  dirtiest,  raggedest  wretch  I  ever 
beheld ;  and  now — you  are  turned  into 
an  amazing  beauty!  Your  cheeks  are 
all  bedaubed  with  rouge^  and  you  are 
quite  a  belle !  and  v^^ondering,  I  suppose, 
that  I  don't  beseech  you  to  sit  on  the 
sofa  by  my  side !  And,  to  be  sure,  it's 
very  ill  bred  o^  me :  I  can't  deny  that ; 
only  as  it  is  one  of  the  rudenesses  that  I 
conceive  you  to  have  had  the  goodness  to 
submit  to  before,  I  hope  you'll  for- 
give it." 

The  young  woman  begged  leave  to 
retire,  till  she  should  be  called  for  the 
journey. 

*'  O!  what,  you  have  some  other  meta- 
xnorphosis  to  prepare,  perhaps  ?  Those 
bandages  and  patches  are  to  be  con- 
verted into  something  else  ?  And  pray, 
if  it  will  not  be  too  great  a  liberty  to  en- 


(     8i     ) 

quire,  what  are  they  to  exhibit?  The  order 
of  Maria  Theresa  ?  or  of  the  Empress  of 
all  the  Russias  ?  If  I  did  not  fear  being 
impertinent,  I  should  be  tempted  to  ask 
how  many  coats  of  white  and  red  you 
were  obliged  to  lay  on,  before  you  could 
cover  over  all  that  black/* 

The  stranger,,  offended  and  tired, 
without  deigning  to  make  any  answer, 
walked  back  to  the  chamber  which  she 
had  just  quitted. 

The  astonished  Mrs.  Ireton  w'as  in 
speechless  rage  at  this  unbidden  retreat; 
yet  anger  was  so  inherently  a  part  of 
her  composition,  that  the  sight  she  saw 
with  the  most  lively  sensation  was  what- 
ever authorized  its  vent.  She  speedily, 
therefore,  dispatched  a  messenger,  to  say 
that  she  was  taken  dangerously  ill,  and 
to  desire  that  the  young  woman  w'ould 
return. 

The  Incognita,  helpless  for  seeking 
imy  more  genial  mode  of  travelling, 
obeyed  tlie  call,  but  had  scarcely  en- 
tered the  apartment,  when  Mrs.  Ireton, 

^  5 


(       82       ) 

starting,  and  forgetting  her  new  illness, 
exclaimed,  in  a  powerful  voice,  "  Why, 
what  is  become  of  your  black  patch  ?" 

The  young  woman,  hastily  putting  her 
hand  to  her  cheek,  blushed  extremely, 
^hile  she  answered,  '*  Bless  me,  it  must 
have  dropt  off!  —  I  will  run  and  look  for 
it/' 

"Mrs.  Ireton  peremptorily  forbade  her 
to  move ;  and,  staring  at  her  with  a 
mixture  of  curiosity  and  liarshness,  or- 
dered her  to  draw  away  her  hand.  She 
resisted  for  some  time,  but,  overpowered 
by  authoritative  commands,  was  reduced, 
at  length,  to  submit ;  and  Mrs.  Ireton 
then  perceived,  that  neither  wound,  scar, 
nor  injury  of  any  sort,  had  occasioned  the 
patch  to  have  been  worn. 

'The  excess  of  her  surprize  at  this  dis- 
covery, led  her  to  apprehend  some  serious 
imposition.  She  fearfully,  therefore,  rose, 
4o  ring  the  bell,'  still  fixing  her  eyes  upon 
th^  face  of  the  young  woman,  who,  in 
•  her  <;onfusion,  accidentally  touching  the 
-  bandage  which,  crossed  her  forehead,  dis- 

4 


C    83   ) 

placed  it,  and  shewed  that  feature,  also, 
as  free  from  any  cause  for  having  beea 
bound  up,  as  the  cheek. 

It  was  now  rather  consternation  than 
amazement  with  which  Mrs.  Ireton  was 
seized,  till  the  augmenting  disorder,  and 
increasing  colour  of  her  new  attendant, 
changed  all  fear  of  any  trick  into  personal 
pique  at  having  been  duped;  and  she  pro- 
tested that  if  such  beggar-stratagems 
were  played  upon  her  any  more,  she 
would  turn  over  the  impostor  .  to  the 
master  of  the  inn. 

The  paleness  of  terror  with  which 
this  menace  overspread  the  complexion 
of  the  stranger,  forced  a  certain,  however 
unwilling  conviction  upon  the  mind  of 
Mrs.  Ireton,  that  rouge^  at  least,  v/as  not 
amongst  the  artifices  of  which  she  had  to 
complain.  But,  though  relieved  from 
her  own  alarm,  by  the  alarm  which  she 
inspired,  she  was  rather  irritated  than  ap- 
peased  in  findingsomething  less  to  detect, 
anil,  scoffingly  perusing  her  face,  <'  You 
are. a  surprising  person^  indeed!'*   .she 

E  6 


(     84     ) 

cried,  "  as  surprising  a  person  as  ever  I 
had  the  honour  to  see  1  So  you  had  dis- 
figured yourself  in  that  horrid  manner, 
only  to  extort  money  from  us  upon  false 
pretences  ?  Very  ingenious,  indeed  ! 
mighty  ingenious,  I  confess  1  Why  that 
new  skin  must  have  cost  you  more  than 
your  new  gown.  Pray  which  did  you 
get  the  best  bargain  ?'* 

The  stranger  did  not  dare  risk  any 
sort  of*  reply. 

"  O,  you  don't  chuse  to  tell  me  ?  But 
how  could  I  be  so  indiscreet  as  to  ask 
such  a  thing  ?  Will  it  be  impertinent, 
too,  if  I  enquire  whether  you  always 
travel  with  that  collection  of  bandages 
and  patches  ?  and  of  black  and  white 
outsides  ?  or  whether  you  sometimes 
change  them  for  wooden  legs  and  broken 
arms  ?" 

Not  a  word  of  answer  w^as  returned, 

*'  So  you  won't  tell  me  that,  neither  ? 

Nay,  you  are  in  the  right,  I  own.    What 

business  is  it  of  mine  to  confine  your 

genius  to  only  one  or  two  methods  of 

11 


C   85    ) 

maiming  or  defacing  yourself  ?  as  if  you 
did  not  find  it  more  amusing  to  be  one 
day  lame,  and  another  blind ;  and,  to-day, 
it  should  seem,  dumb  ?  The  round  must 
be  entertaining  enough.  Pray  do  you 
make  it  methodically?  or  just  as  the 
humour  strikes  you  ?" 

A  fixed  silence  still  resisted  all  attack* 
"  O5  I  am  diving  too  deeply  into  the 
secrets  of  your  trade,  am  I  ?  Nay,  I 
ought  to  be  contented,  I  own,  with  the 
specimens  with  which  I  have  already 
been  induls^ed.  You  have  not  been  nis;- 
gardly  in  varying  them.  You  have  been 
bruised  and  beaten;  and  dirty  and  clean  ; 
and  ragged  and  v,hole  ;  and  wounded 
and  healed ;  and  a  European  and  a 
Creole,  in  less  than  a  week.  I  sup- 
pose, next,  you  will  dwindle  into  a 
dwarf;  and  then,  perhaps,  find  some 
surprising  contrivance  to  shoot  up  into  a 
giantess.  There  is  nothing  that  can  be 
too  much  to  expect  from  so  great  an 
adept  in  metamorphoses." 

The  pleasure  of  giving  vent  to  spleen. 


(    86    ) 

disguised  from  Mrs.  Ireton,  that  by  ren- 
dering its  malignancy  so  obvious,  she 
blunted  its  effect.  She  continued,  there- 
fore, her  interrogatories  a  considerable 
time,  before  she  discovered,  that  the  still- 
ness with  which  they  were  heard  was  pro- 
duced by  resolution,  not  awe.  Almost 
intolerably  offended  when  a  suspicion  of 
this  truth  occurred,  she  assumed  a  tone 
yet  more  imperious.  "  So  I  am  not  worth 
an  answer  ?  You  hold  it  beneath  you  to 
waste  your  breath  upon  me  ?  And  do 
you  know  whom  it  is  you  dare  treat  in 
this  manner?  Do  you  imagine  that  I  am 
a  fellaw-adventurer  ?'* 

The  hand  of  the  young  woman  was 
BOW  upon  the  lock  of  the  door,  but 
there,  trembling,  it  stopt,  withheld  by  a 
thousand  terrors  from  following  its  first 
impulse;  and  the  entrance  of  a  waiter, 
with  information  that  a  chaise  was  at  the 
door,  interrupted  any  further  discourse. 
The  journey  was  resumed,  and  the  rest 
of  the  way  was  only  rendered  supportable 
to  the  stranger?  from  the  prospect  that 


(     8?     ) 

its  coPiCliision  would  terminate  all  inter- 
course with  one  who,  so  wilfully  and  so 
wantonly,  seemed  to  revel  in  her  powers 
of  mockery  and  derision. 


(    «s    ) 


CHAPTER  V. 

T  TPON  the  entrance  of  the  travellers 
into  London,  the  curiosity  of  Mrs. 
Iretonvvas  more  than  ever  inflamed,  tofind 
that  the  journey,  with  all  its  delays,  was  at 
an  end,  before  she  had  been  able  to  gra- 
tify that  insatiable  passion  in  a  single  point. 
Yet  every  observation  that  she  could 
make  tended  to  redouble  its  keenness. 
Neither  ill  humour  nor  haughtiness,  now 
the  patches  and  bandages  were  removed, 
could  prevent  her  from  perceiving  that 
the  stranger  was  young  and  beautiful; 
nor  from  remarking  that  her  air  and 
manner  were  strikingly  distinguished 
from  the  common  class.  One  method, 
however,  still  remained  for  diving  into 
this  mystery  ;  it  was  clear  that  the  young 
woman  was  in  want,  whatever  else  might 
be  doubtful.  Mrs.  Ireton,  therefore,  re- 
solved  to  allow  no  recompense  for  her 


(     89     ) 

attendance,  but  in  consideration  of  what 
she  would  communicate  of  her  history. 

At  a  large  house  in  Grosvenor  Square 
they  stopt.  Mrs.  Ireton  turned  exultingly 
to  the  stranger  :  but  her  glance  met  no 
gratification.  The  young  woman,  instead 
of  admiring  the  house,  and  counting  the 
number  of  steps  that  led  to  the  vestibule,^ 
or  of  windows  that  commanded  a  view 
of  the  square,  only  cast  her  eyes  upwards, 
as  if  penetrated  with  thankfulness  that 
her  journey  w^as  ended. 

Surprized  that  stupidity  should  thus 
be  joined  with  cunning,  Mrs.  Ireton  now 
intently  watched  the  impression  which, 
when  her  servants  appeared,  would  be 
made  by  their  rich  liveries. 

The  stranger,  however,  without  re- 
garding them,  followed  their  mistress 
into  the  hall,  which  that  lady  v/as 
passing  through  in  stately  silence,  mean- 
ing to  confound  the  proud  vagrant  more 
completely,  by  dismissing  her  from  the 
best  drawing-room ;  when  the  words, 
"  Permit    me,    Madam,    to   wish   you 


<    90    ) 

good  morning,"  made  her  look  round. 
She  then  saw  that  her  late  attendant, 
without  wa-iting  for  any  answer,  was 
tranquilly  preparing  to  be  gone.  Amazed 
and  provoked,  she  deigned  to  call  after 
her,  and  desired  that  she  would  come 
the  next  day  to  be  paid. 

"  I  am  more  than  paid  already,  Ma- 
dam," the  Incognita  replied,  "  if  my 
little  services  may  be  accepted  as  cancel- 
ling my  obligation  for  the  journey." 

She  had  no  difficulty,  now,  to  leave 
the  house  without  further  interruption, 
so  astonished  was  Mrs.  Ireton,  at  what 
she  thought  the  effrontery  of  a  speech, 
that  seemed,  in  some  measure,  to  level 
her  with  this  adventurer ;  though,  in  her 
own  despite,  she  was  struck  with  the 
air  of  calm  dignity  with  which  it  was 
uttered. 

The  Wanderer  obtained  a  direction  to 
the  house  of  Mrs.  Maple,  from  a  servant; 
and  demanded  another  to  Titchfield 
Street.  To  the  latter  she  rapidly  bent 
her  steps  ;  but,  there  arrived,  her  haste 


(     91     ) 


'o 


ended  in  disappointment  and  perplexifj 
She  discovered  the  apartment  in  v.hich, 
witli  her  husband  and  child,  the  lady 
Avhom  she  sought  had  resided;  but  it 
was  no  longer  inhabited  ;  and  she  could 
not  trace  whether  her  friend  had  set  off 
for  Brighthelmstone,  or  had  only  changed 
Jier  lodging.  After  a  melancholy  and 
fruitless  search,  she  repaired,  though 
with  feet  and  a  mind  far  less  eager,  to 
Upper  Brooke  Street,  where  she  soon 
read  the  name  of  Mrs.  Maple  upon  the 
door  of  one  of  the  capital  houses.  She 
enquired  for  Miss  Joddrel,  and  begged 
that  young  lady  might  be  told,  that  a 
person  who  came  over  in  the  same  boat 
with  her  from  France,  requested  the 
honour  of  admission. 

To  this  message  she  presently  heard 
the  voice  of  Elinor,  from  the  land- 
ing-place,  answer,  "  O,  she's  come  at 
last!  Bring  her  up  Tomlinson,  brin^ 
her  up  !'' 

"  Yes,  Ma'am  ;  but  Til  promise  you 
she  is  none  of  the  person  you  have  beeu 
expecting." 


(    9^    > 

*^  How  can  you  tell  that  Tomlinson  ? 
What  sort  of  figure  is  she  ?'* 

"  As  pretty  as  can  be.'^ 

"  As  pretty  as  can  be,  is  she  ?  Go  and 
ask  her  name.'* 

The  man  obeyed. 

The  stranger,  disconcerted,  answered, 
*'  My  name  will  not  be  known  to  Miss 
Joddrel,  but  if  she  w^ili  have  the  good- 
ness to  receive,  I  am  sure  she  will  re- 
collect me." 

Elinor,'  who  was  listening,  knew  her 
voice,  and,  calling  Tomlinson  up  stairs, 
and  heartily  laughing,  said,  "  You  are 
the  greatest  fool  in  the  whole  world, 
Tomlinson !  It  is  she  !  Bid  her  come 
to  me  directly." 

Tomlinson  did  as  he  was  ordered,  but 
grinned,  with  no  small  satisfaction,  at 
sight  of  the  surprise  with  which,  when 
they  reached  the  landing-place,  his  young 
mistress  looked  at  the  stranger. 

«  Why,  Tomlinson,''  she  cried,  "  who 
have  you  brought  me  hither  ?" 

Tomlinson  smirked,  and  the  Incognita 


(    93     ) 

could  not  herself  refrain  from  smiling^ 
but  with  a  countenance  so  little  calcu- 
lated to  excite  distrust,  that  Elinor, 
crying,  "  Follow  me,"  led  the  way  into 
her  dressing  room. 

The  young  woman,  then,  with  an  air 
that  strongly  supplicated  for  indulgence, 
said,  "  I  am  truly  shocked  at  the  strange 
appearance  which  I  must  make ;  but  as 
I  come  now  to  throw  myself  upon  your 
protection,  I  will  brieuy — though  I  can 
enter  into  no  detail — state  to  vou  how  I 
am  circumstanced.'* 

"  O  charming!  charming!  cried  Elinor, 
clapping  her  hands,  "  You  are  going,  at 
last,  to  relate  your  adventures  I  Nay,  no 
drawing  back !  I  won't  be  disappointed  1 
If  you  don't  tell  me  every  thing  that 
ever  you  did  in  your  life,  and  every 
thing  that  ever  you  said,  and  every 
thing  that  ever  you  thought, — I  shall 
renounce  you!'' 

"  Alas !"  answered  the  Incognita,  "  I 
am  in  so  forlorn  a  situation,  that  I  must 
not  wonder  if  you  conclude  me  to  be 


(     94     ) 

some  outcast  of  society,  abandoned  by 
my  friends  from  meriting  their  desertion, 
-^a  poor  destitute  Wanderer,  in  search  of 
any  species  of  subsistence  !*' 

"  Don't  be  cast  down,  however," 
cried  Elinor,  "  for  I  will  help  you  on 
your  way.  And  yet  you  have  exactly 
spoken  Aunt  Maple's  opinion  of  you." 

^'  And  I  have  no  right,  I  acknowledge, 
•to  repine,  at  least,  none  for  resentment : 
yet,  believe  me.  Madam,  such  is  not  the 
case  1  and  if,  as  you  have  given  me  leave 
tb  hope,  you  v/ill  have  the  benevolence  to 
permit  me  to  travel  in  your  party,  or  in 
whatever  way  you  please,  to  Brighthelm- 
stone,  I  may  there  meet  with  a  friend, 
under  whose  protection  I  may  acquire 
courage  to  give  a  more  intelligible  ac- 
count of  myself." 

A  rap  at  the  street  door  made  Eli- 
nor ring  the  bell,  and  order,  that  when 
Mr.  Harleigh  came,  he  should  be  shewa 
immediately  up  stairs, 

Harleigh,  presently  appearing,  looked 
,  round  the  apartment,  with  striking  eager* 


(    95    ) 

ness,  yet  evident  disappointment;  and, 
slightly  bowing  to  the  scarcely  noticed, 
yet  marked  courtsie  of  the  stranger,  said, 
"  Tomlinson  told  me  that  our  fellow- 
traveller  was  at  last  arrived  ?'* 

Elinor,  taking  the  young  v/oman  apart, 
whispered  a  hasty  injunction  that  she 
would  not  discover  herself.  Then,  ad- 
dressing Harleigh,  "  I  believe,"  she  said, 
*'  you  dream  of  nothing  but  that  dismal 
Incognita.  However,  do  not  fancy  you 
have  all  the  mysterious  charmers  to 
yourself.  I  have  one  of  my  own,  now  ; 
and  not  such  a  dingy,  dowdy  heroine  as 
your's!" 

Harleigh  turned  with  quickness  to  the 
stranger ;  but  she  looked  down,  and  her 
complexion,  and  bloom,  and  changed  ap- 
parel, made  a  momentary  suspicion  die 
away. 

Elinor  demanded  what  new^s  he  had 
gathered  of  their  strayed  voyager  ? 

None,  he  answered ;  and  uneasily 
added,  that  he  feared  she  had  either 


(     96    ) 

lost  herself,  or  been  misled,  or  betrayed, 
some  other  way. 

"  O,  pray  don*t  waste  your  anxiety !" 
cried  Elinor ;  "  she  is  in  perfect  safety, 
I  make  no  doubt.'* 

"  I  should  be  sorry,"  he  gravely 
replied,  "  to  think  you  in  equal  danger.'* 

"  Should  you  r"  cried  she  in  a  softened 
tone ;  "  should  you,  Harleigh,  be  sorry 
if  any  evil  befel  me  ?" 

"  But  why,"  he  asked,  "  has  Tomlin- 
son  sriven  me  this  misinformation  ?*' 

"  And  why,  Mr.  Harleigh,  because 
Tom.linson  told  you  that  a  stranger  was 
here,  should  you  conclude  it  could  be  no 
other  than  your  black  fugitive  ?" 

Again  Harleigh  turned  to  the  traveller, 
and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  her  face  :  the 
patch,  the  bandage,  the  large  cap,  had 
hitherto  completely  hidden  its  general 
form ;  and  the  beautiful  outline  he  now 
saw,  with  so  entire  a  contrast  of  com- 
plexion to  what  he  remembered,  again 
checked,  or  rather  dissolved  his  rising 
surmizes. 


(     97     ) 

Elinor  begged  him  to  be  seated,  and 
to  quiet  his  perturbed  spirit. 

He  took  a  chair,  but,  in  passing  by  the 
young  woman,  her  sex,  her  beauty,  her 
modest  air,  gave  him  a  sensation  that 
repelled  his  using  it,  and  he  leant  upon, 
its  back,  looking  expressively  at  Elinor  j 
but  Elinor  either  marked  not  the  hint, 
or  mocked  it.  "  So  you  have  really," 
she  said,  "  taken  the  pains  to  go  to  that 
eternal  inn  again,  to  enquire  after  this 
maimed  and  defaced  Dulcinea  ?  What  in 
the  world  can  have  inspired  you  with 
such  an  interest  for  this  wandering 
Creole  ? 

**  *Tis  not  her  face  does  love  create, 
For  there  no  graces  revel."  — 

The  bell  of  Mrs.  Maple  now  ringing, 
Elinor  made  a  sign  to  the  Incognita  not 
to  avow  herself,  and  flew  down  stairs  to 
caution  Tomlinson  to  silence. 

The  chair  which  Harleigh  had  rejected 
for  himself,  he  then  offered  to  the  fair 
unknown.     She    declined   it,   but   in   a 

VOL.1.  F 


(    93    ) 

Voice  that  made  him  start,  and  wish  to 
hear  her  speak  again.  His  offer  then 
became  a  request,  and  she  thanked  him 
in  a  tone  that  vibrated  certainty  upon 
his  ears,  that  it  could  be  no  other  than 
the  voice  of  his  fellow-voyager. 

He  now  looked  at  her  with  an  earnest 
gaze,  that  seemed  nearly  to  draw  his 
eyes  from  their  sockets.  The  embarrass* 
ment  that  he  occasioned  her  brought 
him  to  his  recollection,  and,  apologising 
for  his  behaviour,  he  added ;  "  A  person 
—  a  lady  —  w^ho  accompanied  us,  not 
long  since,  from  abroad,  liad  a  voice  so 
exactly  resembling  yours  —  that  I  find 
it  rather  impossible  than  difficult  not  to 
believe  that  I  hear  the  same.  Permit  me 
to  ask  —  have  you  any  very  near  relation 
returned  lately  from  France  r" 

She  blushed,  but  v/ithout  replying. 

"  I  fancy,'*  he  cried,  "  I  must  have 
encountered  two  sisters  ?  — yet  you  have 
some  reason,  I  own,  to  be  angry  at  such 
a  supposition  — such  a  comparison '* 

He    paused,    and    a     smile,    which 


(    99    ) 

she  could  not  repress,  forced  her  to 
speak ;  "  By  no  means !"  she  cried ; 
"  I  know  well  how  good  you  have  been 
to  the  person  to  whom  you  allude,  and  I 
beg  you  will  allow  me  —  in  her  name  — 
to  return  you  the  most  grateful  acknow- 
ledgements." 

Harleigh,  now,  yet  more  curiously 
examining  her,  said,  "  It  would  not 
have  been  easy  to  have  forborne 
taking  an  interest  in  her  fate.'  She  was 
in  evident  distress,  vet  never  suffered 
herself  to  forget  that  she  had  escaped 
from  some  yet  greater.  Her  mind 
seemed  frau2:ht  with  streno;th  and  native 
dignity.  There  was  something  singular, 
indescribable,  in  her  manner  of  support- 
ing the  most  harassing  circumstances. 
It  was  impossible  not  to  admire  her." 

The  blush  of  the  stranger  now  grew 
deeper,  but  she  remained  silent,  till 
Elinor,  re-entering,  cried,  "  Well,  Har- 
leigh, what  say  you  to  my  new  demoiselle? 
And  where  would  vou  have  looked  for 

F    2 


(      100     ) 

your   heart,   if  such    had  seemed  your 
Dulcinea  ?" 

"  I  should,  perhaps,  have  been  but 
the  safer  !"  answered  he,  laughing. 

"  Pho !  you  would  not  make  me  be- 
lieve any  thing  so  out  of  nature,  as  that, 
when  you  were  in  such  a  tindery  fit 
as  to  be  kindled  by  that  dowdy,  you 
could  have  resisted  being  blown  into 
flames  at  once  by  a  creature  such  as 
this  ?'' 

*'  Man  is  a  perverse  animal,  Elinor ; 
that  which  he  regards  as  pointed  for  his 
destruction,  frequently  proves  harmless. 
We  are  all — boys  and  libertines  alone 
excepted  —  upon  our  guard  against 
beauty ;  for,  as  every  sense  is  up  in  arms 
to  second  its  assault,  our  pride  takes  the 
alarm,  and  rises  to  oppose  it.  Our 
real  danger  is  where  we  see  no  risk." 

"  You  enchant  me,  Harleigh  !  I  am 
never  so  delighted  as  when  I  hear  beauty 
set  at  nought  —  for  I  always  suspect, 
Harleigh,  that  you  do  not  think  me 
handsome  ?*' 


(        lOI        ) 

"  If  I  think  you  better  than  hand- 
.some,  Elinor '* 

"  Pho !  you  know  there  is  no  such 
better  in  nature;  at  least  not  in  such  na- 
ture as  forms  taste  in  the  mind  of 
man  ;  which  I  certainly  do  not  consider 
as  the  purest  of  its  works;  though  you  all 
hold  it,  yourselves,  to  be  the  noblest. 
Nevertheless,  imagination  is  all-power- 
ful ^  if,  therefore,  you  have  taken  the 
twist  to  believe  in  such  sublimity,  you 
may,  perhaps,  be  seriously  persuaded, 
that  your  heart  would  have  been  more 
stubborn  to  this  dainty  new  Wanderer, 
than  to  your  own  walnut-skinnedgypsey/' 

"  Walnut-skinned  ?^' 

"  Even  so,  noble  knight-errand,  even 
so !  This  person  whom  you  now  behold, 
and  whom,  if  we  believe  our  eyes,  never 
met  them  till  within  this  half  hour,  if 
we  give  credit  to  our  ears,  scrambled 
over  with  us  in  that  crazy  boat  from 
France." 

Harleigh  was  here  summoned  to  Mrs. 
Maple,  and  Elinor  returned  to  her  inter- 

^   3 


(       102      ) 

rogatories ;  but  the  stranger  only  revert- 
ed  to  her  hopes,  that  she  might  still  de- 
pend upon  the  promised  conveyance  to 
Brighthelmstone  ?  . 

"  Tell  me,  at  least,  what  it  was  you 
flung  into  the  sea  ?" 

*'  Ah,  Madam,  that  would  tell  every 
thing !'' 

*'  You  are  a  most  provoking  little 
devil,"  cried  Elinor,  impatiently,  "  and 
I  am  half  tem.pted  to  have  nothing  more 
to  say  to  you.  Give  me,  however,  some 
account  how  you  managed  matters  with 
that  sweet  tender  dove  Mrs.  Ireton." 

The  recital  that  ensued  of  the  disas- 
ters, difficulties,  and  choler  of  that  lady, 
proved  so  entertaining  to  Elinor,  that 
she  soon  not  only  renewed  her  engage- 
ment of  taking  her  unknown  guest  free 
to  Lewes,  but  joined  the  w^armest  assu- 
rances of  protection.      "  Not  that  we 

■mnef    ft4r4-.nr^tn.4-  33     olio    r»riPrl       *'    '  '      — '^4-     vid 

of  the  spite  of  Aunt  Maple,  for  if  we  do, 
'tis  so  completely  the  basis  of  her  com- 


(     1^3     ) 

pesition,  that  she  won't  know  how  t« 
stand  upright.'* 

"  But  now,"  she  continued,  "  where 
are  you  to  dine  ?  Aunt  Maple  is  too 
fusty  to  let  you  sit  at  our  table." 

The  stranger  earnestly  solicited  per- 
mission to  eat  alone  :  Elinor  consented  ; 
assigned  her  a  chamber,  and  gave  or- 
ders to  Mrs.  Golding,  her  own  maid,  to 
take  care  of  the  traveller. 

The  repast  below  stairs  was  no  sooner 
finished,  than  Elinor  flew  back  to  sum- 
mon the  Incognita  to  descend  for  ex- 
hibition. "  I  have  told  them  all,"  she 
said, "  that  you  are  arrived,  though  I  have 
revealed  nothing  of  your  metamorphosis ; 
and  there  is  a  sister  of  mine,  a  conceited 
little  thing,  who  is  just  engaged  to  be 
married,  and  who  is  wild  to  see  you ; 
and  it  is  a  rule,  you  know,  to  deny  no- 
thing to  a  bride  elect ;  probably,  poor 
wretch,  because  every  one  knows  what 
a  fair  way  she  is  in  to  be  soon  denied 
every  thing!  That  quiz,  Harleigh, 
would  not  stay;  and  that  nothingly  Ireton 

F    4 


(     104     ) 

has  nearly  shrugged  his  shoulders  out  of 
joint,  at  the  very  idea  of  so  great  a  bore 
as  seeing  you  again.  Co^e,  neverthe- 
less ;  I  die  to  enjoy  Aunt  Maple's  asto- 
nishment at  your  new  phiz." 

The  stranger  sought  to  evade  this  re- 
quest as  a  pleasantry ;  but  finding  that 
it  was  insisted  upon  seriously,  protested 
that  she  had  neither  courage  nor  spirits 
for  being  produced  as  an  object  of 
sport. 

Elinor  now  again  felt  a  strong  tempt- 
ation to  draw  back  from  her  promise; 
but  while,  between  anger  and  generosity, 
she  hung  suspended,  a  message  arrived 
from  Mrs.  Maple,  to  order  that  the  wo- 
man from  France  should  be  sent  to  the 
kitchen. 

Elinor,  changing  the  object  of  her  dis- 
pleasure, now  warmly  repeated  her  re- 
solution to  support  the  stranger  j  and, 
hastening  to  the  dining-parlour,  de- 
clared to  her  aunt,  and  to  the  party, 
that  the  woman  from  France  should  not 
be  treated  with  indignity  j  that  she  was 


C    105    ) 

evidently  a  person  who  had  been  too 
well  brought  up  to  be  consigned  to  do- 
mestics ;  and  that  she  herself  admired, 
and  would  abet  her  spirit,  in  refusing  to 
be  stared  at  like  a  wild  beast. 


/ 


^'  5 


(     io6    ) 


CHAPTER  VI. 

nrHE  affairs  of  Mrs.  Maple  kept  her  a 
week  longer  in  London ;  but  the 
impatience  of  the  Wanderer  to  reach 
Brighthelmstone,  was  compelled  to  yield 
to  an  utter  inability  of  getting  thither 
unaided.  During  this  period,  she  gather- 
ed, from  various  circumstances,  that 
Elinor  had  been  upon  the  point  of  mar- 
riage with  the  younger  brother  of  Har- 
leigh,  a  handsome  and  flourishing  lawyer; 
but  that  repeated  colds,  ill  treated,  or 
neglected,  had  menaced  her  with  a  con- 
sumption, and  she  had  been  advised  to  try 
a  change  of  climate.  Mrs.  Maple  accom- 
panied her  to  the  south  of  France,  where 
she  had  resided  till  her  health  was  com- 
pletely re.  established.  Harleigh,  then, 
in  compliment  to  his  brother,  who  was 
confined  by  his  profession  to  the  capital, 
crossed  4he  Channel  to  attend  the  two 


(     lo;     ) 

ladles  home.  They  had  ah'eady  arrived 
at •  on  their  return,  when  an  or- 
der of  Robespierre  cast  them  into  pri- 
son, whence  enormous  bribes,  successful 
stratagems,  and  humane,  though  con- 
cealed assistance  from  some  compas- 
sionate inhabitants  of  the  town,  enabled 
them,  in  common  with  the  Admiral,  the 
Iretons,  and  Riley,  to  effect  their  escape 
to  a  prepared  boat,  in  which,  through 
the  friendly  darkness  of  night,  they 
reached  the  harbour  of  their  country  and 
their  wishes. 

The  stranger  learnt  also  from  Elinor, 
by  whom  secresy  or  discretion  were  as 
carelessly  set  aside,  as  by  herself  they 
were  fearfully  practised,  that  young 
Ireton,  urged  by  a  rich  old  uncle,  and 
an  entailed  estate,  to  an  early  marriage, 
after  addressing  and  jilting  half  the  wo- 
men of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland, 
had  run  through  France,  Switzerland, 
and  Italy,  upon  the  same  errand;  yet  was 
returned  home  heart-whole,  and  hand- 
.unshackled;  but  that,  she  added,  was 

F  6 


(     io8     ) 

not  the  extraordinary  part  of  the  business, 
male  coquets  being  just  as  common,  and 
only  more  impertinent  than  female  ;  all 
that  was  worth  remarking,  was  his  con- 
duct for  the  last  few  days.  Some  ac- 
counts which  he  had  to  settle  with  her 
aunt,  had  obliged  him  to  call  at  their 
house,  the  morning  after  their  arrival  in 
London.  He  then  saw  Sehna,  Elinor's 
younger  sister,  a  wild  little  girl,  only 
fourteen  years  of  age,  who  was  wholly 
unformed,  but  with  whom  he  had  become 
so  desperately  enamoured,  that,  when 
Mrs.  Maple,  knowing  his  character,  and 
alarmed  by  his  assiduities,  cautioned 
him  not  to  make  a  fool  of  her  young 
niece,  he  abruptly  demanded  her  in  mar- 
riage. As  he  was  very  rich,  Mrs.  Maple 
had,  of  course,  Elinor  added,  given  her 
consent,  desiring  only  that  he  would 
wait  till  Selina  reached  her  fifteenth 
birth-day;  and  the  little  girl,  when  told 
of  the  plan,  had  considered  it  as  a  frolic, 
and  danced  with  delight. 

During  tiiis  interval,  the  time  of  the 

10 


(      T09      )        • 

stranger  was  spent  in  the  tranquil  em- 
ployment of  needle-work,  for  which  she 
was  liberally  supplied  with  cast-off  ma- 
terials, to  relieve  her  necessities,  from 
the  wardrobe  of  Elinor,  through  whose 
powerful  influence  she  was  permitted 
to  reside  entirely  up  stairs.  Here  she 
saw  only  her  protectress,  into  whose 
apartment  Mrs.' Maple  did  not  deign, 
and  no  one  else  dared,  to  intrude  un- 
bidden. The  spirit  of  contradiction, 
which  was  termed  by  Elinor  the  love  of 
independence,  fixed  her  design  of  sup- 
porting the  stranger,  to  whom  she  de- 
Hghted  to  do  every  good  office  which 
Mrs.  Maple  deemed  superfluous,  and 
whom  she  exulted  in  thus  exclusively 
possessing,  as  a  hidden  curiosity.  But 
when  she  found  that  no  enquiry  pro- 
duced any  communication,  and  that 
nothing  fresh  offered  for  new  defiance  to 
Mrs.  Maple,  a  total  indifference  to  the 
whole  business  took  place  of  its  first 
energy,  and  the  young  woman,  towards 
the  end    of  the  week,   fell   into   such 


.        (     no     ) 

neglect  that  it  was  never  mentioned, 
and  hardly  even  remembered,  that  she 
was  an  inhabitant  of  the  house. 

When   the  morning,   m.ost   anxiously 
desired   by  herself,   for  the  journey  to 
Lewes,  arrived,  she  heard  the  family  en- 
gaged   in    preparations   to   set  off,  yet 
received  no  intimation  how  she  was  to 
make  one  of  the  party.     With  great  dis- 
comfort, though  with  tolerable  patience, 
she  awaited  some  tidings,  till  the  sound 
of  carriages  driving  up  to  the  street  door, 
alarmed  her  with  apprehension?  of  being 
deserted,    and,    hastily    running    down 
stairs,  she   v/as  drawn  by  the  voice  of 
Elinor  to  the  door  of  the  breakfast-par- 
lour ;    but   the   sound   of  other   voices 
took  from  her  the  courage  to  open  it, 
though   the   baggage    collected   around 
her  shewed  the   journey  so  near,  that 
she  deemed  it  unsafe  to  return  to  her 
chamber. 

In  a  few  minutes,  Harleigh,  loaded  with 
large  drawings,  crossed  the  hall,  and^ 


(  III  ) 

observing  her  distress,  enquired  into  it's 

cause. 

She  wished  to  speak  to  Miss  Joddrel. 

He  entered  the  parlour,  and  sent  out 
Elinor,  who,  exclaiming,  "  O,  it's  you, 
is  it  ?  Mercy  on  me  !  I  had  quite  for- 
gotten you! — "  ran  back,  crying, "  Aunt, 
here's  your  old  friend,  the  grim  French 
voyager  !  Shall  she  come  in  ?'* 

"  Come  in  ?  What  for.  Miss  Joddrel  ? 
Because  Mr.  Harleigh  was  so  kind  as  to 
make  a  hoy  of  my  boat,  does  it  follow 
that  you  are  to  make  a  booth  of  my 
parlour  ?" 

"  She  is  at  the  door  !"  said  Harleigh, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  Then  she  is  at  her  proper  place ; 
where  else  should  such  a  sort  of  body 
be  ?" 

Harleigh  took  up  a  book. 

"  O,  but  do  let  her  come  in,  Aunt,  do 

let  her  come  in  !*'  cried  the  young  Se- 

lina.    *'  I  was  so  provoked  at  not  seeing 

her  the  other  day,  that  I  could  have  cried 

'">Yith  pleasure  !  and  sister  Elinor  has  kept 


(  "^  ) 

her  shut  up  ever  since,  and  refused  me 
the  least  little  peep  at  her." 

The  opposition  of  Mrs.  Maple  only  the 
more  strongly  excited  the  curiosity  of 
Selina,  who,  encouraged  by  the  cla- 
morous approbation  of  Elinor,  flew  to 
the  door. 

There,  stopping  short,  she  called 
out,  "  La !  here's  nothing  but  a  young 
woman!  —  Lai  Aunt,  Vm  afraid  she's 
run  away !" 

"  And  if  she  is.  Niece,  we  shall  not 
break  our  hearts,  I  hope !  not  but, 
if  she's  decamped,  it's  high  time  I 
should  enquire  whether  all  is  safe  in  the 
house." 

"  Decamped  ?"  cried  Elinor,  "  Why 
she's  at  the  door !  Don't  you  know 
her,  Aunt?  Don't  you  see  her,  Ireton?" 

The  stranger,  abashed,  would  have  re- 
treated. Harleigh,  raising  his  eyes  from 
his  book,  shook  his  head  at  Elinor,, who, 
laughing  and  regardless,  seized  the  hand 
of  the  young  person,  and  dragged  her 
into  the  parlour. 


(     113     ) 

«  Who  is  this  ?'*  said  Mrs.  Maple. 

"  Who,  Aunt  ?  Why  your  memory  is 
shorter  than  ever !  Don't  you  recollect 
our  dingy  French  companion,  that  you 
took  such  a  mighty  fancy  to  ?" 

Mrs,  Maple  turned  away  with  angry 
contempt ;  and  the  housekeeper,  who 
had  been  summoned,  appearing,  orders 
were  given  for  a  strict  examination 
whether  the  swarthy  traveller,  who  fol- 
lowed them  from  France,  were  gone. 

The  stranger,  changing  colour,  ap- 
proached Elinor,  and  with  an  air  that 
claimed  her  protection,  said,  **  Will  you 
not,  Madam,  have  the  goodness  to  ex- 
plain who  I  am  ?'* 

"  How  can  I,"  cried  Elinor,  laughing, 
"  when  I  don't  know  it  myself?'* 

Every  one  stared ;  Harleigh  turned 
round ;  the  young  woman  blushed,  but 
w^as  silent. 

"  If  here  is  another  of  your  Incognitas, 
Miss  Joddrel,"  said  Mrs.  Maple,  "  I  must 
beg  the  favour  that  you'll  desire  her  to 
march  off  at  once.     I  don't  chuse  to  be 


(     114     ) 

beset  by  such  sort  of  gentry  quite  so  fre- 
quently. Pray,  young  woman,  what  is 
it  you  want  here  ?'* 

*'  Protection,  Madam,  and  compas- 
sion !*'  replied  the  stranger,  in  a  tone  of 
supplication. 

"  I  protest,"  said  Mrs.  Maple,  "  she 

has  just  the  same  sort  of  voice  that  that 

black  girl   had  1  and   the  same  sort  of 

<:ant !  And  pray,  young  woman,  what's 

your  name  ?" 

"  That's  right,  Mrs.  Maple,  that's 
right!"  cried  Iretouj  "  make  her  tell 
her  name !" 

«  To  be  sure  I  shall  1"  said  Mrs.  Maple, 
seating  herself  on  a  sofa,  and  taking  out 
her  snuff-box.  "  I  have  a  great  right  to 
know  the  name  of  a  person  that  comes, 
in  this  manner,  into  my  parlour.  Why 
do  you  not  answer,  young  woman  ?" 

The  stranger,  looking  at  Elinor,  clasped 
her  hands  in  act  of  entreaty  for  pity. 

"  Very  fine,  truly  !"  said  Mrs.  Maple  : 
"  So  here's  just  the  second  edition  of  the 
liistory  of  that  frenchified  swindler !" 


(     "5    ) 

«'  No,  no,  Aunt ;  it's  only  the  sequel 
to  the  first  part,  for  it's  the  same  person, 
I  assure  you.  Did  not  you  come  over 
with  us  from  France,  Mademoiselle  ?  In 
the  same  boat  ?  and  with  the  same  surly 
pilot  ?" 

The  stranger  silently  assented. 

Mrs.  Maple,  now,  doubly  enraged,  in- 
terrogated her  upon  the  motives  of  her 
having  been  so  disfigured,  with  the  stern- 
ness and  sharpness  of  addressing  a  con- 
victed cheat. 

The  stranger,  compelled  to  speak, 
said,  with  an  air  of  extreme  embar- 
rassment, "  I  am  conscious.  Madam, 
how  dreadfully  all  appearances  are 
against  me !  Yet  I  have  no  means,  with 
any  prudence,  to  enter  into  an  explana- 
tion :  I  dare  not,  therefore,  solicit  yojar 
good  opinion,  though  my  distt'ess  is  so 
urgent,  that  I  am  forced  to  sue  for  your 
assistruiCe, —  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  say 
your  charity !" 

"  I  don't  want,"  said  Mrs.  Maple, 
"  to  hear  all  that  sort  of  stuff  over  again. 


(     "6     ) 

Let  me  only  know  who  you  are,  and  I 
shall  myself  be  the  best  judge  what 
should  be  done  for  you.  What  is  it, 
then,  once  for  all,  that  you  call  yourself? 
No  prevarications  !  Tell  me  your  name, 
or  go  about  your  business." 

"  Yes,  your  name !  your  name !"  re- 
peated Elinor, 

"  Your  name !  your  name !"  echoed 
Selina. 

"  Your  name !  your  name  !**  re-echoed 
Ireton. 

The  spirits  and  courage  of  the  stranger 
seemed  now  to  forsake  ber ;  and,  with  a 
faultering  voice,  she  answered,  "  Alas ! 
I  hardly  know  it  myself  1 " 

Elinor  laughed  ;  Selina  tittered  ;  Ire- 
ton  stared ;  the  leaves  of  the  book  held 
by  Harleigh  were  turned  over  with  a 
speed  that  shewed  how  little  their  con- 
tents engaged  him  5  and  Mrs.  Maple, 
indignantly  swelling,  exclaimed,  "  Not 
know  your  own  name  ?  Why  I  hope  you 
don't  come  into  my  house  from  the 
Foundling  Hospital?'* 


(     J'7     ) 

Harleigh,   throwing  down   his   book, 
walked  hastily  to  Mrs.  Maple,  and  said, 
in  a  low  voice,  "  Yet,  if  that  should  be 
the  case,  would  she  be  less  an  object  of 
compassion  ?  of  consideration  ?" 

"  What  your  notions  may  be  upon  such 
sort  of  heinous  subjects,  Mr.  Harleigh," 
Mrs.  Maple  answered,  with  a  look  of  high 
superiority,  "  I  do  not  know ;  but  as 
for  mine,  I  think  encouraging  things  of 
that  kind, has  a  very  immoral  tendency." 

Harleigh  bowed,  not  as  acquiescent  in 
her  opinion,  but  as  declining  to  argue  it, 
and  was  leaving  the  room,  when  Elinor, 
catching  him  by  the  arm,  called  out, 
"  Why,  Harleigh  !  what  are  you  so  sour 
for  ?  Are  you,  also,  angry,  to  see  a 
clean  face,  and  a  clean  gown  ?  I'll 
make  the  demoiselle  put  on  her  plasters 
and  patches  again,  if  that  will  please  you 
better.'' 

This  forced  him  to  smile  and  to  stay ; 
and  Elinor  then  ended  the  inquisition,  by 
proposing  that  the  stranger  should  go  to 
Lewes  in  the  chaise  with  Golding,  her 


(     ii8    ) 

own  maid,  and  Fenn,  Mrs.  Maple's  house- 
keeper. 

Mrs.  Maple  protested  that  she  would 
not  allow  any  such  indulgence  to  an  un- 
known pauper;  and  Mrs.Fenn  declared, 
that  there  were  so  many  hats,  caps,  and 
things  of  consequence  to  take  care  of, 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  make 
room  for  a  mouse. 

Elinor,  ever  alert  to  carry  a  disputed 
point,  felt  her  generosity  doubly  excited 
to  support  the  stranger;  and,  after  some 
further,  but  overpowered  opposition  from 
Mrs.  Maple,  the  hats,  caps,  and  things 
of  consequence  were  forced  to  submit 
to  inferior  accommodation,  and  the 
young  woman  obtained  her  request,  to 
set  off  for  Sussex,  with  the  housekeeper 
and  Elinor's  maid. 


(     1^9     ) 


CHx^PTER  VII. 

nPHE  house  of  Mrs.  Maple  was  just 
witliout  the  town  of  Lewes,  and  the 
Wanderer,  upon  her  arrival  there,  learnt 
that  Brighthelmstone  was  still  eight 
miles  farther.  She  earnestly  desired  to 
go  on  immediately ;  but  how  undertake 
such  a  journey  on  foot,  so  late,  and  in 
the  dark  month  of  December,  when  the 
nightappears  to  commence  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  ?  Her  travelling  com- 
panions both  left  her  in  the  court-yard, 
and  she  was  fain,  uninvited,  to  follow  them 
to  the  apartment  of  the  housekeeper ; 
where  she  was  beginning  an  apology  upon 
the  necessity  that  urged  her  intrusion, 
when  Selina  came  skipping  into  the 
room. 

The  stranger,  conceiving  some  hope  of 
assistance  from  her  extreme  youth,  and 
air  of  good  humour,  besought  her  interest 


(       I20      ) 

With  Mrs.  Maple  for  permission  to  re- 
main in  the  house  till  the  next  day.  Se- 
lina  carried  the  request  with  alacrity, 
and,  almost  instantly  returning,  gave 
orders  to  the  housekeeper  to  prepare  a 
bed  for  her  fellow-traveller,  in  the  little 
room  upon  the  stairs. 

The  gratitude  excited  by  this  support 
was  so  pleasant  to  the  young  patronness, 
that  she  accompanied  her  2^^otegee  to 
the  destined  little  apartment,  superin- 
tended all  the  regulations  for  her  accom- 
modation and  refreshments,  and  took 
so  warm  a  fancy  to  her,  that  she  made 
her  a  visit  every  other  half-hour  in  the 
course  of  the  evening;  during  which  she 
related,  with  earnest  injunctions  to  se- 
cresy,  all  the  little  incidents  of  her  little 
life,  finishing  her  narration  by  intimating, 
in  a  rapturous  whisper,  that  she  should 
very  soon  have  a  house  of  her  own,  in 
which  her  aunt  Maple  would  have  no 
sort  of  authority.  "  And  then,"  added 
she,  nodding,  "  perhaps  I  may  ask  you 
to  come  and  see  me  !" 


(       12'       ) 

No  one  else  appeared;  and  the  stranger 
might  tranquilly  have  passed  the  night, 
but  from  internal  disturbance  how  she 
should  reach  Brighthelmstone  the  follow- 
ing morning,  without  carriage,  friends, 
money,  or  knowledge  of  the  road  thither. 

Before  the  tardy  light  invited  her  to 
rise  the  next  day,  her  new  young  friend 
came  flying  into  the  room.  "  I  could 
not  sleep,''  she  cried,  "  all  last  night, 
for  the  thought  of  a  play  that  I  am  to 
have  a  very  pretty  dress  for ;  and  that  we 
have  fixed  upon  acting  amongst  our- 
selves ;  and  so  I  got  up  on  purpose  to 
tell  you  of  it,  for  fear  you  should  be 
gone." 

She  then  read  through  every  word 
of  her  own  part,  without  a  syllable  of  any 
other. 

They  were  both  soon  afterwards  sent 
for  into  the  parlour  by  Ehnor,  who  was 
waiting  breakfast  for  Mrs.  Maple,  with 
Harleigh  and  Ireton.  "  My  dear  de- 
moiselle," she  cried,  "  how  fares  it  ? 
We  were  all  so  engrossed  last  night,  about 

VOL.  I.  G 


(      122       ) 

a  comedy  that  we  have  been  settling  to 
massacre,  that  I  protest  I  quite  forgot 
you." 

"  I  ought  only,  Madam,"  answered 
the  stranger,  with  a  sigh,  "  to  wonder, 
and  to  be  grateful  that  you  have  ever 
thought  of  me," 

"  Why  w^hat's  the  matter  with  you 
now  ?  Why  are  you  so  solemn  ?  Is  your 
noble  courage  cast  down  ?  What  are  you 
projecting  ?  What's  your  plan  ?" 

"  When  I  have  been  to  Brighth elm- 
stone,  Madam,  when  I  have  seen  who  — 
or  what  may  await  me  there  ~" 

Mrs.  Maple,  now  appearing,  angrily 
demanded  who  had  invited  her  into  the 
parlour  ?  telling  her  to  repair  to  the 
kitchen,  and  make  known  what  she 
wanted  through  some  of  the  servants. 
>•  GThe  blood  mounted  into  the  cheeks  of 
the  Incognita,  but  she  answered  only  by 
a  distant  courtsie,  and  turning  to  Elinor 
and  Selina,  besought  them  to  accept 
her  acknowledgements  for  their  good- 
ness, and  retired. 

11 


(     123     ) 

Selina  and  Elinor,  following  her  into 
the  ante-room,  asked  how  she  meant  to 
travel ? 

She  had  one  way  only  in  her  power ; 
she  must  walk. 

"  Walk  ?  exclaimed  Harleigh,  joining 
them,  '•  in  such  a  season  ?  And  by  such 
roads  ?*' 

"  Walk?'*  cried  Ireton,  advancing 
also,  "  eight  miles  ?   In  December?*' 

"  And  why  not,  gentlemen  ?"  called 
out  Mrs.  Maple,  "  How  would  you  have 
such  a  body  as  that  go,  if  she  must  not 
walk  ?  What  else  has  she  got  her  feet 
for  r 

**  Are  you  sure,"  said  Ireton,  "  that 
you  know  the  way  ?" 

"  I  was  never  in  this  part  of  the 
world  till  now.'* 

"  Ha!  Ha!  pleasant  enough !  And 
what  are  you  to  do  about  money  ?  Did 
you  ever  find  that  purse  of  your's  tliat  you 
—  lost,  I  think,  at  Dover?" 

>>  Never!" 

"  Better  and  better!"    cried  Ireton, 

G    2 


(       124      ) 

laughing  again,  yet  feeling  for   his  own 
purse,  and  sauntering  towards  the  hall. 

Harleigh  was  already  out  of  sight. 

"  Poor  soul !"  said  Selina,  "  I  am 
sure,  for  one,  Til  help  her." 

"  Let  us  make  a  subscription,"  said 
Elinor,  producing  half  a  guinea,  and 
looking  round  to  Mrs.  Maple. 

Selina  joined  the  same  sum,  full  of 
glee  to  give,  for  the  first  time,  as  much  as 
her  sister. 

Mrs.  Maple  clamorously  ordered  them 
to  shut  the  parlour  door. 

With  shame,  yet  joy,  the  stranger  ac- 
cepted the  two  half  guineas,  intimated  her 
hopes  that  she  should  soon  repay  them, 
repeated  her  thanks,  and  took  leave. 

The  sisters  would  still  have  detained 
her,  but  Mrs.  Maple  peremptorily  in- 
sisted upon  breakfasting  without  further 

delay. 

The  Incognita  was  proceeding  to  the 
housekeeper's  room,  for  a  packet  of  the 
gifts  of  Elinor,  but  she  was  stopt  in  the 
hall  by  Ireton,  who  was  loitering  about, 

15 


(       125      ) 

playing  with  his  purse,  and  jerking  and 
catching  it  from  hand  to  hand. 

*'  Here,  my  dear,'*  he  cried,  "  look 
at  this,  and  take  what  you  will  from  it." 

She  coldly  thanked  him,  and,  saying 
that  the  young  ladies  had  amply  supplied 
her,  would  have  moved  on  :  but  he  pre- 
vented her,  repeating  his  offer,  and 
adding,  while  with  uncontrolled  freedom 
he  stared  at  her,  "  How  the  deuce,  with 
such  a  pretty  face  as  that,  could  you 
ever  think  of  making  yourself  look  such 
a  fright  ?" 

She  told  him  that  she  was  in  haste. 

"  But  what  was  the  whim  of  it?*' 

She  desired  him  to  make  way,  every 
moment  of  day-light  being  precious  to 
her. 

"  Hang  day-light !"  cried  he, "  I  never 
liked  it ;  and  if  you  will  but  wait  a  few 
minutes — " 

Selina,  here,  running  to  call  him  to 
breakfast,  he  finished  in  a  whisper,  "  I'll 
convey  you  in  my  own  chaise  wherever 
you  like  to  go  ;"   and  then,  forced  to 

G  3 


(       126      ) 

put  up  his  purse,  be  gallantly  handed  his 
fair  bride-elect  back  to  the  parlonr. 

The  stranger,  entering  the  house- 
lieepers  room,  met  Harleigh,  who  se- 
riously remonstrated  against  her  walking 
project,  offering  his  servant  to  procure  her 
a  post-chaise.  The  sigh  of  her  nega- 
live  expressed  its  melancholy  economy, 
though  she  ov/ned  a  wish  that  she  could 
find  soiue  meaner  vehicle  that  would  be 
safe. 

Hadeigh  then  disappeared ;  but,  a  few 
minutes  afterwards,  when  she  was  setting 
out  from  the  garden-gate,  she  again  met 
him,  and  he  told  her  that  he  v/as  going 
to  order  a  parcel  from  a  stationer's  at 
Brighthelmstone ;  and  that  a  sort  of 
chaise-cart,  belonging  to  a  farmer  just 
by,  would  be  sent  for ;  it,  alm6st  imme- 
diately. "  I  do  not  recommend,"  added 
bei  smi!i%,  "  such  a  machine  for  its  ele- 
gance ;  and,  if  you  would  permit  me4o 
offer  you  one  more  eligible  — "  ?^J^^ 
t^^'A  erave  motion  of  the  head  repressed 
him  from  finishing  his  phrase,  and  he  ac- 


i"? 


C     127    ) 

quainted  her  that  he  had  just  been  to  the 
farm,  to  bespeak  a  sober  driver,  with 
whom  he  had  already  settled  for  his  morn- 
ing's work. 

This  implied  assurance,  that  he  had  no 
plan  of  following  the  machine,  induced 
her  to  agree  to  the  proposition  ;  and, 
when  the  little  carriage  was  in  sight, 
he  expressed  his  good  wishes  that  she 
might  find  the  letter,  or  the  friend, 
that  she  desired,  and  returned  to  the 
breakfast  parlour. 

The  length  of  the  way,  joined  to  the 
dirt  of  the  roads,  made  her  truly  sensible 
of  his  consideration,  in  affording  her 
this  safe  conveyance. 

When  she  arrived  at  the  Post-ofSce, 
the  words,  "  Oh,  you  are  come  at  last  T* 
struck  her  ear,  from  the  street ;  but  not 
conceiving  herself  to  be  addressed,  they 
failed  to  catch  her  attention,  till  she  saw, 
waiting  to  give  her  his  hand,  while  ex- 
claiming,  "  What  the  deuce  can  have 
made  you  so  long  in  coming  ?"  young 
Ireton. 

G  4 


(      128       ) 

Far  less  pleased  than  surprised,  she 
disengaged  herself  from  him  with  quick- 
ness, and  enquired  for  the  post-master. 

He  was  not  within. 

She  was  extremely  disturbed,  and  at  a 
loss  where  to  wait,  or  what  to  do. 

«c  Why  did  not  you  stay  for  my 
chaise  ?"  said  Ireton.  "  When  I  found 
that  you  were  gone,  I  mounted  my 
steed,  and  came  over  by  a  short  cut,  to 
see  what  was  become  of  you  ;  and  here 
you  have  kept  me  cooling  my  heels  all 
this  devil  of  a  time.  That  booby  of  a 
driver  must  have  had  a  taste  for  being 
out-crawled  by  a  snail. 

Without  answering  him,  she  asked 
whether  there  were  any  clerk  at  hand,  to 
whom  she  could  apply  ? 

Oh,  yes !  and  she  was  immediately 
shewn  into  an  office,  and  followed,  with- 
out any  ceremony,  by  Ireton,  though  she 
replied  not  a  word  to  any  thing  that  he 
said. 

A  young  man  here  received  her,  of 
whom,  in  a  fearful  voice,  she  demanded 


(       129       ) 

whether  he  had  any  letter  dh'ected  for 
L.  S.,  to  be  left  till  called  for. 

"  You  must  make  her  tell  you  her 
name.  Sir!"  cried  Ireton^  with  an  air  of 
importance.  "  I  give  you  notice  not  to 
let  her  have  her  letter,  without  a  receipt, 
signed  by  her  own  hand.  She  came  over 
with  Mrs.  Maple  of  Lewes,  and  a  party  of 
us,  and  won't  say  who  she  is.  'T  has  a 
very  ugly  look,  Sir  !*' 

The  eye  of  the  stranger  accused  him, 
but  vainly,  of  cruelty. 

The  clerk,  who  listened  with  great  cu- 
riosity, soon  produced  a  foreign  letter, 
with  the  address  demanded. 

While  eagerly  advancing  to  receive  it, 
she  anxiously  enquired,  whether  there 
were  no  inland  letter  with  the  same  di- 
rection ? 

None,  she  was  answered. 

Ireton  then,  clapping  his  hand  upon 
the  shoulder  of  the  clerk,  positively  de- 
clared, that  he  would  lodge  an  informa- 
tion against  him,  if  he  delivered  any 
letter,  under  such  circumstances,  without 
a  signed  receipt. 

G  5 


(     ^3^    ) 

*!-- Ah- almost  fainting  distress  was  now 
visible  in  the  face  of  the  Incognita,  as 
the  clerk,  surprised  and  perplexed,  said, 
"  Have  you  any  objection,  Ma'am,  to 
giving  me  your  name  ?" 
u  She  stammered,  hesitated,  and  grew 
jfaler,  while  Ireton  smiled  triumphantly, 
when  the  party  was  suddenly  joined  by 
Harleigh. 

Ireton  ceased  his  clamour,  and  hung 
back,  ashamed. 

Harleigh,  approaching  the  stranger, 
with  an  apology  for  his  intrusion,  was 
struck  vv^ith  her  disordered  look,  and  en- 
quired whether  she  were  ill  ? 

"  Ah,  Sir  !"  she  cried,  reviving  with 
hope  at  his  siglit,  and  walking  towards 
the  window,  whither,  wondering,  he  fol- 
lowed, "  assist  me  in  mercy  ! — you  know, 
already, that  some  powerful  motive  deters 
me  from  namino;  mvself — " 

"  Have  I  been  making  any  indiscreet 
enquiry?"  cried  he,  gently,  yet  in  a 
tone  of  surprise. 

**  You  ?  O  no  !  You  have  beon  all  ge» 
nerosity  and  consideration  !'* 


Harleigb,  much  gratified,  besought  her 
to  explain  herself  with  openness. 

"  They  insist  upon  my  telling  my 
name  —  or  they  detain  my  letter  !" 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  said  he,  and,  going  to 
the  clerk,  he  demanded  the  letter,  for 
which  he  gave  his  own  address'and receipt, 
with  his  word  of  honour  that  he  was 
authorised  to  require  it  by  the  person  to 
whom  it  was  written. 

He  then  delivered  it  into  her  hand. 

The  joy  of  its  possession,  joined  to  the 
relief  from  such  persecution,  filled  her 
with  a  delight  which,  though  beaming 
from  all  her  features,  she  had  not  yet 
found  words  to  express,  when  Ireton, 
whom  Harleigh  had  not  remarked,  burst 
into  a  significant,  though  affected 
lauc:h. 

"  Why,  Harleigh !  why,  what  the 
deuce  can  have  brought  you  hither?'* 
cried  he.  Harleigh  wished  to  retort  the 
question  ;  but  would  not  hazard  a  rail- 
lery that  miglit  embarrass  the  stranger, 
who  now,  with  modest  grace,  courtsied 

G  6 


(     ^3^     ) 

to  him;  while  she  passed  Ireton  without 
notice,  and  left  the  room. 

Each  wished  to  follow  her,  but  each 
was  restrained  by  the  other.  Ireton, 
who  continued  laughing  maUciously, 
owned  that  his  journey  to  Brighth elm- 
stone  had  been  solely  to  prevail  with  the 
clerk  to  demand  the  name  of  the  stranger, 
before  he  gave  up  the  letter ;  but  Har- 
leigh  protested  that  he  had  merely  ridden 
over  to  offer  his  mediation  for  her  return  to 
Lewes,  if  she  should  miss  the  friend,  or 
letter,  of  which  she  came  in  search. 

Ireton  laughed  still  more  j  and  hoped 
that,  from  such  abundant  charity,  he 
would  attribute  his  own  ride,  also,  to 
motives  of  as  pure  benevolence.  He 
then  begged  he  might  not  interfere  with 
the  following  up  of  so  charitable  a  pur- 
pose :  but  Harleigh  assured  him  that  he 
had  neither  right,  pretension,  nor  design 
to  proceed  any  farther. 

"  If  that's  the  case,"  cried  Ireton, 
<'  since  charity  is  the  order  of  the  day, 
ril  see  what  is  become  of  her  myself." 


(     '33     ) 

He  ran  out  of  the  room. 

Harleigh,  following,  soon  joined  him, 
and  they  saw  the  Incognita  enter  a  mil- 
liner's shop.  They  then  separated; 
Harleigh  pleading  business  for  not  re- 
turning immediately  to  Lewes ;  while 
Ireton,  mounting  his  horse,  with  an  ac- 
cusing shake  of  the  head,  rode  off. 

Harleigh  strolled  to  the  milliner's,  and, 
enquiring  for  some  gloves,  perceived, 
through  the  glass-door  of  a  small  parlour, 
the  stranger  reading  her  letter. 

He  begged  that  the  milliner  would  be 
so  good  as  to  tell  the  lady  in  the  inner 
room,  that  Mr.  Harleigh  requested  to 
speak  to  her. 

A  message  thus  open  could  neither 
startle  nor  embarrass  her,  and  he  was 
instantly  admitted. 

He  found  her  pale  and  agitated.  Her 
letter,  which  was  in  her  hand,  she  hastily 
folded,  but  looked  at  nothing  else, 
while  she  waited  an  explanation  of  his 
visit. 

"  I  could  not/'  he  said,  "  go  back  to 


(     134    ) 

Lewes  without  knowing  whether  your 
expectations  are  answered  in  coming 
hither ;  or  whether  you  will  permit  me 
to  tell  the  Miss  Joddrels  that  they  may 
still  have  the  pleasure  to  be  of  some 
use  to  you/* 

She  appeared  to  be  unable  to  speak. 

*'  I  fear  to  seem  importunate,'*  he 
continued,  "  yet  I  have  no  intention,  be- 
lieve me,  to  ask  any  officious  questions. 
I  respect  what  you  have  said  of  the 
nature  of  vour  situation,  too  much  to 
desire  any  information  beyond  what 
may  tend  to  alleviate  its  uneasiness/' 

She  held  her  hands  before  her  eyes, 
to  hide  her  fresh  gushing  tears,  but  they 
trickled  fast  through  her  fingers,  as  she 
ansv/ered,  "  My  situation  is  now  de- 
plorable indeed! — I  have  no  letter, 
no  direction  from  the  person  whom  I 
had  hoped  to  meet ;  and  whose  abode, 
whose  address,  I  know-  not  how  to  disco- 
ver !  I  must  not  apply  to  any  of  my  ori- 
ginal friends :  unknown,  and  in  cir- 
cumstances the  most  strange,  if  not  sus- 


picious,  can  I  hope  to  make  myself  any 
new  ones? — Can  I  even  subsist,  when, 
though  tiius  involved  in  mystery,  I  am 
as  indigent  as  I  am  friendless,  yet  dare 
not  say  who,  nor  what  I  am, — and  hardly 
even  know  it  myself!" 

Touched  with  compassion,  he  drew 
nearer  to  her,  meaning,  from  an  almost 
unconscious  impulse  of  kindness,  to 
take  her  hand ;  but  feeling,  with  equal 
quickness,  the  impropriety  of  allowing 
his  pity  such  a  manifestation,  he  re- 
treated to  his  first  place,  and,  in  accents 
of  gentle,  but  respectful  commiseration, 
expressed  his  concern  for  her  distress. 

Somewhat  soothed,  yet  heavily  sighing, 
*'  To  fail  finding,"  she  said, "  either  the 
friend,  or  her  direction,  that  I  expected, 
overwhelms  me  with  difiiculty  and  per- 
plexity. And  even  this  letter  from 
abroad,  though  most  welcome,  has  griev- 
ously disappointed  me  !  I  am  promised, 
however,  another,  which  may  bring  me, 
perhaps,  happier  ti^lings.  I  must  v»^ait 
for  it  patiently  J  but  the  person  from 


C    136   ) 

whom  it  comes  little  imagines  my  des- 
titute state !  The  unfortunate  loss  of 
my  purse  makes  it,  by  this  delay  of  all 
succour,  almost  desperate !" 

The  hand  of  Harleigh  was  involun- 
tarily in  his  pocket,  but  before  he  could 
either  draw  out  his  purse,  or  speak,  she 
tremulously  added,  colouring,  and  hold- 
ing back,  "  I  am  ashamed  to  have  men- 
tioned a  circumstance,  which  seems  to 
call  for  a  species  of  assistance,  that  it  is 
impossible  I  should  accept." 

Harleigh  bowed,  acquiescent. 

Her  eyes  thanked  him  for  sparing  her 
any  contest,  and  she  then  gratefully  ac- 
ceded to  his  proposal,  of  soliciting  for  her 
the  renewed  aid  and  countenance  of  the 
Miss  Joddrels,  from  whom  some  little 
notice  might  be  highly  advantageous,  in 
securing  her  decent  treatment,  during 
the  few  days, —  perhaps  more,  —  that  she 
might  be  kept  waiting  at  Brighthelm- 
stone  for  another  letter. 

He  gently  exhorted  her  to  re-animate 
her  courage,  and  hoped  to  convince  her, 


(     137     ) 

by  the  next  morning,  that  he  had  not  in- 
truded upon  her  retirement  from  motives 
of  idle  and  useless  curiosity. 

As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  she  treated 
with  Miss  Matson,  the  milliner,  to  whom 
Harleis^h  had  considerately  named  her 
as  a  young  person  known  to  Mrs.  Maple, 
for  a  small  room  in  lier  house  durins*  a 
few  days  ;  and  then,  somewhat  revived, 
she  endeavoured,  by  recollecting  the  evils 
which  she  had  escaped,  to  look  forward, 
with  better  hopes  of  alleviation,  to  tliose 
which  might  yet  remain  to  be  en- 
countered. 


(    13^    ) 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

T^HE  next  morning,  the  Wanderer  had 
the  happy  surprise  of  seeing  Elinor 
burst  into  her  chamber.  "  We  are  all  on 
iire,"  she  cried,  "  at  our  house,  so  I  am 
come  hither  to  cool  myself.  Aunt  Maple 
and  I  have  fought  a  noble  battle  5  but  I 
have  won  tije  day*" 

She  then  related,  that  Harleigh  had 
brought  them  an  account  of  her  disap- 
pointments, her  letter,  her  design  to 
wait  for  another,  and  her  being  at  the  mil- 
liner's. "  Aunt  Maple,"  she  continued, 
"  treated  the  whole  as  imposition  ;  but 
I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  let  her  pitiful 
system  prevail  in  the  house.  And  so, 
to  cut  the  matter  short,  for  I  hate  a  long 
story,  I  gave  her  to  understand,  that,  if 
she  would  not  let  you  return  to  Lewes, 
and  stay  with  us  till  your  letter  arrives,  I 
should  go  to  Brighthelmstone  myself,  and 


\ 


(     139     ) 

stay  with  you.  This  properly  frightened 
her;  for  she  knew  I  would  keep  my 
word." 

"  And  would  you,  Madam  ?"  said  the 
stranger,  smiling. 

"  Why  not  ?  Do  you  think  I  would 
not  do  a  thing  only  because  no  one  else 
would  do  it  ?  I  am  never  so  happy  as  in 
ranging  without  a  guide.  However,  we 
came  to  a  compromise  this  morning;  and 
she  consents  to  permit  your  return,  pro- 
vided I  don't  let  you  enter  her  chaise, 
and  engage  for  keeping  you  out  of  every 
body's  way.'* 

The  stranger,  evidently  hurt  and 
offended,  declined  admission  upon  such 
terms.  Her  obligations,  she  said,  were 
already  sufficiently  heavy,  and  she  would 
struggle  to  avoid  adding  to  their  weight, 
and  to  supply  her  own  few  wants  herself, 
till  some  new  resource  mi<xht  open  to  her 

O  A. 

assistance. 

Elinor,  surprised,  hastily  demanded 
whether  she  meant  to  live  alone,  that  she 
might  only  be  aided,  and  only  be  visited 
by  Mr.  Harleigh. 


(     140     ) 

The  stranger  looked  all  astonishment, 

"  Nay,  that  will  certainly  be  the  most 
pleasant  method  ;  so  I  don't  affect  to 
wonder  at  it;  nevertheless '^ 

She  hesitated,  but  her  face  was  tinted 
with  a  glow  of  disturbance,  and  her  voice 
announced  strong  rising  emotion,  as  she 
presently  added,  "  If  you  think  of  form- 
ing any  attachment  with  that  man — " 
She  stopt  abruptly. 

The  heightened  amazement  of  the 
stranger  kept  her  for  a  few  instants 
speechless ;  but  the  troubled  brow  of 
Elinor  soon  made  her  with  firmness  and 
spirit  answer,  "  Attachment  ?  I  protest 
to  you.  Madam,  except  at  those  periods 
when  his  benevolence  or  urbanity  have 
excited  my  gratitude,  my  own  difficulties 
have  absorbed  my  every  thought  !'* 

"  I  heartily  congratulate  your  apathy!'* 
said  Elinor,  her  features  instantly  dilating 
into  a  smile  ;  for  he  is  so  completely  a 
non-descript,  that  he  would  else  incon- 
testably  set  you  upon  hunting  out  for 
some  new  Rosamund's  Pond.  That  is 
all  I  mean." 


(     Ui     ) 

She  then,  but  with  gaiety  and  good 
humour,  enquired  whetlier  or  not  the 
stranger  would  return  to  Lewes, 

Nothing,  to  the  stranger,  could  be  less 
attractive  at  this  moment;  yet  the  fear 
of  such  another  misinterpretation  and 
rebuff,  and  the  unspeakable  dread  of 
losing,  in  her  helpless  situation,  all  fe- 
male countenance,  conquered  her  re- 
pugnance. 

Elinor  then  said  that  she  would  hurry 
home,  and  send  off  the  same  elegant 
machine  from  the  farm,  which,  she 
found,  had  been  made  use  of  in  her 
service  the  preceding  day. 

Far  from  exhilarated  was  the  young 
person  whom  she  left,  who,  thus  treated, 
could  scarcely  brook  the  permission  to 
return,  which  before  she  would  have  so- 
licited. Small  are  the  circumstances 
which  reverse  all  our  w  ishes  !  and  one 
hour  still  less  resembles  another  in  our 
feelings,  than  in  our  actions. 

Upon  arriving  again  at  the  house  of 
Mrs.  Maple,  she  was  met  by  Selina,  who 


(       M2       ) 

•expressed  the  greatest  pleasure  at  her 
return,  and  conducted  her  to  the  little 
room  which  she  had  before  occupied ; 
eagerly  announcing  that  she  had  already 
learnt  half  her  part,  which  slie  glibly  re- 
peated, crying,  "  How  lucky  it  is  that 
you  are  come  back;  for  now  I  have 
got  somebody  to  say  it  to  !** 

Mrs.  Maple,  she  added,  had  refused 
her  consent  to  the  whole  scheme,  till 
Elinor  threatened  to  carry  it  into  exe- 
cution in  Farmer  Gooch's  barn,  and  to 
invite  all  the  county. 

She  then  entered  into  sundry  details 
of  family  secrets,  the  principal  of  which 
was,  that  she  often  thought  that  she 
should  be  married  before  her  sister 
Elinor,  though  Sister  Elinor  was  twenty- 
two  years  old,  and  she  herself  was  only 
fourteen :  but  Sister  Elinor  had  had  a 
violent  quarrel  with  Mr.  Dennis  Har- 
leigh,  whom  she  had  been  engaged  to 
marry  before  she  went  abroad,  about  the 
French  Revolution,  which  Sister  Elinor 
said  was  the  finest  thing  in  the  world,  but' 


(     143     ) 

which  Mr.  Dennis  said  was  the  very  worst. 
But,  for  all  that,  he  loved  her  so,  that 
he  had  made  his  brother  fetch  her  home, 
and  wanted  the  marriage  to  take  place 
directly :  and  Aunt  Maple  wished  it  tooj 
of  all  things,  because  Sister  Elinor  was 
so  hard  to  manage  ;  for,  now  she  was  of 
age,  she  did  every  thing  that  sheliked;  and 
she  protested  that  she  would  not  give  her 
consent,  unless  Mr.  Dennis  promised  to 
change  his  opinion  upon  the  French 
Revolution  ;  so  they  quarrelled  again 
the  day  before  they  left  townj  and  Aunt 
Maple,  quite  frightened,  invited  Mr.Har- 
leighjthe  elder  brother,  to  come  and  spend 
a  week  or  two  at  Lewes,  to  try  to  bring 
matters  round  again. 

These  anecdotes  were  interrupted  hy 
the  appearance  of  Elinor,  of  whom  the 
Incognita  entreated,  and  obtained,  per- 
mission to  reside,  as  in  town,  wholly  in 
her  own  room. 

"  I  wish  you  could  hear,"  said  Elinor, 
"  how^  we  all  settle  your  history  in  the 
parlour.     No  two  of  us  have  the  same 


C     H4     ) 

idea  of  whom  or  what  you  are."  She 
then  entered  upon  the  subject  of  the 
play,  which  was  to  be  the  Provoked* 
Husband,  in  compliment  to  Miss  Arbe, 
a  young  lady  of  celebrated  talents,  who, 
having  frequently  played  the  part  of 
Lady  Townly,  with  amazing  applause, 
at  private  theatres,  had  offered  her  ser- 
vices for  that  character,  but  would  study 
no  other.  This,  Elinor  complained,  was 
singularly  provoking,  as  Harleigh,  who 
alone  of  the  whole  set  was  worth  acting 
wath,  must  necessarily  be  Lord  Townly. 
However,  since  she  could  not  try  her  own 
theatrical  skill,  by  the  magnetizing  powers 
of  reciprocated  exertions,  she  determin- 
ed, in  relinquishing  what  was  brilliant,  to 
adopt  at  least  what  was  diverting;  for 
which  reason  she  had  taken  the  part  of 
Lady  Wronghead.  Seiina  w^as  to  be 
Miss  Jenny;  Leton,  'Squire  Richard; 
and  she  had  pitched  upon  Mr.  Scope  and 
Miss  Bydel,  two  famous,  formal  quizzes, 
residing  in  Lewes,  to,  compliment  them 


C     145     ) 

with  the  fogrum  parts  of  Manly  and 
Lady  Grace ;  characters  which  always 
put  the  audience  to  sleep ;  but  that,  as 
they  were  both  good  sort  of  souls,  who 
were  never  awake  themselves,  they 
would  not  find  out.  The  other  parts 
she  had  chiefly  arranged  for  the  pleasure 
of  giving  a  lesson,  of  democracy  to  Aunt 
Maple  ;  for  she  had  appointed  Sir  Francis 
Wronghead  to  Mr.  Stubbs,  an  old 
steward  belonging  to  Lord  Rockton ; 
Count  Basset  to  young  Gooch,  a  farmer's 
son  ;  Myrtylla  to  Golding,  her  own  maid, 
and  John  Moody  to  Tomlinson,  the 
footman. 

The  air  of  attention  with  which  the 
stranger  listened,  whether  she  answered 
or  not,  renewed  again  in  Elinor  the  plea- 
sure which  she  had  first  found  in  talking 
to  her;  and  thus,  between  the  two 
sisters,  she  had  almost  constantly  a  com- 
panion till  near  midnight. 

To  be  left,  then,  alone  was  not  to  be 
left  to  unbroken  slumbers.  She  had  no 
dependence,  nor  hope,  but  in  an  expected 

VOL.  r.  H 


C   146   ) 

second  letter,  yet  had  devised  no  means 
to  secure  its  immediate  reception,  even 
if  its  quick  arrival  corresponded  with 
her  wishes.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  she 
heard  the  family  stirring  tlie  next  morn- 
ing, she  descended,  with  an  intention  of 
going  to  the  housekeeper's  room,  to 
make  some  arrangement  for  that  pur- 
pose. 

Ireton,  who  caught  a  glimpse  of  her 
upon  the  stairs,  met  and  stopt  her.  "  My 
dear,*'  he  cried,  "  don't  think  me  such 
a  prig  as  to  do  you  any  mischief;  but 
take  a  hint!  Don't  see  quite  so 
much  of  a  certain  young  lady,  whom 
I  don't  wash  should  know  th^  world 
quite  so  soon  !  You  understand  me,  my 
dear  ?" 

Inexpressibly  offended,  she  was  con- 
temptuously shrinking  from  him,  when 
they  were  joined  by  Harleigh,  who 
asked,  with  an  air  of  respect  that  was 
evidently  meant  to  give  a  lesson  to  Ii  eton, 
whether  she  would  permit  him  to  call 


(     U7     ) 

at  the  post-office,  to  order  that  her  let-- 
ters  should  be  forwarded  to  Lewes. 

This  offer  was  irresistible,  and,  with 
looks  of  the  brightest  gratitude,  she  was 
uttering  her  acknowledgements,  when 
the  voice  of  Ehnor,  from  a  distance, 
sounding  tremulous  and  agitated,  check- 
ed her,  and  she  hastily  retreated. 

But  her  room-door  was  only  shut  to 
be  almost  instantly  thrown  open  by 
Elinor  herself,  who,  entering  with  a 
large  parcel  in  her  hands,  while  her  face 
shewed  pain  and  disorder,  said,  "  See 
how  I  have  been  labouring  to  assist  and 
to  serve  you,  at  the  very  moment  of  your 
insidious  duplicity !" 

Thunderstruck  by  the  harshness  of 
an  attack  nearly  as  incomprehensible  as 
it  was  vehement,  the  stranger  fixed  her 
eyes  upon  her  accuser  with  a  look  that 
said,  Are  you  mad  ? 

The  silent,  yet  speaking  expression 
was  caught  by  Elinor,  who,  struck  with 
sudden  sname,  frankly  begged  her  par- 
don ;  and,  after  a  little  reflexion,  coolly 

u   2 


(     h8     ) 

added,  "  You  must  never  mind  what  I 
say,  nor  what  I  do  ;  for  I  sport  all  sort 
of  things,  and  in  all  sort  of  manners. 
But  it  is  merely  to  keep  off  stagna- 
tion :  I  dread  nothing  like  a  lethargy. 
JBut  pray  what  were  you  all  about  just 
now  ?" 

The  Incognita  related  her  intended 
purpose ;  its  interruption  ;  the  offer  of 
Mr.  Harleigh  j  and  its  acceptance. 

Elinor  looked  perturbed  again,  and 
said,  "  You  seem  mighty  fond,  methinks, 
of  employing  Mr.  Harleigh  for  your 
Mercury !" 

**  He  is  so  good  as  to  employ  himself. 
I  could  never  think  of  taking  such  a 
liberty.'* 

Elinor  put  up  her  lip  y  but  told  her  to 
make  what  use  she  could  of  the  parcel, 
and,  with  an  abrupt  "  Good  morning," 
went  down  to  breakfast. 

The  stranger,  amazed  and  confounded, 
remained  for  some  time  absorbed  by 
conjectures  upon  this  scene. 

The  parcel  contained  cast-ofF  clothes 


(      149     ) 

of  almost  every  description  ;  but,  much 
as  she  required  such  aid,  the  manner 
in  which  it  was  offered  determined  her 
upon  its  rejection. 

In  a  few  hours,  the  maid  who  brought 
her  meals,  was  desired  by  Mr.  Harleigh 
to  inform  her,  that  he  had  executed  her 
commission  at  the  post-office. 

This  assurance  revived  her,  and  en- 
abled her  to  pass  the  day  in  tolerable 
tranquillity,  though  perfectly  alone,  and 
without  any  species  of  employment  to 
diversify  her  ruminations,  or  help  to  w^ear 
away  the  tediousness  of  expectation. 

When  the  next  day,  however,  and  the 
next,  passed  without  her  seeing  any  of 
the  family,  she  felt  disconcerted  and 
disturbed.  To  be  abandoned  by  Elinor, 
and  even  by  Selina,  made  her  situation 
appear  worse  than  forlorn  ;  and  her 
offended  spirit  deemed  the  succour 
thus  afforded  her,  inadequate  to  compen- 
sate for  the  endurance  of  universal  dis- 
esteem  and  avoidance.  She  determined, 
therefore,  to  quit  the  inhospitable  man- 

H  3 


(     '50     ) 

sion,  persuaded  that  no  efforts  could  be 
too  difficult,  no  means  too  laborious, 
that  might  rescue  her  from  an  abode 
which  she  could  no  longer  inhabit,  with- 
out seeming  to  herself  to  be  degraded. 

But  the  idea  of  this  project  had  a  faci- 
lity of  which  its  execution  did  not  par- 
take. She  had  no  money,  save  what  she 
had  received  from  the  two  sisters  ;  even 
that,  by  a  night  and  day  spent  at  the 
milliner's,  was  much  diminished.  She 
could  not  quit  the  neighbourhood  of 
Brighthelmstone,  while  still  in  expecta- 
tion of  a  letter  ;  and  if,  while  awaiting 
it  in  any  other  house,  the  compassion^ 
or  the  philanthropy  of  Harleigh  should 
urge  him  to  see  her,  might  not  Elinor 
conclude  that  she  had  only  retreated  to 
receive  his  visits  alone  ? 

Apprehensions  such  as  these  frighten- 
ed her  into  forbearance  :  but  in  teaching 
her  prudence,  they  did  not  endow  her 
with  contentment.  Her  hours  lingereti 
in  depression  and  uncertainty  ;  her  time 


(    15^    ; 

^as  not  employed   but  consumed ;  her 
faculties  were  not  enjoyed,  but  wasted. 

Yet,  upon  more  mature  reflexion,  she 
enquired  by  what  right  she  expected 
kinder  treatment.  Unknown,  unnamed, 
without  any  sort  of  recommendation, 
she  applied  for  succour,  and  it  was  grant- 
ed her  :  if  she  met  with  the  humanity  of 
being  listened  to,  and  the  charity  of 
being  assisted,  must  she  quarrel  with  her 
benefactors,  because  they  gave  not  im- 
/  plicit  credit  to  the  word  of  a  lonely  Wan- 
derer for  her  own  character  ?  or  think 
herself  ill  used  that  their  donations  and 
their  aid  were  not  delicate  as  well  as 
useful  ? 

This  sober  style  of  reasoning  soon 
chased  away  resentment,  and,  with  quieter 
nerves,  she  awaited  some  termination  to 
her  suspence  and  solitude. 

Meantime,  most  of  the  other  inhabi- 
tants of  the  house,  were  engaged  by 
studying  their  parts  for  the  intended 
representation,  which  so  completely  oc- 
cupied some   by  choice,  and  others  by 

n  4 


(       152      ) 

complaisance,  or  necessity,  that  no  visit 
or  excursion  was  made  abroad,  till  seve- 
ral days  after  their  arrival  at  Lewes. 
Mrs.  Maple  then,  with  her  whole  party, 
accepted  an  invitation  to  dine  and  spend 
the  evening  with  the  family  of  their  prin- 
cipal actress,  Miss  Arbe  j  but  a  sudden 
indisposition  with  which  that  lady  was 
seized  after  dinner,  forced  them  home 
again  early  in  the  evening.  Their  re- 
turn being  unexpected,  the  servants  were 
all  out,  or  out  of  the  way,  but,  entering 
by  a  door  leading  from  the  garden, 
which  they  found  open,  they  were  struck 
with  the  sound  of  music.  They  stopped, 
and  distinctly  heard  a  harp ;  they  lis- 
tened, and  found  that  it  was  played  with 
uncommon  abihty. 

««  'Tis  my  harp  !"  cried  Selina,  "  I 
am  sure  of  that !" 

"  Your  harp  ?"  said  Mrs.  Maple ; 
*'  why  who  can  be  playing  it?" 

«  Hist !  dear  ladies,"  said  Harleigh  ; 
'^  'tis  some  exquisite  performer." 

"  It  must  be  Lady  Kendover,  then," 


C    153    ) 

said  Mrs.  Maple,  "  for  nobody  else 
comes  to  our  house  that  plays  the  harp.*' 

A  new  movement  was  now  begun  ;  it 
was  slow  and  pathetic,  and  played  w^ith 
so  much  taste  and  expression,  though 
mixed  with  bursts  of  rapid  execution, 
that  the  whole  auditory  was  equally 
charmed  and  surprized  ;  and  every  one, 
Mrs.  Maple  herself  not  excepted,  with 
uplifted  finger  seemed  to  beseech  atten- 
tion from  the  rest. 

An  Arpeggio  succeeded,  followed  by 
an  air,  which  produced,  alternately,  tones 
sweet,  yet  penetrating,  of  touching  pa- 
thos or  impassioned  animation  j  and  an- 
nounced a  performer  whom  nature  had 
gifted  with  her  finest  feelings,  to  second, 
or  rather  to  meet  the  soul-pervading  re- 
finements of  skilful  art. 

When  the  voice  ceased,  the  harp  was 
still  heard  ;  but  some  sounds  made  by 
an  involuntary,  though  restrained  tri- 
bute of  general  approbation,  apparently 
found  their  way  to  the  drawing-room, 
where  it  was  played;    for   suddenly  it 

H  5 


(     '54   ') 

stopped,  the  instrument  seemed  hastily 
to  be  put  away,  and  some  one  was  preci- 
pitately in  motion. 

Every  body  then  hastened  up  stairs ; 
but  before  they  could  reach  the  landing- 
place,  a  female  figure,  which  they  all  in- 
stantly recognized  for  that  of  the  un- 
known young  woman,  glided  out  of  the 
drawing-room,  and,  with  the  quick  mo- 
tion of  fear,  ran  up  another  flight  of 
stairs. 

"  Amazing  1"  cried  Mrs.  Maple,  stop- 
ping short ;  "  could  any  body  have  cre- 
dited assurance  such  as  this  ?  That  bold 
young  stroller  has  been  obtruding  herself 
into  my  drawing-room,  to  hear  Lady 
Kendover  play  !'' 

Harleigh,  who  had  contrived  to  be 
the  first  to  enter  the  apartment,  now  re- 
turned to  the  door,  and,  with  a  smile  of 
the  most  animated  pleasure,  said,  "  No 
one  is  here  ! — Not  a  creature  i" 

His  tone  and  air  spoke  more  than  his 
words,  and,  to  the  quick  conceptions  of 
Elinor,  pronounced:  This  divine  singer, 
whom  you  were  all  ready  to  worship,  is 


(     ^55     ) 

tio  other  than  the  lonely  Wanderer  whom 
you  were  all  ready  to  condemn  ! 

Mrs.  Maple  now,  violently  ringing  the 
bell,  ordered  one  of  her  servants  to 
summon  the  woman  who  came  from 
abroad. 

The  stranger  obeyed,  with  the  con- 
fused look  of  a  person  who  expected  a 
reprimand,  to  which  she  had  not  courage 
to  reply. 

"  Be  so  good  as  to  tell  me,"  said 
Mrs.  Maple,  "  what  you  have  been  into 
my  drawing-room  for?  and  whether  you 
know  who  it  is,  that  has  taken  the 
liberty  to  play  upon  my  niece's  harp  ?'* 

The  Incognita  begged  a  thousand 
pardons,  but  said  that  having  learnt, 
from  the  housemaid,  that  the  family  was 
gone  out  for  the  day,  she  had  ventured 
to  descend,  to  take  a  little  air  and  exer- 
cise in  the  garden. 

"  And  what  has  that  to  do  witli  my 

niece's  harp? — And  my  drawing-room?" 

"  The  door,  Madam,  was  open.*— It 

H  6 


(     156    ) 

was  long  since  I  had  seen  an  instrument 
— I  thought  no  one  would  hear  me — '* 

"  Why  you  don't  pretend  that  it  was 
you  who  played  ?" 

The  young  woman  renewed  her  apo- 
logy- 

"  You  ?  —  You  play  upon  a  harp  ?  — 

And  pray  who  was  it  that  sung  ?'* 

The  stranger  looked  down. 

*'  Well,  this  is  surprising  indeed !  — 
And  pray  where  might  such  a  body  as 
you  learn  these  things  ? —  And  what  use 
can  such  a  body  want  them  for  ?  Be  so 
good  as  to  tell  me  that ;  and  who  you 
are  ?" 

The  stranger,  in  the  utmost  disturb- 
ance, painfully  answered,  "  I  am  truly 
ashamed.  Madam,  so  often  to  press  for 
your  forbearance,  but  my  silence  is 
impelled  by  necessity!  I  am  but  too 
well  aware  how  incomprehensible  this 
must  seem,  but  my  situation  is  perilous 
—  I  cannot  reveal  itl  I  can  only  im- 
plore your  compassion  !  — '* 
She  retired  hastily. 


(.^57') 

No  one  pursued  nor  tried  to  stop  her. 
All,  except  Harleigh,  remained  nearly 
stupified  by  what  had  passed,  for  no  one 
else  had  ever  considered  her  but  as  a 
needy  travelling  adventurer.  To  him, 
her  language,  her  air,  and  her  manner, 
pervading  every  disadvantage  of  apparel, 
poverty,  and  subjection,  had  announced 
her,  from  the  first,  to  have  received  the 
education,  and  to  have  lived  the  life  of  a 
gentlewoman ;  yet  to  him,  also,  it  v/as 
as  new,  though  not  as  wonderful,  as  to 
the  rest,  to  find  in  her  all  the  delicately 
acquired  skill,  joined  to  the  happy  natu- 
ral talents,  which  constitute  a  refined 
artist. 

Elinor  seemed  absorbed  in  mortifica- 
tion, not  sooner  to  have  divined  what 
Harleigh  had  so  immediately  discovered; 
Selina,  triumphant,  felt  enchanted  with 
an  idea  that  the  stranger  must  be  a  dis- 
guised princess  ;  Mrs.  Maple,  by  a  thou- 
sand crabbed  grimaces,  shewed  her 
chagrin,  that  the  frenchified  stroller 
should  not  rather  have  been  detected  as 


(     iS8     ) 

a  positive  vagabond,  than  proved,  by  her 
possession  of  cultivated  talents,  to  have 
been  well  brought  up  ;  and  Ireton,  who 
had  thouojht  her  a  mere  female  fortune- 
hunter,  was  utterly  overset,  till  he  com- 
forted himself  by  observing,  that  many 
mere  adventurers,  from  fortuitous  cir- 
cumstances, obtain  accomplishments  that 
may  vie,  in  brilliancy,  with  those  ac- 
quired by  regular  education  and  study. 

Doubts,  however,  remained  with  all : 
they  were  varied,  but  not  removed.  The 
mystery  that  hung  about  her  was  rather 
thickened  than  cleared,  and  the  less  she 
appeared  like  an  ordinary  person,  the 
more  restless  became  conjecture,  to  dive 
into  some  probable  motive,  for  the  im- 
moveable obstinacv  of  her  concealment. 

The  pause  was  first  broken  by  Elinor, 
who,  addressing  Harleigh,  said,  *'  Tell 
me  honestly,  nov/,  what,  alUtogether,  you 
really  and  truly  think  of  this  extraordi- 
nary demoiselle  ?'' 

"  I  think  her,"  answered  he,  with 
readiness,  "  an  elegant  and  well   bred 


(     159    ) 

young  woman,  under  some  extraordinary 
and  inexplicable  difficulties  :  for  there  is 
a  modesty  in  her  air  which  art,  though  it 
might  attain,  could  not  support ;  and  a 
dignity  in  her  conduct  in  refusing  all 
succour  but  your's,  that  make  it  impossi- 
ble for  me  to  have  any  doubt  upon  tlie 
fairness  of  her  character." 

"  And  how  do  you  know  that  she  re- 
fuses all  succour  but  mine  ?  Have  you 
offered  her  your's  ?" 

"  She  will  not  let  me  go  so  far.  If 
she  perceive  such  an  intention,  she  draws 
back,  with  a  look  that  would  make  the 
very  mentioning  it  insolent." 

Elinor  ran  up  stairs.  ,  , 

She  found  the  stranger  disturbed  and 
alarmed,  though  she  was  easily  revived 
upon  seeing  Elinor  courteous,  almost 
respectful ;  for,  powerfully  struck  by  a 
discovery,  so  completely  accidental,  of 
talents  so  superior,  and  satisfied  by  tlie 
assurance  just  received  from  Harleigh, 
that  his  pecuniary  aid  had  never  been  ac- 
cepted, she  grew  ashamed  of  the  angry 


(     i6o    ) 

flippancy  with  which  she  had  last  quitted 
the  room,  and  of  the  resolute  neglect 
with  which  she  had  since  kept  aloof. 
She  now  apologized  for  having  tsayed 
away,  professed  a  design  to  be  frequent 
in  her  future  visits,  and  presented,  with 
generous  importunity,  the  trifles  which 
she  blushed  to  have  offered  so  abruptly. 

Addressed  thus  nearly  upon  equal  terms, 
the  stranger  gracefully  accepted  the  do- 
nation, and,  from  the  relief  produced  by 
this  unexpected  good  treatment,  her  own 
manners  acquired  an  ease,  and  her  lan- 
guage a  flow,  that  made  her  strikingly 
appear  to  be  what  Harleigh  had  called 
her,  a  well  bred  and  elegant  young 
woman ;  and  the  desire  of  Elinor  to  con- 
verse with  her  no  longer  hung,  now, 
upon  the  mere  stimulus  of  curiosity  ;  it 
became  flattering,  exhilarating,  and  cor- 
dial. 

The  stranger,  in  return,  upon  nearer 
inspection,  found  in  Elinor  a  solid  good- 
ness of  heart,  that  compensated  for 
the  occasional  roughness,  and  habitual 

15 


(     i6i     ) 

strangeness  of  her  manners.  Her  society 
was  gay  and  original  ;  and,  to  great 
quickness  of  parts,  and  liberality  of  feel- 
ing, she  joined  a  frankness  of  cliaracter 
the  most  unbounded.  But  she  was  alarm- 
ing and  sarcastic,  aiming  rather  to  strike 
than  to  please,  to  startle  than  to  conquer. 
Upon  chosen  and  favourite  subjects  she  was 
impressive,  nay  eloquent;  upon  all  others 
"she  was  careless,  flighty,  and  indifferent, 
and  constantly  in  search  of  matter  for 
ridicule  :  yet,  though  severe,  almost  to 
ferocity,  where  she  conceived  herself  to 
be  offended,  or  injured,  she  became  kind, 
gentle,  and  generously  conceding,  when 
convinced  of  any  errour. 

Selina.  v/hen  her  sister  retired,  tripped 
fleetly  into  the  chamber,  whisperingly 
revealing,  that  it  was  Mr.  Ireton  who 
had  persuaded  her  to  relinquish  her 
visits  ;  but  that  she  would  now  make 
them  as  often  as  ever. 

Thus  supported  and  encouraged,  the 
stranger,  again  desiring  to  stay  in  the 
house,  earnestly  wished  to  soften  the  ill 


(       l62      ) 

will  of  Mrs.  Maple  ;  and  having  heard, 
from  Selina,  that  the  play  occupied  all 
hands,  she  begged  Mrs.  Fenn  to  accept 
her  services  at  needle-work. 

Mrs.  Fenn  conveyed  the  proposal  to 
her  mistress,  who  haughtily  protested 
that  she  would  have  nothing  done  under 
her  roof,  by  she  did  not  know  who; 
though  she  tacitly  suffered  Mrs.  Fenn  to 
try  the  skill  of  the  proposer  with  some 
cambric  handkerchiefs. 

These  she  soon  returned,  executed 
with  such  admirable  neatness,  that 
Mrs.  Fenn  immediately  found  her  other 
similar  employment;  which  she  pre- 
sented to  her  with  the  air  of  conferring 
the  most  weighty  of  obligations. 

And  such,  in  the  event,  it  proved  ;  for 
she  now  continued  to  receive  daily  more 
business  of  the  same  sort,  without  any 
hint  relative  to  her  departure ;  and 
heard,  through  Selina,  that  Mrs  Maple 
herself  had  remarked,  that  this  was  the 
first    singer   and   player    she    had    ever 


(     i63     ) 

iaiowii,    who   had    not   been    spoilt  by 
those  idle  habits  for  a  good  huswife. 

The  Incognita  now  thankfully  re- 
joiced in  the  blessing  bestowed  upon  her, 
by  that  part  of  her  education,  which 
gave  to  her  the  useful  and  appropriate 
female  accomplishment  of  needle-work. 


(     ^^4     ) 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ji/FRS.  MAPLE  was  of  opinion,  that 
every  woman  ought  to  live  with  a 
needle  and  thread  in  her  hand ;  the 
stranger,  therefore,  had  now  ample  oc- 
cupation;  but  as  labour,  in  common 
with  all  other  evils,  is  relative,  she  sub- 
mitted cheerfully  to  any  manual  toil, 
that  could  rescue  her  from  the  mental 
burthen  of  exciting  ill  will  and  reproach. 
Two  days  afterwards,  Elinor  came  to 
summon  her  to  the  drawing-room.  They 
were  all  assembled,  she  said,  to  a  re- 
hearsal, and  in  the  utmost  confusion  for 
want  of  a  prompter,  not  a  soul,  except 
Miss  Arbe,  knowing  a  word,  or  a  cue, 
of  any  part  but  his  own;  and  Miss  Arbe, 
who  took  upon  her  to  regulate  every 
thing,  protested  that  she  could  not 
consent  to  go  on  any  longer  in  so  slo- 
venly a  manner. 


(     i65     ) 

In  this  dilemma  it  had  occurred  to 
Elinor  to  have  recourse  to  the  stran":er ; 
but  the  stranger  desired  to  be  excused  : 
Mrs.  Maple  seemed  now  to  be  soft- 
ened in  her  favour  ;  and  it  would  be 
both  imprudent  and  improper  to  risk 
provoking  fresh  irritation,  by  coming 
forward  in  an  enterprize  that  was  a 
known  subject  of  dissention. 

Elinor,  when  she  had  formed  a  wish, 
never  listened  to  an  objection.  "  What 
an  old  fashioned  style  you  prose  in  !"  she 
cried ;  "  who  could  believe  you  came  so 
lately  from  France  ?  But  example  has 
no  more  force  without  sympathy,  than 
precept  has  without  opinion  1  However, 
y\l  get  you  a  licence  from  Aunt  Maple 
in  a  minute." 

She  went  down  stairs,  and,  returning 
almost  immediately,  cried,  "  Aunt  Maple 
is  quite  contented.  I  told  her  I  was 
going  to  send  for  Mr.  Creek,  a  horrible 
little  pettifogging  wretch,  who  lives  in 
this  neighbourhood,  and  whom  she  par- 
ticularly detests,  to  be  our  prompter; 


(     i66     ) 

and  tliis  so  woefully  tormented  her,  that 
she  proposed  you  herself.  I  have  ample 
business  upon  my  hands,  between  my 
companions  of  the  buskin,  and  this 
pragmatical  old  aunt ;  for  Harleigh  him- 
self refused  to  act  against  her  approba- 
tion, till  I  threatened  to  make  over  Lord 
Townly  to  Sir  Lyell  Sycamore,  a  smart 
beau  at  Brighthelmstone,  that  all  tlie 
mammas  and  aunts  are  afraid  of.  And 
then  poor  aunty  was  fain,  herself,  to  re- 
quest Harleigh  to  take  the  part.  I  could 
manage  matters  no  other  way." 

Personal  remonstrances  were  vain, 
and  the  stranger  w^as  forced  down  stairs 
to  the  theatrical  group. 

All  that  was  known  of  her  situation 
having  been  sketched  by  Elinor,  and 
detailed  by  Selina,  the  mixt  party  there 
assembled,  was  prepared  to  survey  her 
with  a  curiosity  which  she  found  ex- 
tremely abashing.  She  requested  to 
have  the  book  of  the  play ;  but  EHnor, 
engaged  in  arranging  the  entrances  and 
exits,  did  not  heed  her.     Harleigh,  how- 

10 


(     »67     ) 

ever,  comprehending  the  relief  which 
any  occupation  for  the  eyes  and  hands 
might  afford  her,  presented  it  to  her 
himself. 

It  preserved  her  not,  nevertheless, 
from  a  volley  of  questions,  with  which 
she  was  instantly  assailed  from  various 
quarters.  "  I  find.  Ma'am,  you  are  lately 
come  from  abroad,"  said  Mr.  Scope,  a 
gentleman  self-dubbed  a  deep  politician, 
and  who,  in  the  most  sententious  manner, 
uttered  the  most  trivial  observations ; 
"  I  have  no  very  high  notion,  I  own,  of 
the  morals  of  those  foreigners  at  this 
period.  A  man's  wife  and  daughters 
belong  to  any  man  who  has  a  taste  to 
them,  as  I  am  informed.  Nothing  is 
very  strict.  Mr.  Robertspierre,  as  I  am 
told,  is  not  very  exact  in  Ids  dealings." 

"  But  I  should  like  to  know,"  cried 
Gooch,  the  young  farmer,  "  whether  it 
be  true,  of  a  reality,  that  they've  got 
such  numbers  and  numbers,  and  millions 
and  millions  of  red-coats  there,  all  made 
into  generals,  in  the  twinkling,  as  one 
may  say,  of  an  eye  ?" 


(     i68     ) 

*'  Money  must  be  a  vast  scarce  com- 
modity there,"  said  Mr.  Stubbs,  the 
steward  :  "  did  you  ever  happen  to  hear. 
Ma'am,  how  they  go  to  work  to  get  in 
their  rents  ?" 

Before  the  stranger  could  attempt  any 
reply  to  these  several  addresses,  Miss 
Arbe,  who  was  the  principal  person  of 
the  party,  seating  herself  in  the  chair  of 
honour,  desired  her  to  advance,  saying, 
"  I  understand  you  sing  and  play  amaz- 
ingly well.  Pray  who  were  your  mas- 
ters ?" 

While  the  Incognita  hesitated,  Miss 
Bydel,  a  collateral  and  uneducated  suc- 
cessor to  a  large  and  unexpected  fortune, 
said,  "  Pray,  first  of  all,  young  woman, 
what  took  you  over  to  foreign  parts  ?  I 
should  like  to  know  that." 

Elinor,  now,  being  ready,  cut  short 
all  further  investigation  by  beginning 
the  rehearsal. 

During  the  first  scenes,  the  voice  of 
the  Incognita  was  hardly  audible.  The 
constraint  of  her  forced  attendance,  and 


(     i69     ) 

the  insurmountable  awkwardness  of  her 
situation,  made  all  exertion  difficult,  and 
her  tones  were  so  languid,  and  her  pro- 
nunciation was  so  inarticulate,  that  Elinor 
began  seriously  to  believe  that  she  must 
still  have  recourse  to  Mr.  Creek.  But 
Harleigh,  who  reflected  how  much  the 
faculties  depend  upon  the  mind's  being 
disengaged,  saw  that  she  was  too  little 
at  her  ease  to  be  yet  judged. 

Every  one  else,  absorbed  in  his  part 
and  himself,  in  the  hope  of  being  best, 
or  the  shame  of  being  worst  5  in  the  fear 
of  being  out,  or  the  confusion  of  not 
understanding  what  next  was  to  be  done, 
was  regardless  of  all  else  but  his  own 
fancied  reputation  of  the  hour. 

Harieigli,  however,  as  the  play  pro* 
ceeded,  and  the  inaccuracy  of  the  per- 
formers demanded  greater  aid,  found 
the  patience  of  his  judgment  recom- 
pensed, and  its  appretiation  of  her  talents 
just.  Her  voice,  from  seeming  feeble 
and  monotonous,  became  clear  and  pene- 
trating :   it  was  varied,  with  the  nicest 

VOL.  I,  I 


(     I70    ) 

discrimination,  for  the  expression  of  every 
character,  changing-  its  modulation  from 
tones  of  softest  sensibility,  to  those  of 
archest  humour;  and  from  reasoning 
severity,  to  those  of  uncultured  rusticity. 

When  the  rehearsal  was  over.  Miss 
Bydel,  who  had  no  other  idea  of  the  use 
of  speech  than  that  of  asking  questions, 
said,  "  I  should  be  glad,  before  you  go, 
to  say  a  few  words  to  you,  young  woman, 
myself.'* 

The  stranger  stood  still. 

*'  In  the  first  place,  tell  me,  if  you 
please,  what's  your  name  ?" 

The  Incognita  coloured  at  this  abrupt 
demand,  but  remained  silent. 

"  Nay,"  said  Miss  Bydel,  "  your 
name,  at  least,  can  be  no  such  great  se- 
cret, for  you  must  be  called  something 
or  other." 

Ireton,  who  had  hitherto  appeared 
decided  not  to  take  any  notice  of  her, 
now  exclaimed,  with  a  laugh,  "  I  will 
tell  you  what  her  name  is.  Miss  Bydel ; 
'tis  L.  S." 


<:  '71  ) 

The  stranger  dropt  her  eyes,  but  Miss 
Bydel,  not  comprehending  that  Ireton 
meant  two  initial  letters,  said,  "  Elless  ? 
Well  I  see  no  reason  why  any  body 
should  be  ashamed  to  own  their  name  is 
Elless." 

Selina,  tittering,  w^ould  have  cleared 
up  the  mistake  ^  but  Ireton,  laughing 
yet  more  heartily,  made  lier  a  sign  to  let 
it  pass. 

Miss  Bvdel  continued :  "  I  don't 
want  to  ask  any  of  your  secrets,  as  I  say, 
Mrs.  Elless,  for  I  understand  you  don't 
like  to  tell  them  j  but  it  will  be  disco- 
vering no  great  matter,  to  let  me  know 
whether  your  friends  are  abroad,  or  in 
England  ?  and  what  w^ay  you  were  main- 
tained before  you  got  your  passage  over 
in  Mrs.  Maple's  boat." 

"  Don't  let  that  young  person  go," 
cried  Miss  Arbe,  who  had  now  finished 
the  labours  of  her  theatrical  presidency, 
"  till  I  have  heard  her  play  and  sing. 
If  she  is  so  clever,  as  you  describe  her, 
she  shall  perform  between  the  acts.'* 

I   2 


(     17^    ) 

The  stranger  declared  her  utter  in- 
ability to  comply  with  such  a  request. 
"  When  I  believed  myself  unheard," 
she  cried,  "  musick,  I  imagined,  might 
make  me,  for  a  few  moments,  forget  my 
distresses:^  but  an  expected  perform- 
ance —  a  prepared  exhibition !  —  pardon 
me  ! — I  have  neither  spirits  nor  powers 
for  such  an  attempt !" 

Her  voice  spoke  grief,  her  look,  appre- 
hension ;  yet  her  manner  so  completely 
announced  decision,  that,  unopposed 
even  by  a  word,  she  remounted  the 
stairs  to  her  chamber. 

She  was,  there,  surprised  by  the  sight 
of  a  sealed  packet  upon  her  table,  di- 
rected, "  For  L.  S.  at  her  leisure/' 

She  opened  it,  and  found  ten  bank 
notes,  often  pounds  each. 

A  momentary  hope  which  she  had 
indulged,  that  this  letter,  by  some  acci- 
dental conveyance,  had  reached  her  from 
abroad,  was  now  changed  into  the  most 
unpleasant  perplexity  :  such  a  donation 
could  not  come  from  any  of  the  females 


(     173     ) 

of  the  family  ;  Mrs.  Maple  was  miserly, 
and  her  enemy ;  and  the  Miss  Joddrells 
knew,  by  experience,  that  she  would  not 
refuse  their  open  assistance  :  Mr.  Har- 
leigh,  therefore,  or  Mr.  Ireton,  must  have 
conveyed  this  to  her  room. 

If  it  were  Mr.  Ireton,  she  concluded 
he  meant  to  ensnare  her  distress  into  an 
unguarded  acceptance,  for  some  latent 
purpose  of  mischief;  if  it  were  Mr.  Har- 
leigh,  his  whole  behaviour  inclined  her  to 
believe,  that  he  was  capable  of  such  au 
action  from  motives  of  pure  benevolence: 
but  she  could  by  no  means  accept  pecu- 
niary aid  from  either,  and  determined  to 
keep  the  packet  always  ready  for  deli- 
very, when  she  could  discover  to  whom 
it  belonged. 

She  was  surprised,  soon  afterwards, 
by  the  sight  of  Selina.  '*  I  would  not  let 
Mr.  Ireton  hinder  me  from  comingc  to 
you  this  once,"  she  cried,  "  do  what 
he  could;  for  we  are  all  in  such  a  fidget, 
that  there's  only  you,  I  really  believe, 
can    help    us.     Poor   Miss  Arbe,   whik 

I  3 


(     '74    ) 

she  was  teaching  us  all  what  we  have  to 
do,  put  her  part  into  her  muff,  and  her 
favourite  little  dog,  that  she  doats  upon, 
not  knowing  it  was  there,  poor  thing, 
poked  his  nose  into  the  muff  to  warm 
himself;  and  when  Miss  Arbe  came  to 
take  her  part,  she  found  he  had  sucked 
it,  and  gnawed  it,  and  nibbled  it,  all  to 
tatters !  And  she  says  she  can't  write  it 
out  again  if  she  was  to  have  a  diamond 
a  word  for  it ;  and  as  to  us,  we  have  all 
of  us  got  such  immensities  to  do  for 
ourselves,  that  jou  are  the  only  person  ; 
for  I  dare  say  you  know  how  to  write. 
So  will  you,  now,  Ellis?  for  they  have 
all  settled,  below,  that  your  real  name 
is  Ellis." 

The  stranger  answered  that  she  should 
gladly  be  useful  in  any  way  that  could 
be  proposed.  The  book,  therefore,  was 
brought  to  her,  with  v/riting  implements, 
and  she  dedicated  herself  so  diligently 
to  copying,  that  the  following  morning, 
when  Miss  Arbe  was  expected,  the  part 
was  prepared. 


{    ^75    ) 

Miss  Arbe,  however,  came  not;  a 
note  arrived  in  her  stead,  stating  that 
she  iiad  been  so  exceedingly  fatigued 
the  preceding  day,  in  giving  so  many 
directions,  that  she  begged  they  would 
let  somebody  read  her  part,  and  rehearse 
without  her ;  and  she  hoped  that  she 
should  find  them  more  advanced  when 
she  joined  them  on  Monday. 

The  stranger  was  now  summoned  not 
only  as  prompter,  but  to  read  the  part  of 
Lady  Townly.  She  could  not  refuse, 
but  her  compliance  was  without  any  sort 
of  exertion,  from  a  desire  to  avoid,  not 
promote  similar  calls  for  exhibition* 

Elinor  remarked  to  Harleigh,  how 
inadequate  were  her  talents  to  such  a 
character.  Harleigh  acquiesced  in  the 
remark ;  yet  his  good  opinion,  in 
another  point  of  view,  was  as  much 
heightened,  as  in  this  it  was  lowered  : 
he  saw  the  part  which  she  had  copied 
for  Miss  Arbe  ;  and  the  beautiful  clear- 
ness of  the  hand-writing,  and  the  cor- 
rectness of  the  punctuation  and  ortho- 

I  4 


(     ^7^    ) 

graphy,  convinced  him  that  her  education 
had  been  as  successfully  cultivated  for 
intellectual  improvement,  as  for  elegant 
accomplishments. 

Elinor  herself,  now^  would  only  call  the 
stranger  Miss  Ellis,  a  name  which,  she 
said,  she  verily  believed  that  Miss  Bydel, 
with  all  her  stupidity,  had  hit  upon, 
and  which  therefore,  henceforth,  should 
be  adopted. 


C    177    ) 


CHAPTER  X. 

'T^HE  Incognita  continued  to  devote 
herself  to  needle-work  till  the  morning 
of  the  next  rehearsal.  She  was  then  again 
called  to  the  double  task  of  prompting, 
and  of  reading  the  part  of  Lady  Townly, 
Miss  Arbe  having,  unceremoniously,  an- 
nounced, that  as  she  had  abeady  per- 
formed that  character  three  several  times, 
and  to  the  inost  brilliant  audiences,  fliough 
at  private  theatres,  any  further  practice 
for  herself  would  be  a  work  of  superero- 
gation ;  and  if  the  company,  she  added, 
would  but  be  so  good  as  to  remember 
her  directions,  she  need  only  attend  per- 
sonally at  the  final  rehearsal. 

The  whole  party  was  much  offended 
by  this  insinuation  of  its  inferiority,  as 
well  as  by  so  contemptuous  an  indiffe- 
rence to  the  prosperity  of  the  enterprize. 
Nor  was  this  the  only  difficulty  caused 

i  5 


(     178     ) 

by  the  breach  of  attendance  in  Miss 
Aibe.  The  entertainment  was  to  con- 
clude with  a  cotillon,  of  which  Ireton 
had  brought  the  newest  steps  and  me- 
thod from  France,  but  which,  through 
this  unexpected  failure,  the  sett  was  in- 
complete for  practising.  Elinor  was 
persuaded,  that  in  keeping  the  whole 
group  thus  imperfect,  both  in  the  play 
and  in  the  dance,  it  was  the  design  of 
Miss  Arbe  to  expose  them  all  to  ridi- 
cule, that  her  own  fine  acting  and  fine 
steps  might  be  contrasted  to  the  greater 
advantage.  To  obviate,  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, this  suspected  malice,  the  stranger 
was  now  requested  to  stand  up  with 
them  J  for  as  she  was  so  lately  come 
from  abroad,  they  concluded  that  she 
might  know  something  of  the  matter. 

They  were  not  mistaken  :  the  steps, 
the  figure,  the  time,  all  were  familiar  to 
her ',  and  she  taught  the  young  Selina, 
dropt  hints  to  Elinor,  endeavoured  to 
set  Miss  Bydel  right,  and  gave  a  ge- 
neral, though  unpremeditated  lesson  to 

II 


/ 


(     179     ) 

every  one,  by  the  measured  grace  and 
lightness  of  her  motions,  which,  little  as 
her  attire  was  adapted  to  such  a  pur- 
pose, were  equally  striking  for  elegance 
and  for  modesty. 

Harleigh,  however,  alone  perceived 
her  excellence :  the  rest  had  so  much 
to  learn,  or  were  so  anxious  to  shine, 
that  if  occasionally  they  remarked  her, 
it  was  rather  to  be  diverted  by  seeing  any 
one  dance  so  ill  equipped,  than  to  be 
struck  with  the  elevated  carriage  which 
no  such  disadvantage  could  conceal. 

Early  on  the  morning  preceding  the 
intended  representation,  the  stranger 
was  summoned  to  the  destined  theatre, 
where,  while  she  was  aiding  the  general 
preparations,  of  dresses,  decorations,  and 
scenery,  previous  to  the  last  grand  re- 
hearsal, which,  in  order  to  try  the  effect 
of  the  illuminations,  was  fixed  to  take 
place  in  the  evening,  Mrs.  Maple,  with 
derision  marked  in  every  feature  of  her 
face,  stalked  into  the  room,  to  announce 
to  her  niece,  with  unbridled  satisfaction, 

I  6 


C     i8o     ) 

that  all  her  fine  vagaries  would  now  end 
in  nothing,  as  Miss  Arbe,  at  last,  had 
the  good  sense  to  refuse  affording  them 
her  countenance. 

Elinor,  though  too  much  enraged  to 
inquire  what  this  meant,  soon,  perforce, 
learnt,  that  an  old  gentleman,  a  cousin 
of  Miss  Arbe's,  had  ridden  over  with  an 
apology,  importing,  that  the  most  mo- 
mentous reasons,  yet  such  as  could  not 
be  divulged,  obliged  his  relation  to  de- 
cline the  pleasure  of  belonging  to  their 
dramatic  party. 

The  offence  given  by  this  abrupt  re- 
nunciation was  so  general,  though  Eli- 
nor, alone,  allowed  it  free  utterance, 
that  Mr.  Giles  Arbe,  the  bearer  of  these 
evil  tidings,  conceived  it  to  be  more  ad- 
visable to  own  the  plump  truth,  he 
said,  at  once,  than  to  see  them  all  so 
affronted  without  knowing  what  for; 
though  he  begged  them  not  to  mention  it, 
his  cousin  having  peremptorily  charged 
him  not  to  speak  out :  but  the  fact  was, 
that  she  had  repented  her  engagement 

i6 


(     i8i     ) 

ever  since  the  first  rehearsal ;  for  thoumi 
she  should  always  be  ready  to  act  with 
the  Miss  Joddrels,  who  were  nieces  to  a 
baronet,  and  Mr.  Harleigh,  who  was 
nephew  to  a  peer,  and  Mr.  Ireton,  who 
was  heir  to  a  large  entailed  estate  ;  she 
was  yet  apprehensive  that  it  might  let 
her  down,  in  the  opinion  of  the  noble 
theatrical  society  to  which  she  belonged, 
if  she  were  seen  exhibiting  with  such 
common  persons  as  farmers  and  domes- 
tics j  whom,  however,  for  all  his  cousin's 
nicety,  Mr.  Giles  said  he  thought  to  be 
full  as  good  men  as  any  other ;  and,  some- 
times, considerably  better. 

Mrs.  Maple  was  elevated  into  the  high- 
est triumph  by  this  explanation.  "  I  told 
you  how  it  would  be !"  she  cried. 
"  Young  ladies  acting  with  mere  mob ! 
I  am  truly  rejoiced  that  Miss  Arbe  has 
given  you  the  slip." 

EHnor  heard  this  with  a  resentment, 
that  determined  her,  more  vehemently 
than  ever,  not  to  abandon  her  project;  she 
proudly,  therefore,  returned  thanks,  by 


(     i82     ) 

Mr.  Giles,  for  the  restoration  of  the  part, 
which  she  had  resigned  in  mere  complai- 
sance, as  there  was  nothing  in  the  world 
she  so  much  desired  as  to  act  it  herself, 
even  though  it  must  be  now  learnt  in  the 
course  of  a  day ;  and  she  begged  leave, 
as  a  mark  that  she  was  not  offended  at 
the  desertion,  to  borrow  the  dress  of  the 
character,  which  she  knew  to  be  ready, 
and  with  which  she  would  adorn  herself 
the  following  night,  at  the  performance. 
This  last  clause,  she  was  well  aware, 
would  prove  the  most  provoking  that 
she  could  devise,  to  Miss  Arbe,  who 
w^as  renowned  for  being  finically  tena- 
cious of  her  attire  ;  but  Elinor  \vould 
neither  add  a  word  to  her  message,  nor 
suffer  one  to  be  taken  from  it ;  and 
when  Mr.  Giles  Arbe,  frightened  at  the 
ill  success  of  his  confidence,  would  have 
offered  some  apology,  she  drove  him 
from  the  house,  directing  a  trusty  person 
in  the  neighbourhood,  to  accompany 
him  back,  with  positive  orders  not  to  re- 
turn without  the  dress. 


(     i83     ) 

She  then  told  the  stranger  to  study 
the  part  of  Lady  Wronghead,  to  fill  up 
the  chasm. 

The  stranixer  bes^an  some  earnest  ex- 
cuses,  but  they  were  lost  in  the  louder 
exclamations  of  Mrs.  Maple,  whose  dis- 
appointment in  finding  the  scheme  still 
supported,  was  aggravated  into  rage, 
by  the  unexpected  proposition  of  ad- 
mitting the  stranger  into  the  sett. 
"  What,  Miss  Joddrel!"  she  cried, 
**  is  it  not  enough  that  you  have  made 
us  a  by-word  in  tlie  neighbourhood, 
by  wanting  to  act  with  farmers  and 
servants  ?  Must  you  also  bring  a  found- 
ling girl  into  your  sett  ?  an  illegitimate 
stroller,  who  does  not  so  much  as  know 
her  own  name  ?" 

The  stranger,deeply  reddening,  gravely 
answered,  "  Far  from  wishing  to  enter 
into  any  plan  of  amusement,  I  could 
not  have  given  my  consent  to  it,  even  if 
solicited." 

"  Nobody  asks  what  you  could  have 
done,    I    hope  !"     Mrs.  Maple    began. 


(    iH   ) 

when  Elinor,  pushing  the  stranger  into 
a  large  light  closet,  and  throwing  the 
part  after  her,  shut  the  door,  charging 
her  not  to  lose  a  moment,  in  getting 
ready  for  the  final  rehearsal  that  very 
evening. 

The  Incognita,  fixed  not  to  look  at 
the  manuscript,  now  heard,  perforce,  a 
violent  quarrel  between  the  aunt  and  the 
niece, theformer  protesting  that  she  would 
never  agree  to  such  a  disgrace,  as  suffer- 
ing a  poor  straggling  pauper  to  mix  her- 
self publicly  with  their  society  ;  and  the 
latter  threatening,  that,  if  forced  to  grant 
such  a  triumph  to  Miss  Arbe,  as  that  of 
tamely  relinquishing  the  undertaking, 
she  would  leave  the  country  and  settle 
at  once  in  France,  and  in  the  house  of 
Robespierre  himselfl 

Harleigh,  v;ho,  in  a  hasty  and  dashing, 
but  masterly  manner,  was  colouring 
some  scenery,  had  hitherto  been  silent ; 
but  now,  advancing,  he  proposed,  as  a 
compromise,  that  the  performance  should 
be  deferred  for  a  week,  in  which  time 


(     i85    ) 

Miss  Sycamore,  a  young  lady  at  Bright- 
helmstone,  whom  they  all  knew,  would 
learn,  he  doubted  not,  the  part,  and  sup- 
ply, with  pleasure,  the  vacant  place. 

To  this  Mrs.  Maple,  finding  no  hope 
remained  that  she  could  abolish  the 
whole  project,  was  sullenly  assenting, 
when  Elinor  reproachfully  exclaimed, 
"  What,  Don  Quixote !  is  your  spirit  of 
chivalry  thus  cooled  ?  and  are  you,  too, 
for  rejecting,  with  all  this  scorn,  the 
fellow- voyager  you  were  so  strenuous  to 
snpport  ?" 

"  Scorn  ?"  repeated  Harleigh,  '$  No  !" 
I  regard  her,  rather,  with  reverence  ! 
'Tis  she  herself  that  has  declined  the 
part,  and  with  a  dignity  that  does  her 
honour.  All  she  suffers  to  be  discerned 
of  her,  announces  distinguished  merit; 
and  yet,  highly  as  I  have  conceived  of 
her  character,  she  is  unknown  to  us  ; 
except  by  her  distresses  ;  and  these, 
though  they  call  loudly  for  our  sympatliy 
and  assistance,  and,  through  the  pro- 
priety of  her  conduct,  lay  claim  to  our 


(     i86     ) 

respect,  may  be  thought  insufficient  by 
the  world,  to  justify  Mrs.  Maple,  who 
has  two  young  ladies  so  immediately 
under  her  care,  for  engaging  a  perfect 
stranger,  in  a  scheme  which  has  no  re- 
ference to  humanity,  or  good  offices." 

"  Ah  ha,  Mr.  Harleigh !"  cried  Ire- 
ton,  shaking  his  head,  "  you  are  afraid 
of  what  she  may  turn  out!  You  think 
no  better  of  her,  at  last,  than  I  do.** 

"  I  think,  on  the  contrary,  so  well  of 
her,*'  answered  Harleigh,  "  that  I  am 
sincerely  sorry  to  see  her  thus  haughtily 
distanced.  I  often  wish  these  ladies 
would  as  generously,  as  I  doubt  not  that 
they  might  safely,  invite  her  into  their 
private  society.  Kindness  such  as  that 
might  produce  a  confidence,  which  re- 
volts from  public  and  abrupt  enquiry  j 
and  which,  I  would  nearly  engage  my 
life,  would  prove  her  innocence  and 
worth,  and  vindicate  every  trust." 

He  then  begged  them  to  consider, 
that,  should  their  curiosity  and  suspi- 
cions  work  upon  her  spirits,  till  she  were 


(     18;     ) 

urged  to  reveal,  prematurely,  the  secret 
of  her  situation,  they  would  themselves 
be  the  first  to  condemn  her  for  follv  and 
imprudence,  if  breaking  up  the  mystery 
of  her  silence  should  affect  either  her 
happiness  or  her  safety. 

Mrs.  Maple  would  have  been  inconsol- 
able at  a  defiance  against  which  she  had 
nothing  positive  to  object,  had  she  not 
reaped  some  comfort  from  finding  that 
even  Harleigh  opposed  including  the 
stranger  in  the  acting  circle. 

The  delay  of  the  performance,  and  an 
application  to  Miss  Sycamore,  seemed 
now  settled,  when  Mrs.  Fenn,  the  house- 
keeper, who  was  also  aiding  in  the 
room,  lamented  the  trouble  to  be  re- 
newed for  the  supper-preparations,  as 
neither  the  fish,  nor  the  pastry,  nor 
sundry  other  articles,  could  keep. 

This  was  a  complaint  to  which 
Mrs.  Maple  was  by  no  means  deaf. 
The  invitations,  also,  were  made  ;  the 
drawing-room  was  given  up  for  the 
theatre ;  another  apartment  was  appro- 


(     iS8     ) 

priated  for  a  green-room  5  and  there 
was  not  any  chance  that  the  house  could 
be  restored  to  order,  nor  the  maids  to 
their  usual  occupations,  till  this  business 
were  finally  over. 

Her  rancour  now  suddenly  relented, 
with  regard  to  the  stranger,  and,  to  the 
astonishment  of  every  oi^e,  she  stopt 
Harleigh  from  riding  over  to  Bright- 
helmstone,  to  apply  to  Miss  Sycamore, 
by  concedingly  saying,  that,  since 
Mr.  Harleigh  had  really  so  good  an 
opinion  of  the  young  woman  who  came 
from  France,  she  must  confess  that  she 
had  herself,  of  late,  taken  a  much  better 
notion  of  her,  by  finding  that  she  was  so 
excellent  a  needle-woman  ;  and,  there- 
fore, she  did  not  see  why  they  should 
send  for  so  finical  a  person  as  Miss  Syca- 
more, who  was  full  of  airs  and  extrava- 
gance, to  begin  all  over  again,  and  dis- 
appoint so  much  company,  when  they 
had  a  body  in  the  house  who  might  do 
one  of  the  parts,  so  as  to  pass  amongst 
the  rest,  without  being  found  out  for 
what  she  was. 


(     '89     ) 

Harleigh  expressed  his  doubts  whether 
the  young  person  herself,  who  was  ob- 
viously in  very  unpleasant  circumstances, 
might  chuse  to  be  brought  forward  in  so 
public  an  amusement. 

The  gentleness  of  Mrs.  Maple  was 
now  converted  into  choler ;  and  she  de- 
sired to  know,  whether  a  poor  wretch 
such  as  that,  who  had  her  meat,  drink, 
and  lodging  for  nothing,  should  be  al- 
lowed to  chuse  any  thing  for  herself  one 
way  or  another. 

Elinor,  dropping,  though  not  quite 
distinctly,  some  sarcastical  reflections 
upon  the  persistence  of  Harleigh  in  pre- 
ferring Miss  Sycamore  to  his  Dulcinea, 
retired  to  her  room  to  study  the  part  of 
Lady  Townly  ;  saying  that  she  should 
leave  them  full  powers,  to  Avrangle 
amongst  themselves,  for  that  of  Lady 
Wronghead. 

Harleigh,  who  had  not  seen  the 
stranger  turned  into  the  closet,  now 
entered  it,  in  search  of  a  pencil.  Not 
a  little  was  then  his  surprize  to  find  her 


(     I90     ) 

sketching,  upon  the  back  of  a  letter,  a 
view  of  the  hills,  downs,  cottages,  and 
cattle,  which  formed  the  prospect  from 
the  window. 

It  was  beautifully  executed,  and  un- 
doubtedly from  nature.  Harleigh,  with 
mingled  astonishment  and  admiration, 
clasped  his  hands,  and  energetically  ex- 
claimed, "  Accomplished  creature !  who 
....  and  what  are  you  ?'' 

Confused,  she  blushed,  and  folded  up 
her  little  drawing.  He  seemed  almost 
equally  embarrassed  himself, at  the  expres- 
sion and  the  question  which  had  escaped 
him.  Mrs.  Maple,  following,  paradingly 
told  the  stranger,  that,  as  she  had  hemmed 
the  last  cambric-handkerchiefs  so  neatly, 
she  might  act,  upon  this  particular  occa- 
sion, with  the  Miss  Joddrels ;  only  first 
premising,  that  she  must  not  own  to  a 
living  soul  her  being  such  a  poor  forlorn 
creature ;  as  the  only  way  to  avoid  dis- 
grace to  themselves,  amongst  their  ac- 
quaintance, for  admitting  her,  would  be 
to   say   that  she  was  a  young  lady  of 


(     '91     ) 

family,  who  came  over  with  them  from 
France. 

To  the  last  clause,  the  stranger  calmly 
answered  that  she  could  offer  no  objec- 
tion, in  a  manner  which,  to  the  attentive 
Harleigh,  clearly  indicated  that  it  was 
true  ;  but  that,  with  respect  to  perform- 
ing, she  was  in  a  situation  too  melan- 
choly, if  not  disastrous,  to  be  capable  of 
making  any  such  attempt. 

Mrs.  Maple  was  so  angry  at  this 
presumption,  that  she  repHed,  "  Do  as 
you  are  ordered,  or  leave  my  house  di- 
rectly!" and  then  walked,  in  high  wrath, 
away. 

The  stranger  appeared  confounded: 
she  felt  an  almost  resistless  impulse  to 
depart  immediately ;  but  something 
stronger  than  resentment  told  her  to 
stay :  it  was  distress !  She  paused  a 
moment,  and  then,  with  a  sigh,  took  up 
the  part,  and,  without  looking  at  Har- 
leigh, who  was  too  much  shocked  to 
offer  any  palliation  for  this  grosyness, 
walked  pensively  to  her  chamber. 


(     19^     ) 

She  was  soon  joined  by  Elinor,  who, 
ilj., extreme  ill  humour,  complained  that 
that  odious  Lady  Townly  was  so  intolera- 
bly prolix,  that  there  was  no  getting  her 
endless  babbling  by  heart,  at  such  short 
notice :  and  that,  but  for  the  triumph 
which  it  would  afford  to  Miss  Arbe,  to 
find  out  their  embarrassment,  and  the 
spite  that  it  would  gratify  in  Aunt  Maple, 
the  whole  business  should  be  thrown  up 
at  once.  Sooner,  however,  than  be  con- 
quered, either  by  such  impertinence,  or 
such  malignity,  she  would  abandon  Lady 
Townly  to  the  prompter,  whom  Miss 
Arbe  might  have  the  surprise  and  amuse- 
ment to  dizen  out  in  her  fine  attire. 

Then,  declaring  that  she  hated  and 
w^ould  not  act  with  Miss  Sycamore,  who 
was  a  creature  of  insolence  and  conceit, 
she  flung  the  part  of  Lady  Townly  to  the 
Incognita,  saying,  that  she  must  abide 
herself  by  that  of  Lady  Wronghead  ;  a 
name  which  she  well  merited  to  keep  for 
the  rest  of  her  life,  from  her  inconceivable 
mismanagement  of  the  whole  afiair. 


C    193    ) 

The  stranger  earnestly  entreated  ex- 
emption from  the  undertaking,  and 
solicited  the  intercession  of  Elinor  with 
Mrs.  Maple,  to  soften  the  hard  sentence 
denounced  against  her  refusal.  To  act 
such  a  character  as  that  of  Lady  Townly, 
she  should  have  thought  formidable,  if 
not  impossible,  even  in  her  gayest  mo- 
ments :  but  now,  in  a  situation  the 
most  helpless,  and  with  every  reason  to 
wish  for  obscurity,  the  exertion  would 
be  the  most  cruel  that  could  be  ex- 
acted. 

Elinor,  however,  listened  only  to  her- 
self: Miss  Arbe  must  be  mortified; 
Mrs.  Maple  must  be  thwarted ;  and 
Miss  Sycamore  must  be  omitted :  these 
three  things,  she  declared,  were  indis- 
pensable,  and  could  only  be  accomplished 
by  defying  all  obstacles,  and  performing 
the  comedy  upon  the  appointed  day. 

The  stranger  now  saw  no  alternative 
between  obsequiously  submitting,  or 
immediately  relinquishing  her  asylum. 

How  might   she   find   another  ?    she 

VOL.  I.  K 


(     194     ) 

knew  not  where  even  to  seek  her  friend, 
and  no  letter  was  arrived  from  abroad.  > 

There  was  no  resource  !  She  decided 
upon  studying  the  part. 

This  was  not  difficult :  she  had  read 
it  at  three  rehearsals,  and  had  care- 
fully copied  it ;  but  she  acquired  it 
inechanicaliy  because  unwillingly,  and 
while  she  got  the  words  by  rote,  scarcely 
took  their  meaning  into  consideration. 

When  called  down,  at  night,  to  the 
grand  final  rehearsal,  she  gave  equal  sur- 
prise to  Harleigh,  from  finding  her  al- 
ready perfect  in  so  long  a  part,  and  from 
hearing  her  repeat  it  with  a  tameness 
almost  lifeless. 

At  the  scene  of  the  reconciliation, 
in  the  last  act,  he  took  her  hand, 
and  slightly  kissed  her  glove.  Ireton 
called  out,  "  Embrace  !  embrace  !  — 
the  peace-making  is  always  decided,  at 
the  theatre,  by  an  embrace.  You  must 
throw  your  arms  lovingly  over  one  an- 
other's shoulders.'* 

Harleigh    did    not  advance,  but  he 


(     '95     ) 

looked  at  the  stranger,  and  the  blush 
upon  her  cheeks  shewed  her  wholly  un- 
accustomed even  to  the  mention  of  any 
personal  liberty  ;  Ireton,  however,  still 
insisting,  he  laughingly  excused  himself, 
by  declaring,  that  he  must  do  by  Lord 
Townly  as  he  would  do  by  himself;  and 
he  never  meant,  should  he  marry,  to  be 
tender  to  his  wife  before  company. 

Mrs.  Maple  now,  extremely  anxious 
for  her  own  credit,  told  all  the  servants, 
that  she  had  just  discovered,  that  the 
stranger  who  came  from  France,  was  a 
young  lady  of  consequence,  and  she  de- 
sired that  they  would  make  a  report  to 
that  effect  throughout  the  neighbour- 
hood ;  and,  in  the  new  play-bills  which 
were  now  written,  she  suffered  to  see  in- 
serted. Lady  Townly  by  Miss  Ellis. 

Harleigh  was  the  first  to  address 
the  stranger  by  this  name,  previously 
taking  an  opportunity,  with  an  air  of 
friendly  regard,  to  advise  that  she  would 
adopt  it,  till  she  thought  right  to 
declare  her    own.      She    thanked  him 

K    2 


(     196    ) 

gratefully  for  his  counsel,  confessing, 
that  she  had  long  felt  the  absurdity  of 
seeming  nameless;  and  adding,  "  but  I 
had  made  no  preparation  for  what  I  so 
little  expected,  as  the  length  of  time  in 
which  I  have  been  kept  in  this  almost 
unheard  of  situation !  and  the  hourly 
hope  of  seeing  it  end,  made  me  decide 
to  spare  myself,  at  least  by  silence,  from 
deceit." 

The  look  of  Harleigh  shewed  his  ap- 
probation of  her  motive,  while  his  words 
strengthened  her  conviction,  that  it  must 
now  give  way  to  the  necessity  of  some 
denomination.  "  Be  it  Ellis,  then," 
said  she,  smiling,  "  though  evasion  may, 
perhaps,  be  yet  meaner  than  falsehood  ! 
Nevertheless,  I  am  rather  more  content- 
ed to  make  use  of  this  name,  which  ac- 
cident has  bestowed  upon  me,  than  posi- 
tively to  invent  one  for  myself." 

Ellis,  therefore,  which  appellation, 
now,  will  be  substituted  for  that  of  the 
Incognita,  seeing  no  possibility  of  escap- 
ing this  exhibition,  comforted  herself. 


(     197    ) 

that,  however  repugnant  it  might  be  to 
her  inclinations,  and  her  sense  of  pro- 
priety, it  gave  her,  at  least,  some  chance, 
during  the  remainder  of  her  stay  at 
Lewes,  of  being  treated  with  less  indig- 
nity. 


K 


(     '98     ) 


t- 


CHAPTER  XL 

'T^HE  hope  of  meeting  with  more  con- 
sideration in  the  family,  inspirited 
Ellis  with  a  wish,  hitherto  unfelt,  of  con- 
tributing to  the  purposed  entertainment. 
The  part  which  she  had  been  obliged  to 
undertake,  was  too  prominent  to  be  placed 
in  the  back  ground  ;  and  the  whole  per- 
formance must  be  flat,  if  not  ridiculous, 
unless  Lady  Townly  were  a  principal 
person.  She  read  over,  therefore,  re- 
peated, and  studied  the  character,  with 
an  attention  more  alive  to  its  meaning, 
style,  and  diversities ;  and  the  desire 
which  animated  all  that  she  attempted, 
of  doing  with  her  best  means  whatever 
unavoidably  must  be  done,  determined 
her  to  let  no  effort  in  her  power  be 
wanting,  to  enliven  the  representation. 

The  lateness  of  this  resolution,  made 
her   application  for  its  accomplishment 


f 


(     '99     ) 

so  completely  fill  up  her  time,  that  not 
a  moment  remained  for  those  fears  of 
self-deficiency,  with  which  diffidence  and 
timidity  enervate  the  faculties,  and  often, 
in  sensitive  minds,  rob  them  of  the 
powers  of  exertion. 

When  the  hour  of  exhibition  approach- 
ed, and  she  was  summoned  to  the  apart- 
ment destined  for  the  green-room,  uni- 
versal astonishment  was  produced  by 
her  appearance.  It  was  not  from  her 
dress  j  they  had  seen,  and  already  knew 
it  to  be  fanciful  and  fashionable ;  nor 
was  it  the  heightened  beauty  which  her 
decorations  displayed  j  this,  as  she  was 
truly  lovely,  was  an  effect  that  they 
expected  ;  but  it  was  from  the  ease  with 
which  she  wore  her  ornaments,  the 
grace  with  which  she  set  them  off,  the 
elegance  of  her  deportment,  and  an  air 
of  dignified  modesty,  that  spoke  her  not 
only  accustomed  to  such  attire,  but  also 
to  the  good  breeding  and  refined  man- 
ners, which  announce  the  habits  of  life  to 
have  been  formed  in  the  supenour  classes 
of  society. 

K    4 


(      200      ) 

Selina,  as  she  opened  the  door,  exult- 
ingly  called  out,  "  Look !  look !  only  look 
at  Ellis !  did  you  ever  see  any  thing  in 
the  world  so  beautiful  ?*' 

Ireton,  to  whom  dress,  far  more  than 
feature  or  complexion,  presented  at- 
traction, exclaimed,  *.'  By  my  soul,  she's 
as  handsome  as  an  angel  !** 

Elinor,  thus  excited,  came  forward  j 
but  seemed  struck  speechless.  ) 

They  now  all  flocked  around  her;  and 
Mrs.  Maple,  staring,  cried,  "  Why  who 
did  you  get  to  put  your  things  on  for 
you  ?'*  when,  suddenly  recollecting 
the  new  account  which  she  had  herself 
given,  and  caused  to  be  spread  of  this 
young  person,  she  forced  a  laugh,  and 
added,  "  Bless  me.  Miss  Ellis,  if  I  had 
not  quite  forgotten  whom  I  was  speaking 
to!  Why  should  not  Miss  Ellis  know 
how  to  dress  herself  as  well  as  any  other 
young  lady  ?"  ^ 

^.  "  Why,  indeed,"  said  Miss  Bydel,  "it 
makes  a  prodigious  change,  a  young 
lady's  turning  out  a  young  lady,  instead 


(       201       ) 

of  a  common  young  woman.  IVd  s^en 
a  good  nntny  of  the  Ellis's.  Pray,  Ma'am, 
does  your  part  of  the  family  come  from 
Yorkshire  ?  or  Devonshire  ?  for  I  should 
like  to  know."  !jot'i?l 

*'  And,  if  there  were  any  gentlemen 
of  your  family,  with  you,  Ma'am,  in  fo- 
reign parts,"  said  Mr.  Scope,  "  I  should 
be  glad  to  have  their  opinion  of  this 
Convention,  now  set  up  in  France :  for 
as  to  ladies,  though  they  are  certainly 
very  pleasing,  they  are  but  indifferent 
judges  in  the  political  line,  not  having, 
ordinarily,  heads  of  that  sort.  I  speak 
without  offence,  inferiority  of  under- 
standing being  no  defect  in  a  female," 

"  Well,  I  thought  from  the  first," 
said  young  Gooch,  "  and  I  said  it  to 
sisters,  that  the  young  lady  was  a  young 
lady,  by  her  travelling,  and  that.  But 
pray.  Ma'am,  did  you  ever  look  on,  to 
see  that  Mr.  Robert  Speer  mow  down 
his  hundreds,  like  to  grass  in  a  hay-field? 
We  should  not  much  like  it  if  they  were 
to  do  so  in  England.    But  the  French 

K  5 


(   202   y 

have  no  spirit.  They  are  but  a  poor 
set ;  except  their  generals,  or  the  like  of 
that.  And,  for  them,  theyMl  fight  you 
like  so  many  lions.  They  are  afraid  of 
nobody." 

"  By  what  I  hear,  Ma'am,"  said  Mr. 
Stubbs,  "  a  gentleman,  in  that  country, 
may  have  rents  due  to  the  value  of  thou- 
sands, and  hardly  receive  a  frog,  as  one 
may  say,  an  acre." 

While  thus  her  fellow-performers 
surrounded  the  Incognita,  Harleigh, 
alone,  held  back,  absorbed  in  contem- 
plating the  fine  form,  which  a  re- 
markably light  and  pretty  robe,  now 
first  displayed  ;  and  the  beautiful  fea- 
tures, and  animated  complexion,  which 
were  set  off  to  their  utmost  lustre,  by 
the  waving  feathers,  and  artificial  flowers,- 
which  were  woven  into  her  soft,  glossy, 
luxuriant  brown  hair.  But  though  he 
forbore  offering  her  any  compliments, 
he  no  sooner  observed  that  she  was 
seized  with  a  sudden  panic,  upon  a  ser- 
vant's announcing,    that   the  expected 

-+6 


C       2G3       ) 

audience,  consisting  of  some  of  the 
principal  families  of  Sussex,  was  ar- 
rived, than  he  addressed,  and  endea- 
voured to  encourage  her. 
-  "  I  am  aware,  Sir,'*  slie  said,  "  that  it 
may  seem  rather  like  vanity  than  diffi- 
dence, for  one  situated  as  I  am  to  feel  anv 
alarm  ;  for  as  I  can  have  raised  no  expec- 
tations, what  have  I  to  fear  from  giving 
any  disappointment  ?  Nevertheless,  now 
tlie  time  is  come,  the  attempt  grows 
formidable.  It  must  seem  so  strange — 
so  wond'rous  strange,  —  to  those  who 
know  not  how  little  my  choice  has  been 
consulted — " 

She  was  interrupted,  for  all  was  ready ; 
and  Harleigh  was  summoned  to  open  the 
piece,  by  the  famous  question,  *'  Why 
did  I  marry  ?*' 

The  fright  which  now  had  found  its 
way  into  the  mind  of  the  new  Lady 
Townly,  augmented  every  moment  till 
she  appeared  ;  and  it  was  then  so  great, 
as  nearly  to  make  her  forget  her  part, 
and  occasion  what,  hesitatingly,  she  was 

«  6 


(       204      ) 

able  to  utter,  to  be  hardly  audible, 
even  to  her  fellow-performers.  The 
applause  excited  by  her  beauty,  figure, 
and  dress,  only  added  to  her  embarrass- 
ment. She  with  difficulty  kept  to  her 
post,  and  finished  her  first  scene  with 
complete  self  discontent.  Elinor,  who 
watched  her  throughout  it,  lost  all  ad- 
miration of  her  exterior  attractions,  from 
contempt  of  her  feeble  performance. 

But  her  second  scene  exhibited  her  in 
another  point  of  view ;  her  self-dis- 
pleasure worked  her  up  to  exertions  that 
brought  forth  the  happiest  effects ;  and 
her  evident  success  produced  ease,  by 
inspiring  courage.  From  this  time,  her 
performance  acquired  a  wholly  new 
character :  it  seemed  the  essence  of  gay 
intelligence,  of  well  bred  animation, 
and  of  lively  variety.  The  grace  of  her 
motions  made  not  only  every  step  but 
every  turn  of  her  head  remarkable.  Her 
voice  modulated  into  all  the  changes 
that  vivacity,  carelesness,  pride,  pleasure, 
indifference,  or  alarm  demanded.    Every 


(       205       ) 

feature  of  her  face  spoke  her  discrimina- 
tion of  every  word  j  while  the  spirit 
which  gave  a  charm  to  the  whole,  was 
chastened  by  a  taste  the  most  correct ; 
and  while  though  modest  she  was  never 
aukward ;  though  frightened,  never 
ungraceful, 

A  performance  such  as  this,  in  a 
person  young,  beautiful,  and  wholly 
new,  created  a  surprize  so  powerful, 
and  a  delight  so  unexpected,  that  the 
play  seemed  soon  to  have  no  other 
object  than  Lady  Townly,  and  the 
audience  to  think  that  no  other  were 
worth  hearing  or  beholding  j  for  though 
the  politeness  exacted  by  a  private  re- 
presentation, secured  to  every  one  an 
apparent  attention,  all  seemed  vapid  and 
without  merit  in  which  she  was  not 
concerned;  while  all  wore  an  air  of 
interest  in  which  she  bore  the  smallest 
part ;  and  she  soon  never  spoke,  looked^ 
nor  moved,  but  to  excite  pleasure,  ad- 
miration, and  applause,  amounting  to 
rapture.  y.j^i  .      .j 


•  Whether  this  excellence  were  the  re- 
sult of  practice  and  instruction,  or  a 
sudden  emanation  of  general  genius, 
accidentally  directed  to  a  particular, 
point,  was  disputed  by  the  critics  amongst 
the  audience;  and  disputed,  as  usual, 
with  the  greater  vehemence,  from  the 
impossibility  of  obtaining  documents  to 
decide,  or  direct  opinion.  But  that 
which  was  regarded  as  the  highest  re- 
finement of  her  acting,  was  a  certain 
air  of  inquietude,  which  was  discernible 
through  the  utmost  gaiety  of  her  exer- 
tions, and  which,  with  the  occasional 
absence  and  sadness,  that  had  their 
source  in  her  own  disturbance,  was 
attributed  to  deep  research  into  the 
latent  subjects  of  uneasiness  belonging 
to  the  situation  of  Lady  Townly.  This, 
however,  was  nature,  which  would  not 
be  repressed  ;  not  art,  that  strove  to  be 
displayed. 

But  no  pleasure  excited  by  her  various 
powers,  approached  to  the  pleasure 
which  they  bestowed  upon  Harleigh,  who 


could  look  at,  could  listen  to  lier  alone* 
To  himself,  he  lost  all  power  of  doing 
justice ;    wrapt    up    in    the  contempla- 
tion  of  an    object    thus  singular,  thus 
excelling,    thus    mysterious,    all    ambi- 
tion of  personally  shining  was    forgot- 
ten.     He    could    not  fail  to  speak  his 
part  with  sense  and  feeling ;  he  could 
not  help  appearing  fashioned  to  represent 
a  man  of  rank  and  understanding  ;  but 
that  address  which  gives  life  and  mean- 
ing  to   every   phrase ;    that    ingenuity, 
which  beguiles  the  audience  into  an  il- 
lusion, which,  for  the  current  moment, 
inspires   the  sympathy  due  to   reality ; 
that  skill  which  brings  forth  on  the  very 
instant,  all  the  effect  which,  to  the  closet 
reader,  an  author  can  hope  to  produce 
from  reflection  ;    these,  the  attributes  of 
good  acting,    and  for  which   his   taste, 
his  spirit,  and  his  judgment  all  fitted  him, 
^ere  now,  from  slackened  self-attention, 
beyond   his   reach,    though   within    his 
powers.     At  a  public  theatre,  sucii  an 
actress  might  have  proved  a  spur  to  have 
urged  the  exertions  of  competition  ;  in 


(       208       ) 

tins  private  one,  where  success,  except 
to  vanity,  was  unimportant,  her  merit^ 
was,  to  Harleigh,  an  absorbent  that  oc- 
cupied, exclusively,  all  his  faculties. 

In  the  last  act,  where  Lady  Townly 
becomes  serious,  penitent,  and  pathetic, 
the  new  actress  appeared  to  yet  greater 
advantage :  the  state  of  her  mind  ac- 
corded with  distress,  and  her  fine  speak*   * 
ing  eyes,  her  softly  touching  voice,  her 
dejected   air,    and  penetrating  counte- 
nance, made  quicker  passage  to  the  feel-* 
ings  of  her  auditors,  even  than  the  words 
of  the  author.     All  were  moved,   tears 
were  shed  from  almost  every  eye,  and^ 
Harleigh,    affected   and   enchanted,    at 
the  moment  of  the  peace-making,  took'' 
her  hand  with  so  much  eagerness,  and 
pressed   it   to   his   lips  with    so    much 
pleasure,  that  the  rouge,  put  on  for  the 

M 

occasion,    was  paler  than   the  blushes 
which  burnt  through  it  on  her  cheeks. 
He  saw  this,  and,  checking  his  admira-  ^ 
tion,  relinquished  with  respect  the  hand 
which  he  had  taken  nearly  with  rapture. 


(      209         ) 

When  the  play  was  over,  and  the 
loudest  applause  Lad  mark  jd  its  success- 
ful representation,  the  company  arose 
to  pay  their  compliments  to  Mrs.  Maple. 
Lady  Townly,  then,  followed  by  every 
eye,  was  escaping  from  bearing  her  share 
in  the  bursts  of  general  approbation  ; 
when  a  youth  of  the  most  engaging  ap- 
pearance, and  evidently  of  high  fashion, 
sprang  over  the  forms,  to  impede  her. 
retreat';  and  to  pour  forth  the  highest 
encomiums  upon  her  performance,  in 
well-bred,  though  enthusiastic  language, 
with  all  the  eager  vivacity  of  early  youth, 
which  looks  upon  moderation  as  insipi- 
dity, and  measured  commendation  as 
want  of  feeling. 

Though  confused  by  being  detained, 
Ellis  could  not  be  angry,  for  there  was 
no  impertinence  in  his  fervour,  no  fami- 
liarity in  his  panegyric ;  and  though  his 
speech  was  rapid,  his  manners  were 
gentle.  His  eulogy  was  free  from  any 
presumption  of  being  uttered  for  her 
gratification  ;   it  seemed  simply  the  un. 


(  210  y 

controllable  ebullition  of  ingenuous  gra- 
titude. 

Surprised  still  more  than  all  around 
her,  at  the  pleasure  which  she  found  she 
had  communicated,  some  share  of  it  now 
stole  insensibly  into  her  own  bosom  ;  and 
this  was  by  no  means  lessened,  by  seeing 
her  youthful  new  admirer  soon  followed 
by  a  lady  still  younger  than  himself,  who 
called  out,  "  Do  you  think,  brother,  to 
monopolize  Miss  Ellis  ?"  And,  with 
equal  delight,  and  nearly  equal  ardour, 
she  joined  in  the  acknowledgements  made 
by  her  brother,  for  the  entertainment 
which  they  had  received ;  and  both 
united  in  declaring  that  they  should 
never  endure  to  see  or  hear  any  other 
Lady  Townly. 

;  There  was  a  charm,  for  there  seemed 
a  sincerity  in  this  youthful  tribute  of 
admiration,  that  was  highly  gratifying  to 
the  new  actress  ;  and  Harleigh  thought 
he  read  in  her  countenance,  the  soothing 
relief  experienced  by  a  delicate  mind, 
from  meeting  with  politeness  and  court-? 


(       211       ) 

csie,  after  a  long  endurance  of  indignity 
or  neglect. 

Almost  every bodyamongthe  audience, 
one  by  one,  joined  this  little  set,  all 
eager  to  take  a  nearer  view  of  the 
lovely  Lady  Towilly,  and  availing  them- 
selves of  the  opportunity  afforded  by 
this  season  of  compliment,  for  examining 
more  narrowly  whom  it  was  that  they 
addressed. 

Mrs.  Maple,  meanwhile,  suffered  the 
utmost  perplexity :  far  from  foreseeing 
an  admiration  which  thus  bore  down  all 
before  it,  she  had  conceived  that,  the 
piece  once  finished,  the  actress  would 
vanish,  and  be  thought  of  no  more  : 
nor  was  she  without  hope,  in  her  utter 
disdain  of  the  stranger,  that  the  part 
thus  given  merely  by  necessity,  would 
be  so  ill  represented,  as  to  disgust  her 
niece  from  any  such  frolics  in  future. 
J3ut  when,  on  the  contrary,  she  found 
that  there  was  but  one  voice  in  favour 
of  this  unknown  performer ;  when  not 
all  her  own  pride,  nor  all  her  prejudice. 


(  21^  ; 

could  make  her  blind  to  that  performer's 
truly  elevated  carriage  and  appear- 
ance ;  when  every  auditor  flocked  to 
her,  with  "  Who  is  this  charming 
Miss  Ellis  ?" — "  Present  us  to  this  in- 
comparable Miss  Ellis  ;''  she  felt  covered 
with  shame  and  regret  ;  though  com- 
pelled, for  her  own  credit,  to  continue 
repeating,  that  she  was  a  young  lady 
of  family  who  had  passed  over  with  her 
from  the  Continent.  ^ 

Provoked,  however,  she  now  followed 
the  crowd,  meaning  to  give  a  hint  to  the 
Incognita  to  retire;  but  she  had  the 
mortification  of  hearing  her  gallant  new 
enthusiast  pressing  for  her  hand,  in  a 
cotillon,  which  they  were  preparing  to 
dance  ;  and  though  the  stranger  gently, 
yet  steadily, was  declining  hisproposition, 
Mrs.  Maple  was  so  much  frightened  and 
irritated  that  such  a  choice  should  be  in 
her  power,  that  she  called  out  im- 
patiently, "  My  Lord,  we  must  have 
some  refreshments  before  the  dance.  Do 
pray,  Lady  Aurora  Granville,  beg  Lord 


(     2^3    ) 

Melbury  to  come  this  way,   and   take 
something.*'  :iui> 

)tThe  young  lord  and  J  lady,  with  civil 
but  cold  thanks,  that  spoke  their  dis- 
like of  this  interference,  both  desired  to 
be  excused  ;  but  great  was  their  concern, 
and  universal,    throughout    the    apart- 
ment, was  the  consternation,  upon  ob- 
serving Miss  Ellis  change  colour,    and 
sink    upon    a    chair,    almost    fainting. 
Harleigh,  who  had  strongly  marked  the 
grace  and  dignity  with  which  she  had 
received  so   much  praise,  now   cast  a 
glance   of  the  keenest  indignation    at 
Mrs.  Maple,  attributing  to  her  rude  in- 
terruption   of    the    little    civilities    so 
evidently  softening  to  the  stranger,  this 
sudden   indisposition  ;    but  Mrs.  Maple 
either  saw  it  not,  or  did  not  understand 
it,  and  seized,  with  speed,  the  oppor- 
tunity of  saying,   that   Miss   Ellis   was 
exhausted  by  so  much   acting,  and  of 
desiring  that  some  of  the  maids  might 
help  her  to  her  chamber. 
_. Elinor  stood  suspended,  looking  not 

t5 


(       214      ) 

at  her,  but  at  Harleigh.  Every  one 
else  came  forward  with  inquiry,  fans,  or 
sweet-scented  vials ;  but  Ellis,  a  little 
reviving,  accepted  the  salts  of  Lady 
Aurora  Granville,  and,  leaning  against 
her  waist,  which  her  arm  involuntarily 
encircled,  breathed  hard  and  shed  a  tor- 
rent of  tears. 

"  Why  don't  the  maids  come  ?*'  cried 
JVIrs.  Maple.  "  Selina,  my  dear,  do  call 
them.  Lady  Aurora,  I  am  quite  ashamed. 
— Miss  Ellis,  what  are  you  thinking  of, 
to  lean  so  against  Her  Ladyship  ?  Pray, 
Mr.  Ireton,  call  the  maids  for  me." 

"  Call  no  one,  I  beg!"  cried  Lady 
Aurora :  "  Why  should  1  not  have  the 
pleasure  of  assisting  Miss  Ellis  ?"  And, 
bending  down,  she  tried  better  to  ac- 
commodate herself  to  the  ease  and  re- 
lief of  her  new  acquaintance,  who  ap- 
peared the  more  deeply  sensible  of  her 
kindness,  from  the  ungenerous  displea- 
sure which  it  evidently  excited  in  Mrs. 
Maple.  And  when,  in  some  degree  re- 
covered, she  rose  to  go,  she  returned 


C    215    ) 

her  thanks  to  Lady  Aurora  with  so 
touching  a  softness,  with  tearful  eyes, 
and  in  a  voice  so  plaintive,  that  Lady 
Aurora,  affected  by  her  manner,  and 
charmed  by  her  merit,  desired  still  to 
support  her,  and,  entreating  that  she 
would  hold  by  her  arm,  begged  permis- 
sion of  Mrs.  ]\laple  to  accompany  Miss 
Ellis  to  her  chamber. 

Mrs.  Maple  recollecting,  with  the 
utmost  confusion,  the  small  and  ordinary 
room  allotted  for  Ellis,  so  unlike  what  she 
would  have  bestowed  upon  such  a  young 
lady  as  she  had  now  described  for  her  fel- 
low-voyager, found  no  resource  against 
exposing  it  to  Lady  Aurora,  but  that  of 
detaining  the  object  of  her  compassionate 
admiration  ;  she  stammered,  therefore, 
out,  that  as  Miss  Ellis  seemed  so  much 
better,  there  could  be  no  reason  why 
she  should  not  stay  below,  and  see  the 
dance. 

Ellis  gladly  courtsied  her  consent;  and 
the  watchful  Harleigh,  in  the  alacrity  of 
her  acceptance,  rejoiced  to  see  a  revival 


(      2l6      ) 

to  the  sentiments  of  pleasure,  which  the 
acrimonious  grossness  of  Mrs.  Maple  had 
interrupted. 

Lord  Melbury  now  took  the  hand  of 
SeHna,  and  Harleigh  that  of  Lady  Au- 
rora. Elinor  would  not  dance,  but,  seat- 
ing herself,  fixed  her  eyes  upon  Harleigh, 
whose  own  were  almost  perpetually  wan- 
dering to  watch  those  of  his  dramatic 
consort. 

Since  the  first  scene,  in  which  the 
stranger  had  so  ill  entered  into  the  spirit 
of  Lady  Townly's  character,  Elinor  had 
ceased  to  deem  her  worthy  of  observa- 
tion ;  and,  giving  herself  up  wholly  to 
her  own  part,  had  not  witnessed  the  gra- 
dations of  the  improvements  of  EUis^ 
her  rising  excellence,  nor  her  final  perfec- 
tion. In  her  own  representation  of  Lady 
Wronghead,  she  piqued  herself  upon  pro- 
ducing new  effects,  and  had  the  triumph, 
by  her  cleverness  and  eccentricities,  her 
grotesque  attitudes  and  attire,  and  an  un- 
expected and  burlesque  manner  of  acting, 
to  bring  the  part  into  a  consequence  of 


(     217    ) 

which  it  had  never  appeared  su'^ceptible. 
Happy  in  the  surprise  and  diversion  she 
occasioned,  and  constantly  occupied 
how  to  augment  it,  she  only  learnt  the 
high  success  of  Lady  Town ly,  by  the 
bursts  of  applause,  and  the  unbounded 
admiration  and  astonishment,  which  broke 
forth  from  nearly  every  mouth,  the  instant 
that  the  audience  and  the  performers 
were  united.  Amazed,  she  turned  to 
Harleigh,  to  examine  the  merits  of  such 
praise  ;  but  Harleigh,  no  longer  silent, 
cautious,  or  cold,  was  himself  one  of  the 
''  admiring  throng,"  and  so  openly,  and 
with  an  air  of  so  much  pleasure,  that 
she  could  not  catch  his  attention  for  any 
critical  discussion. 

After  two  country  dances,  and  two 
cotillons,  the  short  ball  was  broken  up, 
and  Lady  Aurora  hastened  to  seat  her- 
self by  Miss  Ellis,  and  Lord  Melbury  to 
stand  before  and  to  converse  with  her, 
followed  by  all  the  youthful  part  of  the 
company,  to  whom  sRe  seemed  the  so- 
vereign of  a  little  court  which  camo  to 

*    VOL.  I.  L 


(     2i8     ) 

pay  her  homage.  Harleigh  grew  every 
instant  more  enchanted  ;  for  as  she 
discoursed  with  her  two  fervent  new 
admirers,  her  countenance  brightened 
into  an  animation  so  radiant,  her  eyes 
became  so  lustrous,  and  smiles  of  so 
much  sweetness  and  pleasure  embellished 
every  feature,  that  he  almost  fancied  he 
saw  her  now  for  the  first  time,  though 
her  w^elfare,  or  her  distresses,  had  for 
more  than  a  month  chiefly  occupied  his 
mind.  Who  art  thou?  thought  he,  as 
incessantly  he  contemplated  her ;  where 
hast  thou  thus  been  formed  ?  And  for 
what  art  thou  designed? 

Supper  being  now  announced,  Mrs. 
Maple  commissioned  Harleigh  to  lead 
Lady  Aurora  down  stairs,  adding,  with  a 
forced  smile  of  civility,  that  Miss  ElHs 
must  consult  her  health  in  retiring. 

"  Yes,  Ma'am  ;  and  Miss  Ellis  knows," 
cried  Lady  Aurora,  offering  her  arm, 
"  who  is  to  be  her  chevalier." 

Again  embarra#ed,  Mrs.  Maple  saw 
no  resource  against  exposing  her  shabby 


(     219     ) 

chamber,  but  that  of  admitting  its  occu- 
pier to  the  supper  table.  She  hastily, 
therefore,  asked  whether  Miss  Ellis 
thought  herself  well  enough  to  sit  up  a 
little  longer ;  adding,  "  For  my  part,  I 
think  it  will  do  you  good." 

"  The  greatest !"  cried  Ellis,  with  a 
look  of  delight ;  and,  to  the  speechless 
consternation  of  Mrs.  Maple,  Lord  Mel- 
bury,  calling  her  the  Queen  of  the  night, 
took  her  hand,  to  conduct  her  to  the 
supper-room.  Ellis  would  have  declined 
this  distinction,  but  that  the  vivacity  of 
her  ardent  new  friend,  precipitated  her 
to  the  stair-case,  ere  she  was  aware  that 
she  was  the  first  to  lead  the  way  thither. 
Gaily,  then,  he  would  have  placed  her  iu 
the  seat  of  honour,  as  Lady  President 
of  the  evening  ;  but,  more  now  upon 
her  guard,  she  insisted  upon  standing 
till  the  visitors  should  be  arranged,  as 
she  was  herself  a  resident  in  the  house. 

Lord  Melbury,  however,  quitted  her 
not,  and  Vvould  talk  fb  no  one  else  ;  and 
finding  that  his  seat  was  destined  to  be 


(       G20       ) 

next  to  that  of  Mrs.  Maple5\vho  called  him 
to  her  side,  he  said,  that  he  never  supped, 
and  would  therefore  wait  upon  the 
ladies  ;  and,  drawing  a  chair  behind 
that  of  Ellis,  he  devoted  himself  to  con- 
versing with  her,  upon  her  part,  upon 
the  whole  play,  and  upon  dramatic  works, 
French  and  English,  in  general,  with  the 
eagerness  with  which  such  subjects  warm 
the  imagination  of  youth,  and  with  a 
pleasure  which  made  him  monopolize 
her  attention. 

Harleigh  listened  to  every  word  to 
which  Ellis  listened,  or  to  which  she  an- 
swered y  and  scarcely  knew  whether 
most  to  admire  her  good  sense,  her  in- 
telligent quickness,  her  elegant  language, 
or  the  meaning  eyes,  and  varied  smiles 
which  spoke  before  she  spoke,  and  shew- 
ed her  entire  conception  of  all  to  which 
she  attended. 

No  one  now  could  address  her ;  she 
\vas  completely  engrossed  by  the  young 
nobleman,  who  allowed  her  not  time  to 
turn  from  him  a  moment. 

Such  honours  shewn  to  a  pauper,  u 


(       22f       ) 

Stroller,  a  vagabond  ;  and  all  in  the  pre- 
sent  instance,  from  her  own  unfortunate 
contrivance,  Mrs,  Maple  considered  as 
a  personal  disgrace  ;  a  sensation  which 
was  threefold  encreased  when  the  party 
broke  up,  and  Lady  Aurora,  taking  the 
chair  of  her  brother,  rallied  him  upon 
the  envy  which  his  situation  had  excited ; 
while,  in  the  most  engaging  manner,  she 
hoped,  during  her  sojourn  at  Brighthelm- 
stone,  to  have  frequently  the  good  for- 
tune of  taking  her  revenge.  Then,  join- 
ing in  their  conversation,  she  became  so 
pleased,  so  interested, so  happy, that  twice 
Mrs.  Howel,  the  lady  under  whose  care 
she  had  been  brought  to  Lewies,  reminded 
Her  Ladj-ship  that  the  horses  were  wait- 
ing in  the  cold,  before  she  could  prevail 
upon  herself  to  depart.  And,  even  then, 
that  lady  was  forced  to  take  her  gently 
by  the  arm,  to  prevent  her  from  renewing 
the  conversation  which  she  most  unwil- 
lingly finished.  "  Pardon  me,  dear 
Madam,*'  said  Lady  Aurora  ;  "  I  am 
quite  ashamed;  but  I  hope,  while  I  am  so 

L  3 


(       222       ) 

happy  as  to  be  with  you,  that  you  will 
yourself  conceive  a  fellow  feeling,  how 
difficult  it  is  to  tear  one's  self  away  from 
Miss  Ellis/' 

"  What  honour  Your  Ladyship  does 
me!"  cried  Ellis,  her  eyes  glistening: 
"  and  Oh  !  —  how  happy  you  have  made 
me  !"— 

"  How  kind  you  are  to  say  so !"  Re- 
turned Lady  Aurora,  taking  her  hand. 

She  felt  a  tear  drop  upon  her  own 
from  the  bent-down  eyes  of  Ellis. 

Startled,  and  astonished,  she  hoped 
that  Miss  Ellis  was  not  again  indisposed  ? 

Smilingly,  yet  in  a  voice  that  de- 
noted extreme  agitation,  "  Lady  Au- 
rora alone,"  she  answered,  "  can  be 
surprised  that  so  much  goodness  —  so 
imlooked  for  —  so  unexpected  —  should 
be  touching!" 

"  O  Mrs.  Maple,"  cried  Lady  Aurora, 
in  taking  leave  of  that  lady,  "  what  a 
sweet  creature  is  this  Miss  Ellis !" 

"  Such  talents  and  a  sensibility  so 
attractive,"  said  Lord  Melbury,  "  never 
met  before !" 


(    223    ; 

Ellis  heard  them,  and  with  a  pleasure 
that  seemed  exquisite,  yet  that  died  away 
the  moment  that  they  disappeared.  All 
then  crowded  round  her,  who  had  hither- 
to abstained  ;  but  she  drooped  ;  tears 
flowed  fast  down  her  cheeks  ;  she  court- 
sied  the  acknowledgements  which  she 
could  not  pronounce  to  her  complimen. 
ters  and  enquirers,  and  mounted  to  her 
chamber. 

Mrs.  Maple  concluded  her  already  so 
spoiled,  by  the  praises  of  Lord  Melbury 
and  Lady  Aurora  Granville,  that  she 
held  herself  superior  to  all  other ;  and 
the  company  in  general  imbibed  the 
same  notion.  Many  disdain,  or  affect  to 
disdain,  the  notice  of  people  of  rank  for 
themselves,  but  all  are  jealous  of  it  for 
others. 

Not  such  was  the  opinion  of  Harleigh ; 
her  pleasure  in  their  society  seemed  to 
him  no  more  than  a  renovation  to  feel- 
ings of  happier  days.  Who,  who, 
thought  he  again,  can'st  thou  be  ?  And 

L  4 


(       224      ) 

why,  thus  evidently  accustomed  to  grace 
society,  why  art  thou  thus  strangely 
alone  —  thus  friendless  —  thus  desolate 
—  thus  mysterious  ? 


(       225       ) 


BOOK  II. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

qELINA,  regarding  herself  as  a  free 
^  agent,  since  Ireton  professed  a  re- 
spect for  Ellis  that  made  him  ashamed 
of  his  former  doubts,  flew,  the  next 
morning,  to  the  chamber  of  that  young 
person,  to  talk  over  the  play.  Lord 
Melbury,  and  Lady  Aurora  Granville  : 
but  found  her  protegee  absorbed  in  deep 
thought,  and  neither  able  nor  willing  to 
converse. 

When  the  family  assembled  to  break- 
fast, Mrs.  Maple  declared  that  she  had 
not  closed  her  eyes  the  whole  night, 
from  the  vexation  of  having  admitted 
such  an  unknown  Wanderer  to  sup  at  her 
table,  and  to  mix  with  people  of  rank. 

Elinor  was  wholly  silent. 

They  were  not  yet  separated,  when 

^  5 


(      226      ) 

Lady  Aurora  Granville  and  Mrs,  Howel 
called  to  renew  their  thanks  for  the  en- 
tertainment of  the  preceding  evening. 

"  But  Miss  Ellis  ?''  said  Lady  Aurora, 
looking  around  her,  disappointed  j  "  I 
hope  she  is  not  more  indisposed  ?" 

"  By  no  means.  She  is  quite  well 
again,"  answered  Mrs.  Maple,  in  haste 
to  destroy  a  disposition  to  pity,  which 
she  thought  conferred  undue  honour 
upon  the  stranger. 

"  But  shall  we  not  have  the  pleasure 
to  see  her  ?" 

"  She  .  .  .  generally ....  breakfasts  in 
her  own  room,^'  answered  Mrs.  Maple, 
with  much  hesitation. 

"  May  I,  then,"  said  Lady  Aurora, 
going  to  the  bell,  "  beg  that  somebody 
will  let  her  know  how  happy  I  should 
be  to  enquire  after  her  health  ?" 

*'  Your  Ladyship  is  too  good,  "  cried 
Mrs.  Maple,  in  great  confusion,  and 
preventing  her  from  ringing ;  but  Miss 
ElJis — I  don't  know  why — is,  so  fond 
of  keeping  her  chamber,  that  there  is 


C       227      ) 

no    getting    her    out    of   it  .  .  .  some 
how.—" 

"  Perhaps,  then,  she  will  permit  me 
to  go  up  stairs  to  her  ?'^ 

"  O  no,  not  for  the  world  !  besides  .... 
I  believe  she  has  w^alked  out.'' 

Lady  Aurora  now  applied  to  Selina, 
who  was  scampering  away  upon  a  com- 
miffion  of  search  j  when  Mrs.  Maple, 
following  her,  privately  insisted  that  she 
should  bring  back  intelligence  that  Miss 
Ellis  was  taken  suddenly  ill. 

Selina  was  forced  to  comply,  and 
Lady  Aurora  with  serious  concern,  to 
return  to  Brighthelmstone  ungratified. 

Mrs.  Maple  was  so  much  disconcerted 
by  this  incident,  and  so  nettled  at  her 
own  perplexed  situation,  that  nothing 
saved  Ellis  from  an  abrupt  dismission, 
but  the  representations  of  Mrs.  Fenn, 
that  some  fine  work,  which  the'  young 
woman  had  just  begun,  would  not  look 
of  a  piece  if  finished  by  another  hand. 

The  next  morning,  the  breakfast, 
party  was  scarcely  assembled,  wlien 
Lord  Melbury  entered  the  parlour.     He 

L   6 


(       228       ) 

had  ridden  over,  he  said,  to  enquire 
after  the  health  of  Miss  Ellis,  in  the 
name  of  his  sister,  who  would  do  herself 
the  pleasure  to  call  upon  her,  as  soon 
as  she  should  be  sufficiently  recovered 
to  receive  a  visit. 

Elinor  was  stiTick  with  the  glow  of 
satisfaction  which  illumined  the  face 
of  Harleigh,  at  this  reiterated  dis- 
ti-nction.  A  glow  of  a  far  different  sort 
flushed  that  of  Mrs.  Maple,  who,  after 
various  ineffectual  evasions,  was  con- 
strained to  say  that  she  hoped  Miss  Ellis 
would  be  well  enough  to  appear  on  the 
morrow.  And,  to  complete  her  provoca- 
tion, she  was  reduced,  when  Lord  Melbury 
was  gone,  to  propose,  herself,  that  Selina 
should  lend  the  girl  a  gown,  and  what 
else  she  might  require,  for  being  seen, 
once  again,  without  involving  them  all 
in  shame. 

Ellis,  informed  by  Selina  of  these  par- 
ticulars, shed  a  torrent  of  grateful  tears 
at  the  interest  v;hich  she  had  thus  unex- 
pectedly excited ;  then,  reviving  into  a 
Tivacity  which  seemed  to  renew  all  the 

15 


(      229       ) 

pleasure  that  she  had  experienced  on  the 
night  of  the  play,  she  diligently  employed 
herself  in  appropriating  the  attire  which 
Selina  supplied  for  the  occasion. 

Mrs.  Maple,  now,  had  no  consolation 
but  that  the  stay  of  Lady  Aurora  in  the 
neighbourhood  would  be  short,  as  that 
young  lady  and  her  brother  were  only  at 
Brighthelmstone  upon  a  visit  to  the 
Honourable  Mrs.  Howel;  who,  having  a 
capital  mansion  upon  the  Steyne,  resided 
there  the  greatest  part  of  the  year. 

Mrs.  Howel  accompanied  her  young 
guest  to  Lewes  the  foUowhig  morning. 
Miss  Ellis  was  enquired  for  without  de- 
lay, and  as  Mrs.  Maple  would  suffer  no 
one  to  view  her  chamber,  slie  was  sum- 
moned into  the  drawing-room. 

She  entered  it  with  a  blush  of  bright 
pleasure  upon  her  cheeks  ;  yet  with  eyes 
that  were  glistening,  and  a  bosom  that 
seemed  struggling  with  sighs.  Lady 
Aurora  hastened  to  meet  her,  uttering 
such  kind  expressions  of  concern  for  her 
indisposition,  that  Ellis,  with  charmed 


(     230     ) 

sensibility,  involuntarily  advanced  to 
embrace  her ;  but  rapidly,  and  with 
timid  shame,  drew  back,  her  eyes  cast 
down,  and  her  feelings  repressed.  Lady 
Aurora,  perceiving  the  design,  and  its 
check,  instantly  held  out  her  hand,  and 
smilingly  saying,  "  Would  you  cheat  me 
of  this  kindness  ?"  led  her  to  a  seat  next 
to  her  own  upon  a  sofa. 

The  eyes  of  the  stranger  were  not 
now  the  only  ones  that  glistened.  Har- 
leigh  could  not  see  her  thus  benignly 
treated,  or  rather,  as  he  conceived,  thus 
restored  to  the  treatment  to  which  she  had 
been  accustomed,  and  which  he  believed 
her  to  merit,  without  feeling  tears 
moisten  his  own. 

With  marked  civility,  though  not  with 
the  youthful  enthusiasm  of  Lady  Aurora, 
Mrs.  Howel,  also,  made  her  compliments 
to  Miss  Ellis.  Lord  Melbury  arrived 
soon  afterwards,  and,  the  first  ceremonies 
over,  devoted  his  whole  attention  to  the 
same  person. 

O  powerful  prejudice  !   thought  Har- 


(     231     ) 

lelgh  ;  what  is  judgment,  and  where  is 
perception  in  your  hands  ?  The  ladies 
of  this  house,  having  first  seen  this 
charming  Incognita  in  tattered  garments, 
forlorn,  desolate,  and  distressed ;  go- 
verned by  the  prepossession  thus  excited 
of  her  inferiority,  even,  to  this  moment, 
either  neglect  or  treat  her  harshly;  not 
moved  by  the  varied  excellencies  that 
should  create  gentler  ideas,  nor  open  to 
the  interesting  attractions  that  might 
give  them  more  pleasure  than  they  could 
bestow !  While  these  visitors,  hearing 
that  she  is  a  young  lady  of  family,  and 
meeting  her  upon  terms  of  equality, 
find,  at  once,  that  she  is  endowed  with 
talents  and  accomplishments  for  the 
highest  admiration,  and  with  a  sweetness 
of  manners,  and  powers  of  conversation, 
irresistibly  fascinating. 

The  visit  lasted  almost  the  whole 
morning,  during  which  he  observed, 
with  extreme  satisfaction ,  not  only  that 
the  dejection  of  Ellis  wore  away,  but  that 
a    delight    in    the    intercourse    seemed 


C    232    ) 

reciprocating  between  herself  and  he^ 
young  friends,  that  gave  new  beauty  to 
her  countenance,  and  new  spirit  to  her 
existence. 

When  the  visitors  rose  to  be  gone,  "  I 
cannot  tell  you.  Miss  Ellis,'*  said  Lady 
Aurora,  "  how  happy  I  shall  be  to  culti- 
vate your  acquaintance.  Will  you  give 
me  leave  to  call  upon  you  for  half  an 
hour  to  morrow  ?'* 

Ellis,  with  trembling  pleasure,  cast  a 
fearful  glance  at  Mrs.  Maple,  who  hastily 
turned  her  head  another  way.  Ellis  then 
gratefully  acceded  to  the  proposal. 

"  Miss  Ellis,  I  hope,"  said  Mrs.Howel, 
in  taking  leave,  '^  will  permit  me,  also, 
to  have  some  share  of  her  society,  when  I 
have  the  honour  to  receive  her  at  Bright- 
helmstone." 

Ellis,  touched,  enchanted,  could  at- 
tempt no  reply  beyond  a  courtesy,  and 
stole,  with  a  full  heart,  and  eyes  over- 
flowing, to  her  chamber,  the  instant  that 
they  left  the  house. 

Mrs.  Maple  was  now  in  a  dilemma 
which  she  would  have  deemed  terrible 


(     233     ) 

beyond  all  comparison,  but  from  what 
she  experienced  the  following  minute, 
when  the  butler  put  upon  the  table  a 
handful  of  cards,  left  by  the  groom 
of  Mrs.  Howei,  amongst  which  Mrs. 
Maple  perceived  the  name  of  Miss  Ellis, 
mingled  with  her  ow^n,  and  that  of  the 
Miss  Joddrels,  in  an  invitation  to  a 
small  dancing-party  on  the  ensuing 
Thursday. 

"  This  exceeds  all !"  she  cried  :  "  If 
I  don't  get  rid  of  this  wretch,  she  will 
bring  me  into  universal  disgrace !  she 
shall  not  stay  another  day  in  my  house." 

"  Has  she,  Madam,  for  a  single  mo- 
ment," said  Harleigh,  with  quickness, 
**  given  you  cause  to  repent  your  kind 
assistance,  or  reason  to  harbour  any  sus- 
picion  that  you  have  not  bestowed  it 
worthily  ?" 

"  Why,  you  go  beyond  Elinor  herself, 
now,  Mr.  Harleigh  !  for  even,  she,  you 
see,  does  not  ask  me  to  keep  her  any 
longer." 

"  Miss  Joddrel,"  answered  Harleigh, 


(     ^34     ) 

turning  with  an  air  of  gentleness  to  the 
mute  EHnor,  "  is  aware  how  little  a 
single  woman  is  allowed  to  act  publicly 
for  herself,  without  risk  of  censure." 

"  Censure  ?"  interrupted  Elinor,  dis- 
dainfully, "  you  know  I  despise  it  !*' 

He  affected  not  to  hear  her,  and  con- 
tinued, "  Miss  Joddrel  leaves,  therefore. 
Madam,  to  your  established  situation  in 
life,  the  protection  of  a  young  person 
whom  circumstances  have  touchingly 
cast  upon  your  compassion,  a,nd  who 
seems  as  innocent  as  she  is  indigent,  and 
as  formed,  nay  elegant  in  her  manners, 
as  she  is  obscure  and  secret  in  her  name 
and  history.  I  make  not  any  doubt  but 
Miss  Joddrel  would  be  foremost  to  sus- 
tain her  from  the  dangers  of  lonely  pe- 
nury, to  which  she  seems  exposed  if  de- 
serted, were  my  brother  already  —  "  He 
approached  Elinor,  lowering  his  voice  ; 
she  rose  to  quit  the  room,  with  a  look 
of  deep  resentment ;  but  could  not  first 
escape  hearing  him  finish  his  speech  with 
"  as  happy  as  I  hope  soon  to  see  him  !" 


"  Ah,  Mr.  Harleigh,"  said  Mrs. 
Maple,  "  when  shall  we  bring  that  to 
bear?". 

"  She  never  pronounces  a  positive  re- 
jection,'' answered  Harieigh,  "  yet  I 
make  no  progress  in  my  peace-offerings." 

He  would  then  have  entered  more 
fully  upon  that  subject,  in  the  hope  of 
escaping  from  the  other  :  Mrs.  Maple, 
however,  never  forgot  her  anger  but  for 
her  interest;  andSelina  was  forced  to  be 
the  messenger  of  dismission. 

She  found  Ellis  so  revived,  that  to  de- 
stroy her  rising  tranquillity  would  have 
been  a  task  nearly  impossible,  had  Selina 
possessed  as  much  consideration  as  good 
humour.  But  she  was  one  amongst  the 
many  in  whom  reflection  never  precedes 
speech,  and  therefore,  though  sincerely 
sorry,  she  denounced,  without  hesitating, 
the  sentence  of  Mrs.  Maple. 

Ellis  was  struck  with  the  deepest  dis- 
may, to  be  robbed  thus  of  all  refuge,  at 
the  very  moment  when  she  flattered  her- 
self that   new  friends,    perhaps   a   new 


(  n^  ) 

asylum,  were  opening  to  her.  Whithe^ 
could  she  now  wander?  and  how  hope 
that  others,  to  whom  she  was  still  less 
known,  would  escape  the  blasting  conta- 
gion, and  believe  that  distress  might  be 
guiltless  though  mysterious  ?  A  few  shil- 
hngs  were  all  that  she  possessed ;  and  she 
saw  no  prospect  of  any  recruit.  Elinor 
had  not  once  spoken  to  her  since  the 
play ;  and  the  childish  character,  even 
more  than  the  extreme  youth  of  Selina, 
made  it  seem  improper,  in  so  discarded 
a  state,  to  accept  any  succour  from  her 
clandestinely.  Nevertheless,  the  awaited 
letter  was  not  yet  arrived  ;  the  expected 
friend  had  not  yet  appeared.  How, 
then,  quit  the  neighbourhood  of  Bright- 
helmstone,  where  alone  any  hope  of  re- 
ceiving either  still  lingered  ?  The  only 
idea  that  occurred  to  her,  was  that  of 
throwing  herself  upon  the  compassion  of 
her  new  acquaintances,  faithfully  detail- 
ing to  them  her  real  situation  at  Mrs. 
Maple's,  and  appealing  to  their  genero- 
sity to  forbear,  for  the  present,  all  en- 
quiry into  its  original  cause. 


(     237     ) 

This  determined,  she  anxiously  de- 
sired,  before  her  departure,  to  restore, 
if  she  could  discover  their  owner,  the 
anonymous  bank-notes,  which  she  was 
resolute  not  to  use  ;  and,  hearing  the 
step  of  Harleigh  passing  her  door  in  de- 
scending the  stairs,  she  hastened  after 
hira,  with  the  little  packet  in  her  hand. 

Turning  round  as  he  reached  the  hall, 
and  observing,  with  pleased  surprise,  her 
intention  to  speak  to  him,  he  stopt. 

"  You  have  been  so  good  to  me.  Sir,'* 
she  said,  "  so  humane  and  so  conside- 
rate, by  every  possible  occasion,  that  I 
think  I  may  venture  to  beg  yet  one  more 
favour  of  you,  before  I  leave  Lewes.' 

Her  dejected  tone  extremely  affected 
him.  and  he  waited  her  explanation  with 
looks  that  were  powerfully  expressive  of 
his  interest  in  her  welfare. 

"  Some  one,  with  great,  but  mistaken 
kindness,"  she  continued,  "  has  imagined 

my  necessities  stronger  than  my " 

She  stopt,  as  if  at  a  loss  for  a  word,  and 
then,  with   a  smile,  added,  "  my  pride. 


(     238     ) 

others,  perhaps,  will  say ;  but  to  me  it 
appears  only  a  sense  of  right.  If,  how- 
ever, my  lengthened  suspense  forces  me 
to  require  more  assistance  of  this  sort 
than  I  already  owe  to  the  Miss  Joddrels, 
andto  the  benevolent  Admiral,  I  shall  have 
recourse  to  the  most  laborious  personal 
exertions,  rather  than  spread  any  further 
the  list  of  my  pecuniary  creditors." 

Harleigh  did  not,  or  seemed  not  to  un- 
derstand her,  yet  would  not  resist  taking 
the  little  packet,  which  she  put  into  his 
hands,  saying,  "  I  have  some  fear  that 
this  comes  from  Mr.  Ireton  ;  I  shall  hold 
myself  inexpressibly  obliged  to  you.  Sir, 
if  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  clear  up 
that  doubt  for  me  ;  and,  should  it  prove 
a   fact,    to  return   it   to   him    with  my 
thanks,  but  the  most  positive  assurance 
that  its  acceptance  is  totally  impossible.'* 
Harleigh  looked   disturbed,   yet  pro- 
mised to  obey. 

"  And  if,"  cried  she,  "  you  should  not 
find  Mr.  Ireton  to  be  my  creditor,  you 
may  possibly  discover  him  in  a  person  to 

i6 


(239     ) 

whom  I  owe  far  other  services,  and 
unmingled  esteem.  And  should  that  be 
the  case,  say  to  him,  I  beg,  Sir,  that  even 
from  him  I  must  decline  an  obligation 
of  this  sort,  though  my  debts  to  him  of 
every  other,  are  nearly  as  innumerable 
as  their  remembrance  will  be  indelible." 

She  then  hastened  away,  leaving  Har- 
leigh  impressed  with  such  palpable  con- 
cern, that  she  could  no  longer  doubt  that 
the  packet  was  already  deposited  with  its 
right  owner. 

He  passed  into  the  garden,  and  she 
was  going  back,  when,  at  the  entrance 
of  the  breakfast-parlour,  she  perceived 
EHnor,  who  seemed  sternly  occupied  in 
observing  them. 

Ellis  courtsied,  and  stood  still.  Elinor 
moved  not,  and  was  gloomily  silent. 

Struck  with  her  mien,  her  stillness,  and 
her  manner,  Ellis,  in  a  fearful  voice,  en- 
quired after  her  health  ;  but  received 
a  look  so  indignant,  yet  wild,  that, 
affrighted  and  astonished,  she  retreated 
to  her  chamber. 


(        240       ) 

As  she  turned  round  upon  entering  it, 
to  shut  herself  in,  immediately  before 
her  stood  Elinor. 

She  looked  yet  paler,  and  seemed  in  a 
sort  of  stupor.  Ellis  respectfully  held 
open  the  door,  but  she  did  not  advance: 
thefury,  however,  of  her  aspectwasabatedy 
and  Ellis,  in  a  voice  condolingly  soft, 
asked  whether  she  might  hope  that  Miss 
Joddrel  would,  once  more,  condescend  to 
sit  with  her  before  her  departure. 

At  these  words  Ehnor  seemed  to  shake 
herself,  and  presently,  though  in  a 
hollow  tone,  pronounced,  "  Are  you- 
then going  ?"  :  . 

Ellis  plaintively  answered  Yes  ! 

"  And ....  with  whom  ?"  cried  Elinor, 
raising  her  eyes  with  a  glance  of  fire. 

"  With  no  one.  Madam.    I  go  alone." 

This  answer  w^as  uttered  w^ith  a  firm- 
ness that  annulled  all  suspicion  of  deceit, 

Elinor  appeared  again  to  breathe. 

"    And    whither  ?*'     she    demanded,  x 
'*  whither  is  it  you  go  ?" 


m 


(      241      ) 

*'  I  know  not,  alas!  —  but  I  mean  to 
make  an  attempt  at  Howel  Place/* 

The  countenance  of  Elinor  now  lost 
its  rigidity,  and  with  a  cry  almost  of 
extacy,  she  exclaimed,  "  Upon  Lord 
Melbury  ?  —  your  new  admirer  ?  O  go  to 
him  !  —  hasten  to  him  ! — dear,  charming: 
Ellis,  away  to  him  at  once  1  —  " 

Ellis,  half  smiling,  answered,  "  Xo, 
Madam ;  I  go  to  Lady  Aurora  Granville." 

Elinor,  without  replying,  left  tlie 
room  ;  but,  quick  in  action  as  in  idea, 
returned,  almost  instantly,  loaded  witli  a 
packet  of  clothes. 

"  Here,  most  beautified  Ophelia!" 
she  cried,  "  look  over  this  trumpery. 
You  know  how  skilfully  you  can  arrange 
it.  You  must  not  appear  to  disadvantage 
before  dear  little  Lord  Melbury." 

Ellis  now,  nearly  offended,  drew  back. 

"  O,  I  know  I  ought  to  be  excom- 
municated for  giving  such  a  hint,"  cried 
Elinor,  whose  spirits  were  rather  exalted 
than  recovered;  **  though  every  body  sees 
how  the  poor  boy  is  bewitched  with  you  : 

VOL.  I.  u 


(     242      ) 

but  you  delicate  sentimentalists  are  never 
yourselves  to  suspect  any  danger,  till  the 
men  are  so  crazy  'twould  be  murder  to 
resist  them";  knd  then,  you  know,  ac- 
ceptance is  an  act  of  mere  charity." 

Ellis  laughed  at  her  raillery,  yet  de- 
clined her  wardrobe,  saying  that  she  had 
resolved  upon  frankly  stating  to  Lady 
Aurora,  all  that  she  was  able  to  make 
known  of  her  situation. 

"  Well,  that's  more  romantic,"  re- 
turned Elinor,  "  and  so  'twill  be  more 
touching  ;  especially  to  the  little  peer  ; 
for  as  you  won't  say  who  you  are,  he  can 
do  no  less  than,  like  Selina,  conclude 
you  to  be  a  princess  in  disguise ;  and  that, 
as  you  know,  will  bring  the  match  so  pro- 
perly forward,  that  parents,  and  uncles,  and 
guardians,  and  all  those  supernumeraries 
of  the  creation,  will  learn  the  business 
only  just  in  time  to  drown  themselves." 

Ellis  heard  this  with  a  calmness  that 
shewed  her  superior  to  offering  any  vin- 
dication of  her  conduct;  and  Elinor 
more  gently  added,  "  Now  don't  con- 


(     -43     ) 

strue  ail  this  into  either  a  sneer  or  a  re- 
primand. If  you  imagine  me  an  enemy 
to  what  the  old  court  call  unequal  con- 
nexions, you  do  me  egregious  injustice. 
I  detest  all  aristocracy:  I  care  for  nothing 
upon  earth  but  nature  ;  and  I  hold  no 
one  thing  in  the  world  worth  living  for 
but  liberty !  and  liberty,  you  know,  has 
but  two  occupations,  —  plucking  up  and 
pulling  down.  To  me,  therefore,  'tis 
equally  diverting,  to  see  a  beggar  swell 
into  a  duchess,  or  a  duchess  dwindle  into 
a  beggar." 

EUis  tried  to  smile,  but  felt  shocked 
many  ways  ;  and  Elinor,  gay,  now,  as  a 
lark,  left  her  to  get  ready  for  Ilowel 
Place. 

While  thus  employed,  a  soft  tap  called 
her  to  the  door,  where  she  perceived 
Ilarleigh. 

"  I  will  detain  you,"  he  said,  "  but  a 
moment.  I  can  find  no  owner  for  your 
little  packet ;  you  must  suffer  it,  there- 
fore, still  to  encumber  you  ;  and  should 
any    accident,    or    any    transient   con- 

M    2 


venience,  make  its  contents  even  raomen^^ 
tarily  useful  to  yoti!,  9o*^iiotlet  any  i^ea 
of  its  having  ever  belonged  to  Mr.  Ireton 
impede  its  empldyment:  I  have  examined 
that  point  thoroughly,  and  I  can  posi- 
tively assure  you,  that  he  has  not  the  least 
knowledge^ ^'\)'6n  of  its  existence/*  {  "'^2 

As  she  held  back  from  taking  it,  he 
piit^it  upon  a  step  before  the  door,  and 
descended  the  stairs  without  giving  her 
time  to  answer.  ^'^^"  e 

She  did  not  dare  either  to  follower 
to  call  him,  lest  Elinor  should  again  ap- 
pear j  but  she  felt  convinced  that  the  bank- 
notes were  his  own,  and  became  Ibi^s 
uneasy  at  a  short  delay,  though  equally 
determined  upon  restitutions;  ^  bio!>  Jcrsl 

She  was  depositing  theiii  iti  her 'W&tls:- 
bag,  when  Selina  came  jumping  into  the 
room.  "  O  Ellis,"  she  cried,  "  I  have 
the  best  news  in  the  world  for  you ! 
Aunt  Maple  fell  into  the  greatest  passion 
you  ever  saw,  at  hearing  you  were  going 
to  Howel  Place.  *  What!'  says  she, 
'  •  shall  I  let  her  disgrace  mefor  ever,  by 


(     ^45     ) 

making  known  what  a  poor  Wanderer 
I  have  taken  into  my  house,  and  per- 
mitted to  eat  at  my  table  ^^  Jt  would  be 
a  thing  to  ruin  me  in  the  opinion  of  the 

,whole  world.'  So  then,  after  the  greatest 
fuss  that  ever  you  knew  in  your  life,  she 
said  you  should  not  be  turned  away  till 

JLady  Aurora  was  gone."    i^^^ 

hr  Ellis,   however   hurt  by  this   recital, 

rejoiced  in  the  reprieye,.  .-.  [j  f^  -  ?. 

The  difficulties,  nevertheless,  of  Mrs. 
Maple  did  not  end  here;  the  next  morn- 

-  ing  she  received  a  note  from  Mrs.  Howel, 
with  intelligence  that  Lady  Aurora 
Granville  was  prevented ;  from  making 
her  intended  excursion,  by  a  very  vio- 
lent cold  ;  and  to  entreat  that  Mrs.  Maple 

^jwould  use  her  interest  .with  Miss  Ellis, 
sft^  r, soften  Her  Ladyship's  disappoint- 
^^ment,  by  spending  the  day  at  Howel 
'  Place ;  for  which  purpose  Mrs.  Howel 
i  begged  leave  to  send  her  carriage,^  at  an 

^m\y  hour,  to  L^yf^Su  ,^  ''    "' '/^.^^^  . 

^      Mrs.  Maple  read    this  with   a   choler 

-  indescribable.    She  would  have  sent  word 

M    3 


(     246    } 

that  Ellis  was  ill,  but  she  foresaw  an 
endless  embarrassment  from  inquiring 
visits ;  and,  after  the  most  fretful,  but 
-fruitless  lamentations,  passionately  de* 
clared  that  she  would  have  nothing  more 
to  do  with  the  business,  and  retired  to 
her  room  ;  telling  Elinor  that  she  might 
answer  Mrs.  Howel  as  she  pleased,  only 
charging  her  to  take  upon  herself  all 
responsibility  of  consequences. 

Elinor,  enchanted,  fixed  upon  two 
o'clock  for  the  arrival  of  the  carriage ; 
and  ^llis,  who  heard  the  tidings  with 
even  exquisite  joy,  spent  the  interme- 
cliate  time  in  preparations,  for  which  she 
no  loeger  declined  the  assisting  offers  of 
Elinor,  who,  wild  with  renovated  spirits,' 
exhorted  her,  now  in  raillery,  now  in 
earnest,  but  always  with  agitated  vehe- 
mence, to  make  no  scruple  of  going  off 
with  Lord  Melbury  to  Gretna  Green. 

When  the  chaise  arrived,  Mrs.  Maple 
restless  and  curious,  suddenly  descended; 
but  was  filled  with  double  envy  and  ma- 
levolence, at  sight  of  the  look  of  plea- 


sure  which  Ellis  wore ;  but  which  gave 
to  Harleigh  a  satisfaction  that  counter- 
balanced his  regret  at  her  quitting  the 
house. 

"  I  have  only  one  thing  to  mention  to 
you,  Mrs.  Ellis/'  said  Mrs.  Maple,  with 
a  gloomy  scowl ;  "  I  insist  upon  it  that 
you  don't  say  one  syllable  to  Mrs.  Howel, 
nor  to  Lady  Aurora,  about  your  mean- 
ness, and  low  condition,  and  that  ragged 
state  that  we  found  you  in,  patched,  and 
blacked,  and  made  up  for  an  object  to 
excite  pity.  Mind  that !  for  if  you  go 
to  Howel  Place  only  to  make  out  that  I 
have  been  telling  a  parcel  of  stories,  I 
shall  be  sure  to  discover  it,  and  you  shall 
repent  it  as  long  as  you  live.** 

Ellis  seemed  tempted  to  leave  the  room 
without  condescending  to  make  any  re- 
ply J  but  she  checked  herself,  and 
desired  to  understand  more  clearly  what 
Mrs.  Maple  demanded. 

"  That  there  may  be  only  one  tale  told 
between  us,  and  that  you  will  be  steady 
to   stand   to  what  I  have  said,  of  your 

M  4 


(     248     ) 

being  a  young  lady  of  good  family,  who 
came  over  with  me  from  France.'* 

Ellis,  without  hesitation,  consented ; 
and  HarleiglihaiKled  her  to  the  chaise, 
Mrs.  Maple  herself  not  knowing  how  to 
object  to  that  cii'ility,  hb  the' sW^a^s 
-of  Mrs.  Hp\vel  w^re  waiting  ^t6  attend 
their  lady'aguestl/''^*'  How  happy,  how 
relieved,"  cried  he,  in  conducting  h'et 
^t'in-^  v^ill  you  feel  in  obtaining,  at  last^ 
a  little  reprieve  from  the  narrow  prejudice 
which  ur«:es  this  cruel  treatment'!"  \ 
.a"v¥iP*^  must  not  encourage  me  tdfeS 
sentrnent^fJ::?  cried  she,  smiling,  "but 
rather  bid  me,  as  I  bid  myself,  whert  it 
l€f|lj  it  rising,  subdue  it  by  recollecting^ 
my  strange — indefinable  situation  in  this'' 

^bfiJ  ^^tnh-  IS  *!  ^^^  '''^^  •b'^iii^jc.  iq 
■  08  -lo  1^^  u-  ^^^^-^  -13'^  bsmoDbw  ir»o.a/l 
.4to8  02  83jool  fUi7/bnr>,aaonbooa^'i^^ 


I 


rrW 
> 


(     -49     ) 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

npHE  presage  of  Harleigh  proved  as 
just  as  it  was  pleasant :  the  heart  of 
Ellis  bounded  with  delight  as  she  drove 
off  from  the  house  ;  and  the  hope  of 
transferring  to  Lady  Aurora  the  obliga- 
tion for  succour  which  she  was  now  com- 
pelled to  owe  to  Mrs.  Maple,  seemed 
almost  lifting  her  from  earth  to  heaven. 
Her  fondest  wishes  were  exceeded  by 
her  reception.  Mrs.  Howel  came  for- 
ward to  meet  her,  and  to  beg  permis- 
sion not  to  order  the  carriage  for  her- 
return,  till  late  at  night.  She  was  then 
conducted  to  the  apartment  of  Lady 
Aurora,  by  Lord  Melbury,  who  assured: 
her  that  his  sister  would  have  rejoiced  in? 
a  far  severer  indisposition,  which  hai 
procured  her  such  a  gratification;  Lady. 
Aurora  welcomed  her  with  an  air  of  so> 
Bauch  goodness,  and  with  looks  so  soft^ 

M  5 


(       250       ) 

so  pleased,  so  partial,  that  Ellis,  in  taking 
her  held-out  hand,  overpowered  by  so 
sudden  a  transition  from  indignity  toklnd- 
iiess,  and  agitated  by  the  apprehensions 
that  were  attached  to  the  hopes  which  it 
inspired,  burst  into  tears,  and,  in  defianc^ 
of  her  utmost  struggles  for  serenity, 
wept  even  with  violence. 

Lady  Aurora,  shocked  and  alarmed, 
asked  for  her  salts  ;  and  Lord  Melbury 
flew  for  a  glass  of  w^ater  ;  but  Ellis,  de- 
clining both,  and  reviving  without  either, 
wiped,  though  she  could  not  dry  her 
eyes,  and  smiled,  while  they  still  glisten- 
ed, with  such  grateful  sensibility,  yet 
beaming  happiness,  that  both  the  brother 
and  the  sister  soon  saw,  that,  greatly  as 
she  was  affected,  nothing  was  wanting 
to  her  restoration.  "  It  is  not  sorrow,'* 
she  cried,  when  able  to  speak ;  "  'tis 
your  goodness,  your  kindness,  which 
thus  touch  me  1" 

"  Can  you  ever  have  met  with  any 
thing  else  ?"  said  Lord  Melbury, 
warmly  ;  "  if  you  can  —  by  what  mon* 
sters  you  must  have  been  beset !" 


(       251       ) 

"  No,  my  Lord,  no,"  cried  she:   "  I 
^am  far  from  meaning  to  complain  ;    but 
you  must   not   suppose  the  world  made 
up  of  Lady  Aurora  Granvilles  I" 

Lady  Aurora  was  much  moved.  It 
seemed  evident  to  her  that  her  new 
favourite  was  not  happy;  and  she  had 
conceived  such  high  ideas  of  her  perfec- 
tions, that  she  was  ready  to  weep  her- 
self, at  the  bare  suggestion  that  they 
were  not  recompensed  by  felicity. 

The  rest  of  the  morning  passed  in 
gentle,  but  interesting  conversation,  be- 
tween the  two  young  females  ;  or  in 
animated  theatrical  discussions,  stric- 
tures, and  declamation,  witli  the  young 
peer. 

At  dinner  they  joined  Mrs.  Howel, 
who  was  charmed  to  see  her  young 
guests  thus  delighted,  and  could  not 
refuse  her  consent  to  a  petition  of  Lady 
Aurora,  that  she  would  invite  Miss 
Ellis  to  assist  her  again,  the  next  day,  to 
nurse  her  cold  with  the  same  prudence. 

The  expressive  eyes   of   Ellis   spoke 

M  6 


(^  H^   ) 


)• 


endhantment.  They  parted,  therefore, 
dufy  ^6\^  Viih  night 'y  but  just  before  the 
carriage  was  driven  from  the  door,  the 
cdachraan  discovered  that  an  accident 
had  happened  to  one  of  the  wheels, 
which  could  not  be  rectified  till  the  next 
morning,      ^'^^^^  ''^''—  '■''  '''■  ^^.dl 

■ — After  some  deliberation,  Mrs.  Howel, 
at  Lad V  Aurora's  earnest  desire,  sent 
over  a  grb^m  with  a  note  to  Mrs.  Maple, 
informing  her  of  the  circumstance,  and 
begging  that  she  would  not  expect  Miss 
Ellis  till  the  following  evening.  Oij^^ai 

'^^The  tears  of  Ellis,  at  happiness  so  uni 
looked  for,  were  again  ready  to  flow,  and 
with  difficulty  restrained.  She  wrote  a 
few  words  to  Ehnor,  entreating  her  kind 
assistance,  in  sending  a  packet  of  some 
things  necessary  for  this  new  plan  ;  and 
Elinor  took  care  to  provide  her  with 
materials  for  remaining  a  month,  rathe* 
than  a  da  v.  ''^?'^>^ 

'{I'^Ji.  chamber  was  now  prepared  for 
Ellis,  in  which  noticing  was  omitted  that 
could  atlbrd  cither  comfort  or  elegance  5 


(     ^Si    )) 

]^ft,  fiom  the  fulness  of  her  nund,  slie 
coUld  not,  even  foi],^  ^noment,  close  her 
eyes,  when  slie  retired. -/nh  ytr^/ 
jnSome  drawback,  however,  to  her  hap- 
piness was  experienced  the  next  morning, 
when  she  found  Mrs.  Howel  fearful 
that  tlie  cold  of  Lady  Aurora  menaced 
terminating  in  a  violent  cough.  Dr.  P  — 
was  immediately  called  in,  and  his  pi  in- 
cipal  prescription  was,  that  Her  Ladyship 
should  avoid  hot  rooms,  dancing,  com- 
pany, and  talking.  Mrs.  Howel,  easily 
made  anxious  for  Lady  Aurora,  not  only 
from  personal  attachment,  but  from  tlie 
responsibility  of  having  her  in  charge, 
besought  Her  Ladyship  to  give  up  the 
fJiayfor  that  niglit,  an  assembly  for  the  fol- 
lowing, and  to  permit  that  the  intended 
ball  of  Thursday  should  be  postponed, 
till  Her  Ladys4iip  should  be  perfectly  re- 
covered. 

Lady  Aurora,  with  a  grace  that  ac- 
companied all  her  actions,  unhesitatingly 
complied ;  but  enquired  whether  it 
would  not  be  possible  to  persuade  Miss 
Ellis  to  remain  with   them    during  this 


(     254    ) 

confinement  ?  Mrs.  Howel  repeated  the 
request.  The  delight  of  Ellis  was  too 
deep  for  utterance.  Joy  of  this  tender 
sort  always  flung  her  into  tears ;  and 
Lady  Aurora,  who  saw  that  her  heart 
was  as  oppressed  as  it  was  gentle,  be- 
sought Mrs.  Howel  to  write  their  desire 
to  Lewes. 

Mrs.  Maple,  how^ever  enraged  and 
perplexed,  had  no  choice  how  to  act, 
without  betraying  the  imposition  which 
she  had  herself  practised,  and  therefore 
offered  no  opposition. 

Ellis  now  enjoj/ed  a  happiness,  before 
"which  all  her  difficulties  and  disappoint-^ ; 
ments  seemed  to  sink  forgotten,  or  but 
to  be  remembered  as  evils  overpayed ; 
so  forcible  was  the  effect  upon  her  mind, 
of  the  contrast  of  her  immediate  situa- 
tion with  that  so  recently  quitted.  Mrs. 
Howel  was  all  politeness  to  her ;  Lord 
Melbury  appeared  to  have  no  study,  but 
whether  to  shew  her  most  admiration  or 
respect ;  and  Lady  Aurora  behaved  to 
her  with  a  sweetness  that  wenl^,3,traight 
to  her  heart. 


C     ^55     ) 

It  was  now  that  they  first  became  ac-' 
quainted  with  her  uncommon  musical 
talents.  Lady  Aurora  had  a  piano 
forte  in  lier  room;  and  Mrs.  Howel  said, 
that  if  Miss  Ellis  could  play  Her  Lady- 
ship an  air  or  two,  it  -might  help  to 
amuse,  yet  keep  her  silent.  Ellis  in- 
stantly went  to  the  instrument,  and 
there  performed,  in  so  fine  a  style,  a 
composition  of  Haydn,  that  Mrs.  Howel, 
who,  though  by  no  means  a  scientific 
judge  of  music,  was  sufficiently  in  the 
habit  of  going  to  concerts,  to  have  ac- 
quired the  skill  of  discriminating  excel- 
lence from  mediocrity,  was  struck  with 
wonder, and  consi^ratulated  both  her  youncr 

guest  and  herself,  in  so  seasonable  an  ac- 
quisition of  so  accomplished  a  visitor. 
"Lord  Melbury,  who  was  himself  a 
tolerable  proficient  upon  the  violoncello, 
was  era'aptured  at  this  discovery  ;  and 
Lady  Aurora,  whose  whole  soul  was  music, 
felt  almost  dissolved  with  tender  pleasure. 
Nor  ended  here  either  their  surprise  or 
their  satisfiiction ;  they  soon  learnt  that 


^^iie  played  d^q  ugor^  ^t,li^^.Jiarp ;  Lord 
Melbury  instantly  went  forth  in  search 
of  one  ;  and  it  was  then,  as  this  was  the 
instrument  which  she  had  most  particu- 
larly studied,  that  Ellis  completed  her 
conquest  of  their  admiration  :  for  with 
the  harp  she  was  prevailed  upon  to  sing  j 
and  the  sweetness  of  her  voice,  the  deli- 
cacy of  its  tones,  her  taste  and  ex- 
pression, in  which  her  soul  seemed  to 
harmonize  with  her  accents,  had  an 
effect  so  delightful  upon  her  auditors, 
that  Mrs.  Howel  could  scarcely  find 
phrases  for  the  compliments  which  she 
thought  merited  j  Lord  Melbury  burst 
into  the  most  rapturous  applause ;  and 
Lady  Aurora  was  enchanted,  was  fas- 
cinated :  she  caught  the  sweet  sounds, 
with  almost  extatic  attention,  hung  oi> 
them  with  the  most  melting  tenderness, 
entreated  to  hear  the  same  air  again  and 
again,  and  felt  a  gratitude  for  the  delight 
which  she  received,  that  washardly  inferior 
to  that  which  her  approbation  bestowed^ 
Eager   to   improve  these  favouiabk^ 


"t^ensatiohs,  Ellis,  to  vary  the  amusements 
^i>f  Lady  Aurora,  in  this  interval  of  re- 
tirement,  proposed  reading.  And  here 
again  hfer  powers  gave  the  utmost  plea- 
'Sfre'r^hether  she  took  a  French  au thou i**, 
'or  an  English  one;  the  accomplished 
<Boileau,  or  the  penetrating  Pone ;  the 
teMerlj^-refined'ltacirie,  or^  the  all-per- 
vading Shakespeare ;  her  tones,  her  in- 
telligefnde,  her  skilful  modulations,  gave 
force  and  meaning  to  every  word,  and 
proved  ahke  her  understanding  and  her 

^''Brilliant,  however,  as  were  her  talents, 
all  the  success  which  they  ohtalned  was 
sh'Sft  of  that  produced  by  her  manners 
and  conversation :  in  the  former  there 
wkS 'ft' gentleness,  in  the  latte^  a  spirit, 
that  excited  an  interest  for  her  in  the 
whole  house;  but,  while  generally  en-^ 
gdgrng  to  all  By 'Ker  general  merit,  to 
Lady  Aurora  she  had  peculiar  attrac*' 
tions,  from  the  excess  of  sensibility  with 
which  she  received  even  the  smalie'sc 
attentiotis.     She  Seemed  impressed  with 


(    258    ) 

a  gratitude  that  struggled  for  words, 
without  the  power  of  obtaining  such  as 
could  satisfy  it.  Pleasure  slione  lustrous 
in  her  fine  eyes,  every  time  that  they 
met  those  of  Lady  Aurora ;  but  if  that 
young  lady  took  her  hand,  or  spoke  to 
her  with  more  than  usual  softness, 
tears,  which  she  vainly  strove  to  hide, 
rolled  fast  down  her  cheeks,  but  which, 
though  momentarily  overpowering,  were 
no  sooner  dispersed,  than  every  feature 
became  re-animated  with  glowing  viva- 
city. 

Yet,  that  some  latent  sorrow  hung 
upon  her  mind,  Lady  Aurora  soon  felt 
convinced ;  and  that  some  solicitude  or 
suspense  oppressed  her  spirits,  was 
equally  evident:  she  was  constantly 
watchful  for  the  post,  and  always 
startled  at  sight  of  a  letter.  Lady  Aurora 
■was  too  delicate  to  endeavour  to  deve- 
lope  the  secret  cause  of  this  uneasiness ; 
but  the  good  breeding  which  repressed 
the  manifestation  of  curiosity,  made  the 
interest  thus   excited  sink  so  much  the 


C    259    ) 

deeper  into  her  mind  ;  and,  in  a  short 
time,  her  every  feeling,  and  almost  every 
thought,  were  absorbed  in  tender  com- 
miseration for  unknown  distresses,  which 
she  firmly  believed  to  be  undeserved;  and 
which,  however  nobly  supported,  seemed 
too  poignant  for  constant  suppression. 

Lady  Aurora,  who  had  just  reached 
her  sixteenth  year,  was  now  budding 
into  life,  wath  equal  loveliness  of  mind 
and  person.  She  was  fair,  but  pale, 
with  elegant  features,  a  face  perfectly 
oval,  and  soft  expressive  blue  eyes,  of 
which  the  "  liquid  lustre''  spoke  a 
heart  that  was  the  seat  of  sensibility  ;  yet 
not  of  that  weak  romantic  cast,  formed 
by  early  and  futile  love-sick  reading, 
either  in  novels  or  poems ;  but  of  com- 
passionate feeling  for  woes  Vv'hich  she 
did  not  suffer  ;  and  of  anxious  solicitude 
to  lessen  distress  bv  kind  offices,  and 
affliction  by  tender  sympathy. 

With  a  character  thus  innately  virtuous, 

joined  to  a  disposition  the  most  amiably 

affectionate,  so  attractive  a  young  crea- 


(     cl6o     ) 

ture  as  the  Incognita  could  not  fail  to  be 
in  unison.  Without  half  her  powers  of 
pleasing,  the  most  perfect  good  will  of 
Lady  Aurora  would  have  been  won,  by 
the  mere  surmize  that  she  was  not 
happy  :  but  when,  to  an  idea  so  affecting 
to  her  gentle  mind,  were  added  the 
quick  intelligence,  the  graceful  manners, 
the  touching  sense  of  kindness,  and  the 
rare  accomplishments  of  Ellis,  so  warm 
ail  interest  was  kindled  in  the  generous 
bosom  of  Lady  Aurora,  that  the  desire 
to  serve  and  to  give  comfort  to  her  new 
favourite,  became,  in  a  short  time,  indis- 
pensable  to  her  own  peace.  •^fi'^H 

^'  Mrs.  Howel,  the  lady  with  whom  she 
was  at  present  a  guest,  possessed  none 
of  the  endearing  qualities  which  could 
catch  the  affections  of  a  mind  of  so  deli- 
cate a  texture  as  that  of  Lady  Aurora. 
She  was  well  bred,  well  born,  and  not 
ill  educated  j  but  her  heart  was  cold, 
her  manners  were  stiff,  her  opinions  were 
austere,  and  her  resolutions  were  im- 
moveable.     Yet  this  character,  with  the 


(       26l       ) 

general  esteem  in  which,  for  unimpeach- 
able conduct,  she  was  held  by  the  world, 
was  the  inducement  which  led  her 
cousin,  Lord  Denmeath,  the  uncle  and 
guardian  of  Lady  Aurora,  to  ^x  upon 
her  as  a  proper  person  for  taking  his 
ward  into  public  ;  the  tender  and  facile 
nature  of  that  young  lady,  demanding, 
he  thought,  all  the  guard  which  the  firm- 
ness of  Mrs.  Howel  could  afford.  :,., 
:  Lord  Melbury  was  two  years  the  senior 
of  Lady  Aurora  :  unassuming  from  his 
rank,  and  unspoiled  by  early  indepen- 
dence, he  was  open,  generous,  kind- 
hearted  and  sincere  ;  and  though,  from 
the  ardour  of  juvenile  freedom,  and  the 
credulity  of  youth,  he  was  easily  led 
astray,  an  instinctive  love  of  right,  and 
the  acute  self-reproaches  which  followed 
his  least  deviations,  were  conscious,  and 
rarely  erring  guarantees,  that  his  riper 
years  would  be  happy  in  the  wisdom  of 
goodness.        ■^^^''  ^,^,,, 

s   in  a  house   such  as  this,  loved  and 
compassionated  by  Lady  Aurora,  admired 


(       262      ) 

hy  Lord  Melbury,  and  esteemed  by  Mrs» 
Howel,  what  felicity  was  enjoyed  by  its 
new  guest!  Her  suspenses  and  difficul- 
ties, though  never  forgotten,  were  rather 
gratefully  than  patiently  endured  ;  and 
she  felt  as  if  she  could  scarcely  desire 
their  termination,  if  it  should  part  her 
from  such  heart-soothing  society. 

Smoothly  thus  glided  the  hours,  till 
nearly  a  fortnight  elapsed.  Lady  Aurora, 
though  recovered,  saying,  that  she  pre- 
ferred this  gentle  social  life,  to  the  gayer 
or  more  splendid  scenes  offered  to  her 
abroad :  yet  neither  with  gaiety  nor 
splendour  had  she  quarrelled ;  it  was 
Ellis  whom  she  could  not  bear  to  quit ; 
Ellis,  whose  attractions  and  sweetness 
charmed  her  heart,  and  whose  secret 
disturbance  occupied  all  her  thoughts. 

The  admiration  of  Lord  Melbury  was 
wrought  still  higher ;  yet  the  constant 
respect  attending  it,  satisfied  Mrs.  Hovv'el, 
who  would  else  have  been  alarmed,  that 
his  chief  delight  was  derived  from  seeing 
that  his  sister,  whom  he  adored,  had  a 


(     *63     ) 

companion  so  peculiarly  to  her  taste. 
Severely,  however,  Mrs.  Howel  watched 
and  investigated  every  look,  every  speech, 
every  turn  of  the  head  of  Ellis,  with 
regard  to  this  young  nobleman ;  well 
aware  that,  as  he  was  younger  than  her- 
self, though  her  beauty  was  in  its  prime, 
his  safety  might  depend,  more  rationally, 
upon  her  own  views,  or  her  own  honour, 
than  upon  his  prudence  or  indifference  : 
but  all  that  she  observed  tended  to  raise 
Ellis  yet  more  highly  in  her  esteem.  The 
behaviour  of  that  young  person  was 
open,  pleasing,  good-humoured  and  un- 
affected. It  was  evident  that  she  \vished 
to  be  thought  well  of  by  Lord  Melbury; 
but  it  appeared  to  be  equally  evident 
that  she  honourably  deserved  his  good 
opinion.  Her  desire  to  give  him 
pleasure  was  unmixt  with  any  species  of 
coquetry :  it  was  as  wide  from  the  dan- 
gerous toil  of  tender  languor,  as  from 
the  fascinating  snares  of  alluring  play- 
fulness. The  whole  of  her  demeanour 
had  a  decorum,  and  of  her  conduct  a 


(    364    ) 

correctness,  as  striking  to  the  taste  of 
Mrs.  Howel,  as  her  conversation,  her 
accomplishments,  and  her  sentiments 
were  to  that  of  the  youthful  brother  and 
sister.  Mrs.  Howel  often  begged  Lady 
Aurora  to  remark,  that  this  was  the  only 
young  lady  w^iom  she  had  ever  invited 
to  her  house  upon  so  short  an  ac- 
quaintance ;  nor  should  she,  even  to 
oblige  Her  Ladyship,  have  made  this  ex- 
ception to  her  established  rules,  but  that 
she  knew  Mrs.  Maple  to  be  scrupulosity 
itself,  with  respect  to  the  female  friends 
whose  intimacy  she  sanctioned  with  her 
nieces.  It  was  well  known,  indeed,  she 
observed,  that  Mrs.  Maple  was  forced  to 
be  the  more  exact  in  these  points  on 
account  of  the  extraordinary  liberties 
taken  by  the  eldest  Miss  Joddrel,  who, 
being  now  entirely  independent,  fre- 
quently flung  off  the  authority  of  her 
aunt,  and  did  things  so  strange,  and  saw 
people  so  singular,  that  she  continually 
distressed  Mrs.  Maple.  Miss  Ellis,  there- 
fore, having  been  brought  back  to  her 


(    265    ) 

native  land,  by  one  so  nice  in  these 
matters,  must  certainly  be  a  young  lady' 
of  good  family  ;  though  there  seemed 
reason  to  a[^prehend,  that  she  was  an 
orphan,  and  that  she  possessed  little  or  no 
portion,  by  her  never  naming  her  friends 
nor  her  situation,  notwithstanding  they 
were  subjects  to  which  Mrs.  Howel  often 
tried  to  lead. 


VOL.  I.  N 


(^266     ) 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

T  ADY   Aurora  being  now   perfectly 

..  well,  -and  the  period  of  her  visit  at^ 
Brighthelmstone  nearly  expired,  Mrs. 
Howel  could  not  dispense  with  re-,j 
plating  her  dinner-invitation  to  Mrs. 
Mi^p]e;and,  three  days  previously  to 
the  return  of  Lady  Aurora  to  her 
uncle,  it  was  accepted. 

The  whole  Lewes  party  felt  the  most , 
caser  curiosity  to  see  Ellis  in  her  new 
dwelling;  but  not  trifling  was  the  effort 
required  by  Mrs.  Maple  to  preserve  . 
any  self-command,  w^hen  she  witnessed 
the  high  style  in  which  that  young  person 
was  treated  throughout  the  house. 
Harleigh  hastened  to  make  his  compli- 
ments to  her,  with  an  air  of  pleasure 
that  spoke  sympathising  congratulation. 
Elinor  was  all  eye,  all  scrutiny,  but  all 
silence.     Jreton   assumed,    perforce,    a 


(i  267  ) 

tone  of  respect ;  and  Selina,  with  such 
an  example  as  Lady  Aurora  for  her 
support,  flew  to  embrace  her  protegee  ; 
and  to  relate,  amongst  sundry  other 
little  histories,  that  Mr.  Harleigh  had 
been  going  back  to  town,  only  Aunt 
Maple  had  begged  him  to  stay,  till 
something  could  be  brought  about  with 
regard  to  his  brother  Dennis,  who  was 
grown  quite  affronted  at  sister  Elinor's 
long  delays. 

Mrs.  Maple,  almost  the  whole  dinner- 
time, had  the  mortification  to  hear, 
echoing  from  the  sister  to  the  brother, 
and  re-echoed  from  Mrs.  Howel,  the 
praises  of  Miss  Ellis  ;  how  deliglitfuily 
the  retirement  of  Lady  Aurora  had 
passed  in  her  society ;  the  sweetness  of 
her  disposition,  the  variety  of  her 
powers,  and  her  amiable  activity  in 
seeking  to  make  them  useful.  Not 
daring  to  dissent,  Mrs.  Maple,  with  forced 
smiles,  gave  a  tacit  concurrence ;  while 
the  bright  glow  that  animated  tlie  com- 
plexion, and  every  feature,  of  Harleigh, 

N    2 


(     268     ) 

spoke  that  unequivocal  approbation  which 
comes  warm  from  the  heart. 

EHnor,  whose  eyes  constantly  followed 
his,  seemed  sick  during  the  whole  re- 
past, of  which  she  scarcely  at  all  partook. 
If  Ellis  offered  to  serve  her,  or  enquired 
''after  her  health,  she  darted  at  her  an 
eye  so  piercing,  that  ElHs,  shrinking 
and  alarmed,  determined  to  address 
her  no  more  ;  though  again,  when  any 
opportunity  presented  itself,  for  shewing 
some  attention,  the  resolution  was  in- 
voluntarily set  aside ;  but  always  with 
equal  ill  success,  every  attempt  to  soften, 
exciting  looks  the  most  terrific. 

Lady  Aurora  surprised  one  of  these 
glances,  and  saw  its  chilling  effect. 
Astonished,  at  once,  and  grieved,  she 
felt  an  impulse  to  rise,  and  to  protect 
from  such  another  shock  her  new  and 
tenderly  admired  favourite.  She  now 
easily  conceived  why  kindness  was  so 
touching  to  her ;  yet  how  any  angry 
sensation  could  find  its  way  in  the  breast 
of  Miss  Joddrel,  or  of  any  human  being, 

^3 


(     269     ) 

against  such  sweetness  and  such  ex- 
cellence, her  gentle  mind,  free  from 
every  feeling  of  envy,  jealousy,  or  wrath, 
could  form  no  conjecture.  She  sighed 
to  withdraw  her  from  a  house  where  her 
merits  were  so  ill  appreciated  ;  and  could 
hardly  persuade  herself  to  speak  to  any 
one  else  at  the  table,  from  the  eager- 
ness with  which  she  desired  to  dispel 
the  gloom  produced  by  Elinor's  cloudy 
brow. 

.  The  looks  of  Elinor  had  struck  Mrs. 
Howel  also ;  but  not  with  similar  com- 
passion for  their  object  ;  it  was  with 
alarm  for  herself.  A  sudden,  though 
vague  idea,  seized  her,  to  the  disadvan- 
tage of  Ellis.  With  all  her  accomplish- 
ments, all  her  elegance,  was  she,  at  last, 
but  a  dependant  ?  Might  she  be  smiled 
or  frowned  upon  at  will  ?  And  had  she 
herself  admitted  into  her  house,  upon 
equal  terms,  a  person  of  such  a  descrip- 
tion ? 

Doubt  soon  gives  birth  to  suspicion, 
and  suspicion  is  the  mother  of  surmise, 

N  3 


'r 


(      27«^      ) 

It  was  now  strange  that  she  should  have 
been  told  nothing  of  the  family  and  con- 
dition of  Miss  Ellis;  there  must  be 
some  reason  for  silence  ;  and  the  reason 
conkl  not  be  a  good  one. 

Yet,  was  it  possible  that  Mrs.  Maple 
'Could  have  been  negligent  upon  such  a  ' 
subject  ?  Mrs.  Maple  who,  far  from  being 
dangerously  facile,  in  forming  any  con- 
nexion, was  proud,  was  even  censorious 
about  every  person  that  she  knew  or  saw? 

Mrs.  Howel  now  examined  the  beha- 
,  viour  of  Mrs.  Maple  herself  to  Ellis ; 
and  this  scrutiny  soon  shewed  her  its  en- 
tire constraint ;  the  distance  which  she 
observed  when  not  forced  to  notice  her  ; 
the  unwilling  civility,  where  any  atten- 
tion was  indispensable. 

Something  must  certainly  be  wTong ; 
and  she  determined,  in  the  course  of  the 
evening,  to  find  an  opportunity  for  mi- 
nutely, nay  rigorously,  questioning  Mrs. 
Maple.  Ellis,  meanwhile,  fearing  no  one 
but  Elinor,  and  watching  no  one  but 
Lady  Aurora,  found  sufficient  occupa- 


•^uc 


(       271        ) 

tion  in  the  alternate  panic  and  consola- 
tion thus  occasioned ;  or  if  any  chasm 
occurred,  Lord  Melbury  with  warm 
assiduities,  and  Harleigh  with  delicate 
attentions,  were  always  at  hand  to  fill 
it  up. 

When,  early  in  the  evening,  that  the 
horses  might  rest,  the  carriage  of  Mrs. 
Maple  arrived,  the  groom  sent  in  a 
letter,  which,  he  said,  had  just  been 
brought  to  Lewes,  according  to  order, 
by  a  messenger  from  the  Brighthelmstone 
post-office.  Elhs  precipitately  arose  ; 
but  Mrs.  Maple  held  out  her  hand  to 
take  it;  though,  upon  perceiving  the 
::direction,  *  For  L.  S.,  to  be  left  at  the 
post-office  at  Brighthelmstone  till  called 
for,*  fearing  that  Mrs.  Howel,  who  sat 
next  to  her,  should  joerceive  it  also, 
she  hastily  said,  "  It  is  not  for  me  ;  let 
the  man  take  it  back  again;"  and,  turning 
the  seal  upwards,  re-delivered  it  to  the 
servant ;  anxious  to  avoid  exhibiting  an 
address,  which  might  lead  to  a  discovery 
that  she  now  deemed  personally  igna* 
minious. 

N  4 


Ellis,  at  this  order,  reseated  herself^ 
not  daring  to  make  a  public  claim,  but 
resolving  to  follow  the  footman  out,  and 
to  desire  to  look  at  the  direction  of  the 
letter,  Elinor,  however,  stopping  him, 
took  it  herself,  and,  after  a  slight  glance, 
threw  it  upon  a  table,  saying,  "  Leave 
it  for  who  will  to  own  it/* 

Ellis,  changing  colour,  again  arose;  and 
would  have  seized  it  for  examination, 
had  not  Ireton,  who  was  nearer  to  the 
table,  taken  it  up,  and  read,  aloud,  *  For 
L.  S/  Again  Ellis  dropt  upon  her  chair, 
distressed  and  perplexed,  between  eager- 
ness to  receive  her  letter,  and  shame  and 
fear  at  acknowledging  so  mysterious  a 
direction. 

Her  dread  of  the  consequence  of  dis- 
obeying Mrs.  Maple,  had  made  her, 
hitherto,  defer  relating  her  situation 
with  regard  to  that  lady ;  and  she  had 
always  flattered  herself,  that  the  longer 
it  was  postponed,  the  greater  would  be 
her  chance  of  inspiring  such  an  interest 
as  might  cause  an  indulgent  hearing. 


Harleigh  now  took  the  letter  himself, 
and,  calmly  saying  that  he  would  see  it 
safely  delivered,  put  it  into  his  pocket. 

Ellis,  thus  reheved  from  making  an 
abrupt  and  unseasonable  avowal,  yet 
sure  that  her  letter  was  in  honourable 
custody,  with  difficulty  refrained  from 
thanking  him.  Lord  Melbury  and  Mrs. 
Howel  thought  there  was  somethins:  odd 
and  unintelligible  in  the  business,  but 
forbore  any  enquiry  ;  Lady  Aurora, 
observing  distress  in  her  amiable  Miss 
Ellis,  felt  it  herself;  but  revived  with  her 
revival ;  and  the  rest  of  the  company, 
though  better  informed,  were  compul- 
satorily  silenced  by  the  frowns  of  Mrs. 
Maple. 

Harleigh  then,  askingfor  a  pen  and  some 
ink  to  write  a  letter,  left  the  room.  Ellis, 
tortured  with  impatience,  and  hoping  to 
meet  with  him,  soon  followed.  JShe  was 
not  mistaken  :  he  had  seated  himself  to 
write  in  an  ante-room,  wliich  she  must 
necessarily  cross  if  she  mounted  to  Jier 
chamber. 

N  5 


(     ^74     ) 

He  sortlj  arose,  put  the  letter  into  her 
l)^ri(J,  bowed,  and  returned  to  his  chair 
without  speaking.  She  felt  his  delicacy 
as  strongly  as  his  kindness,  but,  breath- 
less with  eagerness,  observed  the. silence 
of  which  he  set  the  example,  and,  thank- 
ing him  only  by  her  looks,  flew  up  stairs. 

She  was  long  absent,  and,  when  she 
descended,  it  was  with  steps  so  slow,  and 
with  an  air  so  altered,  that  Harleigh, 
who  was  still  writing  in  the  room  through 
which  she  had  to  pass,  saw  instantly  that 
her  letter  had  brought  disappointment 
and  sorrow. 

He  had  not,  now,  the  same  self-com- 
mand as  while  he  had  hoped  and  thought 
that  she  was  prosperous.  He  approached 
her,  and,  with  a  face  of  deep  concern,  en- 
quired if  there  were  any  thing,  of  any 
sort,  in  w^hich  he  could  have  the  happi- 
ness  to  be  of  use  to  her  ?  He  stopt ;  but 
she  felt  his  riffht  to  a  curiositv  which  he 
did  not  avow,  and  immediately  answered  : 
'  My  letter  brings  me  no.  consolation ! 
on  the  contrary,  it  tells  me  that  I  must 

3 


t 


'::)ii 


(    275    ;       /  -  / 

4epend  wholly  upon  myself,  and  expect 
no  kind  of  aid,  nor  even  any  intelligence 
again,  perhaps  for  a  considerable  time !" 

"  Is  that  possible  ?'*  cried  he,  "  Does 
no  one  follow  —  or  is  no  one  to  meet 
you  ?  —  Is  there  no  one  whose  duty  it  is 
to  guard  and  protect  you  ?  to  draw  you 
from  a  situation  thus  precarious,  thus 
unfitting,  and  to  which  I  am  convinced 
you  are  wholly  unaccustomed?^* 

"  It  is  fatally  true,  at  this  moment,** 
answered  Ellis,  with  a  sigh,  "  that 
no  one  can  follow  or  support  me  ;  yet  I 
am  not  deserted  —  I  am  simply  unfortu- 
nate. Neither  can  any  one  here  meet 
me :  the  few  to  w^hom  I  have  any  right 
to  apply,  know  not  of  my  arrival  —  and 
must  not  know  it  1 —  How  I  am  to  exist 
till  I  dare  make  some  claim,  I  cannot 
yet  devise  :  but,  indeed,  had  it  not  been 
under  this  kind,  protecting  roof,  that  I 
have  received  such  a  letter  —  I  think  I 
must  have  sunk  from  my  own  dismay  :  — 
but  Lady  Aurora — "  Her  voice  fl\iled, 
and  she  stopt. 

N   6 


(276    ) 

Lady  Aurora/*  cried  Harleigh,  "  is 
an  angel.  Her  quick  appreciation  of 
.your, worth,  shews  her  understanding  to 
be  a?  good  as  her  soul  is  pure.  I 
can  \yhnyou  no  better  protection. — 
But  povcloi\  tne,  if  I  venture  again 
to  v^^;;vvt>>i'.y  surprise  —  I  had  almost 
said  ttny  indignation  — that  those  to  whom 
you  belong,  can  deem  it  right  —  safe 
.-—or  decent,  to  commit  you  —  young 
as  you  are,  full  of  attractions,  and 
evidentl);  unused  to  struggle  against  the 
dangers  of  the  world,  and  the  hardships 
of  life,  —  to  commit  you  to  strangers  — 
to  chance  !  —  " 

"  I  know  not  how,'*  she  cried,  '•  to 
leave  you  under  so  false  an  impression 
of  those  to  whom  I  belong.  They  are 
not  to  blame.  They  are  more  unhappy 
than  i.  am  myself  at  my  loneliness  and  its 
niysteiy:  and  for  my  poverty  and  my 
difficulties,  they  are  far,  far  from  sus- 
pecting them  biTJiey  are  ignorant  of  my 
loss  at.  Dover,  and  they  cannot  suppose 
that  I  have  missed  the  friend  whom  I 
came  over  to  join,'* 


(     277     ) 

*'  Honour  me,"  cried  he,  ^^  with  a 
commission,  and  I  will  engage  to  dis- 
cover, at  least,  whether  that  frieiiti  be 
yet  at  Brighthelmstone.*'  >    *•' 

''  And  without  naming  for  >iVfiOin  you 
seek  her?*'  cried  Ellis,  h'cr  €)V*  bright- 
ening with  sudden  hope.  ^'^^   ^•'  \ 

"  Naming?*'  repeated  he,  \tit*f>  an 
arch  smile. 

She  blushed,  deeply,  in  recollecting 
lierself ;  but,  seized  with  a  sudden  dread 
of  Elinor,  drew  back  from  her  inadver- 
tant  acceptance  ;  and,  though  vrarmly 
thanking  him,  dechned  his  services ; 
adding  that,  by  waiting  at  Brighthelm- 
stone,  she  must,  ultimately,  meet  her 
friend,  since  all  her  letters  and  direc- 
tions were  for  that  spot. 

Harleigh  was  palpably  disappointed  ; 
and  Ellis,  hurt  herself,  opened  her 
letter,  to  lessen,  she  told  him,  his 
wonder,  perhaps  censure,  of  her  secresy, 
by  reading  to  him  its  injunction.  This 
was  the  sentence  :  "  Seek,  then,  un- 
named and  unknown,  during  this  dread 


C    278    ) 

interval  of  separation,  to  reside  wirli 
some  worthy  and  happy  family,  whose 
social  felicity  may  bring,  at  least, 
reflected  happiness  to  your  own  breast." 

«  That  family,"  she  added,  «  I  flatter 
nayself  I  have  found  here  !  for  this  house, 
from  the  uniform  politeness  of  Mrs. 
Howel,  the  ingenuous  goodness  of  Lord 
Melbury,  and  the  angelic  sweetness  of 
his  sister,  has  been  to  me  an  earthly 
paradise." 

She  then  proceeded,  without  waiting 
to  receive  his  thanks  for  this  communi- 
cation ;  which  he  seemed  hardly  to 
know  how  to  offer,  from  the  fulness 
of  his  thoughts,  his  varying  conjectures, 
his  conviction  that  her  friends,  like 
herself,  were  educated,  feeling,  and 
elegant ;  and  his  increased  wonder  at 
the  whole  of  her  position.  Charming, 
charming  creature !  he  cried,  what  can 
have  cast  thee  into  this  forlorn  con- 
dition ?  And  by  what  means  —  and 
by  whom  —  art  thou  to  be  rescued  ? 


(    279    ) 

Not  chusing  immediately  to  follow,  he 
seated  himself  again  to  his  pen. 

Somewhat  recovered  by  this  conver- 
sation, Ellis,  now,  was  able  to  command 
an  air  of  tolerable  composure,  for  re^ 
entering  the  drawing-room,  where  she 
resolved  to  seek  Elinor  at  once,  and 
endeavour  to  deprecate  her  displeasure, 
by  openly  repeating  to  her  all  that 
she  had  entrusted  to  Mr.  Harleigh. 

As  she  approached  the  door,  every 
voice  seemed  employed  in  eager  talk ; 
and,  as  she  opened  it,  she  obsvered 
earnest  separate  parties  formed  round 
the  room  ;  but  the  moment  that  slie 
appeared,  every  one  broke  off  abruptly 
from  what  he  or  she  was  saying,  and 
a  completely  dead  silence  ensued. 

Surprized  by  so  sudden  a  pause,  she 
seated  herself  on  the  first  chair  that  was 
vacant,  while  she  looked  around  her,  to  see 
whom  she  could  most  readily  join.  Mrs. 
Howel  and  Mrs. Maple  had  been,  evident- 
ly, in  the  closest  discourse,  but  now  both 
Hxed  their  eyes  upon  the  ground,  as  if 


(     28o     ) 

agreeing,  at  once,  »tc?j,  sa,}^  ..»p;:  more. 
Ireton  was  chatting,  with  lively,  vohjbi- 
lity,  to  Lord  Melbury,  who  attended  to 
him  with  an  air  that  seemed  scared 
rather  than  curious  j  but  neither  of  them 
now  added  another  word.  Elinor  stood 
sullenly  alone,  leaning  against  the  chim- 
ney-piece, with  her  eyes  fastened  upon 
the  door,  as  if  watching  for  its  opening : 
but  not  all  the  previous  resolution  of 
Ellis,  could  inspire  courage  sufficient 
to  address  her,  after  viewing  the  in- 
creased sternness  of  her  countenance. 
Selina  v/as  prattling  busily  to  Lady 
Aurora ;  and  Lady  Aurora,  who  sat 
nearly  behind  her,  and  whom  Ellis  per- 
ceived the  last,  was  listening  in  silence, 
and  bathed  in  tears. 

Terror  and  affliction  seized  upon 
Ellis  at  this  sight.  Her  first  impulse 
was  to  fly  to  Lady  Aurora  j  but  she  felt 
discouraged,  and  even  awed,  by  the 
strangeness  of  the  general  taciturnity, 
occasioned  by  her  appearance.  Her 
eyes  next,   anxiously,   sought  those  of 


(     28i     } 

Lord  Melbury,  and  instantly  met  tliem  ; 
but  with  a  look  of  gravity  so  unusual,  that 
her  own  were  hastily  withdrawn,  and 
fixt,  disappointed,  upon  the  ground. 
Nor  did  he,  as  hitherto  had  been  his 
constant  custom,  when  he  saw  her  dis- 
engaged, come  to  sit  by  her  side.  No 
one  spoke;  no  one  seemed  to  know  how 
to  begin  a  general  or  comm.on  con- 
versation ;  no  one  could  find  a  word  to 
say. 

What,  cried  she,  to  herself,  can  have 
happened?  What  can  have  been  said 
or  done,  in  this  short  absence,  to  make 
my  sight  thus  petrifying?  Have  they 
told  what  they  know  of  my  circum- 
stances? And  has  that  been  sufficient 
to  deprive  m.e  of  all  consideration  ?  to 
require  even  avoidance  ?  And  is  Lord 
Melbury  thus  easily  changed  ?  And 
have  I  lost  you  —  even  you!  Lady- 
Aurora  ? 

This  last  thought  drew  from  her  so 
deep  a  sigh,  that,  in  the  general  silence 
which  prevailed,  it  reached  every  ear. 


(       282       ) 

'Lady  Aurora  started,  and  looked  up  ;'and, 
at  the  view  of  her  evident  dejection,  hasti- 
ly arose,  and  was  crossing  the  room  to  join 
her;  when  Mrs.  Howel,  rising  too,  came 
between  them,  and  taking  herself  the 
hand  which  Lady  Aurora  had  extended 
for  that  of  Ellis,  led  Her  Ladyship  to  a 
seat  on  a  sofa,  where,  in  the  lowest  voice, 
she  apparently  addressed  to  her  some 
remonstrance. 

Ellis,  who  had  risen  to  meet  the  evi- 
dent approach  of  Lady  Aurora,  now 
stood  suspended,  and  with  an  air  so  em- 
barrassed,  so  perturbed,  that  Lord  Mel- 
bury,  touched  by  irresistible  compassion, 
came  forward,  and  w^ould  have  handed 
her  to  a  chair  near  the  fire ;  but  her 
heart,  after  so  sudden  an  appearance  of 
general  estrangement,  was  too  full  for 
this  mark  of  instinctive,  not  intentional 
kindness,  and  courtsying  the  thanks 
which  she  could  not  utter,  she  precipi- 
tately left  the  room. 

She  met  Harleigh  preparing  to  enter 
it,  but  passed  him  with  too  quick  a  mo- 


(     283    ) 

tion  to  be  stopt,  and  hurried  to  her 
chamber. 

There  her  disturbance,  as  potent 
from  positive  distress,  as  it  was  poignant 
from  mental  disappointment,  would 
nearly  have  amounted  to  despair,  but 
for  the  visibly  intended  support  of 
Lady  Aurora  ;  and  for  the  view  of  that 
kind  hand,  which,  though  Mrs.  Howel 
had  impeded  her  receiving,  she  could 
not  prevent  her  having  seen  stretched 
out  for  her  comfort.  The  attention, 
too,  of  Lord  Melbury,  though  its  tardi- 
ness  ill  accorded  with  his  hitherto  warm 
demonstrations  of  respect  and  kind- 
ness, shewed  that  those  feelings  were 
not  ahenated,  however  they  might  be 
shaken. 

These  two  ideas  were  all  that  now  sus- 
tained her,  till,  in  about  an  hour,  she  was 
followed  by  Selina,  who  came  to  express 
her  concern,  and  to  relate  what  had 
passed. 

Ellis  then  heard,  that  the  moment  that 
she    had    left   the   room,    Mrs.  Howel^ 


f 


284  ) 


almost  categorically,  though  with  many 
formal  apologies,  demanded  some  in- 
formation of  Mrs.  Maple,  what  account 
should  be  given  to  Lord  Denmeath,  of 
the  family  and  condition  in  life,  of  the 
young  lady  introduced,  by  Mrs.  Maple, 
into  the  society  of  Lady  Aurora  Gran- 
ville, as  Her  Ladyship  proposed  intimately 
keeping  up  the  acquaintance.  Mrs.  Ma- 
ple had  appeared  to  be  thunderstruck, 
and  tried  every  species  of  equivocation  5 
but  Mr.  Ireton  whispered  something  to 
Lord  Melbury,  upon  which  a  general 
curiosity  was  raised  \  and  Mr.  Ireton's 
laughs  kept  up  the  enquiry,  "  till,  bit 
by  bit,'*  continued  SeHna,  "  all  came 
out,  and  you  never  saw  such  a  fuss  in 
your  life!  But  when  Mrs.  Howel  found 
that  Aunt  Maple  did  not  take  you  in 
charge  from  your  friends,  because  she 
did  not  know  them  ;  and  when  Mr.  Ireton 
told  of  your  patches,  and  black  skin, 
and  ragged  dress,  Mrs.  Howel  stared  so 
at  poor  aunt,  that  I  believe  she  thought 
that  she  had  been  out  of  her  senses. 


(    285     ) 

And  then,  poor  Lady  Aurora  fell  a- 
crying,  because  Mrs.  Howel  said  that 
she  must  break  off  the  connexion.  But 
Lady  Aurora  said  that  you  might  be  just 
as  good  as  ever,  and  only  disguised  to 
make  your  escape ;  but  Mrs.  Howel 
said,  that,  now  you  were  got  over,  if 
there  were  not  something  bad,  you 
would  speak  out.  So  then  poor  Lady 
Aurora  cried  again,  and  beckoned  to  me 
to  come  and  tell  her  more  particulars. 
Sister  Elinor,  all  the  time,  never  spoke 
one  word.  And  this  is  what  we  were 
all  doing  when  you  came  in." 

Ellis,  who,  with  pale  cheeks,  but  with- 
out comment,  had  listened  to  this  re- 
cital, now  faintly  enquired  what  had 
passed  after  she  had  retired. 

"  Why,  just  then,  in  came  Mr.  Har- 
leigh,  and  Aunt  Maple  gave  him  a  hun- 
dred reproaches,  for  beginning  all  the 
mischief,  by  his  obstinacy  in  bringing 
you  into  the  boat,  against  the  will  of 
every  creature,  except  just  the  old  Ad- 
miral, who  knew  nothing  of  the  world, 


(     286     ) 

and  couIB  judge  no  better.  He  looKed 
quite  thunderstruck,  not  knowing  a  word 
of  what  had  passed.  However,  He  soon 
enough  saw  that  all  was  found  out ;  for 
Mrs.  Howe!  said,  "  I  hope.  Sir,  you  will 
advise  us,  how  to  get  rid  of  this  person, 
without  letting  the  servants  know  the 
indiscretion  we  have  been  drawn  into, 
by  treating  her  like  one  of  ourselves.*' 

«  Well?     and    Mr.    Harleigh*s     an- 
gvver  ? — "  cried  the  trembling  Ellis. 

"  Miss  Joddrel,  Madam,  he  said, 
knows  as  well  as  myself,  all  the  circum- 
stances  which  have  softened  this  mystery, 
and  rendered  this  young  lady  interesting- '"^ 
in  its  defiance.  She  has  generously, 
therefore,  held  out  her  protection;  of 
which  the  young  lady  has  shewn  herself^ 
to  be  worthy,  upon  every  occasion,  since 
we  have  known  her,  by  rectitude  and 
dignity  :  yet  she  is,  at  this  time,  without 
friends,  support,  or  asylum:  in  such  a 
situation,  thus  young  and  helpless,  and 
thus  irreproachably  conducting  herself, 
who  is  the  female — what  is  her  age. 


(    2S7     ) 

what  her  rank,  that  ought  not  to  assist  and 
try  to  preserve  so  distressed  a  young  per- 
son from  evil  ?  Lady  Aurora,  upon  this, 
came  forward,  and  said,  *  How  happy 
you  make  me,  Mr.  Harleigh,  by  thus 
reconcihng  me  to  my  wishe^!*  And  then 
she  told  Mrs.  Howel  that,  as  the  affair 
no  longer  appeared  to  be  so  desperate, 
she  hoped  that  there  could  be  no  objec- 
tion to  her  coming  up  stairs,  to  invite 
you  down  herself.  But  Mrs.  Howel 
would  not  consent." 

"  Sweet!  sweet  Lady  Auroral!"  broke 
forth  from  Ellis :  "  And  Lord  Melbury  ? 
what  said  he  V 

**  Nothing ;  for  he  and  Mr.  Iretoft  left 
the  room  together,  to  go  on  with  their 
whispers,  I  believe.  And  Elinor  was 
just  like  a  person  dumb.  But  Lady  Au- 
rora and  Mr.  Harleigh  had  a  great  deal 
of  talk  with  one  another,  and  they  both 
seemed  so  pleased,  that  I  could  not  help 
thinking,  how  droll  it  would  be  if  their 
agreeing  so  about  you  should  make  them 
marry  one  another." 


(     288     ) 

"  Then  indeed  would  two  beings 
meet,"  said  Ellis,  "  who  would  render 
that  state  all  that  can  be  perfect  upon 
earth  ;  for  with  active  benevolence  like 
his,  with  purity  and  sweetness  like  her's, 
what  could  be  wanting  ? — -And  then,  in- 
deed, I  might  find  an  asylum!" 

A  servant  came,  now,  to  inform  Selina 
that  the  carriage  was  at  the  door,  and 
that  Mrs.  Maple  was  in  haste. 
_.  .What  a  change  did  this  day  produce 
for  Ellis  !  What  a  blight  to  her  hopes, 
what  difficulties  for  her  conduct,  what 
agitation  for  her  spirits  ! 


C     ^§9     ) 


'  CHx\FTER  XV. 

"C^LLIS,  who  soon  heard  the  carriage 
drive  off  for  Lewes,  waited  in 
terronr  to  learn  the  result  of  this 
scene  ;  almost  equally  fearful  of  losing 
the  supporting  kindness  of  Lady  Aurora 
through  timid  acquiescence,  as  of  pre- 
serving it  through  efforts  to  which  her 
temper  and  gentle  habits  were  repugnant. 

In  about  half  an  hour,  Mrs.  Howel's" 
maid  came  to  enquire  whether  Miss  EUis 
would  have  any  thing  brought  up  stairs 
for  supper;  Mrs.  Howel  having  broken  up 
the  usual  evening  party,  in  order  to  in- 
duce Lady  Aurora,  who  was  extremely 
fatigued,  to  go  to  rest. 

Not  to  rest  went  Ellis,  after  such  a 
message,  tliough  to  that  bed  which  had 
brought  to  her,  of  late,  the  repose  of 
peace  and  contentment,  and  the  alertness 
of   hope    and    pleasure.      A    thousand 

VOL.  I.  • 


(     290     ) 

schemes  crossed  her  imagination,  for 
averting  the  desertion  which  she  saw 
preparing,  and  which  her  augmenting 
attachment  to  Lady  Aurora,  made  her 
consider  as  a  misfortune  that  would  rob 
her  of  every  consolation.  But  no  plan 
occurred  that  satisfied  her  feeling  with- 
out wounding  her  dignity:  the  first 
prompted  a  call  upon  the  tender  heart 
of  Lady  Aurora,  by  unlimited  confi- 
dence ;  the  second,  a  manifestation  how 
ill  she  thought  she  merited  the  change 
of  treatment  that  she  experienced,  by 
resentfully  quitting  the  house  :  but  this 
was  no  season  for  the  smallest  voluntary 
hazard.  All  chance  of  security  hung 
upon  the  exertion  of  good  sense,  and 
the  right  use  of  reason,  which  imperi- 
ously demanded  active  courage  with 
patient  forbearance. 

She  remitted,  therefore,  forming  any 
resolution,  till  she  should  learn  that  of 
Mrs.  HoweL 

It  was  now  the  first  week  of  February, 
and,  before  the  break  of  day,  a  general 


(     291     ) 

movement  in  the  house  gave  her  cause 
to  believe  that  the  family  was  risen.  She 
hastened  to  dress  herself,  unable  to  con- 
jecture what  she  had  to  expect.  The 
commotion  continued  ;  above  and  below 
the  servants  seemed  employed,  and  in 
haste ;  and,  in  a  little  time,  some  acci- 
dental sounds  reached  her  ears,  from 
which  she  gathered  that  an  immediate 
journey  to  London  was  preparing. 

What  could  this  mean?  Was  she 
thought  so  intruding,  that  by  change  of 
abode  alone  they  could  shake  her  off? 
or  so  dangerous,  that  flight,  only,  could 
preserve  Lady  Aurora  from  her  snares  ? 
And  was  it  thus,  she  was  to  be  apprized 
that  she  must  quit  the  house  ?  Without 
a  carriage,  without  money,  and  without 
a  guide,  was  she  to  be  turned  over  to 
the  servants  ?  and  by  them  turned,  per- 
haps, from  the  door  ? 

Indignation    now   helped    to  sustain 
her ;    but  it  was  succeeded  by  the  ex- 
tremest  agitation,  when  she  saw,  from  her 
window.   Lord   Melbu  ry   mounting   his 
horse,  upon  which  he  presently  rode  off. 

o   2 


(292       ) 

And  is  it  thus,  she  cried,  that  all  .1 
thought  so  ingenuous  in  goodness,  so 
open  in  benevolence,  so  sincere  in  par- 
tiality, subsides  into  neglect,  perhaps  for- 
gptf  Illness? — And  you.  Lady  Aurora, will 
you,  also,  give  me  up  as  lightly  ? 

She  wept.  Indignation  was  gone: 
sorrow  only  remained  ;  and  she  listened 
in  sadness  for  every  sound  that  might 
proclaim  the  departure  which  she 
dreaded. 

At  length,  she  heard  a  footstep  ad- 
vance slowly  to  her  chamber,  succeeded 
by  a  tapping  at  her  door. 

Her  heart  beat  with  hope.  Was  it 
Lady  Aurora  ?  had  she  still  so  much  kind- 
ness, so  much  zeal  ?  —  She  flew  to  meet 
her  own  idea  —  but  sav/  only  the  lady  of 
the  house. 

She  sighed,  cruelly  disappointed  ;  but 
the  haughty  distance  of  Mrs.  Howel's  air 
restored  her  courage  ;  for  courage,  where 
there  is  any  nobleness  of  mind,  always 
rises  highest,  when  oppressive  pride  seeks 
to  crush  it  by  sti^died  humiliation. 

12 


(     ^93     ) 

Mrs.  Howel  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the 
face  of  Ellis,  with  an  expression  that  said. 
Can  you  bear  to  encounter  me  after  this 
discovery?  Then,  formally  announcing 
that  she  had  something  important  to 
communicate,  she  added,  "  You  will  be 
so  good  as  to  shut  the  door,"  and  seated 
herself  on  an  arm-chair,  by  the  fire  side; 
without  taking  any  sort  of  notice  that 
her  guest  was  still  standing. 

Ellis  could  far  better  brook  behaviour 
such  as  this  from  Mrs.  Maple,  from  whom 
she  had  never  experienced  any  of  a  su- 
periour  sort  ;  but  by  Mrs.  Howel  she  had 
been  invited  upon  equal  terms,  and, 
hitherto,  had  been  treated  not  onlv  v;itli 
equality  but  distinction  :  hard,  therefore, 
«he  found  it  to  endure  such  a  change ; 
yet  her  resentment  was  soon  governed 
by  her  candour,  wlien  it  brought  to  her 
mind  the  accusation  of  appearances. 

Mrs.  Ilowel  then  heQ.an  an  harangue 
palpably  studied  :  "  You  cannot,  I  thin!:, 
young  woman  —  for  you  must  excuse 
my  not  addressing  you  by  a  name  I  now 

o  3 


(     294    ) 

know  you  to  have  assumed; — you  can- 
not, I  think,  be  surprised  to  find  that  your 
stay  in  this  house  is  at  an  end.  To  avoid, 
howevier,  giving  any  publicity  to  your 
disgrace,  at  the  desire  of  Mrs.  Maple, 
who  thinks  that  its  promulgation,  in  a 
town  such  as  this,  might  expose  her,  as 
well  as  yourself,  to  impertinent  lampoons, 
I  shall  take  no  notice  of  what  has  passed 
to  any  of  my  people ;  except  to  my  house- 
keeper^ to  whom  it  is  necessary  I  should 
make  over  some  authority,  which  you 
will  not,  I  imagine,  dispute.  For  my- 
self, I  am  going  to  town  immediately 
with  Lady  Aurora.  I  have  given  out 
that  it  is  upon  sudden  business,  with 
proper  directions  that  my  domestics 
may  treat  you  with  civility.  You  will 
still  breakfast,  therefore,  in  the  parlour  ; 
and,  at  your  own  time,  you  will  ask  for  a 
chaise,  which  I  have  bespoken  to  carry 
you  back  to  Lewes.  To  prevent  any 
suspicion  in  the  neighbourhood,  I  shall 
leave  commands  that  a  man  and  horse 
may  attend  you,  in  the  same  manner  as 


t  295  ) 

when   you    came  hither.     No  remark, 
therefore,   will  follow  your  not  having 
my  own  carriage  again,  as  I  make  use  of 
it  myself.     Lord  Melbury  is  set  off  al- 
ready.    We  shall  none  of  us  return  till  I 
hear,  from  Mrs.  Maple,  that  you  have  left 
this  part  of  the  country  j  for,  as  I  can 
neither    receive    you,    nor    notice   you 
where   I   might  happen   to   meet  with 
you,  such  a  difference  of  conduct,  after 
this  long  visit,  might  excite  animadver- 
sion.   The  sooner,  therefore,  you  change 
your  quarters,  the  better ;  for  I  coincide 
in  the  opinion  of  Mrs.  Maple,  that  it  is 
wisest,  for  all  our  sakes,  that  this  trans- 
action should  not  be  spread  in  the  world* 
And  now,  young  woman,  all  I  ask  of  you 
in  return  for  the  consideration  I  shew 
you,    is   this;    that  you   will   solemnly 
engage  to  hold  no  species  of  intercourse 
with  Lady  Aurora   Granville,    or   with 
Lord    Melbury,    either    by    speech,    or 
writing,   or  message.      If  you   observe 
this,    I  shall   do  you  no  hurt ;   if  not, 
—  expect  every  punishment  my  resent- 

o  4 


(       29?      ) 

Kient  can  inflict,  and  that  of  the  noble 
family,  involved  in  the  indignity  which 
you  have  made  me  sufFer,  by  a  surrep- 
titious entrance  into  my  house  as  a 
young  lady  of  fashion." 

No  sort  of  answer  was  offered  by  Ellis. 
She  stood  motionless,  her  eyes  fixed,  and 
her  air  seeming  to  announce  her  almost 
incredulous  of  what  she  heard. 

"  Do  you  give  me,"  said  Mrs.  Howel, 
*'  this  promise  ?  Will  you  bind  yourself 
to  it  in  writing  ?" 

Ellis  still  was  silent,  and  looked  inca- 
pable of  speaking. 

"  Young  woman,"  said  Mrs.  Howel, 
with  increased  austerity,  ''  I  am  not  to 
be  trifled  with.  Will  you  bind  yourself 
to  this  agreement,  or  will  you  not  r"  " 

"  Wliat  agreement,  Madam?"  she 
now  faintly  asked. 

"  Not  to  seek,  and  even  to  refuse,  any 
sort  of  intercourse  with  Lady  Aurora 
Granville,  or  with  her  brotlier,  either  by 
word  of  mouth,  or  letter,  or  messenger  ? 
Will  you,  I  say,  bind  yourself,  upon 
your  oath,  to  this  ?" 


"  No,  Madam  !"  answered  Ellis,  with 
returning  recollection  and  courage;  "  no 
peril  can  be  so  tremendous  as  such  a 
sacrifice  !'* 

Mrs.  Howel,  rising,  said,  "  Enough! 
abide  by  the  consequence." 

She  was  leaving  the  room  ;  but  Ellis, 
affrighted,  exclaimed,  "  Ah,  Madam, 
before  you  adopt  any  violent  measures 
against  me,  deign  to  reflect  that  I  may 
be  innocent,  and  not  merit  tliem  1" 

'•  Innocent?''  repeated  Mrs.  Howel, 
with  an  air  of  inexorable  ire  ;  "  without 
a  name,  Vv'ithout  a  home,  v/ithout  a 
friend  ? — Innocent  ?  presenting  yourself 
under  false  appearances  to  one  family, 
and  under  false  pretences  to  another? 
No,  I  am  not  such  a  dupe.  And  if  your 
bold  resistance  make,  it  necessary,  for 
the  safety  of  my  young  friends,  that  I 
should  lodge  an  information  against  you, 
you  will  find,  that  people  who  enter 
houses  by  names  not  tiieir  own,  and  who 
have  no  ostensible  means  of  existence,  ' 
will  be  considered  only  as  swindlers  j  and 

o  5 


(    298     ) 

as  swindlers  be  disposed  of  as  they  de- 


serve/' 


Ellis,  turning  pale,  sunk  upon  a  chair. 

Mrs.  Howel,  stopping,  with  a  voice 
as  hard  as  her  look  was  implacable,  ad- 
ded ;  "  This  is  your  last  moment  for  re- 
pentance. Will  you  give  your  promise, 
upon  oath  ?" 

"  No,  Madam !  again  no  !"  cried 
Ellis,  starting  up  with  sudden  energy: 
*'  What  I  have  suffered  shall  teach  me 
to  suffer  more,  and  what  I  have  escaped, 
shall  give  me  hope  for  my  support ! 
But  never  w^ill  I  plight  myself,  by 
willing  promise,  to  avoid  those  whose 
virtuous  goodness  and  compassion  offer 
me  the  only  consolation,  that,  in  my  de- 
solate state,  I  can  receive  !" 

*«  Tis  well !"  said  Mrs.  Howel  "  You 
have  yourself,  then,  only,  to  thank  for 
what  ensues." 

She  now  steadily  went  on,  opened  the 
door,  and  left  the  room,  though  Ellis, 
mournfully  following  her,  called  out : 
Ah,  Madam! — ah,  Mrs.  Howel! — if  ever 


(     299     ) 

you  know  more  of  me — which,  at  least, 
is  not  impossible,  — you  will  look  back  to 
this  period  with  no  pleasure  !  —  or  with 
pleasure  only  to  that  part  of  it,  in  which 
you  received  me  at  your  house  with  po- 
liteness, hospitality,  and  kindness  !'* 

Mrs.  Howel  was  not  of  a  nature  to 
relent  in  what  she  felt,  or  to  retract 
from  what  she  said  :  the  distress,  there- 
fore, of  Ellis,  produced  not  the  smallest 
effect  upon  her ;  and,  with  her  head 
stiffly  erect,  and  her  countenance  as 
unmoved  as  her  'heart,  she  descended 
the  stairs,  and  issued,  aloud,  her  com- 
mands that  the  horses  should  immediately 
be  put  to  the  chaise. 

Ellis  shut  herselfinto  her  room,  almost 
overpowered  by  the  shock  of  this  attack, 
so  utterly  unexpected,  from  a  lady  in 
whose  character  the  leading  feature 
seemed  politeness,  and  who  always 
appeared  to  hold  that  quality  to  be 
pre-eminent  to  all  others.  But  the  expe- 
rience of  Ellis  had  not  yet  taught  her, 
how  distinct  is  the  pohteness  of  manner, 

o  6 


(     300     ) 

formed  by  the  habits  of  high  life,  to  that 
which  springs  spontaneously  from  bene- 
volence of  mind.  The  first,  the  pro- 
duct of  studied  combinations,  is  laid  aside, 
like  whatever  is  factitious,  where  there 
is  no  object  for  acting  a  part:  the 
second,  the.  child  of  sympathy,  instructs 
us  how  to  treat  others,  by  suggesting 
the  treatment  we  desire  for  ourselves; 
and  this,  as  its  feelings  are  personal, 
though  its  exertions  are  external,  de- 
mands no  effort,  waits  no  call,  and  is 
never  failingly  at  hand. 

The  gloomy  sadness  of  Ellis  was  soon 
interrupted,  by  enquiries  that  reached 
her  from  the  ball,  whether  the  trunks 
of  Lady  Aurpra  were  ready.  Is  she 
so  nearly  gone  ?  Ellis  cried  ;  Ah  !  when 
may  I  see  her  again?  —  To  the  hall,  to 
wait  in  the  hall,  she  longed  to  go 
herself,  to  catch  a  last  view,  and  to 
snatch,  if  possible,  a  kind  parting  word  ; 
but  the  tremendous  Mrs;  Howel !  —  she 
shrunk  from  the  idea  of  ever  seeing 
her  again. 


(     301     ) 

Soon  afterwards,  she  heard  the  car- 
riages drive  up  to  the  house.  vShe  now 
went  to  the  window,  io  behold,  at  least, 
the  loved  form  of  Lady  Aurora  as  she 
mounted  the  chaise.  Perhaps,  too,  she 
might  turn  round,  and  look  up.  Fixt 
here,  she  was  inattentive  to  the  opening 
of  her  own  room-door,  concluding  that 
the  house-maid  came  to  arrange  her  fire, 
till  a  soft  voice  gently  articulated  :  "  Miss 
Ellis!"  She  hastily  looked  round :  it  was 
Lady  Aurora ;  who  had  entered,  vAk> 
had  shut  herself  in,  and  who,  wiiile 
one  hand  covered  her  eyes,  held  out 
the  other,  in  an  attitude  of  the  most 
inviting  affection. 

Ellis  flew  to  seize  it,  with  joy  inex- 
pressible, indescribable,  and  would  liave 
pressed  it  to  her  lips ;  but  Lady  Aurora, 
flinging  both  her  arms  round  the  neck 
of  her  new  friend,  fell  upon  her  bosom, 
and  wept,  saying,  "  You  are  not,  then, 
angry,  though  I,  too,  must  have  seemed 
to  behave  to  you  so  cruelly  ?''* 

"  Angry  ?*'    repeated    ElHs,   sobbing 


(    2>oi    ) 

from  the  suddenness  of  a  delight  which 
broke  into  a  sorrow  nearly  hopeless  j 
"  O  Lady  Aurora !  if  you  could  know 
how  I  prize  your  regard !  your  good- 
ness !  —  what  a  balm  it  is  to  every  evil 
I  now  experience,  your  gentle  and 
generous  heart  would  be  recompensed 
for  all  the  concern  I  occasion  it,  by 
the  pleasure  of  doing  so  much  good  !'* 

"  You  can  still,  then,  love  me,  my 
Miss  Ellis  ?" 

•  "  Ah,  Lady  Aurora!  if  I  dared  say 
how  much  !  —  but,  alas,  in  my  helpless 
situation,  the  horror  of  being  suspected 
of  flattery  — " 

"  What  you  will  not  say,  then,"  cried 
Lady  Aurora,  smiling,  "  will  you  prove?'* 

"  Will  I  ?— Alas,  that  I  could  !  " 

"  W^ill  you  let  me  take  a  liberty  with 
yon,  and  promise  not  to  be  offended  ?" 

She  put  a  letter  into  her  hand,  which 
Ellis  fondly  kissed,  and  lodged  near 
her  heart. 

The  w^ords  "  Where  is  Lady  Aurora  V\ 
now  sounded  from  the  stair-case. 

lO 


/ 


(     303     ) 

"  I  must  stay,"  she  said,  "  no  longer  ! 
Adieu,  dear  Miss  Ellis !  Think  of  me 
sometimes  —  for  I  shall  think  of  you 
unceasingly  I" 

"  Ah,  Lady  Aurora!"  cried  Ellis, 
clinging  to  her,  "  shall  I  see  you,  then, 
no  more  ?  And  is  this  a  last  leave- 
taking  ?" 

"  O,  far  from  it,  far,  far,  I  hope  !'* 
said  Lady  Aurora :  "  if  I  thought  that 
we  should  meet  no  more,  it  would  be 
impossible  for  me  to  tell  you  how  un- 
happy this  moment  would  make  me !" 

"  Where  is  Lady  Aurora?"  would 
again  have  hurried  her  away  ;  but  Ellis, 
still  holding  by  her,  cried,  "  One  mo- 
ment !  one  moment !  —  I  have  not,  then 
lost  your  good  opinion  ?  Oh  I  if  that 
wavers,  my  firmness  wavers  too !  and  I 
must  unfold  — •  at  all  risks  —  my  unhappy 
situation  !" 

"  Not  for  the  world!  not  for  the 
world  !"  cried  Lady  Aurora,  earnestly  : 
"  I  could  not  bear  to  seem  to  have  any 
doubt  to  remove,  when   I  have    none. 


C    304    ) 

^one,  of  your  perfect  innocence,  good- 
ness, excellence  1" 

Overpowered  with  grateful  joy,  "  An- 
gelic Lady  Aurora!"  was  all  that  Ellis 
could  utter,  while  tears  rolled  fast  down 
her  cheeks  ;  and  she  tenderly,  yet  fer- 
vently, kissed  the  hand  of  the  resisting 
Lady  Aurora,  who,  extremely  affected, 
leant  upon  her  bosom,  till  she  was  startled 
by  again  hearing  her  name  from  without. 
"  Go,  then,  amiable  Lady  Aurora !" 
Ellis  cried  ;  "  I  will  no  longer  detain  you! 
Go  !  —  happy  in  the  happiiiess  that  your 
sweetness,  your  humanity,  your  kindness 
bestow !  I  will  dwell  continually  upon 
their  recollection  ;  I  will  say  to  myself. 
Lady  Aurora  believes  me  innocent, 
though  she  sees  me  forlorn  ;  she  will 
not  think  me  unworthy,  though  hhe 
knovi^s  me  to  be  unprotected ;  she  will 
not  conclude  me  to  be  an  adventurer, 
though    I  dare   not   tell   her   even   my 

name !" 

"  Do  not  talk  thus,  my  dear,  dear  Miss 
Ellis !     Oh  !  if  I  were  my  own  mistress 


(     3<=>5     ) 

—-with  wliat  delight  I  should  supplicate 
you  to  live  with  me  entirely  !  to  let  us 
share  between  us  all  that  we  possess ;  to 
read  together,  study  our  musick  toge- 
ther, and  never,  never  to  part!" 

Ellis  could  hardlv  breathe :  her  soul 
seemed  bursting  w^ith  emotions,  which, 
though  the  most  delicious,  were  nearly 
too  mighty  for  her  frame.  But  the  melt- 
ing kindness  of  Lady  Aurora  soon 
soothed  her  into  more  tranquil  enjoy- 
ment ;  and  when,  at  length,  a  message 
from  Mrs.  Howel  irresistibly  compelled 
a  separation,  the  warm  gratitude  of  her 
heart,  for  the  consolation  which  she  had 
received,  enabled  her  to  endure  it  with 
fortitude.  But  not  without  grief.  All 
seemed  gone  when  Lady  Aurora  was 
driven  from  the  door;  and  she  remained 
weeping  at  the  window,  whence  she  saw 
her  depart,  till  she  was  roused  by. the 
entrance  of  Mrs.  Greaves,  the  house- 
keeper. 

Her  familiar  intrusion,  without  tap- 
ping at  the  door,  quickly  brouglit  to  the 


-(    3<^<5    ) 

recollection  of  Ellis  the  authority  which 
had  been  vested  in  her  hands.  This  im- 
mediately  restored  her  spirit;  and  as  the 
housekeeper,  seating  herself,  was  begin- 
ning, very  unceremoniously,  to  explain 
the  motives  of  her  visit,  Ellis,  without 
looking  at  her,  calmly  said,  "  I  shall 
go  down  stairs  now  to  breakfast ;  but  if 
you  have  time  to  be  so  good  as  to  make  up 
my  packages,  you  will  find  them  in  those 
drawers/' 

She  then  descended  to  the  parlour, 
leaving  the  housekeeper  stupified  with 
amazement.  But  the  forms  of  subordi- 
nation, when  once  broken  down,  are 
rarely,  with  common  characters,  restored. 
Glad  of  the  removal  of  a  barrier  which 
has  kept  them  at  a  distance  from  those 
above  them,  they  revel  in  the  idea  that 
the  fall  of  a  superiour  is  their  own  proper 
elevation.  Following,  therefore,  Ellis 
to  the  breakfast-room,  and  seating  her- 
self upon  a  sofa,  she  began  a  discourse 
with  the  freedom  of  addressing  a  dis- 
graced dependent ;  saying,  "  Mrs.  Maple 


will  be  in  a  fine  taking,  Miss,  to  have 
you  upon  her  hands,  again,  so  all  of  the 
sudden." 

This  speech,  notwithstanding  its  gross- 
ness,  surprised  from  Ellis  an  exclamation, 
"  Does  not  Mrs.  Maple,  then,  expect 
me  ?" 

*'  How  should  she,  when  my  lady 
never  settled  what  she  should  do  about 
you  herself,  till  after  twelve  o'clock  last 
night  ?  However,  as  to  sending  you  back 
without  notice,  she  has  no  notion,  she 
says,  of  standing  upon  any  ceremony 
with  Mrs.  Maple,  who  made  so  little  of 
popping  you  upon  her  and  Lady  Aurora 
in  that  manner." 

Ellis  turned  from  her  with  disdain,  and 
would  reply  to  nothing  more ;  but  her 
pertinacious  stay  still  kept  the  bosom 
letter  unopened. 

Grievously  Ellis  felt  tormented  with 
the  prospect  of  what  her  reception 
might  be  from  Mrs.  Maple,  after  such  a 
blight.  The  buoyant  spirit  of  her  first 
escape,  which  she  had  believed  no  after 


(  :o8   ) 

misfortune  could  subdue,  had  now  so 
irequently  been  repressed,  that  it  was 
nearly  borne  down  to  the  oommon 
standard  of  mortal  condition,  whence  we 
receive  our  daily  fare  of  good  and  of  evil, 
with  the  joy  or  the  grief  that  they 
separately  excite;  independently  of  that 
wonderful  power,  believed  in  by  the 
youthful  and  inexperienced,  of  hoarding 
up  the  felicity  of  our  happy  moments,  as 
a  counterpoise  to  future  sorrows  and  dis- 
appointments. The  past  may  revisit 
our  hearts  with  renewed  sufferings,  or 
our  spirits  with  gay  recollections ;  but 
the  interest  of  the  time  present,  even 
upon  points  the  most  passing  and  trivial, 
wdll  ever,  from  the  pressure  of  our  wants 
and  our  feehngs,  predominate. 

Mrs.  Greaves,  unanswered  and  af- 
fronted, was  for  some  minutes  silenced; 
but,  presently,  rising  and  calling  out, 
"  Gemini !  something  has  happened  to 
my  Lady,  or  to  Lady  Aurora?  Here's  My 
Lord  gallopped  backl"  she  ran  out  of 
the  room. 


(     3^9     ) 

Affrighted  by  this  suggestion,  Elh's, 
who  then  perceived  Lord  Melbury  from 
the  window,  ran  herself,  after  the  house- 
keeper, to  the  door,  and  eagerly  ex- 
claimed, as  he  dismounted,  O,  My  Lord, 
I  hope  no  accident — " 

"  None  !*'  cried  he,  "  flying  to  her,'* 
andtaking  and  kissingboth  her  hands, and 
drawing,  rather  than  leading,  her  back 
to  the  parlour,  "  none!  —  or  if  any  there 
were,  —  what  could  be  the  accident  that 
concern  so  bewitching  would  not  re- 
compense ?*' 

Ellis  felt  amazed.  Lord  Melbury  had 
never  addressed  her  before  in  any  tone 
of  gallantry ;  had  never  kissed,  never 
touched  her  hand ;  yet  now,  he  would 
scarcely  suffer  her  to  withdraw  it  from 
his  ardent  grasp. 

"  But,  My  Lord,"  said  Mrs.  Greaves, 
who  followed  them  in,  "  pray  let  me 
ask  Your  Lordship  about  my  Lady,  and 
My  Lady  Aurora,  and  how  — " 

"  They  are  perfectly  well,"  cried  he, 
hastily,  "  and  gone   on,     I  am   ridden 


back  myself  merely  for  something  which 
I  forgot/' 

"  I  was  fearful,"  said  Ellis,  anxious 
to  clear  up  her  eager  reception,  "  that 
something  might  have  happened  to  Lady 
Aurora  j  I  am  extremely  happy  to  hear 
that  all  is  safe." 

**  And  you  will  have  the  charity,  I 
hope,  to  make  me  a  little  breakfast  ?  for  I 
have  tasted  nothing  yet  this  morning." 

Again  he  took  both  her  hands,  and  led 
her  to  the  seat  which  she  had  just  quitted 
at  the  table. 

She  was  extremely  embarrassed.  She 
felt  reluctant  to  refuse  a  request  so 
natural ;  yet  she  was  sure  that  Mrs. 
Howel  would  conclude  that  they  met  by 
appointment  J  and  she  saw  in  the  face  of 
the  housekeeper  the  utmost  provoca- 
tion at  the  young  Lord's  behaviour:^ 
yet  neither  of  these  circumstances  gave 
her  equal  disturbance,  with  observing  a 
change,  indefinable  yet  striking,  in  him- 
self.    After  an  instant's  reflection,  she 


(    3"     ) 

deemed  it  most  advisable  not  to  stay  with 
him ;  and,  saying  that  she  was  in  haste  to 
return  to  Lewes,  she  begged  that  Mrs. 
Greaves  would  order  the  chaise  that 
Mrs.  Howel  had  mentioned. 

"  Ay,  do,  good  Greaves  !"  cried  he, 
hurrying  her  out,  and,  in  his  eagerness 
to  get  her  away,  shutting  the  door  after 
her  himself. 

Ellis  said  that  she  would  see  whether 
her  trunk  were  ready. 

"  No,  no,  no!  don't  think  of  the 
trunk,"  cried  he :  "  We  have  but  a  few 
minutes  to  talk  together,  and  to  settle 
how  w^e  shall  meet  again." 

Still  more  freely  than  before,  he  now 
rather  seized  than  took  her  hand ;  and 
calling  her  his  dear  charming  Ellis, 
pressed  it  to  his  lips,  and  to  his  breast, 
with  rapturous  fondness. 
•  Ellis,  struck,  now,  with  terrour,  had 
not  sufficient  force  to  withdraw  her  hand; 
but  when  she  said,  with  great  emotion, 
'*  Pray,  pray.  My  Lord  !  — "  he  let  it  go. 

It  was  only  for  a  moment :  snatching, 
it  then,  again,  as  she  was  rising  to  depart. 


(      3^2       ) 

-he  .suddenly  slipt  -upon  one  of  her  fingers 
.a,  sup^fh  diamond  ring,  which  he  took 
off  fro^m  one  of  his  own. 

"  It  is  very  beautiful.  My  Lord  ;'*  said 
she,  jdeeply  blushing;  yet  looking  at  it  as 
if  she  supposed  he  meant  merely  to  call 
for  her  admiration,  and  returning  it  to 
him  immediately. 

,,,?«  What's  this?"  cried  he:  "  Won't 
¥QU  wear  such  a  bauble-  for  my  sake? 
Give  me  but  a  lock  of  your  lovely 
hair,  and  I  will  make  myself  on'e  'tp  re- 
place it."  i      "  vuiv  t 

He  tried  to  put  the.ring'againKjMi  her 
finger  ;  but,  fprcibly  breaking  from  him, 
she  would  have  left  *the  room^:  he  inter-v 
cepted.  her  passage  >tO;  the  door. r  S>he. 
turned  round  to  ring  the  bell :  he  placed 
himself  again  in  her  way,  with  a  flushed 
air  of  sportiveness,  yet  of  determined 
opposition. 

^  ^Confounded,  speechless,  she  went  to 
one  of  the  windows,  and  standing,  with 
her  back  to  it,  looked  at  him , with  an . 
undisguised  amazement,-  th^t  she  hoped 


(     3'3     ) 

would  lead  hitn  to  some  explanation  of 
his  behaviour,  that  might  spare  her  any 
serious  remonstrance  upon  its  unwel- 
come singularity. 

"  Why,  what's  this  ?"  cried  he  gaily, 
yet  with  a  gaiety  not  perfectly  easy ; 
**  do  you  want  to  run  away  from  me  ?'* 

"  No,  my  lord,"  answered  she, 
gravely,  yet  forcing  a  smile,  which  she 
hoped  would  prove,  at  once,  a  hint,  and 
an  inducement  to  him  to  end  the  scene 
as  an  idle  and  ill-judged  frolic;  "  No; 
I  have  only  been  afraid  that  your  lord- 
ship was  running  away  from  yourself!" 

"  And  why  so?"  cried  he,  with  quick- 
ness, "  Is  Harleigh  the  only  man  who  is 
ever  to  be  honoured  with  your  company 
tete-a-tete?" 

"  What  can  your  lordship  mean  ?" 

"  Wliat  can  the  lovely  Ellis  blush 
for?  And  what  can  Harleicrh  have  to 
offer,  that  should  obtain  for  him  thus  ex- 
clusively  all  favour  ?  If  it  be  adoration 
of  your  charms,  who  shall  adore  them 
more  than  I  will  ?     If  it  be  in  proofs  of 

VOL.  I.  p 


(     3H     ) 

a  more  solid  nature,  who  sliall  vie  with 
me  ?  All  I  possess  shall  be  cast  at  your 
feet.  I  defy  iiim  to  out-do  me,  in  for- 
4"Une  or  in  love." 

Ellis  now  turned  pale  and  cold:  horrour 
thrilled  through  her  veins,  and  almost 
made  her  heart  cease  to  beat.  Lord 
Melbury  saw  the  change,  and,  hastily 
drawing  towards  her  a  chair,  besouglit 
l^er  to  be  seated.  She  was  unable  to 
refuse,  for  she  had  not  strength  to  stand; 
but,  v/hen  again  he  would  have  taken 
her  hand,  she  turned  from  him,  with  an 
air  so  severe  of  soul-felt  repugnance, 
that,  starting  with  surprise  and  ^larm, 
he  forbore  the  attempt. 

He  stood  before  her  utterlv  silent,  and 
with  a  complexion  frenuentiv  varyinf]^, 
till  she  recovered;  when,  again  raising 
her  eyes,  with  an  expression  of  mingled 
af^iction  and  reproach, ''  Aiid  is  it,  then," 
she  cried,  "  from  a  brother  of  the  pure, 
the  exemplary  Lady  Aurora  Granville, 
that  I  am  destined  to  receive  the  most 
hfiart-reuding  insult  of  my  life  r" 

4        ' 


•(    3»5    ) 

Lord  Melbiiry  seemed  tlumderstnick, 
and  could  not  articulate  what  he  tried 
to  say ;  but,  upon  again  half  pronounc- 
ing tlie  name  of  Harieigh,  Ellis,  stand- 
ing up,  with  an  air  of  dignity  the  most 
impressive,  cried,  "  My  lord,  Mr.  Har- 
ieigh rescued  me  from  the  most  horrible 
of  dano-ers,  in  assisting  me  to  leave  the 
Continent ;  and  his  good  offices  have  be- 
friended me  upon  every  occasion  since 
nriy  arrival  in  England.  This  includes  the 
whole  of  our  intercourse  !  No  calumny,  I 
hope,  vvil!  make  him  ashamed  of  his  be- 
nevolence ;  and  I  have  reaped  from  it 
such  benefit,  tliat  the  most  cruel  insinua- 
tions must  not  make  me  repent  rcceivin'^' 
it ;  for  to  whom  else,  except  to  Ladv  Au- 
rora, do  I  owe  gratitude  without  pain  r 
lie  knows  me  to  be  indigent,  my  lord,  yet 
does  not  conclude  me  open  to  corrijp- 
tion  !  He  sees  me  friendless  and  unpro- 
tected,—  yet  offers  me  no  indignity!" 

Lord  Meibury  now,  in  his  turn,  look- 
ed pale.  "  Is  it  possible — "  he  cried, 
"    Is   it   possible,    that — "    He    stai«- 

r  ^ 


(    3i6    ) 

mered,   and  was  in  the   utmost  confu- 
sion. 

She  passed  him,  and  was  quitting  the 
room. 

"  Good  Heaven !''  cried  he,  "  yoii 
will  not  go? — you  will  not  leave  me  in 
this  manner?  —  not  knowing  what  to 
think,  —  what  to  judge,  —  what  to  do?*' 

She  made  no  answer  but  by  hastening 
her  footsteps,  and  wearing  an  aspect  of 
the  greatest  severity ;  but,  when  her 
hand  touched  the  lock,  "  I  swear  to 
you,"  he  cried,  "  Miss  Ellis,  if  you  will 
not  stay  —  I  will  follow  you  !'* 

Her  eyes  now  shot  forth  a  glance  the 
most  indignant,  and  she  resolutely  opened 
the  door. 

He  spread  out  his  arms  to  impede  her 
passage. 

Offended  by  his  violence,  and  alarmed 
by  this  detention,  she  resentfully  said, 
"  If  you  compel  me,  my  lord,  to  sum- 
mon the  servants — ''  when,  upon  look- 
ing at  him  again,  she  saw  that  his  whole 
face  was  convulsed  by  the  excess  of 
his  emotion.  ' 


(     3^7     J 

She  stopt. 

"  You  must  permit  me,"  he  cried, 
<<  to  shut  the  door  ;  and  you  must  gr^nt 
me  two  minutes  audience/' 

She  neither  consented  nor  offered  any 
opposition. 

He  closed  the  door,  but  she  kept  her 
place. 

"  Tell — speak  to  me,  I  beseech  you  !" 
he  cried,  "  Oh  clear  the  cruel  doubts — '' 

"  No  more,  my  lord,  no  more  V  in- 
terrupted Ellis,  scorn  taking  possession 
df  every  feature;  *•'  I  will  neither  give 
to  myself"  the  d'sgrace,  nor  to  your lorU 
shij^  the  shame,  of  permitting  another 
word  to  be  said  !" 

**  What  is  it  you  mean  ?"  c/ied  he, 
planting  himself  against  the  door;  "  you 
would  not —  surely  you  would  not  brand 
me  for  a  villain  ?" 

She  determined  to  have  recourse  to: 
the  bell,  and,  with  the  averted  eyes  of 
disdain,  resolutely  moved  towards  the/ 
chimney.  i 

He  saw  her'  design,  .and  cast  himself 

P  3 


(    S'S"   ) 

upon  his  knees,  calling  out,  in  extreme 
agitation,  "  Miss  Ellis !  Miss  Ellis  !  you 
will  not  assemble  the  servants  to  see  me 
groveling  upon  the  earth  ?'* 

Greatly  shocked,  she  desisted  fronilfir 
purpose.  His  look  was  aghast,  his  frame 
w^as  in  a  universal  tremour,  and  his  eves 
w^ere  w41d  and  starting.  Her  wrath  sub- 
sided at  this  sight,  but  the  m.ost  conflict- 
ing emotions  rent  her  heart.  , 

"  I  see,"  he  cried,  in  a  tremulous, 
voice,  and  almost  gnashing  his  teeth,  "  I 
see  that  you  have  been  defamed,  and  that 
I  have  incurred  your  abhorrence!  —  I 
have  my  own,  too,  completely !  You 
cannot  hate  me  more  than  I  now  hate 

—  than.  I  shrink  from  myself!    And  yet 

—  believe  me.  Miss  Ellis!  I  have  no  de- 
liberate hardness  of  heart !  —  I  have  been 
led  on  by  rash  precipitance,  and  —  and 
want   of  thought! — BeKeve  me,  Miss 

.^ElHs !  —  believe  me,  good  Miss  EUis  !  — 

Ifor  I  see,  now,  how  good  you  are !  — 

Ibelieve  me — "  h 

i-  He  could  find  no  words  for  what  he 


(     3^9     ) 

^visbed  to  say.  He  rose,  but  attempted 
not  to  approach  her.  Ellis  leant  against 
the  wainscoat,  still  close  to  the  bell,  but 
without  seeking  to  ring  it.  Both  were 
sS^huu  His  extreme  youth,  his  visible 
inexperience,  and  her  suspicious  situa- 
tion; joined  to  his  quick  repentance,  and 
simple,  but  emphatic  declaration,  that 
he  had  no  hardness  of  heart,  began  not 
only  to  offer  some  palliation  for  his 
conduct,  but  to  soften  her  resentment 
into  pity. 

He  no  sooner  perceived  the  touching 
melancholy  which  insensibly  took  place, 
in  her  countenance,  of  disgust  and  in- 
dignation, than,  forcibly  affected,  he 
struck  his  forehead,  exclaiming,  "  Oh, 
my  poor  Aurora!  —  v/hen  you  know 
how  ill  I  have  acted,  it  will  almost  break 
your  gentle  heart  1" 

This  was  an  apostrophe  to  come  hom.e 
quick  to  the  bosom  of  Ellis  :  she  burst 
into  tears;  and  would  instantly  have  held 
out  to  him  her  hand,  as  an  offering  of 
peace  and  forgiveness,  had  not  her  fear 

p  4 


<    '3%    ) 

i)f  tBe  impetiibsfty  oFliis  feelings  cdeckea 
the  impulse.  She  only,  therefore,  said, 
*^  Ahi  my  lord,  how  is  it  that  with  a 
sister  so  pure,  so  perfect,  and  whose 
virtues  you  so  warmly  appreciate,  yoU 
should  find  it  so  difficult  to  believe  that 
other  females  may  be  exempt,  at  least, 
from  depravity  ?  Alas !  I  had  presumed, 
my  lord,  to  think  of  you  as  indeed  the 
brother  of  Lady  Aurora ;  and,  as  such, 
I  had  even  dared  to  consider  you  as  a 
succour  to  me  in  distress,  and  a  protector 
in  danger!" 

"  Ah  !  consider  me  so  again  !'*  cried 
he,  with  sudden  rapture  j  "  good  — 
excellent  Miss  Ellis!  consider  me  so 
again,  and  you  shall  not  repent  your 
generous  pardon  !'* 

Ellis  irresistibly  wept,  but,  by  a  mo- 
tion of  her  hand,  forbad  his  approach. 

"  Fear-  fear  nie  not!"  cried  he,  ^^  I 
am  a  reclaimed  man  for  the  rest  of  my 
life  1  I  have  hitherto.  Miss  Ellis,  been 
but  a  boy,  and  therefore  so  easily  le3 
wrong.     Bat  I  will  think  and  act,  now. 


((  s^^  ^ 

for  myself.  I  prom^ise  it  you  sincerely^: 
Never,  never  more  will  I  be  the  wretched 
tool  of  dishpnpurable  impertinence !  Not 
that  i  am  so  unmanly,  as  to  seek  any 
extenuation  to  my  guilt,  from  its  being 
excited  by  others  ;  —  no  ;  it  rather  adds 
to  its  heinousness,  that  my  own  passions, 
viqlen.t  as,  they  sometimes  are,  did  not 
give  it  birth.  But  your  so  visible  purity. 
Miss  Ellis,  had  kept  them  from  any  dis- 
respect, believe  me !  And,  struck  as  I 
have  been  iWith  your  attractions,  and 
charmed  with  your  conversation,  it  has 
alwayS' been,  without^  single  idea  that 
I  could  not  tell  to  Aurora  herself;  for  as  I 
thought  of  you  always  as  of  Aurora's 
favourite,  Aurora's  companion,  Aurora's 
friend,  I  thought  of  ,you  always  to- 
gether." ,    .    ,     . 

"  Oh  Lord  Melbury  !'*  interrupted 
Ellis,  fresh  tears,  but  of  pleasure,  not, 
sorrow,  gushing  into  her  eyes ;  "  what 
words  are  these  !  how  penetrating  to  my 
very  soul!  Ah,  my  lord,  let  this  un- 
happy morning  be  blotted  from  both  our 


(     3^2     )  ^ 

memories!  and  let  me  go  back  to  the 
miOrning  of  yesterday  !  to  a  partiality 
that  made,  —  and  that  makes  me  so 
happy !  to  a  goodness,  a  kindness,  that 
revive'  me  with  heart-consoling  grati- 
tude!" 

"  Oh,  incomparable — Oh,  best  Miss 
Ellis !"  cried  Lord  Melbury,  in  a  trans^ 
port  of  joy,  and  passionately  advancing  ; 
but  retreating  nearly  at  the  same  instant, 
as  if  fearful  of  alarming  her;  and  almost 
fastening  himself  against  the  opposite 
Vvainscoat ;  "  hovv^  excessive  is  your 
goodness!" 

A  sigh  from  Ellis  checked  liis  rapture; 
and  she  entreated  him  to  explain  what 
he  meant  by  his  allusion  to  "  others." 

His  complexion  reddened,  and  he 
would  have  evaded  any  reply  ;  but  Ellis 
was  too  urgent  to  be  resisted.  Yet  it 
was  not  without  the  utmost  difficulty 
that  she  could  prevail  upon  him  to  be 
explicit.  Finally,  however,  she  gathered, 
that  Ireton,  after  the  scene  produced  by 
,the  letter  for  L.  S.,  had  given  vent  to  the 


(     3^3     ) 

most  sneering  calumnies,  chiefly  pointed 
at  Harleigh,  to  excite  the  experiment  of 
which  he  had  himself  so  shamefully,  yet 
foolishly,  been  the  instrument.  He 
vowed,  however,  that  Ireton  should  pub- 
licly acknowledge  his  slanders,  and  beg 
her  pardon. 

Elh's  earnestly  besought  his  lordship 
to  let  the  matter  rest.  "  All  public  ap- 
peals,*' cried  she,  "  are  injurious  to 
female  fame.  Generously  inform  Ivlr. 
Ireton,  that  you  are  convinced  he  has 
wronged  me,  and  then  leave  the  clearing 
of  his  own  opinion  to  time  and  to  truth. 
When  they  are  trusted  with  innocence. 
Time  and  Truth  never  fail  to  do  it 
justice." 

Lord  Melbury  struggled  to  escape 
making  any  promise.  His  self  discontent 
could  suggest  no  alleviation  so  satisfac- 
tory, as  that  of  calling  Mr.  Ireton  to  ac- 
count for  defamation  ;  an  action  which 
he  thou2:ht  would  afford  the  most  bril- 
liant  amends  that  could  be  offered  to 
Miss  Ellis,  and  the  best  proof  that  could 

r  6 


C   324   ) 

blazon  his  own  manliness.  But  when 
she  solemnly  assured  him,  that  his  com- 
pliance with  her  solicitation  was  the  only 
peace-ofFering  she  could  accept,  for 
sinking  into  oblivion  the  whole  morning's 
transaction,  he  forbore  any  further  con-t 
testation. 

Mrs.  Greaves  now  brought  informa- 
tion, that  a  chaise  was  at  the  door,  and 
that  a  groom  was  in  readiness.  Lord 
Melbnry  timidly  oifered  Ellis  his  hand, 
which  she  gracefully  accepted  ;  but  nei- 
ther of  them  spoke  as  he  led  her  to  the 
carriage. 


I    • 

!         ^".ji'fVv' 

\hd: 

in 

a; 

I 

T          OOl) 

\t'V^,p,, 

■   -i    "if/l 

' 

■»ii->i.J»fi 

(  3^5  y 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Tj^ROM  all  the  various  sufferings  of 
Ellis,  through  the  scenes  of  this 
morning,  the  predominant  remaining 
emotion,  was  that  of  pity  for  her  penitent 
young  offender ;  whom  she  saw  so  sorely 
wounded  by  a  sense  of  his  own  miscon- 
duct, that  he  appeared  to  be  almost 
impenetrable  to  comfort. 

But  all   her  attention  was  soon  called 
to  the  letter  of  Lady  Aurora. 

"  To  Miss  Ellis. 
"  I  cannot  express  the  grief  with 
which  I  have  learnt  the  difficulties 
that  involve  my  dear  Miss  Ellis.  Will 
she  kindly  mitigate  it,  by  allowing 
me,  from  time  to  time,  the  consola- 
tion of  offering  her  my  sympathy  ? 
May  I  flatter  myself  that  she  has  suf- 
ficient regard  for  me,  to  let  the  en- 
closed trifle  lead  the  way  to  some  little 
arrangement  during  her  embarrassment  ? 


C   326   ) 

Oh  !  were  I  in  similar  distress,  I  would 
not  hesitate  to  place  in  her  a  similar 
trust  !  Generously,  then,  sweet  Miss 
Ellis,  confide  in  my  tender  regard. 

"  Aurora  Granville.'* 
"  At  Lord  Denmeath's, 
Portman  Square." 

The  "  enclosed  trifle"  was  a  bank- 
note of  twenty  pounds. 

Most  welcome  to  the  distress  of  Ellis 
was  this  kindness  and  this  succour;  and 
greatly  she  felt  revived,  that,  severe  as 
had  been  her  late  conflicts,  they  thus 
terminated  in  casting  her,  for  all  pecu- 
niary perplexities,  upon  the  delicate  and 
amiable  Lady  Aurora. 

Uncertain  what  might  prove  her  re- 
ception, she  desired,  upon  approaching 
Lewes,  that  the  groom  would  ride  on, 
and  enquire  whether  &i)e  could  have  the 
honour  of  seeing  Mrs.  Ma])le.  The  man 
then  said,  that  he  had  a  note  for  that 
ladv,  from  Mrs.  Howel. 

After  being  detained  at  the  gate  a  con- 


(     3^7     ) 

sitlerable  time,  a  servant  came  to  ac- 
quaint Miss  Ellis,  that  the  ladies  were 
particularly  engaged,  but  begged  that 
she  would  walk  up  stairs  to  her  room. 

There,  again  established,  she  had  sooq 
a  visit  from  Selina,  who  impatiently  de- 
manded, how  she  had  parted  from  Lady 
Aurora  ;  and,  when  satisfied  that  it  had 
been  with  the  extremest  kindness,  she 
warmly  embraced  her,  before  she  related, 
that  Aunt  Maple  had,  at  first,  declared, 
that  she  would  never,  again,  let  so  un- 
known apauper  into  her  house;  but, when 
she  had  read  the  note  of  Mrs.  Howel, 
she  changed  her  tone.  That  lady  had 
written  word,  that  she  was  hasten  in  <r  to 
consign  Lord  Melbury  and  Lady  Aurora 
to  their  uncle;  in  order  to  be  acquitted 
of  all  responsibility,  as  to  any  continu- 
ance of  this  amazing  acquaintance,  now 
that,  at  last,  she  was  apprized  of  its  un- 
fitness. She  conceived  that  siie  had  some 
claim,  however,  to  desire,  that  Mrs, 
Maple  would,  for  the  present,  receive 
the  person  as  usual  j  since  if  any  dismis- 


(    328    ) 

sal,  or  disgrace,  were  immediately  to  foU 
low  her  return  from  Howel  House,  it 
might  publish  to  the  world  what  an 
improper  character  had  been  admitted 
there ;  a  mortification  from  which  she 
thought  that  she  had  some  right  to  be 
exempted. 

Mrs.  Maple  was  by  no  means  the  less 
offended,  by  the  pride  and  selfishnes$,^of 
this  note,  because  those  qualities  were 
familiar  to  her  own  practice.  It  is  the 
wise  and  good  alone  that  make  allowancfe 
for  defects  in  others.  Her  resentment, 
however,  endowed  her  with  rancour, 
but  not  with  courage  ;  she  complied, 
therefore,  with  the  demand  which  she  did 
not  dare  dispute  ;  but  her  spleen  agains^t 
its  helpless  object  was  redoubled ;  and 
she  sent  her  a  message,  by  Selina,  to 
order  that  she  would  complain  of  a  sore 
throat,  as  an  excuse  for  not  quitting  her 
room,  nor  expecting  any  of  the  ladies  to 
visit  her  :  yet  charged  her  to  be  careful, 
at  the  same  time,  to  say,  that  it  was  very 
slight,  lest  the  people  la  the  neighbour- 


(     3^9     ) 


. iA  I.  !-rrfl 


hood,  or  the  servants  themselves,  should 
wonder  at  not  seeing  a  physician. 

Ellis  could  by  no  means  repine  at  a  se« 
paration,  that  saved  her  from  the  pride 
and  malevolence  of  Mrs.  Maple  and  of 
Ireton,  and  from  the  distressing  incon- 
gruities  of  Elinor. 

Her  spirits  being  thus  freed  from  im- 
mediate alarm,  she  was  able  to  ruminate 
upon  her  situation,  and  upon  what  efforts 
she  might  make  for  its  amelioration. 
Her  letter  from  abroad  enjoined  her  still 
to  live  in  concealment,  with  respect  to 
her  name,  circumstances,  and  story  :  all 
hope,  therefore,  of  any  speedy  changq 
was  blown  over;  and  many  fears  re- 
mained, that  this  helpless  obscurity  might 
be  of  long  duration.  It  was  necessary 
that  she  should  form  some  plan,  to  ac- 
commodate her  mode  of  life  to  her  im- 
mediate condition ;  and  to  liberate,  if 
possible,  her  feelings,  from  the  continual 
caprices  to  which  she  was  now  subject. 

To  live  upon  charity,  was  hostile  to 
all  her  notions,  though  the  benefaction 


'(     330-    ) 

of  Lady  Aurora  had  soothed,  not  morti- 
fied, her  proudest  sensations.  But  Lady 
Aurora  was  not  of  an  age  to  be  supposed 
ah'eady  free  from  controul,  in  the  use  of 
her  income  ;  and  stiil  less  was  she  of  a 
character,  to  resist  the  counsel,  or  even 
wishes  of  her  friends.  Ellis  was  deter- 
mined not  to  induce  her  to  do  either: 
nor  could  she  endure  to  give  a  merce- 
nary character  to  a  grateful  affection, 
which  languished  to  shew  that  its  in- 
crease, as  well  as  its  origin,  sprang  from 
disinterested  motives.  All  her  thoughts, 
therefore,  turned  upon  making  the  pre- 
sent offering  suffice. 

Yet  she  was  aware  how  short  a  time 
she  could  exist  upon  twenty  pounds; 
and  while  a  residence  at  Mrs.  Maple's 
would  be  now  more  than  ever  unplea- 
sant, recent  circumstances  had  rendered 
it,  more  than  ever,  also,  unlikely. 

To  acquire  that  sort  of  indepen- 
dence, that  belongs,  physically,  to  sus- 
taining life  by  her  own  means,  was  her 
most  earnest  desire.     Her  many  accom- 


(    331     ) 

plisliments  invited  her  industry,  and  pro- 
mised it  success  ;  yet  how  to  bring  theni 
into  use  was  difficult.  She  had  no  one 
with  whom  she  could  consult.  Elinor, 
though,  at  times,  cordially  her  friend, 
seemed,  in  other  minutes,  her  enraged 
foe.  Selina  was  warmly  good  natured, 
but  young  in  every  sense  of  the  word  ; 
and  Mrs.  Maple  considered  her  alwa}  s 
with  such  humiliating  ideas,  that  to  ask 
her  advice  would  be  to  invite  an  affront. 

The  occupation  for  which  she  thought 
herself  most  qualified,  and  to  which, 
from  fondness  for  young  people,  slie  felt 
herself  most  inclined,  was  that  of  gover- 
ness to  some  young  lady,  or  ladies  ;  and, 
finally,  she  settled,  that  she  would  en- 
deavour to  employ  herself  in  that  ca- 
pacity. 

This  arrangement  mentally  made,  she 
communicated  it,  in  a  letter  of  the  ten- 
derest  and  most  grateful  thanks,  to  Lady 
Aurora;  entreating  her  ladyship's  kind 
and  valuable  aid,  to  enable  her  to  leave, 
iii  future,  for  other   distressed   objects, 


(    332     > 

such  marks  of  benevolence  as  she  had 
last  received  ;  and  to  owe,  personally, 
those,  only,  of  esteem  and  regard;  which 
she  prized  beyond  all  power  of  expression. 
The  next  day,  again 5  very  unexpectedly^ 
Selina  skipt  into  her  room.  "  We  have 
had  a  most  terrible  fuss  :"  she  cried  ; 
*^  Do  you  know  Lord  Melbury's  come  on 
purpose  to  see  you  !-' 

"  Lord  Melbury  ?  Is  he  not  gone  to 
town?"  f'-ii' 

i  >'  Mrs.  Howel  wrote  word  so,  and  aunt' 
thought  so  ;  but  he  "only  went  a  little- 
way^;  a«d  then  came  back  to  spend  two- 
or  ihree  days  with  Sir  Lyell  Sycamore^'^ 
atBrjghthelmstone.  He  asked  after  yoii,'' 
when  he  came  in,  and  said  that  he  begged  j 
leave  to  be  allowed  to  speak  with  you,  a  few' 
minutes,  upon  a  commission  from  Lady 
Aurora.  Aunt  was  quite  shocked,  amJ^ 
said,  that  she  hoped  his  lordship  would- 
excuse  her,  but  she  really  could  not 
consent  to  any  such  acquaintance  going' 
on,  in  her  house,  now  he  knew  so  w^ell  ■ 
w:h9'.t  a. nobody  you  were  ;  if  not  worse. 


(    333     ) 

Upon  which  he  said  he  did  not  doubt  your 
being  a  well  brought  up  young  ladyjfor  he 
was  certain  that  you  were  modesty  itself. 
And  then  he  begged  so  hard,  and  said 
so  many  pretty  and  civil  things  to  Aunt, 
that  she  was  brought  round  ;  only  it  was 
upon  condition,  she  said,  that  there 
should  be  a  witness  ;  and  she  proposed 
Mrs.  Fenn.  Lord  Melbury  was  as  red 
as  fire,  and  said  that  would  not  be 
treating  JVIiss  Ellis  with  the  respect 
wliich  he  was  sure  was  her  due  ;  and 
he  could  not  be  so  impertinent  as  to 
desire  to  see  Iier,  upon  such  term^.  So, 
after  a  good  deal  more  fuss,  it  was 
settled,  at  last,  that  Sister  Elinor  should  be 
present.  So  now  you  are  to  come  down 
to  her  dressing-room." 

Ellis,  though  startled  at  the  effect 
that  might  be  produced  by  his  re- 
maining at  Brighthelmstone,  was  sen- 
sibly touched  by  these  public  and  resolute 
marks  of  his  confirmed  and  undoubting 
esteem. 

Elinor,  presently,  with  restored  good 


(     334     ) 

humour,  and  an  air  of  the  iTiOSt  lively 
pleasure,  came  to  fetch  her.  "  Lord 
Melbury,"  she  cried,  "  certainly  adores 
you.  You  never  saw  a  man's  face  of  so 
many  colours  in  your  life,  as  when  Aunt 
Maple  speaks  of  you  irreverently.  If 
you  manage  well,  you  may  be  at  Gretna 
Green  -in  a  week.'* 

They  descended,  without  any  answer 
made  by  Ellis,  to  the  dressing-room. 

The  air  of  Lord  Mclbury  was  far  less 
dejected  than  when  they  had  last  parted; 
yet  it  had  by  no  means  regained  its 
natural  spring  and  vivacity ;  and  he  ad- 
vanced to  pay  his  compliments  to  Ellis, 
with  a  look  of  even  studious  deference. 
He  W'ould  detain  her,  he  said,  but  a 
few  minutes ;  vet  could  not  leave  the 
country,  without  informing  her  of  tv.o 
visits,  which  he  had  made  the  day 
before  :  both  of  which  had  ended  pre- 
cisely with  the  amity  that  she  had 
wished. 

Elinor,  enchanted  in  believing,  from 
'this  opening,  that  a  confidential  inter- 


('    335     ) 

course  was  already  arranged,  declared, 
that  her  aunt  must  look  elsewhere  for 
a  spy,  as  she  would  by  no  means  play 
that  part ;  and  then  ran  into  the  adjoin- 
ing room.  Lord  Melbury  and  Ellis  would 
have  detained,  but  could  not  follow 
her,  as  it  was  her  bed-chamber. 

Lord  Melbury  then,  who  saw  that  EUis 
was  uneasy,  promised  to  be  quick.     "  I 
demanded,"    said    he,    "  yesterday,    an 
interview    with    Mr.  HarJeigh.      I   told 
him,  u'ithout  reserve,  all  that  had  passed. 
1  cannot  paint  to  you  the  indignation  he 
shewed  at  the  aspersions  of  Ireton.     He 
determined  to  go   to  liim  directly,  and 
I  resolved  to  accompany  him.  —  Don't 
look    pale.    Miss   Eilis:    I   repeated   to 
Mr.  Ilarleigh  the  promise  you  had   ex- 
acted from  me,  and  he  confessed  himself 
to    be    perfectly   of  your    opinion,  that 
all  angry  defence,  or  public  resentment, 
must   necessarily,    in    such    a    case,    be 
injurious.     Yet  to  let  the  matter  drop, 
might  expose  you  to  fresh  abominations. 
Ireton    received  us  with    a   uuAtureof 


(    336     ) 

curiosity  and  carelessness;  very  inquisitive 
to  know  what  had  passed,  but  very  in- 
different whether  it  were  good  or  bad. 
We   both,    by  agreement,    affected    to 
treat  the  matter  lightly,   gravely  as  we 
both   thought   of   it :    I   thanked   him, 
therefore,  for  the   salutary  counsel,  by 
which    he    had    urged   me    to   procure 
myself    so    confounded   a    rap    of   the 
knuckles,  for   my  assurance ;    and   Mr. 
Harleigh   made   his   acknowledgements 
in  the  same   tone,  for  the  compliment  - 
paid  to  his  liberality,  of  supposing  that.. 
a  person,  who,  in  any  manner,  should  be,  - 
thought  under  his  protection,  could  be 
in  a  state  of  penury.     We  both,  I  hope, 
made  him    ashamed.     He   had  not,  Ixe 
owned,  reflected  deeply  upon  the  sub* 
ject ;   for  which,  Mr.  Harleigh  told  me,  2. 
afterwards,    there   was    a   very   cogent   i 
reason,  namely,,  that  he  did  not  know 
how !     Mr.  Harleigh,    when     we    were    . 
coming   away,   forcibly   said^    '  Ireton, 
placing     Lord     Melbury  -  and     myself 
wholly  apart  in  this  business,  ask  your 

5 


(     337     ) 

own  sagacity,  I  beg,  how  a  female,  who 
is  young,  beautiful,  and  accomplished, 
can  suffer  from  pecuniary  distress,  if  her 
character  be  not  unimpeachable  ?*  Upon. 
that,  struck  with  the  truth  of  the  re- 
mark, he  voluntarily  protested  that  he 
would  make  you  all  the  amends  in  his 
power.  So  ended  our  visit ;  and  I  cannot 
but  hope  that  it  will  release  you  from  all 
similar  persecutions.*' 

Ellis  expressed  her  sincere  and  warm  ' 
gratitude  ;  and  Lord  Melbury,  with  an 
air  of  penetrated  respect,  took  his  leave; 
evidently  much  solaced,  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  serving  one  whom  he  had 
injured. 

Ellis  had  every  reason  to  be  gratified  by 
this  attention,  which  set  heririind  wholly 
at  rest  upon  the'  tenoui*  of  Lord  Mel- 
bury's  regard  :  while  Elinor  was  so  mucTi 
delighted,  to  find  the  acquaintance  ad- 
vance  so  rapidly  to  confidence,  that 
she  embraced  Ellis,  wished  her  Joy, 
mocked  all  replies  of  a  disci ai miner 
nature,  and,  accompanying  her  back  Uj 

VOL.  I.  Q 


C    338    ) 

her  room,  made  her  a  long,  social,  lively^ 
and  entertaining  visit ;  hearing  and 
talking  over  her  project  of  becoming  a 
governess,  but  laughing  at  it,  as  a  ri- 
diculous idea,  for  the  decided  wife  elect 
of  Earl  Melbury. 

She  was  succeeded  by  Selina,  who 
exultingly  came  to  acquaint  Ellis,  that 
Mr.  Ireton  had  just  made  a  formal  re- 
nunciation of  all  ill  opinion  of  her ;  and 
had  told  Mrs.  Maple,  that  he  had  indubit- 
able proofs  that  she  was  a  person  of  the 
very  strictest  character.  "  So  now,'* 
cried  she,  "  Lady  Aurora  and  I  may 
vow  our  friendship  to  you  for  life." 

This  was  a  very  solid  satisfaction  to 
Ellis,  to  whom  the  calumny  of  Ireton 
had  been  almost  insupportable.  She  now 
hoped  that  Mrs.  Maple  would  favour 
her  new  scheme,  and  that  she  might  re- 
main tranquilly  in  the  house  till  it  took 
place;  and  equip  herself,  from  the  dona- 
tion of  Lady  Aurora,  for  her  immediate 
appearance  in  the  situation  which  she 
sought.     She  resolved  to  seize  the  first 


( (  339     ) 

opportunity  for  returning  Harleigh  his 
bank  notes,  and  the  Miss  Joddrels  their 
half-guineas.  She  wished,  also,  to  repay 
the  guinea  of  the  worthy  Admiral,  and 
to  repeat  to  him  her  grateful  acknow- 
ledgements :  his  name  and  address  she 
concluded  that  she  mihgt  learn  from  Har- 
leigh ;  but  she  deferred  this  satisfaction 
till  more  secure  of  success. 

The  next  day,  Selina  ran  upstairs  to 
her  again.  "  Who  do  you  think,"  she 
cried,  "  came  into  the  parlour  in  the 
middle  of  breakfast  ?  Mr.  Dennis  Har- 
leigli !  He  arrived  at  Brighthelmstone  last 
night.  Sister  Elinor  turned  quite  white, 
and  never  spoke  to  him  ;  she  only  just 
made  a  sort  of  bow  to  his  asking^  how  she 
did,  and  then  swallowed  her  tea  burning 
hot,  and  left  the  room.  He  can  stay 
only  one  day,  .for  he  must  be  in  London 
to-morrow  night.  He  is  come  for  his 
final  answer  ;  for  he's  quite  out  of  pa- 
tience." 

Selina  had  hardly  descended  the  stairs, 
when  Elinor  herself  mounted  them.   She 

Q  2 


(     340     ) 

entered  the  chamber  precipitately,  her 
face  colourless,  and  her  eyes  starting 
from  her  head.  "  Ellis  !"  she  cried,  "  I 
must  speak  with  you  !" 

She  seated  herself,  made  Ellis  sit  exact- 
ly opposite  to  her,  and  went  on:  "There 
are  two  things  which  I  want  to  say  to 
you ;  or,  rather,  to  demand  of  you.  Have 
you  fortitude  enough  to  tell  truth,  even 
though  it  should  wound  your  self-love  ? 
and  honour  enough  to  be  trusted  with 
a.  com  mission  a  thousand  times  more  im- 
portant than  life  or  death  ?  and  to 
execute  it  faithfully, — though  at  the  risk 
of  seeing  the  greatest  idiot  that  ever 
existed,  shew  sufficient  symptoms  of  sense 
to  run  mad  ?'* 

Alarmed  by  her  ghastly  look,  and 
frightened  at  the  abruptness  of  questions 
utterly  incomprehensible,  Ellis  gently 
entreated  to  be  spared  any  request  with 
which  she  could  not  comply. 

"  I  do  not  mean,'*  cried  Elinor,  with 
quickness,  ''  to  make  any  call  upon  your 
confidence,  or  to  put  any  fetters  upon 


"(  "341     ) 

your  conduct.  You  will  be  as  free  after 
you  have  spoken  as  before.  I  want  merely 
to  ascertain  a  fact,  of  which  my  ignorance 
distracts  me !  If  you  have  to  give  me 
a  negative,  your  vanity  alone  can  suffer ; 
if   an   affirmative *'      She   put   her 

^hand  upon  her  forehead,  and  then  ra- 
pidly added,  — "  the  suffering  will  not 
'be  yours!  —  give  it,  therefore,  boldly! 
'^Twill  be  heaven  to  me  to  end  this  sus- 

fjpense,  be  it  how  it  may  !" 

Starting  up,  but  preventing  Ellis  from 

'rising,  by  laying  a  hand  upon  each  of 
her  shoulders,  she  gazed  upon  her  eyes 
with  a  fixed  stare,  of  ahnost  frantic  im- 
patience, and  said,  "  Speak  !  say  Yes,  or 
No,  at  once  !  Give  me  no  phrase  —  Let 
tifie   see    no   hesitation !  —  Kill   me,    or 

^restore  me  to  life  !  —  Has  Harleigh  — " 
.she  gasped  for  breath — "  ever  made  you 
any  declaration  ?" 

"  None  !"  steadily,  forcibly,  and  in- 
stantly Ellis  answered. 

i      "  Enough!"  criedshe, recovering  some 

f^  composure. 

«  3 


(     342     ) 

She  then  walked  up  and  down  the  room, 
involuntarily  smiling,  and  her  lips  in  a 
motion,  that  shewed  that  she  was  talking 
to  herself.  Then  stopping,  and  taking 
Ellis  by  the  hand,  and  half  laughing, 
"  You  will  think  me,"  she  cried,  "  crazy; 
but  I  assure  you  I  had  never  a  more  ex- 
quisite enjoyment  of  my  senses.  I  see 
every  thing  to  urge,  and  nothing  to 
oppose  my  following  the  bent  of  my 
own  humour  ;  br,ln  other  words,  throw- 
ing off  the  trammels  of  unmeaning  cus- 
tom, and  acting,  as  well  as  thinking,  for 
myself." 

Again,  then,  w^alking  up  and  down  the 
chamber,  she  pursued  her  new  train  of 
ideas,  with  a  glee  which  manifested  that 
she  found  them  deli2:htful. 

"  My  dear  Ellis,"  she  cried,  pre- 
sently, "  have  you  ever  chanced  to 
hear  of  such  a  person  as  Dennis  Har- 
leigh  ?" 

Ellis  wished  to  avoid  answ^ering  this 
questibti,"oh' account  of  her  informant, 
Selina  ;    but    her    embarrassment    was 


(     343     ) 

answer  sufficient.  "  I  see  yes  !**  cried 
Elinor,  "  I  see  that  you  have  heard  of  that 
old  story.  Don't  be  frightened,*'  added 
she,  laughing,  "  I  am  not  going  to  ask 
who  blabbed  it.  I  had  as  lieve  it  were 
one  impertinent  fool  as  another.  Only 
never  imagine  me  of  the  tribe  of  sen- 
timental pedants,  who  think  it  a  dis- 
grace to  grow  wiser;  or  who  suppose 
that  they  must  abide  by  their  first  opi- 
nions, for  fear  the  world  should  know, 
that  they  think  twice  upon  one  subject 
For  what  is  changing  one's  mind,  but 
taking  the  ^ro  one  time,  and  the  con 
another?" 

"  But  come,"  continued  she,  "  this 
is  no  tune  for  rattling.  Two  years  I 
have  existed  upon  speculation ;  I  must 
now  try  how  I  shall  fare  upon  practice. 
Is  it  not  just,  Ellis,  that  it  should  be 
vou  who  should  ^xi^  me  out  of  the 
slough  of  despond,  since  it  was  you  who 
flung  me  into  it  r  —  However,  now  for 
your  commission.  Do  you  feel  as  if  you 
could  execute  it  with  spirit?" 

Q  4 


^    (     344     ) 

^  *'  With  willingness,  certainly,  if  I  see 
any  chance  of  success." 

**  No  ifs,  Ellis.  I  hate  the  whole 
tribe  of  dubiosity.  However,  that  you 
may  not  make  any  blunder,!  shall  tell  you 
my  story  myself;  for  all  that  you  have 
heard  from  others,  you  must  set  down  to 
ignorance  or  prejudice.  Nobody  knows 
my  feelings,  and  nobody  understands 
my  reasons.  So  every  body  is  at  war 
against  me  in  the  dark. 

**  Now  hearken  1 

"  Just  as  I  came  of  age,  and  ought  to 
have  shaken  off  the  shackles  of  Aunt 
Maple,  and  to  have  enjoyed  my  inde- 
pendence and  my  fortune  together,  ac- 
cident brought  into  my  way  a  young 
lawyer — this  Dennis  Harleigh — of  great 
promise  in  the  only  profession  in  the 
world  that  gives  wit  fair  play.  And  I 
thought  him,  then,  —  mark  me,  Ellis, 
then !  —  of  a  noble  appearance.  He  de- 
lighted to  tell  me  his  causes,  state  their 
merits,  and  ask  my  opinions.  I  always 
took  the  opposite  side  to  that  which  he 


C    345     ) 


•-C 


wa§  employed  to  plead,  in  order  to  trj 
nis  powers,  and  prov^e,  ii^y  .QWg-i^^  The 
French  Revolution  had  just  then  burst 
forth,  into  that  noble  flame  th^ts  nearly 
consumed  the  old  world,  to  raise  a  new 
one,  phoenix  like,  from  its  ashes.  Soon 
tired  of  our  every  day; subjects  and  con- 
tests, I  began  canvassing  with  him  the 
Rights  of  Man.  He  had  fallen  despe- 
rately in  love  with  me,  either  for  my  wit 
or  my  fortune,  or  both;  and  therefore  all 
topics  were  sure  to  be  approved.  Enchant- 
ed with  a  warfare  in  which  I  was  certain 
to  be  always  victorious,  I  grew  so  fond  of 
conquest,  that  I  was  never  satisfied  but 
when  combating ;  and  the  joy  I  experi- 
enced in  the  display  of  my  own  talents, 
made  me  doat  upon  his  sight.  The 
truth  is,  our  mutual  vanity  mutually  de- 
ceived us :  he  saw  my  pleasure  in  his 
company,  and  concluded  that  it  was  per- 
sonal regard  :  I  found  nothing  to  rouse 
the  energies  of  my  faculties  in  his  ab- 
sence, and  imagined  myself  enamoured 
of  my   vanquished   antagonist.       Aunt 

^  5 


(     346   ■„)• 

Maple  did  her  little  best — for  every  thing 
she  does  is  little  —  to  forward  the  con- 
nexion ;  because,  though  his  fortune  is 
trifling,  his  professional  expectations  are 
high  ;  and  though  he  is  a  younger  bro- 
ther, he  is  born  of  a  noble  family :  and 
that  sort  of  mean  old  stuff  is  always  in 
her  head ;  for  if  the  whole  world  were 
revolutionized,  you  could  never  make 
her  conceive  a  new  idea.  And  the 
g-reat  fact  of  all  is,  she  cannot  bear  I 
should  leave  her  house  before  I  marry, 
because,  she  is  sure,  in  one  of  my  own, 
I  shall  adopt  some  new  system  of  life. 
Thus,  in  the  toils  of  my  self-love,  I  be- 
came entangled ;  poor  Dennis  called 
himself  the  happiest  of  men  ;  the  settle- 
ments were  all  drawn  up  ;  and  we  were 
looking  about  us  for  a  house  to  our  fancy, 
and  all  that  sort  of  stuff,  when  Dennis 
introduced  his  family  to  us.  —  Now  the 
rest,  I  suppose,  you  can  divine  ?" 

This  was,  indeed,  not  difficult;  but 
Ellis  durst  not  risk  any  reply. 

With  a  rapidity  scarcely  intelligible, 


^C     347     ) 

and  in  a  manner  wholly  incolierent, 
she  then  went  on :  "  Ellis,  I  pretend 
.not  to  any  mystery.  Why  is  one  per- 
son adorable,  and  another  detestable, 
but  to  call  forth  our  love  and  our  hatred  ? 
?to  give  birth  to  all  that  snatches  us  from 
mere  inert  existence ;  to  our  passions, 
our  energies,  our  noblest  conceptions  of 
all  that'  is  towering  and  sublime? 
Whether  you  have  any  idea  of  this 
mental  enlargement  I  cannot  tell  j  but 
with  it  I  see  human  nature  endowed 
with  capabilities  immeasurable  of  per- 
fection ;  and  without  it,  I  regard  and 
treat  the  whole  of  my  race  as  the  mere 
dramatis  personam  of  a  farce  ;  of  which  I 
am  myself,  when  performing  with  such 
fellow-actors,  a  principal  buffoon." 

Nearly  out  of  breath,  she  stopt  a 
moment  ;  then,  looking  earnestly  at 
Ellis,  said ,  "  Do  you  understand  me  ?*' 

EUis,  in  a  fearful  accent,  answered, 
"  I  ...  I  am  not  quite  sure." 

"  Remove  your  doubts,  then !"  cried 
she,  impatiently  j   "  I  despise  what  is 

a  6 


(    548     > 

obscure,  still  more  than  I  hate  what  i» 
false.  Falsehood  may  at  least  approach 
to  that  degree  of  grandeur  which  belongs 
to  crime ;  but  obscurity  is  always  mean,* 
always  seeking  some  subterfuge,  always 
belonging  to  art/* 

Again  she  stopt ;  but  Ellis,  uncertain 
whether  this  remark  were  meant  to  in- 
troduce her  confidence,  or  to  censure  her 
own  secresy,  waited  an  explanation  in 
silence.  Elinor  was  evidently,  however, 
embarrassed,  though  anxious  to  persuade 
herself,  as  well  as  Ellis,  that  she  was 
perfectly  at  her  ease.  She  walked  a 
quick  pace  up  and  down  the  room ;  then 
stopt,  seemed  pausing,  hemmed  to  clear 
her  voice  for  speech ;  and  then  walked 
backwards  and  forwards  before  the  win- 
dow, which  she  frequently  opened  and 
shut,  without  seeming  to  know  that  she 
touched  it ;  till,  at  length,  seized  with 
sudden  indignation  against  herself,  for 
this  failure  of  courage,  she  energetically 
exclaimed,  "  How  paltry  is  shame  where 
there  can  be  no  disgrace!  — I  disdain itl 


(     349     ) 

— disclaim  it !  —  and  am  ready  to  avow  to 
the  whole  world,  that  I  dare  speak  and 
act,  as  well  as  think  and  feel  for  my- 
self!" 

Yet,  even  thus  buoyed  up,  thus  full 
fraught  with  defiance,  something  within 
involuntarily,  invincibly  checked  her, 
and  she  hastily  resumed  her  walks  and 
her  ruminations. 

"  What amazing,unaccountable  fools," 
she  cried,  "have  we  all  been  for  these  quan- 
tities of  centuries  !  Worlds  seem  to  have  a 
longer  infancy  taken  out  of  the  progress  of 
their  duration,  even  than  the  long  imbeci- 
lity of  the  childhood  of  poor  mortals.  But 
for  the  late  glorious  revolutionary  shake 
given  to  the  universe,  I  should,  at  this 
very  moment,  from  mere  cowardly  con- 
formity, be  the  wife  of  Dennis  !  — -In 
spite  of  my  repentance  of  the  engage- 
ment, in  spite  of  the  aversion  I  have 
taken  to  him,  and  in  spite  of  the  con- 
tempt I  have  conceived  —  with  one 
single  exception  —  for  the  whole  race  of 
mankind,  I  must  have  been  that  poor 

t2 


(    350    ) 

man's  despicable  wife !  —  O  despicable 
indeed !  For  with  what  sentiments  could 
I  have  married  him  ?  Where  woidd  have 
been  my  soul  while  I  had  given  him  my 
hand  ?  Had  I  not  seen  —  known  — 
adored  — his  brother  1" 

She  stopt,  and  the  deepest  vermillion 
overspread  her  face;  her  effort  was  madej 
she  had  boasted  of  her  new  doctrine,  lest 
she  should  seem  impressed  with  confu- 
sion from  the  old  one  which  she  vio- 
lated ;  but  the  struggle  being  over,  the 
bravado  and  exultation  subsided;  female 
consciousness  and  native  shame  took  their 
place  ;  and  abashed,  and  unable  to  meet 
the  eyes  of  Ellis,  she  ran  out  of  the 
room. 

In  the  whole  of  this  scene,  Ellis  ob- 
served, with  mingled  censure  and  pity, 
the  strong  conflict  in  the  mind  of  Elinor, 
between  ungoverned  inclination,  which 
sought  new  systems  for  its  support ;  and 
an  innate  feeling  of  what  was  due  to  the 
sex  that  she  was  braving,  and  the  cus- 
toms that  she  was  scorning. 


(    35^     ) 

She  soon  re-appeared,  but  with  a 
wholly  new  air ;  lively,  disengaged,  al- 
most sportive.  Her  heart  was  lightened 
by  unburthening  her  secret;  the  feminine 
delicacies  which  opposed  the  discovery, 
once  broken  through,  oppressed  her  no 
more  ;  and  the  idea  of  passing,  now, 
straight  forward,  to  the  purposes  for 
which  she  had  done  herself  this  violence, 
re-animated  her  spirit,  and  gave  new 
vi2:our  to  her  faculties. 

She  laughed  at  herself  for  having  run 
away,  without  explaining  the  meaning  of 
her  communication  ;  and  for  charging 
Ellis  with  a  commission,  of  which  she  had 
not  made  known  even  the  nature.  She 
then  more  clearly  stated  her  situation. 

From  the  time  of  her  first  interview 
with  Albert,  her  whole  mind  had  recoiled 
from  all  thought  of  union  with  his  bro- 
ther ;  yet  the  affair  was  so  far  advanced, 
and  she  saw  herself  so  completely  re- 
garded by  Albert  as  a  sister,  though 
treated  by  him  with  an  openness,  a  frank- 
ness, and  an  affection  the  most  captivat- 

4t 


(    35^    ) 

ing,  that  she  had  not  courage  to  proclaim 
her  change  of  sentiment. 

The  conflict  of  her  mind,  during  this 
doubting  state,  threatened   to  cast  heir 
into' a  consumption.     She  was  ordered  to 
the  south  of  France.   And  there,  happily 
arrived,   new    scenes,  —  a    new    world, 
rather,  opened  to  her  a  code  of  new  ideas, 
that  soon,  she  said,  taught  her  to  scoff  at 
idle  misery :  and  might  even,  from  the 
occupation  given  to  her  feelings,  by  the 
glorious  confusion,  and    mad    wonders 
around   her,  have    recovered  her  from 
the  thraldom  of  an  over-ruling  propen- 
sity, had  not  Dennis,  unable,  from  pro- 
fessional engagements,  to  quit  his  coun- 
try, been  so  blind,  upon  hearing  that  her 
health  was  re-established,  as  to  persuade 
his  brother  to  cross  the  Channel,  in  order 
to  escort  the  two  travellers  home.     From 
the  moment,   the   fated   moment,    that 
Albert  arrived  to  be  her  guide  and  her 
guard,    he    became    so   irresistibly   the 
master  of  her   heart,    that   her  destiny 
w^as  determined.     Whether  good  or  ill. 


<( 


353    ) 


she  knew  not  yet  -,  but  it  was  fixed.     Ill 
had  not  occurred  to  her  sanguine    ex^ 
pectations,  nor  doubt,  nor  fear,  till  the 
eventful  meeting  with  Ellis  :  till  then,  she 
had  believed  her  happiness  secure,  for  she 
had  supposed  that  nothing  stood  in   her 
way,   save  a  little   brotherly  punctilio. 
But,  since  the  junction  of  Ellis,  the  spon- 
taneous interest  which  Albert  had  taken 
in  her  fate,  and  her  affairs,  had  appeared 
to  be  so  marvellous,  that,  at  every  new 
view  of  his  pity,  his  respect,  or  his  ad- 
miration, she  was  seized  with  the  most 
uneasy  feelings  5  which  sometimes  worked 
her  up  into  pangs  of  excruciating  jea- 
lousy ;  and,  at  others,  seemed  to  be  so 
ill  founded,  that,  recollecting  a  thousand 
instances  of  his  general  benevolence,  she 
laughed  her  own  surmises  to  scorn.  How 
the  matter  still  stood,  with  regard  to  Iiis 
heart,   she  confessed    herself  unable    to 
form  any  permanent  judgment.      The 
time,  however,  was  now,  happily,  arrived, 
to  abolish    suspense,  for    even  Dennis, 
now,  could  bear  it  no  longer.     She  ex- 


(     354    ) 

pected,  she  said,  a  desperate  scene,  but, 
at  least,  it  would  be  a  final  one.  She  had 
only,  for  many  months  past,  been  re- 
strained from  giving  Dennis  his  dismis- 
sion, lest  Albert  should  drop  all  se- 
parate acquaintance,  from  the  horrour 
of  seeming  treacherously  to  usurp  the 
place  of  his  brother.  Nevertheless,  she 
\vould  frankly  have  ended  her  disturb- 
ance, by  an  avowal  of  the  truth,  had  not 
Albert  been  the  eldest  brother,  and,  con- 
sequently, the  richest  5  and  the  disgrace- 
ful supposition,  that  she  might  be  in- 
fluenced to  desire  the  change  from  mer- 
cenary motives,  would  have  had  power 
to  yoke  her  to  Dennis,  for  the  rest  of  her 
weary  existence,  had  not  her  mind  been 
so  luminously  opened  to  its  own  re- 
sources, and  inherent  right  of  choice,  by 
her  continental  excursion. 

"  The  grand  effect,"  she  continued, 
''  of  beholding  so  many  millions  of  men, 
let  loose  from  all  ties,  divine  or  human, 
gave  such  play  to  my  fancy,  such  a  range 
to  my  thoughts,  and  brought  forth  such 


(    355    ) 

new,  unexpected,  and  untried  combina- 
tions to  mj  reason,  that  I  frequently 
felt  as  if  just  created,  and  ushered  into 
the  world  —  not,  perhaps,  as  wise  as  an- 
other Minerva,  but  equally  formed  to 
view  and  to  judge  all  around  me,  without 
the  gradations  of  infancy,  childhood,  and 
youth,  that  hitherto  have  prepared  for 
maturity.  Every  thing  now  is  upon  a  new 
scale,  and  man  appears  to  be  worthy  of 
his  faculties;  which,  during  all  these  past 
ages,  he  has  set  aside,  as  if  he  could  do 
just  as  well  witiiout  them  }  holding  it  to  be 
his  bounden  duty,  to  be  trampled  to  the 
dust,  by  old  rules  and  forms,  because  all 
his  papas  and  uncles  were  trampled  so  be- 
fore him.  However,  I  should  not  have 
troubled  myself,  probably,  with  any  of 
these  abstruse  notions,  had  they  not  of- 
fered me  a  new  road  for  life,  when  the  old 
one  was  worn  out.  To  find  that  all  was 
novelty  and  regeneration  throughout  the 
finest  country  in  the  universe,  soon  in- 
fected me  with  the  system-forming  spirit; 
and    it   was  then  that  I  conceived   the 


(    356    ) 

plan  I  am  now  going  to  execute ;  but  I 
shall  not  tell  it  you  in  its  full  extent, 
as  I  am  uncertain  what  may  be  your 
strength  of  mind  ibr  measures  of  force 
and  character  ;  and  perhaps  they  may 
not  be  necessary.  So  now  to  your  com- 
mission.       .'    '  iX 

"  I  am  fixed  to  cast  wholly  aside  the 
dainty  common  barriers,  which  shut  out 
from  female  practice  all  that  is  elevated, 
or  even  natural.  Dennis,  therefore,  shall 
know  that  I  hate  him  j  Albert .  .  .  Ah, 
Ellis  !  that  I  hate  him  not !" 

*'  My  operations  are  to  commence 
thus:  Act  I.  Scene  I.  Enter  Ellis,  seek- 
ing Albert.  Don't  stare  so  ;  I  know 
perfectly  well  what  I  am  about.  Scene 
II.  Albert  and  Ellis  meet.  Ellis  informs 
him  that  she  must  hold  a  confabulation 
with  him  the  n^xt  day  ;  and  desires  that 
he  will  remain  at  Lewes  to  be  at  hand. — " 

"  Oh,  Miss  Joddrel!''  interrupted 
Ellis,  "  you  must,  at  least,  give  me  leave 
to  say,  that  it  is  by  your  command  that  I 
make  a  request  so  extraordinary  i" 


(    357    ) 

"  By  no  means.  He  must  not  sus- 
pect that  I  have  any  knowledge  of  your 
intention.  The  truth,  like  an  explosion 
of  thunder,  shall  burst  upon,  his  he^d  at 
once.  So  only  shall  I  truly  know  whe- 
ther it  will  shake  him  with  dismay-— or 
magnetize  him  by  its  sublimity.'' 

"  Yet  how,  Madam,  under  what  pre- 
tence, can  I  take  such  a  liberty  ?" 

''  Pho,  pho;  this  is  no  time  for  delicate 
demurs.  If  he  be  not  engaged  to  stay 
before  I  turn  his  brother  adrift,  he  will 
accompany  him  to  town,  as  a  thing  of 
course,  to  console  him  in  his  willowed 
state.  The  rest  of  my  plot  is  not  yet 
quite  ripe  for  disclosure.  But  all  is  ar- 
ranged. And  though  I  know  not  whe- 
ther the  catastrophe  will  be  tragic  or 
comic,  I  am  prepared  in  my  part  for 
either." 
"She  then  went  away. 


.J    V. 


C   358    ) 


,',f\ 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

T^LINOR  returned  almost  instantly. 
"  Hasten,  hasten,"  she  cried,  "  Ellisl 
There  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  Scene  the 
first  is  all  prepared.  Albert  Harleigh,  at 
this  very  moment,  is  poring  over  the 
county  map  in  the  hall.  Run  and  tell 
him  that  you  have  something  of  deep 
importance  to  communicate  to  him  to- 
morrow.*' 

"  But  may  he  not  —  if  he  means  to 
go —  desire  to  hear  it  immediately  ?*' 

Elinor,  without  answering,  forced  her 
away.  Harleigh,  whose  back  was  to  the 
stair-entrance,  seemed  intently  examining 
some  route.  The  distress  of  Ellis  was 
extreme  how  to  call  for  his  notice,  and 
how  to  execute  her  commission  when  it 
should  be  obtained.  Slowly  and  un- 
willingly approaching  a  little  nearer,  "  I 
am  afraid,"  she  hesitatingly  said,  "  that 


(     359     ) 

I  must  appear  extremely  importunate, 
but—'' 

The  astonishment  with  wliich  he  turned 
round,  at  the  sound  of  her  voice,  could 
only  be  equalled  by  the  pleasure  with 
which  he  met  her  eyes ;  and  only  sur- 
passed, by  the  sudden  burst  of  clashing 
ideas  with  which  he  saw  her  own  instantly 
drop  ;  while  her  voice,  also,  died  away ; 
her  cheeks  became  the  colour  of 
crimson :  and  she  was  evidentlv  and 
wholly  at  a  loss  what  to  say. 

"  Importunate?"  he  gently  repeated, 
"  impossible!'*  yet  he  waited  her  own 
explanation. 

Her  confusion  now  became  deeper ; 
any  sort  of  interrogation  would  have  en- 
couraged and  aided  her ;  but  his  quiet, 
though  attentive  forbearance  seemed  the 
result  of  some  suspension  of  opinion. 
Ashamed  and  grieved,  she  involuntarily 
looked  away,  as  she  indistinctly  pro- 
nounced,  "  I  must  appear  ....  very 
strange**. .  but  I  am  constrained  .... 
Circumstances  of  which  J  am  not  the 


(    36o    ) 

mistress,  force  me  to  ... .  desire  —  to 
request  —  that  to-morrow  mornings — ^or 
any  part  of  to-morrow  ....  it  might  be 
possible  that  I  could  ....  or  rather  that 
you  should  be  able  to ....  to  hear  some- 
thinc:  that ....  that  ....*' 

The  total  silence  with  which  he  listened, 
shewed  so  palpably  his  expectation  of 
some  competent  reason  for  so  singular 
an  addresSj  that  her  inability  to  clear 
herself,  and  her  chagrin  in  the  idea  of 
forfeiting  any  part  of  an  esteem  which 
had  proved  so  often  her  protection,  grew 
almost  insupportably  painful,  and  she 
left  her  phrase  unfinished:  yet  con- 
sidered her  commission  to  be  fulfilled, 
and  was  moving  away. 

"  To-morrow,*'  he  said,  "  I  meant  to 
have   accompanied   my  brother,    whose 
affairs  —  whatever   may   be   his    fate  — 
oblige  him  to  return  to  town  :  but  if . . . . 
if  to-morrow  — " 

He  had  now,  to  impede  her  retreat, 
stept  softly  between  her  and  the  stair- 
case, and  perceived,  in  her  blushes,  the 


(   ^3^^     ) 

force  which  she  had  put  upon  her 
modesty ;  and  read,  in  the  expression 
of  her  ghstening  eyes,  that  an  innate 
sense  of  delicacy  was  still  more  wounded, 
by  the  demand  which  she  had  made,  even 
than  her  habits  of  life.  'With  respect^ 
therefore,  redoubled,  and  an  interest 
beyond  all  calculation  increased,  he 
went  on  ;  "  If  to-morrow  ....  or  next 
day  *-^  or  any  part  of  the  week,  you  have 
any  commands  for  me,  nothing  shall 
hurry  me  hence  till  they  are  obeyed.'* 

Comforted  to  find  herself  treated 
with  unabated  consideration,  however 
shocked  to  have  the -air  of  detaining  hinn 
purposely  for  her  own  concerns,  she 
was  courtsying  her  thanks,  when  she^ 
caught  a  glance  of  Elinor  on  the  stairs,^ 
in  whose  face,  every  passion  seemed  with 
violence  at  work. 

Ellis  chanejed  colour,  not  knowing  how 
to    proceed,    or    how    to    stop.      Tha 
alteration  in  her  countenance  made  Ilar- 
leigh  look  round,  and  discern  Elinor;  ye     . 
sp  pre-occupied  was  his  attention^  it  ^|. 

VOL.  u  R. 


(       3^2.    ) 

he  was  totally  luimindfiilof  her  situation, 
and  would  have  addressed  her  as  usual, 
had  she  not  abruptly  remounted  the 
stairs. 

Harleigh  would  then  have  asked  some 
directions,  relative  to  the  time  and  man- 
ner of  the  purposed  communication ; 
but  Ellis  instantly  followed  Elinor ;  leav- 
ing him  in  a  state  of  wonder,  expecta- 
tion, yet  pleasure  indescribable ;  fully 
persuaded  tliat  she  meant  to  reveal  the 
secret  of  her  name  and  her  history  ;  and 
forming  conjectures  that  every  moment 
varied,  yet  every  moment  grew  more 
interesting,  of  her  motives  for  such  a 
confidence. 

Ellis  found  Elinor  already  in  her  cham- 
ber, and,  apparently,  in  the  highest, 
though  evidently  most  factitious  spirits  : 
not,  however,  feigned  to  deceive  Ellis, 
but  falsely  and  forcibly  elated  to  deceive, 
or,  at  least,  to  animate  herself  "  This 
is  enchanting  T'  she  cried,  "  this  is  de- 
lectable !  this  is  every  thing  that  I  could 
wish !  I  shall  now  know  the  truth  !    All 


\ 

\ 


(  363  ) 


<?<,• . 


the  doubts,  all  the;,  difficulties,  that  have^ 
been  crazing  me  for  some  time  past,  will 
now  be  solved :  I  shall  discover  whether 
his  long  patience  in  waiting  my  deter- 
mination, has  been  for  your  sake,  or  for 
mine.  He  will  not  go  hence,  till  he  has 
obeyed  your  commands !  —  Is  he  glad 
of  a  pretence  to  stay  on  my  account  ? 
or  impelled  irresistibly  upon  yours  ?  I 
shall  now  know  all,  all,  all  V 

The  lengthened  stay  of  Albert  being 
thus,  she  said,  ascertained,  she  should 
send  Dennis  about  his  business,  without 
the  smallest  ceremony. 

What  she  undertook,  she  performed. 
Early  in  the  evening  she  again  visited 
Ellis,  exultingly  to  make  known  to  her, 
that  Dennis  was  finally  dismissed.  She 
had  assigned  no  reason,  she  said,  for  her 
iong  procrastination,  reserving  that  for 
his  betters,  alias  Albert ;  but  she  had 
been  so  positive  and  clear  in  announcing 
her  decision, and  assuring  him  tliat  it  pro- 
ceeded from  a  most  sincere  and  unalter- 
able dislike,  both  to  his  person  and  mind, 

R  2 


(     364     ) 

that  he  had  shewn  spirit  enough  to  be 
ahnost  respectable,  having  immediately 
ordered  his  horse,  taken  his  leave  of 
Aunt  Maple,  and  set  off  upon  his  jour- 
ney. Albert,  meanwhile,  had  said,  that 
he  had  business  to  transact  at  Bright- 
helmstone,  which  might  detain  him  some 
days ;  and  had  accepted  an  invitation  to 
sleep  at  Lewes,  during  that  period,  from 
poor  Aunt  Maple ;  whose  provocation 
and  surprise  at  all  that  had  passed  were 
delightful. 

"  To-morrov/  morning,  therefore," 
she  continued,  "  will  decide  mv  fate. 
What,  hitherto,  Albert  has  thought  of 
me,  he  is  probably  as  ignorant  as  I  am 
myself;  for  while  he  has  considered  me 
as  the  property  of  i\is  brother,  his  pride 
is  so  scrupulous,  and  his  scruples  are  so 
squeamish,  that  he  would  deem  it  a  crime 
of  the  iiist  magnitude,  to  whisper,  even 
in  his  own  ear.  How  should  1  like  her  for 
myself?  He  is  suspicious  of  some  so- 
phistry in  whatever  is  not  establislied  by 
antiquated  rules  j  and,  with  all  his  wis- 


(     36s    ) 

ilom,  and  all  bis  superiority,  he  is  con- 
stantly anxious  not  to  offend  that  con- 
ceited old  prejudice,  that  thinks  it  taking 
a  liberty  with  human  nature,  to  suppose 
that  any  man  can  be  so  indecent  as  to 
grow  np  wiser,  or  more  knowing,  than 
his  grandpapa  was  before  him. 

"  Trifling,  however,  apart,  all  my  real 
alarm  is  to  fathom  what  his  feehngs  are 
for  you  !    Are  they  but  of  compassion, 
Splaying  upon   a   disengaged   mind  ?    If 
nothing  further,  the  awakening  a  more 
potent  sentiment  will  plant  them  in  their 
proper  line  of  subordination.      This  is 
what  remains  to  be  tried.     He  has  not 
made  you  any  declaration  ;  he  is  free, 
therefore,  from  any  entanglement :   his 
brotiier  is  discharged,  and  for  ever  out 
of  the  question  ;  he  knows  me,  therefore, 
also,  to  be  liberated  from  all  engagement. 
When   I    said  that  you   had   given    me 
life,  I  did  not  mean,  that  merely  to  hear 
that  nothing  Iiad  yet  passed,  was  cnougli 
to   secure   my  happiness  :  —  Ah  no  !  — 
but  simply  tliat  it  inspired    me  with   a 


(     366    ) 

hope  that  gives  me  courage  to  resolve 
upon  seeking  certitude.  And  now, 
hear  me ! 

"  The  second  act  of  the  comedjr, 
tragedy,  or  farce,  of  my  existence,  is  to 
be  represented  to-morrow.  The  first 
icene  will  be  a  conference  between  Ellis 
and  Albert,  in  which  ElHs  will  relate 
the  history  of  Elinor," 

Suddenly,  then,  looking  at  her,  with 
an  air  the  most  authoritative,  '•  Ellis !" 
she  added,  ,"  there  is  one  article  to 
"which  3^ou  must  answer  this  moment! 
Would  you^  should  the  choice  be  in 
your  power,  sacrifice  Lord  Melbury  to 
Harleigh  ?     No  hesitation  !" 

*'  Miss  Joddrel,"  answered  Ellis,  so- 
lemnly, "  I  have  neither  the  hope,  nor  the 
fear,  that  belongs  to  what  might  be  called 
sacrifice  relative  to  either  of  them  :  I 
earnestly  desire  to  preserve  the  esteem  of 
Mr.  Harleigh;  and  the  urbanity— I  can 
call  it  by  no  other  name  —  of  Lord  Mel- 
bury; but  I  am  as  free  from  the  thought 
as  from  the  presumption,  of  expecting,  or 

7 


(  i^i  ) 

eovetiiig,  to  engage  any  personal,  or 
particular  regard,  from  either." 

Elinor,  appeased,  said,  "  You  are 
such  a  compound  of  mystery,  that  one 
extraordinary  thing  is  not  more  difficult 
to  credit  in  you,  than  another.  My  de- 
sign, as  you  will  find,  in  making  you 
speak  instead  of  myself,  is  a  stroke  of 
Machievalian  policy  ;  for  it  will  finish 
both  suspences  at  once  ;  since  if,  whea 
you  talk  to  him  of  me,  he  thinks  only  of 
my  agent,  how  will  he  refrain,  in  answer- 
ingyour  embassy,to  betrayhimself?  If,  on 
the  contrary,  when  he  finds  his  scruples 
removed  about  his  brother,  he  should 
feel  his  heart  penetrated  by  the  cause  of 
that  brother's  dismission  —  Ah  Ellis  !  — 
But  let  us  not  anticipate  act  the  third. 
The  second  alone  can  decide,  whether  it 
will  conclude  the  piece  with  an  epitha- 
lamium  —  or  a  requiem  P' 

She  then  disappeared. 

Ellis  saw  her  no  more  till  the  next 
morning,  when,  entering  the  chamber, 
breathless    with     haste    and    agitation, 

R   4 


'(    368    ; 

I 

"  The  momen  V  she  cried,  «  is  conie  I 
I  have  sent  out  Aunt  Maple,  and  Selina^ 
upon  visits  for  the  whole  morning  ;  and 
I  have  called  Harleigh  into  my  dressing- 
room.  There,  wondering,  he  waits  ;  I 
shall  introduce  you,  and  wait,  in  my  turn, 
till,  in  ten  minutes'  time,  you  follow,  to 
give  me  the  argument  of  the  third  and 
last  act  of  my  drama," 

Ellis,  alarmed  at  what  might  be  the 
result,  would  again  have  supplicated  to 
be  excused  ;  but  Elinor,  proudly  saying, 
"  Fear  no  consequences  for  me  !  Those 
who  know  truly  how  to  love,  know  how 
to  die,  as  well  as  how  to  live !"  forcibly 
dragged  her  down  to  the  dressing-room  ; 
through  which  she  instantly  passed  her- 
self, with  undisguised  trepidation,  to  her 
inner  apartment. 

The  astonishment  of  Harleigh  was 
inexpressible  ;  and  Ellis,  who  had  re- 
ceived no  positive  directions,  felt  wholly 
at  a  loss  what  she  was  to  relate,  how  far 
she  ought  to  go,  and  what  she  ought  to 
require.  Hastily,therefore,  and  affrighted 


(     3^9     ) 

at  her  task,  she  tapped  at  the  bed-room 
door,  and  begged  a  moment's  audience. 
Elinor  opened  it,  in  the  greatest  conster- 
nation. "  What  1"  cried  she,  taking  her 
to  the  window,  "  is  all  over,  without  a 
word  uttered  ?" 

No;  Ellis  answered;  she  merely  wished 
for  more  precise  commands  what  she 
should  say. 

"  Say?"  cried  Elinor,  reviving,  " say 
that  I  adore  him  !  That  since  the  in- 
stant I  have  seen  him,  I  have  detested 
his  brother ;  that  he  alone  has  given  me 
any  idea  of  what  is  perfection  in  human 
nature  !  And  that,  if  the  whole  world 
were  annihilated,  and  he  remained  .  .  * 
I  should  think  my  existence  divine !" 

She  then  pushed  her  back,  prohibiting 
any  reply. 

Harleigh,  to  whom  all  was  incompre- 
hensible, but  whose  expectations  every 
moment  grew  higher,  of  the  explanation 
he  so  much  desired,  perceiving  the  em- 
barrassment of  Ellis,  gently  advanced, 
and  said,  "  Shall  I  be  guilty  of  indiscre- 

R  5 


(     370     ) 

tioii,  if  I  seize  this  hurried,  yet  perhaps 
only  moment,  to  express  my  impatience 
"for  a  communication  of  which  I  have 
thought,  ahnost  exclusively,  from  the 
moment  I  have  had  it  in  view  ?  Must 
it  be  deferred  ?  or — " 

"  No;  it  admits  of  no  delay.  I  have 
much  to  say  —  and  I  am  allowed  but 
ten  minutes — " 

"  You  have  much  to  say  ?"  cried  he, 
delighted ;  "  ten  minutes  to-day  may 
be  followed  by  twenty,  thirty,  as  many 
as  you  please,  to-morrow,  —  and  after 
to-morrrow,  —  and  whenever  you  com- 
•<-inand.'* 

"  You  are  very  good,  Sir,  but  my  com- 
mission admits  as  little  of  extension  as  of 
procrastination.  It  must  be  as  brief  as 
it  will  be  abrupt." 

"  Your  commission  ?"  he  repeated, 
in  a  tone  of  disappointment. 

"  Yes ;  I  am  charged  by  . .  .  by .  .  . 
by  a  lady  whom  I  need  not  name  —  to 
say  that  .  .  .  that  your  brother 

l§he  stopt,  ashamed  to  proceed. 


)> 


C    371    ) 

"  I  can  have  no  doubt,'*  said  he, 
gravely,  **  that  Miss  Joddrel  is  con- 
cerned, for  the  length  of  time  she  has 
wasted  in  trifling  with  his  feelings ;  but 
this  is  all  the  apology  her  conduct  re- 
quires :  the  breach  of  the  engagement, 
when  once  she  was  convinced,  that  her 
attachment  was  insufficient  to  make  the 
union  as  desirable  to  herself  as  to  him, 
was  certainly  rather  a  kindness  than  an 
injury." 

*' Yes,  —  but,  her  motives — her  rea- 
sons — " 

'*  I  conceive  them  all!  she  wanted 
courage  to  be  sooner  decided ;  she  ap- 
prehended reproach  —  and  she  gathered 
force  to  make  her  change  of  sentiments 
known,  only  when,  otherwise,  she  must 
have  concealed  it  for  ever.  —  Pardon 
this  presumptuous  anticipation  !'*  added 
he,  smiling ;  "  but  when  you  talk  to  me 
of  only  ten  minutes,  how  can  I  suffer 
them  to  be  consumed  in  a  commis- 
sion ?" 

He  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  yet,  Ellis, 

R   6 


(     372     ) 

excessively  alarmed,  pointed  expressively 
to  the  chamber-door.  In  a  tone,  then^ 
still  softer,  he  continued :  "  I  have  been 
anxious  to  speak  to  you  of  Lord  Mel- 
bury,  and  to  say  something  of  the  indig- 
nation with  which  I  heard,  from  him, 
of  the  atrocious  behaviour  of  Ireton. 
Nothing  less  than  the  respect  I  feel  for 
vou,  could  have  deterred  me  from  shew- 
ing  him  the  resentment  I  feel  for  myself. 
I  should  not,  however,  have  been  your 
only  champion ;  Lord  Meibury  was 
equally  incensed  j  but  we  both  acknow- 
ledged that  our  interests  and  our  feelings 
ought  to  be  secondary  to  yours,  and  by 
yours  to  be  regulated.  The  matter, 
therefore,  is  at  an  end.  Ireton  is  con- 
vinced that  he  has  done  you  wrong;  and, 
as  he  never  meant  to  be  your  enemy,  and 
has  no  study  but  his  own  amusement, 
we  must  pity  his  w^ant  of  taste,  and  hope 
that  the  disgrace  necessarily  hanging 
upon  detected  false  assertion,  may  be  a 
lesson  not  lost  upon  him.  Yet  he  de- 
serves one  far  more   severe.     He  is  a 


C     373     ) 

pitiful  egotist,  who  seeks  notliing  but  his 
own  diversiron  ;  iudifFerent  whose  peace, 
comfort,  or  reputation  pays  its  pur- 
chase." 

I  am  infinitely  obliged,"  said  ElHs, 

that  you  will  suffer  the  whole  to  drop  ; 
but  I  must  not  do  the  same  by  my  com- 
mission !  —  You  must  let  mc,  now,  enter 
more  particularly  upon  my  charge,  and 
tell  you  — " 

"  Forgive,  forgive  me  !*'  cried  he, 
eagerly  ;  *'  I  comprehend  all  that  Miss 
Joddrel  can  have  to  sav.     But  mv  im- 

f  ft/ 

patience  is  irrepressible  upon  a  far 
different  subject  j  one  that  awakens  the 
most  lively  interest,  that  occupies  my 
thoughts,  that  nearly  monopolizes  my 
memory  ;  and  that  e:^hausts — yet  never 
wearies  my  conjectures. —  That  letter 
you  were  so  good  as  to  mention  to  me  ? — 
and  the  plan  you  may  at  length  decide 
to  pursue  ?  —  permit  mc  to  hope,  that 
the  commimication  you  intend  me,  has 
some  reference  to  those  points  ?" 

"  I   should    be    truly  glad   of  your 


(    374     ) 

counsel,  Sir,  in  my  helpless  situation  : 
but  I  am  not  at  this  moment  at  liberty  to 
speak  of  myself;  —  Miss  Joddrel  —  '* 

Her  embarrassment  now  announced 
something  extraordinary ;  but  it  was 
avowedly  not  personal,  and  Harleigh 
eagerly  besought  her  to  be  .expeditious. 

"  You  must  make  me  so,  then,'*  cried 
she,  "  by  divining  what  I  have  to  re- 
veal !" 

"  Does  Miss  Joddrel  relent  ?  —  Will 
she  give  me  leave  to  summon  my  brother 
back  ?" 

"  Oh  no !  no  !  no  !  —  far  otherwise. 
Your  brother  has  been  indifferent  to 
her  ....  ever  since  she  has  known  him 
as  such !" 

She  thought  she  had  now  said  enough  ; 
but  Harleigh,  whose  faculties  w^ere  other- 
wise engaged,  waited  for  further  expla- 
nation. 

"  Can  you  not,"  said  Ellis,  "  or  will 
you  not,  divine  the  reason  of  the 
change  ?" 

«  I  have    certainly,"    he    answered. 


(    Z7S    ) 

*'  long  observed  a  growing  insensi- 
bility;  but  still  — ^* 

"  And  have  you  never,"  said  Ellis, 
deeply  blushing,  "  seen,  also,  -. —  its  re- 
verse ?*' 

This  question,  and  yet  more  the  man- 
ner in  which  it  was  made,  was  too  in- 
telligible to  admit  of  any  doubt.  Har- 
leigh,  however,  was  far  from  elated  as 
the  truth  opened  to  his  view  :  he  looked 
grave  and  disturbed,  and  remained  for 
some  minutes  profoundly  silent.  Ellis, 
already  ashamed  of  the  indelicacy  of  her 
office,  could  not  press  for  any  reply. 

"  I  am  hurt,"  he  at  length  said,  "  be- 
yond all  measure,  by  what  you  intimate  ; 
but  since  Miss  Joddrel  has  addressed 
you  thus  openly,  there  can  be  no  im- 
propriety in  my  claiming  leave,  also,  to 
speak  to  you  confidentially.'* 

"  Whatever  you  wish  me  to  say  to 
ber.  Sir, " 

"  And  much  that  I  do  not  wish  you  to 
say  to  her,"  cried  he,  half  smiling,  "  I 
hope  you  w^ill  hear  yourself!   and  that 


(    376    ) 

then,  you  will  have  the  goodness,  accord- 
ing to  what  you  know  of  her  intentlonj^ 
and  desire,  to  palliate  what  you  may 
deem  necessary  to  repeat." 

"  Ah,  poor  Miss  Joddrel!"  said  Ellis, 
in  a  melancholy  tone,  "  and  is  this  the 
success  of  my  embassy?" 

'*  Did  you,  then,  wish — "  Harleigh 
began,  with  a  quickness  of  which  he  in- 
stantly felt  the  impropriety,  and  changed 
his  phrase  into,  "  Did  you,  then,  expect 
any  other  ?" 

"  I  was  truly  sorry  to  be  entrusted 
with  the  commission." 

"  I  easily  conceive,  that  it  is  not 
such  a  one  as  you  would  have  given  ! 
but  there  is  a  dangerous  singularity  in 
the  character  of  Miss  Joddrel,  that 
makes  her  prone  to  devote  herself  to 
whatever  is  new,  wild,  or  uncommon. 
Even  now,  perhaps,  she  conceives  that 
she  is  the  champion  of  her  sex,  in  shewing 
it  the  road,  —  a  dangerous  road !  —  to  a 
new  walk  in  life.  Yet,  —  these  eccentri- 
cities set  apart, — how  rare  are  her  qua- 


(     Zll     ) 

lities !  how  povverfiil  is  her  mind !  how 
sportive  her  fancy !  and  how  noble  is 
her  superiority  to  every  species  of  art 
or  artifice !" 

"  Yet,  with  all  this,"  said  Ellis,  looking 
at  him  expressively,  "  with  all  this  .  .  .'* 
she  knev/  not  how  to  proceed;  but  he  saw 
her  meaning.  "  With  all  this,"  he  said, 
'•  you  are  surprised, perhaps,  that  I  should 
look  for  other  qualities,  other  virtues  in 
her  whom  I  should  aspire  to  make  the 
companion  of  my  life  ?  I  beseech  you, 
however,  to  believe,  that  neither  inso- 
lence nor  ingratitude  makes  me  insen- 
sible to  her  worth  ;  but,  though  it  often 
meets  my  admiration,  sometimes  my  es- 
teem, and  always  my  good  will  and  re- 
gard, it  is  not  of  a  texture  to  create  that 
sympathy  without  which  even  friend- 
>ship  is  cold.  I  have,  indeed,  ....  tiU 
now  ....'* 

He  paused. 

"  Poor,  poor  Miss  Joddrel !"  exclaim- 
ed Ellis,  "  If  you  could  but  have  heard, 
—  or  if  I  knew  but  how  to  repeat,  even 


'    (    378    ) 

the  millloneth  part  of  what  she  thinks  of 
you  !  —  of  the  respect  with  which  she  is 
ready  to  yield  to  your  opinions  ;  of  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  she  honours  your 
character ;  of  the  devotion  with  which 
she  nearly  worships  you — " 

She  stopt  short,  ashamed ;  and  as 
fearful  that  she  had  been  now  too  urgent, 
as  before  that  she  had  been  too  cold. 

Harleiffh  heard  her  with  considerable 
emotion.  "  I  hope^*'  he  said,  "  your 
feelings,  like  those  of  most  minds  gifted 
with  strong  sensibility,  have  taken  the 
pencil,  in  this  portrait,  from  your  cooler 
judgment  ?  1  should  be  grieved,  indeed, 
to  suppose — but  what  can  a  man  sup- 
pose, what  say,  upon  a  subject  so  delicate 
that  may  not  appear  offensive  ?  Suffer 
me,  therefore,  to  drop  it ;  and  have  the 
goodness  to  let  that  same  sensibility 
operate  in  terminating,  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  may  be  least  shocking  to  her,  all 
view,  and  all  thought,  that  I  ever  could, 
or  ever  can,  entertain  the  most  distant 
project  of  supplanting  my  brother." 


(    379    ) 

«  Will  you  not,  at  least,  speak  to  lier 
yourself?'* 

"  I  had  flir  rather  speak  to  you !  — 
Yet  certainly  yes,  if  she  desire  it." 

"  Give  me  leave,  then,  to  say,"  cried 
Ellis,  moving  towards  the  bed-room 
door,  "  that  you  request  an  audience/* 

"  By  no  means !  I  merely  do  not  ob- 
ject to  it.  You  may  easily  conceive 
what  pain  I  shall  be  spared,  if  it  may  be 
evaded.  All  I  request,  is  a  few  moments 
with  you !  Hastily,  therefore,  let  me 
ask,  is  your  plan  decided  ?" 

'^  To  the  best  of  my  power, — of  my 
ideas,  rather,  —  yes.  But,  indeed,  I 
must  not  thus  abandon  my  charge  i** 

"  And  will  you  not  let  me  enquire 
what  it  is  ?" 

"  There  is  one  thing,  only,  in  which  I 
have  any  hope  that  my  exertions  may 
tun)  to  account ;  I  wish  to  offer  myself 
as  a  governess  to  some  young  lady,  or 
ladies." 

"  I  beseech  you,"  cried  he,  with  sud- 
den fervour,    "  to    confide   to  me  the 


(    38o     ) 

liiatiire  of  yonr  situation  !  I  know  weU 
I  have  no  claim  ;  I  seem  to  have  even 
no  pretext  for  such  a  request ;  yet  there 
are  sometimes  circumstances  that  not 
only  excuse,  but  imperiously  demand 
extraordinary  measures :  perhaps  mine, 
at  this  moment,  are  of  that  sort !  perhaps 
I  am  at  a  loss  what  step  to  take,  till  I 
know  to  whom  I  address  myself  1" 

"  O  Sir  !*'  cried  EUis,  holding  up  her 
hands  in  act  of  supplication,  ''  you  will 
be  heard  !*^ 

Harleigh,  conscious  that  he  had  been 
off  all  guard,  silenced  himself  immedi- 
ately, and  walked  hastily  to  the  window. 

Ellis  knew  not  whether  to  retire,  at 
once,  to  her  ovvU  room  ;  or  to  venture 
into  that  of  Elinor ;  or  to  require  any 
further  answer.  This  last,  however, 
Harleigh  seemed  in  no  state  to  give :  h« 
leant  his  forehead  upon  his  hand,  and 
remained  wrapt  in  thought. 

Ellis,  struck  by  a  manner  which  shewed 
that  he  felt,  and,  apparently,  repented, 
the  possible  meaning  that  his  last  wordi 


(     38i     ) 

might  convey,  was  now  as  much  ashamed 
for  herself  as  for  EHnor  ;  and  not  wish- 
ing to  meet  his  eyes,  ghded  softly  back 
to  her  chamber. 

Here,  whatever  might  be  the  fulness 
of  her  mind,  she  was  not  allowed  an 
instant  for  reflection :  lihnor  folio Vved 
her  immediately. 

She  shut  the  door,  and  walked  closely 
up  to  her.  Ellis  feared  to  behold  her ; 
yet  saw,  by  a  glance,  that  her  eyes 
were  sparkling,  and  that  her  face  was 
dressed  in  smiles.  "  This  is  a  glorious 
day  for  me  !*'  she  cried ;  "  'tis  the  pride 
of  my  life  to  have  brought  such  a  one 
into  the  history  of  my  existence  1" 

Ellis  officiously  got  her  a  chair ;  ar- 
ranged the  fire;  examined  if  the  windows 
were  well  closed;  and  sought  any  occu- 
pation, to  postpone  the  moment  of  speak- 
ing to,  or  looking  at  her. 

Slic  was  not  offended ;  she  did  not 
appear  to  be  hurried  ;  she  seemed  en- 
chanted with  her  own  ideas;  yet  she  had 
a  strangeness  in  her  manner  that  Ellis 
thought  extremely  alarming. 


C    3^2    ) 

**  Well,"  she  cried,  when  she  had 
taken  her  seat,  and  saw  that  Ellis  could 
find  no  further  pretext  for  employing 
herself  in  the  little  apartment ;  "  what 
garb  do  you  bring  me  ?  How  am  I  to  be 
arrayed  ?" 

Ellis  begged  to  know  what  she  meant. 

"  Is  it  a  wedding-garment  ?"  replied 
she,  gaily;  or...."  abruptly  changing 
her  tone  into  a  deep  hoarse  whisper,  "  a 
shroud  ?'* 

Elhs,  shuddering;  durst  not  answer. 
Elinor,  catching  her  hand,  said,  "  Don't 
be  frightened  !  I  am  at  this  moment 
equal  to  whatever  may  be  my  des- 
tiny :  I  am  at  a  point  of  elevation, 
that  makes  my  fate  nearly  indifferent 
to  me.  Speak,  therefore !  but  only  to  the 
fact.  I  have  neither  time  nor  humour 
for  narratory  delays.  I  tried  to  hear  you; 
but  you  both  talked  so  whisperingly, 
that  I  could  not  make  out  a  sentence." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Joddrel,"  said  Ellis, 
trembling  violently,  "  Mr.  Harleigh's 
regard  —  his  affection  — " 


(  383  ) 

"  Not  a  word  of  that  trite  class!'* 
cried  Elinor,  with  sudden  severity,  "  if 
you  would  not  again  work  all  my  passions 
into  inflammation,  involve  me  no  more 
in  doubt!  Fear  nothing  else.  I  am 
no  where  else  vulnerable.  Set  aside, 
then,  all  childish  calculations,  of  giv- 
ing me  an  inch  or  two  more,  or  an 
inch  or  two  less  of  pain, — and  be  brief 
and  true!" 

Ellis  could  not  utter  a  word  :  every 
phrase  she  could  suggest  seemed  to  teem 
with  danger ;  yet  she  felt  that  her 
silence  could  not  but  indicate  the  truth 
which  it  sought  to  hide  ;  she  hung  her 
head,  and  sighed  in  disturbed  perplexity. 
Elinor  looked  at  her  for  some  time  with 
an  examining  eye,  and  then,  hastily 
rising,  emphatically  exclaimed,  "  You 
are  mute  ?  —  I  see,  then,  my  doom  ! 
And  I  shall  meet  it  with  glory !" 

Smiles  triumphant,  but  wild,  now 
played  about  her  face.  "  Ellis,"  she 
cried,  "  go  to  your  work,  or  whatever 
you  were  about,  and  take  no  manner  of 


■•      (    3U'  ) 

heed  of  me., .kJuhaiY.e  somefcluug  of  im- 
portance to  arrange,  and  can  brook  no  ;, 
interruption."  n?  ;<i!  it 

Ellis  acquiesced,  returning  to  the  em- 
ployment of  lier  needle,  for  wliich  Mrs. 
Fonn  took  es|>ecial  care  that  she  should 
never  lack  materials. 

Elinor  spoke  to  her  no  more ;  but  her 
ruminations,  though  undisturbed  by  her 
companion,  were  by  no  means  quiet,  ovj 
silent.  She  paced  hastily  up  and  down 
the  room  ;  sat,  in  turn,  upon  a  chair,  a  * 
window  seat,  and  the  bed;  talkedito 
herself,  sometimes  with  a  vehemence 
tliat  made  several  detached  w^ords,  though 
no  sentences,  intelligible  ;  sometimes  in 
softer  accents,  and  with  eyes  and  gestures 
of  exultation  ;  and,  frequently,  she  went 
into  a  corner  by  the  side  of  the  window, 
where  she  looked,  in  secret,  at  something 
in  a  shagrin  case  that  she  held  in  her 
hand,  and  had  brought  out  of  her 
chamber  ;  and  to  which  she  occasionally 
addressed  herself,  with  a  fervency  that 
shook   her  whole  frame,   and  wath  ex*- 

13 


(  385  ) 

pressions  which,  though  broken,  and  halt 
pronounced,  denoted  that  she  considered 
it  as  something  sacred. 

At  length,  with  an  air  of  transport, 
she  exclaimed,  "  Yes  1  that  will  produce 
the  best  effect !  what  an  ideot  have  I 
been  to  hesitate  !"  then,  turning  with 
quickness  to  Ellis:  "  Ellis,"  she  cried, 
"  I  have  withheld  from  any  questions 
relative  to  yourself,  because  I  abominate 
all  subterfuge  ;  but  you  will  not  suppose 
1  am  contented  with  my  ignorance  ?  You 
will  not  imagine  it  a  matter  of  indifference 
to  me,  to  know  how  I  have  failed  ?** 

She  reddened  ;  passion  took  possession 
of  every  feature,  and  for  a  moment 
nearly  choaked  her  voice :  she  again 
walked,  with  rapid  motion,  about  the 
room,  and  then  ejaculated,  "  Let  me  be 
patient !  let  me  not  take  away  all 
grandeur  from  my  despair,  and  reHuce  it 
to  mere  common  madness! —  Let  me 
wait  the  fated  moment,  and  then  —  let 
the  truth  burst,  blaze,  and  flume,  till  it 
devour  me ! 

VOL.  u  s 


wsk  EiJ^  gflg  presently  ^addeii,  "  find 
Harleigb  ;  tell  him  I  will  wish  him  a 
good  journey  from  the  summer-house  in 
the  garden.  Not  a  soul  ever  enters  it 
at  this  time  of  the  year.  Bid  him  go 
thither  directly.  I  shall  soon  join  him. 
1  will  wait  in  my  room  till  you  call  me. 
Be  quick  !" 

Ellis  required  not  to  have  this  order 
repeated  :  to  place  her  under  the  care 
of  Harleigh,  and  intimate  to  him  the 
excess  of  her  love,  with  the  apprehen- 
sions which  she  now  herself  conceived 
of  the  dangerous  state  of  her  mind,  was 
all  that  could  be  wished ;  and  where 
so  essential  a  service  might  be  render- 
ed, or  a  mischief  be  prevented,  personal 
punctilio  was  out  of  the  question.        ^^ 

He  w^as  not  in  the  hall ;  but,  from 
one  of  the  windows,  she  perceived  him 
walking  near  the  house.  A  painful  sen- 
sation, upon  being  obliged,  again,  to 
force  herself  upon  his  notice,  disturbed, 
though  she  would  not  suffer  it  to  check 
Her.     He  was  speaking  with  his  groom. 


(     387     ) 

She  stopt  at  the  hall-door,  with  a  view 
to  catch  his  eye,  and  succeeded ;  but 
he  bowed  without  approaching  her, 
and  continued  to  discourse  with  his 
groom. 

To  seem  bent  upon  pursuing  him, 
when  he  appeared  himself  to  think  that 
he  had  gone  too  far,  and  even  to  mean 
to  shun  her,  dyed  her  cjieeks  of  the 
deepest  vermilion  j  though  she  com- 
pelled herself,  from  a  terrour  of  the 
danger  of  delay,  to  run  across  the  gravel- 
walk  before  the  house,  to  address  him. 
He  saw  her  advance,  with  extreme  sur- 
prise, but  by  no  means  with  the  same  air 
of  pleasure,  that  he  had  manifested  in 
the  morning.  His  look  was  embar- 
rassed, and  he  seemed  unwilling  to  meet 
her  eyes.  Yet  he  awaited  her  with  a 
respect  that  made  his  groom,  unbidden, 
retire  to  some  distance ;  though  to  await 
her  at  all,  when  he  might  have  met  her, 
struck  her,  even  in  this  hurried  and  ter- 
rified moment,  as  offering  the  strongest 
confirmation  which  she  had  yet  received, 

s   2 


■(     388     ) 

that  it  was  not  a  man  of  pleasure  or  of 
gallantry,  but  of  feeling  and  of  truth, 
into  whose  way  she  was  thus  singularly 
and  frequently  cast :  and  the  impression 
which  she  had  made  upon  his  mind,  had 
never,  to  her  hitherto  nearly  absorbed 
faculties,  appeared  to  be  so  serious  or  so 
sincere,  as  now,  when  he  first  evidently 
struggled  to  disguise  a  partiality,  which 
he  seemed  persuaded  that  he  had,  now^ 
first  betrayed^  The  sensations  which 
this  discovery  might  produce  in  herself 
were  unexamined:  the  misery  with  which 
-it  teemed  for  Elinor,  and  a  desire  to 
relieve  his  own  delicacy,  by  appearing 
unconscious  of  his  secret,  predominated : 
and  she  assumed  sufficient  self-command, 
to  deliver  the  message  of  Elinor,  with  a 
look,  and  in  a  voice,  that  seemed  insen- 
sible and  unobservant  of  every  other 
subject.  ^^iy 

He  soon,  now,  recovered  his  usual 
tone,  and  disengaged  manner.  "  She 
must  certainly,''  he  said,  "  be  obeyed  '^ 
though  I  so  little  expected  such  a  sum- 


mows,  that  I  was  giving  directions  for 
my  departure.*'  ♦'>  t- 

"  Ah,  no!"  cried  Ellis,  "  rather  again 
defer  it." 

"  You  would  have  me  again  defer 
^it  ?"  he  repeated,  with  a  vivacity  he 
tried  still  more,  though  vainly,  to  sub- 
due than  to  disguise. 

The  word  again  did  not  make  the 
cheeks  of  Ellis  paler  ;  but  she  answered, 
with  eagerness,  "  Yes,  for  the  same  pur- 
pose and  same  person  !  —  I  am  forced 
to  speak  explicitly  —  and  abruptly.  In- 
deed, Sir,  you  know  not,  you  conceive 
not,  the  dreadfully  alarming  state  of 
her  nerves,  nor  the  violence  of  her  at- 
tachment.— You  could  scarcely  else — '* 
she  stopt,  for  he  changed  colour  and 
looked  hurt :  she  saw  he  comprehended 
that  she  meant  to  add,  you  could  scarcely 
else  resist  her :  she  finished,  therefore, 
her  phrase,  by  "  scarcely  else  plan  leaving 
her,  till  you  saw  her  more  composed, 
and  more  reconciled  to  herself,  and  to 
the  world."  \y 

s  3 


(     390     ) 

*'  You  may  imagine,*'  said  he,  pen- 
sively, "  it  is  any  thing  rather  than  my 
inclination  that  carries  me  hence  .... 
but  I  greatly  fear  'tis  the  only  prudent 
measure  I  can  pursue." 

*'  You  can  best  judge  by  seeing  her," 
said  Ellis  :  "  her  situation  is  truly  de- 
plorable. Her  faculties  are  all  disor- 
dered ;  her  very  intellects,  I  fear,  are 
shaken ;  and  there  is  no  misfortune,  no 
horrour,  which  her  desperation,  if  not 
feoftened,  does  not  menace." 

Harleigh  now  seemed  awakened  to 
sudden  alarm,  and  deep  concern  ;  and 
Ellis  painfully,  with  encreasing  embar- 
rassment, from  encreasing  consciousness, 
added,  "  You  will  do,  I  am  sure,  what 
is  possible  to  snatch  her  from  despair !" 
and  then  returned  to  the  house:  satisfied 
that  her  meaning  was  perfectly  compre- 
hended, by  the  excess  of  consternation 
into  which  it  obviously  cast  Harleigh. 


C     39^     ) 


n  iJoY   ^' 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

r^OMFORTED,  at  least,  for  Elinor, 
whose  situation  in  being  known, 
seemed  to  lose  its  greatest  danger, 
Ellis,  with  less  oppression  upon  her 
spirits,  returned  to  the  dressing-room. 

Elinor  was  writing,  and  too  intently 
occupied  to  heed  the  opening  of  the 
door.  The  motion  of  her  hand  was  so 
rapid,  that  her  pen  seemed  rather  to 
skim  over,  than  to  touch  her  paper. 
Ellis  gently  approached  her ;  but,  finding 
that  she  did  not  raise  her  head,  ven- 
tured not  even  to  announce  that  her 
orders  had  been  executed. 

At  length,  her  paper  being  filled,  she 
looked  up,  and  said,  "  Well !  is  he 
there  ?" 

"  I  have  delivered  to  him.  Madam, 
your  commands." 

"   Then,"   cried   she,    rising  with  an 

s  4 


k    '39^    ) 

"exuhiu^''^^  ■*'  the  moment  of ''iny 
triumph  is  come !  Yes,  Harleigli !  if 
meanly  I  have  offered  you  my  person, 
nobly,  at  leasf,  T  will  consecrate  to  ybii 
my  soul  !*'  '■  '^^^oB'^ 

Hastily  rolling  up  what  she  had  been 
writing,  and  putting  it  into  a  desk, 
**  Ellis !"  she  added,  "  mark  me  well ! 
should  any  accident  betide  me,  here 
will  be  found  the  last  and  unalterable 
codicil  to  my  will.  It  is  signed,  but 
not  witnessed  :  it'  is  Woii  however,  of 
a  nature  to  be  disputed  j  it  is  to  desire 
only  that  Harleigh  will  take  care  that 
my  bones  shall  be  buried  in  the  same 
charnel-house,  in  which  he  orders  the  in- 
terment of  his  own.  All  that  remains, 
finally^  of  either  of  us,  there,  at  least, 
may  meet !" 

Ellis  turned  cold  with  horrour.  Her 
first  idea  was  to  send  for  Mrs.  Maple ; 
yet  that  lady  was  so  completely  without 
influence,  that  any  interference  on  her 
part,  might  rather  stimulate  than  im- 
pede what  it  was  meant  to  oppose.     It 


'■J 


(     393     ) 

seemed,  therefore,  safest  to  trust  wholly 
to  Harleigh, 

The  eyes  of  Elinor  were  wild  and  fierce, 
her  complexion  was  lividjher  countenance 
was  become  haggard ;  and,  while  she 
taJked  of  triumph,  and  fancied  it  was  what 
she  felt,  every  feature  exhibited  the  most 
tortured  marks  of  impetuous  sorrow,  and 
ungoverned  disappointment. 

She  took  from  her  bureau  the  sha- 
green case  which  she  had  so  fondly  ca- 
ressed, and  which  Ellis  concluded  to 
contain  some  portrait,  or  cherished 
keep-sake  of  Harleigh ;  and  hurried 
down  stairs.  Ellis  fearfully  followed 
her.  No  one  happened  to  be  in  the 
way,  and  she  was  already  in  the  garden, 
when,  turning  suddenly  round,  and  per- 
ceiving Ellis,  "  Oh  ho  1"  she  cried,  "  you 
come  unbidden  ?  you  are  right  j  I  shall 
want  you." 

She  then  precipitately  entered  the 
summer-house,  in  which  Harleigh  was 
awaiting  her  in  the  keenest  anxiety.        , 

His  disturbance  was  augmented  upon 


'(     394     ) 

observing  her  extreme  paleness,  though 
she  tried  to  meet  him  with  a  smile. 
She  shut  and  bolted  the  door,  and 
seated  herself  before  she  spoke. 

Assuming  then  a  mien  of  austerity, 
though  her  voice  betrayed  internal 
tremour,  "  Harleigh  !"  she  cried,  "  be 
hot  alarmed.  I  have  received  your  an- 
sv^^er  !  —  fear  not  that  I  shall  ever  expect 
*— or  would,  now,  even  listen  to  another! 
'Tis  to  vindicate,  not  to  lower  my  cha- 
racter that  I  am  here.  I  have  given 
you,  I  am  aware,  a  great  surprise  by 
what  you  conceive  to  be  my  weakness ; 
prepare  yourself  for  a  yet  greater,  from 
an  opposite  cause.  I  come  to  explain 
to  you  the  principles  by  which  I  am 
actuated,  clearly  and  roundly ;  without 
false  modesty,  insipid  affectation,  or 
artful  ambiguity.  You  will  then  knov/ 
from  what  plan  of  reasoning  I  adopt  my 
measures  ;  which  as  yet,  believing  to  be 
urged  only  by  my  feelings,  you  attri- 
bute, perhaps,  —  like  that  poor  scared 
Ellis,  to  insanity.*' 


C     395     ) 

Eliis  forced  a  smile,  and,  seating  her- 
self at  some  distance,  tried  to  wear  the 
appearance  of  losing  her  apprehensions^ 
while  Harleigh,  drawing  a  chair  near 
Elinor,  assured  her  that  his  whole  mind 
was  engaged  in  attention  to  what  she 
might  disclose. 

Her  voice  now  became  more  steady, 
and  she  proceeded.  , 

"  You  think  me,  I  know,  tarnished 
by  those  very  revolutionary  ideas  through 
which,  in  my  own  estimation,  I  am  en- 
nobled. I  owe  to  them  that  I  dare  hold 
myself  intellectually,  as  well  as  per- 
sonally, an  equal  member  of  the  com- 
munity ;  not  a  poor,  degraded,  however 
necessary  appendant  to  it :  I  owe  to 
them  my  enfranchisement  from  the 
mental  slavery  of  subscribing  to  unex- 
amined opinions,  and  being  governed  by 
prejudices  that  I  despise :  I  owe  to 
them  the  precious  privilege,  so  shame- 
fully new  to  mankind,  of  daring  to  think 
tor  myself.  But  for  them — should  ^^ 
not,  at  this  moment,  be  pining  away  my 

s  6 


(    396    ) 

lingering  existence,  in  silent  consump- 
tion ?  They  have  rescued  me  from  that 
slow  poison  !" 

"  In  what  manner/'  said  Harleigh, 
**  can  I  presume  — " 

She  interrupted  him.  "  Imagine  not  I 
am  come  to  reproach  you  !  or,  still  less, 
to  soften  you !''  She  stopt,  confused, 
rose,  and  again  seated  herself,  before 
she  could  go  on.  "  No !  littleness  of 
that  description  belongs  not  to  such 
energies  as  those  which  you  have 
awakened !  I  come  but,  I  repeat,  to 
defend  myself,  from  any  injurious  suspi- 
cion, of  having  lightly  given  way  to  a 
mere  impulse  of  passion.  :.;I  come  to 
bring  you  conviction  that  reason  has 
guided  my  conduct;  and  I  come  to 
solicit  a  boon  from  you,  —  a  last  boon, 
before  we  separate  for  ever  !'* 

"  I  am  charmed  if  you  have  anything 
to  ask  of  me,^'  said  Harleigh,  "  that  my 
zeal,  my  friendship,  my  attachment, 
may  find  some  vent ;  but  why  speak  of 
80  solemn  a  separation?" 

ti 


(    397     ) 

"  You  will  grant,  then,  what  I  mean 
to  request  ?^* 

"  What  can  it  be  I  could  refuser" 

"  Enough !  You  will  soon  know. 
Now  to  my  justification.  Hear  me, 
Harleigh  1'' 

She  arose,  and,  clasping  lier  hands, 
with  strong,  yet  tender,  emotion,  ex- 
claimed, "  That  I  should  love  you — " 
She  stopt.  Shame  crimsoned  her  skin. 
She  covered  her  face  with  both  her 
hands,  and  sunk  again  upon  her  chair. 

Harleigh  was  strongly  and  painfully 
affected.  "  O  Elinor !"  he  cried,  and 
was  going  to  take  her  hand  ;  but  the 
fear  of  misinterpretation  made  him 
draw  back  ;  and  Elinor,  almost  instantly 
recovering,  raised  her  head,  and  said, 
"  How  tenacious  a  tyrant  is  custom  ! 
how  it  clings  to  our  practice  !  how  it 
embarrasses  our  conduct !  how  it  awes 
our  very  nature  itself,  and  bewilders  and 
confounds  even  our  free  will !  We  are 
slaves  to  its  laws  and  its  follies,  till  we 
forget  its  usurpation.     Who  should  have 


(    398     ) 

tokl  me,  only  five  minutes  ago,  that,  at 
an  instant  such  as  this  ;  an  instant  off 
liberation  from  all  shackles,  of  defiance 
to  all  forms ;  its  antique  prescriptions 
should  still  retain  their  power  to  confuse 
and  torment  me  ?  Who  should  have 
told  me,  that,  at  an  instant  such  as  this, 
I  should  blush  to  pronounce  the  attach-, 
ment  in  which  I  ought  to  glory  ?  and 
hardly  know  how  to  articulate  ....  That^ 
I  should  love  you,  Harleigh,  can  sur^ 
prise  no  one  but  yourself!'* 

Her  cheeks  were  now  in  flames  ;  and 
those  of  Harleigh  were  tinted  with 
nearly  as  high  a  colour.  Ellis  fixed  her 
eyes  stedfastly  upon  the  floor.  t. 

Shocked,  in  despite  of  her  sunk  ex^. 
pectations,    that   words    such    as    these, 
could  be  heard  by  Harleigh  in  silence, 
she    resumed    again    the    haughty    air 
with    which    she   had  begun  the  con- 
ference. 

"  I  ought  not  to  detain  you  so  long, 
for  a  defence  so  unimportant.  What, 
tp  yoH,  can  it  matter,  that  my  valueless 


(     399     ) 

preference  should  be  acknowledged 
from  the  spur  of  passion,  or  the  dictates 
of  reason  ? — And  yet,  to  the  receiver, 
as  well  as  to  the  offerer,  a  sacrifice 
brings  honour  or  disgrace,  according  to 
its  motives.  Listen,  therefore,  for  both 
our  sakes,  to  mine  :  though  they  may 
lead  you  to  a  subject  which  you  have 
long  since,  in  common  with  every  man 
that  breathes,  wished  exploded,  the' 
Rights  of  woman  :  Rights,  however, 
which  all  your  sex,  with  ail  its  arbitrary 
assumption  of  superiority,  can  never 
disprove,  for  they  are  the  Rights  of 
human  nature  ;  to  w-hich  the  two  sexes 
equally  and  unalienably  belong.  But  I 
must  leave  to  abler  casuists,  and  the 
slow,  all-arranging  ascendance  of  truth, 
to  raise  our  oppressed  half  of  the  human 
species,  to  the  equality  and  dignity  for 
which  equal  Nature,  that  gives  us  Birth 
and  Death  alike,  designs  us.  I  must  spend 
my  remaining  moments  in  egotism  ;  for 
all  that  I  have  time  to  attempt  is  my  per- 
sonal vindication.     Harleigh  !  from  the 


(    400     ) 


i    ^ 


first  instant  that  I  saw  you  —  heard  you 
—•knew  yoii — " 

She  breathed  hard,  and  spoke  with 
difficulty;  but  forced  herself  on. 

"  Froni  that  first  instant,  Harleigh  !  I 
have  lived  but  to  cherish  your  idea  !*' 

Her  features  now  regained  their 
highest  expFessictii ''^6f  vivacity;  and, 
rising,  and  looking  at  him  with  a  sort  of 
wild  rapture,  "  Oh  Harleigh  !"  she  con- 
tinued,  "  have  I  attained,  at  last,  this  ex- 
quisite moment?  What  does  it  not  pay 
of  excruciating  suspense,  of  hateful, 
laborious  forbearance,  and  unnatural 
self-denial  ?  Harleigh !  dearest  Ha^- 
leigh !  you  are  master  of  my  soul !  you 
are  sovereign  of  my  esteem,  my  admira- 
tion, my  every  feeling  of  tenderness, 
and  every  idea  of  perfection  ! — Accept, 
then,  the  warm  homage  of  a  glowing 
heart,  that  beats  but  for  you  ;  and  that, 
beating  in  vain,  will  beat  no  more !" 

The  crimson  hue  now  mounted  to  her 
foreliead,  and  reddened  her  neck :  her 
eyes  became  lustrous ;  and  she  was  pre- 


(     401      ) 

paring,  With  an  air  or  extacy,  to  opert 
the  shagreen  case,  which  she  had  held 
folded  to  her  bosom,  when  Harleigh, 
seizing  her  hand,  dropt  on  one  knee, 
and,  hardly  conscious  of  what  he  did, 
or  what  he  felt,  from  the  terrible  impres- 
sion made  by  a  speech  so  full  of  love, 
despair,  and  menace,  exclaimed,  "  Eli- 
nor! you  crown  me,  then,  with  honours, 
but  to  kill  me  with  torture  ?*' 

With  a  look  of  softness  new  to  her 
features,  new  to  her  character,  and  ema- 
nating from  sensations  of  delight  new  to 
her  hopes,  Elinor  sunk  gently  upon  her 
chair,  yet  left  him  full  possession  of  her 
hand ;  and,  for  some  instants,  seemed 
silent  from  a  luxury  of  inward  enjoy- 
ment. "  Is  it  Harleigh,"  she  then 
cried,  "  Albert  Harleigh,  I  see  at  my 
feet  ?  Ah  !  what  is  the  period,  since  1 
have  known  him,  in  which  I  would  not 
joyfully  have  resigned  all  the  rest  of 
my  life,  for  a  sight,  a  moment  such  as 
this !  Dear,  dear,  delicious  poison ! 
thrill,  thrill  through  my  veins!  throb  at 


(       402       ) 

my  heart!  new  string  every  fibre  of  my 
frame  !  Is  it,  then,  granted  me,  at  last, 
to  see  thee  thus  ?  and  thus  dare  speak  to 
thee  ?  to  give  sound  to  my  feelings ;  to 
allow  utterance  to  my  love  ?  to  dare 
suffer  my  own  breath  to  emit  the  purest 
flame  that  ever  warmed  a  virgin  heart  I 
— Ah!  Harleigh  !  proud  Harleigh ! — " 

Harleigh,  embarrassed,  had  risen, 
though  without  quitting  her  hand,  and 
reseated  himself. 

"  Proud,  proud  Harleigh !"  she  con- 
tinued, angrily  snatching  away  her 
hand;  "  you  think  even  this  little  moment 
of  sympathy,  too  long  for  love  and  Eli- 
nor !  you  fear,  perhaps,  that  she  should 
expect  its  duration,  or  repetition^ 
Know  me,  Harleigh,  better !  I  come 
not  to  sue  for  your  compassion,  — I 
would  not  accept  it! — Elinor  may  fail 
to  excite  your  regard,  but  she  will  never 
make  you  blush  that  you  have  excited 
her's.  My  choice  itself  speaks  the  pu- 
rity of  my  passion,  for  are  not  Harleigh 
and  Honour  one  ?" 


\ 


C    403    ) 

She  paused  to  recover  some  compo- 
sure, and  then  went  on. 

"  You  have  attached  neither  a  weak, 
giddy,  unguarded  fool,  nor  an  idly 
wilful  or  romantic  voluptuary.  My  de- 
fence is  grafted  upon  your  character  as 
much  as  upon  my  own.  I  could  divide 
it  into  many  branches  j  but  I  will  content 
myself  with  only  striking  at  its  root, 
namely,  the  Right  of  woman,  if  endowed 
with  senses,  to  make  use  of  them.  O 
Harleigh!  why  have  I  seen  you  wiser 
and  better  than  all  your  race ;  sounder 
in  your  judgment,  more  elegant  in  your 
manners,  more  spirited  in  your  conduct ; 
•ii-  lively  though  benevolent,  —  gentle, 
though  brilliant,  —  Oli  Albert !  Albert ! 
if  I  must  listen  to  you  with  the  same 
dull  ears,  look  at  you  with  the  same 
un marking  eyes,  and  think  of  you  with 
the  same  unmeaning  coldness,  with 
which  I  hear,  see,  and  consider  the  time- 
wearing,  spirit-consuming,  soul-wasting 
tribe,  that  daily  press  upon  my  sight, 
and  offend  my  understanding  ?  Can  you 


C    ^^4    ) 

i^sk,  can  you  expect,  can  you  wish  to 
doom  half  your  species  to  so  degraded 
a  state  ?  to  look  down  upon  the  wife, 
who  is  meant  for  the  companion  of  yout 
existence;  and  upon  the  mother,  of  whose 
nature  you  must  so  largely  partake ;  as 
upon  mere  sleepy^  slavish,  uninterest^ 
ing  autoniatons  ?  Say !  speak  !  answer^ 
Harleigh !  can  such  be  your  lordly,  yet 
most  unmanly  desire  ?" 
-J  i*'  And  is  it  seriously  that  Elinor 
would  have  me  reply  to  such  a  ques* 
tion  ?'*  ^^'  ff'^^f^*  j'TOf  ^ 

*'  No,  Harleigh !  your  noble,  liberal 
nature  answers  it  in  every  w^ord,  in 
every  look !  You  accord,  then, — you 
conceive,  at  least,  all  that  constitutes 
my  defence,  in  allowing  me  the  use  of 
my  faculties ;  for  how^  better  can  I  em- 
ploy them  than  in  doing  honour  to  ex- 
cellence ?  Why,  for  so  many  centuries, 
has  man,  alone,  been  supposed  to  possess, 
not  only  force  and  power  for  action  and 
defence^  but  even  all  the  rights  of  taste  ; 
all  the  fine  sensibilities  which  impel  our 


(     405     ) 

liapplest  sympathies,  in  the  choice  of  our 
life's  partners  ?  Why,  not  alone,  is  woman 
to  be  excluded  from  the  exertions  of 
courage,  the  field  of  glory,  the  immortal 
death  of  honour  ; — not  alone  to  be  de- 
nied deliberating  upon  the  safety  of  the 
state  of  which  she  is  a  member,  and  the 
utility  of  the  laws  by  which  she  must  be 
governed :  — must  even  her  heart  be 
circumscribed  by  boundaries  as  narrow 
as  her  sphere  of  action  in  life  ?  Must  she 
be  taught  to  subdue  all  its  native  emo- 
tions ?  To  hide  them  as  sin,  and  to  deny 
them  as  shame?  Must  her  aiiections  be 
bestowed  but  as  the  recompence  of  flat- 
teryreceived;  not  of  merit  discriminated? 
^lust  every  thing  that  she  does  be  pre- 
scribed by  rule  ?  Must  every  thing  that 
she  says,  be  limited  to  what  has  been  said 
before?  Must  nothing  that  is  spontaneous, 
generous,  intuitive,  spring  from  her  soul 
to  her  lips?  —  And  do  you,  even  you, 
llarleigh,  despise  unbidden  love!" 

"  No,   Elinor,   no!  —  if  I  durst   tell 
you  what  I  think  of  it-r— " 


(     4o6     ) 

He  stopt,  embarrassed. 
**  I  understand  you,  Harleigh  ;  yoa 
know  not  how  to  find  expressions  that 
may  not  wound  me  ?  Well !  let  me 
not  pain  you.  Let  us  hasten  to  con- 
clude. I  have  spoken  all  that  I  am  now 
capable  to  utter  of  my  defence ;  nothing 
more  remains  but  the  boon  I  have  to 
beg.  Harleigh  !  —  if  there  be  a  question 
you  can  resolve  me,  that  may  mitigate 
the  horrour  of  my  destiny,  without  dimi- 
nishing its  glory  —  for  glory  and  horrour 
go  hand  in  hand !  would  you  refuse  me 
—  when  I  solicit  it  as  a  boon  ?  —  would 
you  refuse,  Harleigh,  to  satisfy  me,  even 
though  my  demand  should  be  perplex-r 
ing  ?  could  you,  Harleigh,  refuse  me? — . 
And  at  such  a  moment  as  this  ?'' 

"  No,  certainly  not  !'* 

"  Tell  me,  then,  and  fear  not  to  be 
sincere.  Is  it  to  some  other  attach- 
ment — "  a  sort  of  shivering  fit  stopt  her 
for  a  moment,  but  she  recovered  from  it 
by  a  pride  that  seemed  to  burn  through, 
every  vein,  as  she  added,  "  or  is  it  ta 


(    4o7    ) 

innate  repugnance  that  I  owe  your  His- 

like  r 

"  Dislike  ?  repugnance  ?**  Harleigh 
repeated,  witli  quickness,  "  can  Elinor 
be,  at  once,  so  generous  and  so  unjust 
Can  she  delineate  her  own  feelings  with 
so  touching  and  so  glowing  a  pencil,  yet 
so  ill  describe,  or  so  wilfully  fail  in  com- 
prehending mine  ?'* 

-  "  Dare,  then,  to  be  ingenuous,  and 
save  me,  Harleigh,  —  if  with  truth  you 
can,  the  depression,  the  shame,  of  being 
rejected  from  impenetrable  apathy  !  I 
ought,  I  know,  to  be  above  such  narrow 
punctilio,  and  to  allow  the  independ- 
ence of  your  liberty  ;  but  I  did  not  fall 
into  the  refining  hands  of  philosophy, 
early  enough  to  eradicate  wholly  from 
my  mind,  all  dregs  of  the  clinging  first 
impressions  of  habit  and  education.  Say, 
then,  Harleigh,  if  it  be  in  your  power  so 
to  say,  that  it  is  not  a  free  heart  which 
thus  coldly  disdains  me  ;  that  it  is  not  a 
disengaged  mind  which  refuses  me  its 
sympathy !    that   it   is   not   to  personal 


<     4o8     ) 

aversion,  but  to  some  previous  regard, 
that  I  owe  your  insensibility  !  To  me 
the  event  will  be  the  same,  but  the 
failure  will  be  less  ignoble." 

"  How  difficult,  O  Elinor!  —  how 
next  to  impossible  such  a  statement 
makes  every  species  of  answer  1" 

.^j'.At  a  period,  Harleigh,  awful  and 
finite  to  our  intercourse  like  this,  fall  not 
into  what  I  have  hitherto,  with  sa  much 
reverence,  seen  you,  upon  all  occasions, 
superiour  to,  subterfuge  and  evasion  1 
Be  yourself,  Harleigh!  —  what  can  you 
be  more  noble  ?  and  plainly,  simply  let 
me  into  the  cause,  since  you  cannot 
conceal  from  me  the  effect.  Speak, 
then  !  Is  it  but  in  the  sullen  majesty  of 
masculine  superiority, 

*'  Lord  of  yourself,  uncumber'd  by  a  wife,"  * 

that  you  ^y  all  marriage-bonds,  with 
insulated,  haughty  singleness  ?  or  is  it 
that,  deceived  by  my  apparent  engage- 

*  iJryden. 


(      409      ) : 

tnent,  your  heart  never  asked  itself  the 
worth  of  mine,  till  ah'eady  all  its  own 
pulsations  beat  for  another  object?" 

Harleigh  tried  to  smile,  tried  to  rally, 
tried  to  divert  the  question  ;  all  in  vain  ; 
Elinor  became  but  more  urgent,  and 
more  disordered.  "  O  Harleigh!"  slie 
cried,  "  is  it  too  much  to  ask  this  one 
mark  of  your  confidence,  for  a  creature 
who  has  cast  her  whole  destiny  at  your 
fe^t  ?  Speak  !  —  if  you  would  not  devoto 
me  to  distraction  !  vSpeak !  —  if  you 
would  not  consign  me  to  immediate 
delirium  1" 

"  And  what,"  cried  he,  trembling 
at  her  vehemence,  "  would  you  have  me 
say  ?" 

"  Tliat  it  is  not  Elinor  whom  you 
despise  —  but  another  whom  you  love.'* 

"  Elinor  !  are  you  mad  ?" 

*'  No,  Harleigh,  no!  — but  I  am  wild 
with  anguish  to  dive  into  the  full  depth 
of  my  disgrace  ;  to  learn  whether  it  were 
inevitable,    from    the    very    nature    of 
things, —  from   personal   tintipathy, — 

VOL.  I,  l> 


(     410     ) 

gloss  it  over  as  you  will  with  esteem, 
fe^^ard,  and  professions; — or  whether 


yqn  had  found  that  you,  also,  had  a  soul, 
before  mine  was  laid  open  to  you.  No 
evasion  !  no  delay  !"  continued  she,  with 
augmenting  impetuosity  ;  *'  you  have 
promised  to  grant  my  boon,  —  speak, 
Hat'leigh,  speak  1  —  was  it  my  direful 
fate,  or  your  insuperable  antipathy?" 

"  It  was  surely  not  antipathy  1''  cried 
he,  in  a  tohe  the  most  soothing ;  yet 
with  a  look  affrighted,  and  unconscious, 
till  he  had  spoken,  of  the  inference  to 
which  his  words  might  be  liable. 

"  I  thank  you  !"  cried  she,  fervently, 
<«  Harleigh,  I  thank  you  !  This,  at  least, 
is  noble ;  this  is  treating  me  with  dis- 
tinction, tliis  is  honouring  me  with  trust. 
It  abates  the  irritating  tinglings  of  mor- 
tified pride  ;  it  persuades  me  I  am  the 
victim  of  misfortune,  not  of  contempt." 

Suddenly,  then,  turning  to  Ellis,  whose 
eyes,  during  the  whole  scene,  had  seemed 
rivetted  to  the  floor,  she  expressively 
added,  "  I  ask  not  the  object  !'* 


.(      4M      ) 

Harleigh  breathed  hard,  yet  kept  his 
lace  in  an  opposite  direction,  and  endea- 
voured to  look  as  if  he  did  not  under- 
stand her  meaning.  Ellis  commanded 
her  features  to  remain  unmoved  5  but 
iier  complexion  was  not  under  the  samie 
controul :  frequent  blushes  crossed  her 
cheeks,  which,  though  they  died  away 
almost  as  soon  as  they  were  born,  va- 
nished only  to  re-appear;  evincing  all 
the  consciousness  that  she  struggled  to 
suppress. 

A  pause  ensued,  to  Harleigh  un- 
speakably painful,  and  to  ElHs  indis- 
cribably  distressing;  during  which  Elinor 
fell  into  a  profound  reverie,  from  which, 
after  a  few  minutes,  wildly  starting, 
*'  Harleigli,"  she  cried,  "  is  your  wed- 
ding-day fixed  r" 

"  My  wedding-day  ?**  he  repeated, 
with  a  forced  smile,  "  Must  not  mv 
wedding  itself  be  fixed  first  ?" 

"  And  is  it  not  fixed? — Does  it  de- 
pend upon  EUis?" 

He    looked    palpably    disconcerted  j 

T  2 


,  (    412     ) 

while  Ellis,  hastily  raising  her  head,  ex- 
claimed,  "  Upon  me,  Maciam  r  no,  in- 
deed !  I  am  completely  and  every  way 
oiiiot  the  question* ''^^     '  '^^ 

■^,  J'  Of  you,'*  said  Elinor,  with  severity, 
"  I  mean  not  to  make  any  enquiry] 
You  are  an  adept  in  the  occtilt  sciences ; 
and  such  I  venture  not  to  encounter. 
But  you,  Hadeigh,  will  you,  also,  practfse 
disgifise  r  and  tall  so  in  love  with  ftiys- 
tery,  as  to  lose  your  nohler  nature,  in  a 
blind,  irifatuated  admiration  of  the  mar- 
vellous  and  obscure?"  '     /lau  ^  m 

Ellis  resentfully  reddened;  but^'^H^r 
cheel^s  were  pale  to  those  of  Harleigft. 
Neither  of  them,  however,  spoke  ;  and 
Elinor  continued.  '  ^^^^"^  ^^"^^'^ 

«  I  cannot,  Harleisjli,^  Be  de(!eWe^, 
and  I  will  not  be  trifled  with.     When 

J/^'oiicame  over  i:6  fetch  me  from  France ; 

^  when  the  fatal  name  of  sister  gave  iti'^^'a 
right  to  interrogate  you,  I  frankly  asked 
thf  staitfe^of  yofii^'hfekrt,  arid  yofe^  iinhesi- 

;^  tatingly  told  me  that  it  was  wholly  free. 
Since  that  period,  whom  have  you  seen, 

3 


(    413     ) 

whom  noticed,  except  Ellis !  Ellis ! 
Ellis  I  From  the  first  moment  that  you 
have  beheld  her,  she  has  seemed  the 
mistress  of  your  destiny,'  the  arbitress 
of  your  will.  My  boon,  then,  Harleigh, 
my  boon  !  without  a  moment's  further 
delay !  Appease  the  raging  ferment  in 
my  veins  ;  clear  away  every  surmize ; 
and  generously,  honestly  say  'tis  Ellis  !-;- 
or  it  is  another,  and  not  Ellis,  I  prefer 
to  you  !" 

"  Elinor!    Elinor!"    cried  Harleigh, 

in  a  universal  tromour,  "  it  is  I  that  you 

will  make  mad  !"   while  Ellis,  not  daring 

to  draw  upon  herself,  again,  the  rebuke 

which  rnight  follow  a  single  disclaiming 

word,  rose,  and  turning  from  them  both, 

stood  facing  the  window. 

^,  .j>f  It  js  3urely  then  Ellis  !    what  you 

.will,  not,    Harleigh,   avow,   is   precisely 

,->  what  you  proclaim  —  it  is  surely  Ellis  I" 

^     Ellis   opened  the  window,  and  leant 

^.j/tHit,,  he^,  head;    Hajieigh,  clapping  his 

hand    upon   Jus     crimsoned     forehead, 

^jjiyalked  with  hasty  steps  round  the  little 

apartment. 

T  3 


(      414     ) 

Losing  now  all  self-command,  and 
wringing  her  hands,  in  a  transport  of 
ungovernable  anguish,  "  Oh,  Harleigh  ! 
Harleigh !"  Elinor  cried,  "  to  what  a 
chimera  you  have  given  your  heart ! 
to  an  existence  unintelligible,  a  character 
unfathomable,  a  creature  of  imagination, 
^though  visible !  O,  can  you  believe  she 
^ill  ever  love  you  as  Elinor  loves  ?  with 
,^:^he  warmth,  with  the  truth,  with  the 
tenderness,  with  the  choice  ?  can  ^he 
show  herself  as  disinterested?  can  she 
prove  herself  as  devoted  ?  — " 

"  She  aims.  Madam,  at  no  rivalry  !'* 
said  Ellis,  gravely,  and  returning  to  her 
«eat :  while  Harleigh,  tortured  between 
resentment  and  pity,  stood  still ;  without 
venturing  to  look  up  or  reply. 

"  Rivalry  ?"  repeated  Elinor,  with  high 

disdain :     "  No  !  upon   what  species  of 

-J  competition    could    rivalry  be    formed, 

between  Elinor,  and  a  compound  of  cold 

caution,     and     selfish    prudence  ?     Oh, 

-.Harleiffh !  how  is  it  vou  thus  can  love 

■  all  you  were  \vont   to    scorn  ?    double 


(     4'5     ) 

dealing,  false  appearances,  and  lurking 
dissruise !  without  a  family  she  dare 
claim,  without  a  story  she  dare  tell,  with- 
out a  name  she  dare  avow  !" 

A  deep  sigh,  which  now  burst  from 
Ellis,  terminated  the  conflict  between 
indignation  and  compassion  in  Harleigh, 
who  raised  his  eyes  to  meet  those  of 
Elinor,  with  an  expression  of  undisguised 
displeasure. 

"  You  are  angry  ?'*  she  cried,  clasping 
her  hands,  with  forced  and  terrible  joy  ; 
*'  you  are  angry,  and  I  am  thankful  for 
the  lesson.  I  meant  not  to  have  lingered 
thus;  my  design  was  to  have  been 
abrupt  and  noble/* 

Looking  at  him,  then,  with  uncon- 
trolled emotion,  "  If  ever  man  deserved 
the  sacrifice  of  a  pure  heart,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  'tis  you,  Harleigh,  you !  and 
mine,  from  the  period  it  first  became 
conscious  of  its  devotion  to  you,  has  felt 
that  it  could  not  survive  the  certitude  of 
your  union  with  another.  All  else,  of 
slight,   oi'  failure,    of  inadequate    pre- 

T  4 


\ 


416    ) 


tensions,   mignt    be   borne ;  for  where 
"iieitner  jparty  is   happy,   misery  is   not 
aggravated    by.  .<pontrast,    nor     mortifi- 
cation by  comparison.  ...But  to  become 
the  object  of  i n sol er].t:  pity  to  the  happy  ! 
-r-Ao  make  a  part  of  a  Hval  s  blessmffs, 
by  being  offered  tip  at  the  shrine  of  her 
supedority,rr-No.  ^  Harleiffh,   no!    such 
Abasement  is  not  for  Eh'nor.     And  what 
is  the  charm  of  this  wretched  machine^ 
ojt chy^ \\\sit  can  pay  for  sustaining  itfK 
bprthen   under    similar    disgrace  ?    J-fG%\ 
those  who  prize  support  it,    ,  For  me.-rv*^ 
my  glass'  is  run,  — my  .c^p  is  iull,-?-,!^ 
die!''  ;  .    o^    ^       -  '    _ 

"  Die?"  repeated  Ellis,  witli  .a  fain6 
scream,  while  Harleigh  looked  petrified, £; 
with  horr our.  ^.32 

"*^  X)ie,  yes  !"  answered  EHnor,  with.^^,^ 
smile  triumphant  though  ghastly ;  "  or|.-, 
sleep  !  call  it  which  you  will !  so  anin^aK,;, 
tion  be  over,  so  feeling  be  past,  so  my 
soul  no  longer  linger  under  the  leaden.^;, 
oppression  of  disappointmeni ;  undpr  ., 
sickness  of  all  mortal  existence;  under 


,(     4«7     ) 

r 

incurable,  universal  disgust:  —  call  it 
what  you  please,  sleep,  rest,  or  death ; 
termination  is  all!  seek." 

"  And  is  there,  Elinor,  no  other 
name  for  what  follows  our  earthly  disso# 
iution  ?"  cried  Harleigh,  with  a  shudder- 
ing frown  :  "  What  say  you  if  we  call  it 
immortality  ?" 

"  Will  you  preacli  to  me  ?"  cried  she, 
her  eyes  daiting  fire  ;  ."  will  you  bid  me 
look  forward  to  yef  andtner  life,  when 
this,  short  as  it  is  deemed,  I  find 
insupportable  ?  Ah,  Harleigh !  Harleigh!'* 
her  eyes  suffusing  with  sudden  tender- 
ness ;  "  were  I  your's  —  I  might  wish 
indeed  to  be  immortal !" 

'  Harleigh  was  extremely  affected  :  he 
approached  her,  took  her  hand,  and 
soothingly  said, "  My  dear  Elinor,  com^ 
pose  your  spirits,  exert  your  strength 
of  mind,  and  suffer  us  to  discuss,  these 
subjects  at'some  length/' 

*>  No,  Harleigh  ;  I  must  not  trust  my- 
self  to  your  fascinations  !  How  do  I  know 
but  they  might  bewitch  me  but  of  my  . 


C  418   ) 

reason,  and  entangle  me,  again,  in  those 
antique  superstitions  which  make  misery 
so  cowardly  ?  No,  Harleigh  !  the  star  of 
Ellis  has  prevailed,  and  I  sink  beneath 
its  influence.  Else,  only  sometimes  to  see 
you,  to  hear  of  you,  to  watch  you,  and 
to  think  of  you  always,  I  would  still  live, 
nay,  feel  joy  in  life;  for  still  my  imagina- 
tion would  gift  you,  ultimately,  with 
sensibility  to  my  regard.  But  I  antici- 
pate the  union  which  I  see  to  be  inevita- 
ble, and  I  spare  my  senses  the  shock 
which  I  feel  would  demolish  them. — 
Harleigh  !  —  dearest  Harleigh,  Adieu  !  '* 

A  paleness  like  that  of  death  over- 
spread  her  face. 

**  What  is  it/'  cried  Harleigh,  in- 
expressibly alarmed,  "  what  is  it  Elinor 
means  ?'* 

**  To  re-conquer,  by  the  courage  of 
my  death,  the  esteem  I  may  have  for- 
feited by  my  jealousy,  my  envy,  my 
littleness  in  life  1  You  only  could  have 
corrected  my  errours ;  you,  by  your 
'^ascendance    over    my   feelings,    might 

7 


(     419     ) 

have  refined  them  inta  virtues.  Oh, 
Harleigh !  weigh  not  alone  my  imperfec- 
tions when  you  recollect  my  attachment! 
but  remember  that  I  have  loved  you  so 
as  woman  never  loved  !"         nrrc  r^ 

Her  voice  now  faultered,  and  she 
shook  so  violently  that  she  could  not 
support  herself.  She  put  her  hand 
gently  upon  the  arm  of  Harleigh,  and, 
gliding  nearly  behind  him,  leant  upon 
his  shoulder.  He  would  have  spoken 
words  of  comfort,  but  she  seemed  inca- 
pable of  hearing  him.  "  Farewell  V*  she 
cried,  "  Harleigh  !  Never  will  I  live  to 
see  Ellis  your's  !  —  Farewell !  —  a  long 
farewell  r 

Precipitately  she  then  opened  the 
shagreen  case,  and  was  drawing  out  its 
contents,  when  Ellis,  darting  forward, 
caught  her  arm,  and  screamed,  ratlier 
than  articulated,  "  Ellis  will  never  be 
his !  —  Forbear  !  forbear  !  —  EUis  never 
will  be  his  1" 

The  astonished  Harleigh,  who,  hither- 
to, had  rigorously  avoided  meeting  the 

T  6 


mWlfk^g'm^  Wfied  foWards' her. 

With  an  expre^sioh  in'wnicn  all  that  was 

riot  surprise  wa;^  resentment ;  while  Eli- 

^Br,  seeming  siiclclerily  Suspended,  fdintly 

pronounced,  "  Ellis— =^ deluding  Ellis! — 

Svhat  is  it  you  say  ?" 

^  '^^  r  am  no  deluder!"  cried  Elh's,  yet 

more  eagerly  :   '*'  P-ely,  rely  upon  my 

-plighted  honoirr !" 

Harleigh  now  looked  utterly  con- 
founded ;  but  Ellis  only  saw^  and  seemed 
<)nly  to  breathe  for  Elinor,  who  recover- 
ing, as  if  by  miracle,  her  complexion, 
her  voice,  and  the  brightness  of  her 
eyes,  rapturously  exclaimed,  "  Oh  Har- 
leigh ! —  Is  there,  then,  sympathy  in  our 
fate?  Do  you,  too,  love  in  vain  ?^'  — 
And,  from  a  change  of  emotion,  top 
sudden  and  too  mighty  for  the  shattered 
state  of  her  nerves,  she  sunk  senseless 
upon  the  floor. 

The  motive  to  the  strange  protesta- 
tions of  Ellis  was  now  apparent :  a 
poniard  dropt  from  the  hand  of  Eh  nor 
as  she  fell,  of  which,  while  she  spoke 
lier  farewell,  Ellis  had  caught  a  glance. 


(    4.2^     ) 

Harlclgli  seeraed  himself  to  require 
4he  aid  that  he  was  called  urqu  to  bestow. 
,He  looked  at  Elinor  with  a jmixtiire  of 
compassion  and  horrour,  and,  taking 
possession  of  the  poniard,  **  Uii happy 
Elinor  !*'  he  cried,  "  into  what  a  chaos 
of  erroiir  and  of  crime  have  these  fatal 
liew  systems  bewildered  thee  !" 

The  revival  of  Elinor  was  almost  im- 
mediate; and  though,  at  first,  slie  seemed 
to  have  lost  the  remembrance  of  what 
had    happened,   the   sight  of  Ellis  and 
Harleigh    soon   brought   it   back.     She 
looked   from    one    to   the    other,    as    if 
searcliing  her  destiny  ;   and   then,  v^'ith 
quick    impatience,     though     somewhat 
checked  by  shame,  cried,  "  Ellis  !  have 
you  not  mocked  me  ?*' 
,  j^llis,  covered  with  blushes  and  con- 
fusion, addressing  herself  to  Harleigii, 
said,  "  Pardon,  ]\Ir.  Ilarleigli,  my  seem- 
ing presumption,  where  no  option  has 
been  offered  me ;    and    Vv'here   such  an 
option  is  as  wide  fi'om  my  ex])ectations 
as  it  would  be  from  my  desert.     This 
terrible  crisis  niust  jifi  uiy  apology." 


(      422      ) 

A  shivering  like  that  of  an  ague-fit 
again  shook  the  agitated  Elinor,  who^ 
ejaculating,  "  What  farce  is  this  ?  — 
Fool!  fool!  shall  I  thus  sleepily  be 
duped  ?"  looked  keenly  around  for  her 
lost  weapon. 

«  Duped  ?  no.  Madam,*'  cried  Ellis, 
in  a  tone  impressive  of  veracity :  "  if  I 
had  the  honour  to  be  better  known  to 
Miss  Joddrel,  one  assertion,  I  flatter 
myself,  would  suffice :  my  word  is  given; 
it  has  never  yet  been  broken  1" 

While  this  declaration, though  softened 
by  a  sigh  the  most  melancholy,  struck 
cold  to  the  heart  of  Harleigh,  its  effect 
upon  Elinor  was  that  of  an  extacy  which 
seemed  the  offspring  of  frenzy.  "  Do  I 
awake,  then,"  she  cried,  "  from  agony 
and  death  —  agony,  impossible  to  sup- 
port !  death,  willing  and  welcome !  to 
renewed  life?  to  an  interesting,  how- 
ever deplorable,  existence  ?  is  my  fate  in 
harmony  with  the  fate  of  Harleigh  ?  Has 
he,  even  he  !  given  his  soul,  —  his  noble 
«oul !  — to  one  who  esteems  and  admire* 


(    4^3     ) 

him,  yet  who  will  not  be  Iiis  ?  Can  ^lar- 
leigh  love  in  vain  ?" 

Tears  now  rolled  fast  and  unchecked 
down  her  cheeks,  while,  in  tones  of  en- 
thusiasm, she  continued,  "  I  hail  thee 
once  again,  oh  life!  with  all  thy  arrows  1 
Welcome,  w^elcome,  every  evil  that  asso- 
ciates my  catastrophe  with  that  of  Har- 
leigh !  — Yet  I  blush,  methinks,  to  live  ! 
—  Blush,  and  feel  little,  — nearly  in  tlie 
same  proportion  that  I  should  have 
gloried  to  die !" 

With  these  words,  and  recoiling  frota 
a  solemn,  yet  tender  exhortation,  begun 
by  Harleigh,  she  abruptly  quitted  the 
little  building ;  and,  her  mind  not  more 
highly  wrought  by  self-exaltation,  than  her 
body  was  weakened  by  successive  emo- 
tions, she  was  compelled  to  accept  the 
fearfully  offered  assistance  of  Ellis,  to 
regain,  with  tottering  steps,  the  house. 


(     424     ) 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

T7  LLIS  entered  ibto  the  cKamber  with i 
Elinor ;  who,  equally  exhausted  in^ 
body  ' and'  in   fhihd,  flung  h ersel f  upon 
her  bed,  where  she  remained  some  time 
totally  mute  :   her  eyes  wide  open,  yet-^ 
lool;:ing'¥t  ftoth'irTg,"Sppareritly  in  a  state 
of  stupefaction;    but  from  which,  in  sl' 
few    minutes,    suddenly    starting,    and 
talking  Ellis  by  the  hand,  with  a  com-  ' 
manding  air,  she  abruptly  said,  "  Ellis, '^ 
are  you  fixed  to  marry  Lord  Melbury  ?" 

Ellis  positively  disclaimed  any  such 
idea. 

**  What  am  I  to  infer?'*  cried  Elinor, 
with  returning  and  frightful  agitation ; 
**  Will  you  be  firm  to  your  engagement  ? 
Is  it  truly  your  decision  to  refuse  the 
hand  of  Harlergh,  though  he  were  to 
offer  it  you  ?''     ^^  ^^"^  ^ 

r 

Ellis  shuddered,  and  looked  downj, 


C     425     ) 

but  answered,  "  I  will  surely,  Madam, 
never  forget  my  engagement  !** 

The  most  perfect  calm  now  succeeded 
to  the  many  storms  which  had  both  im- 
pelled  and  shattered  Elinor ;  and,  after 
swallowing  a  copious  draught  of  cold 
water,  she  laid  her  head  upon  her  pillow,, 
and  fell  into  a  profound  and  heavy, 
though  not  tranquil  sleep. 

Ellis,  unable  to  conjecture  in  what 
frame  of  mind  she  might  awake,  did 
not  dare  leave  her.  She  sat  watch-rt 
fully  by  her  side,  amazed  to  see,  that, 
with  such  energy  of  character,  such 
quickness  of  parts,  such  strength  of  com- 
prehension, she  not  only  gave  way  to  all 
her  impulses  like  a  child,  but,  like  a 
child,  also,  when  over-fatigued,  could 
suddenly  lose  her  sufferings  and  her  re- 
membrance in  a  sort  of  spontaneous 
slumber. 

'    But  the  balmy  rest  of  even  spirits,  and  ,j 
a  composed  mind,  was  far  from  Elinor; 
exhausted  nati^re  claimed  some  respite 
from  frantic  exertion,  and  obtained  it; 


(     426     ) 

but  no  more.  She  awoke  then;  yet, 
though  it  was  with  a  frighful  start,  even 
this  short  repose  proved  salutary,  not 
only  to  her  nerves,  but  to  her  intellects. 
Her  passions  became  less  Inflamed,  and 
her  imagination  less  heated;  and,  though 
she  remained  unchanged  in  her  plans, 
and  impenitent  in  her  opinions^  she  ac- 
knowledged herself  sensible  to  the 
{Strangeness  of  her  conduct ;  and  not 
without  shame  for  its  violence.  These, 
however,  were  transitory  sensations:  one 
regret  alone  hung  upon  her  with  any 
serious  weight :  this  was,  having  suffered 
her  dagger  to  be  seen  and  seized.  She 
feared  being  suspected  of  a  mere  puerile 
effort,  to  frighten  fj'om  Harleigh  an  offer 
of  his  hand,  in  menacing  what  she  had 
not  courage,  nor,  perhaps,  even  intention 
to  perform. 

This  suggestion  was  intolerable  :  she 
blushed  with  shame  as  it  crossed  her 
mind.  She  shook  with  passion,  as  she 
considered,  that  such  might  be  the  dis- 
graceful opinion,  that  might  tarnish  the 
glory  that   she    meant  to  acquire,  by 


(     427      ) 

Jjing  fit  the  feet  of  the  object  of  her 
adoration,  at  the  very  moment  of  yielding 
to  the  happier  star  of  an  acknowledged 
rival;  a  wilHng  martyr  to  successless,  but 
heroick  love. 

She  was  now  tempted  to  prove  hsr 
sincerity  by  her  own  immediate  de- 
struction. "  And  yet,"  she  cried,  "  shall 
I  not  bear  what  Harleigh  bears  ?  Shall  I 
not  know  the  destiny  of  Harleigh  ?" 

This  idea  again  reconciled  her  to  pre- 
sent life,  though  not  to  her  actual 
situation ;  and  she  ruminated  labori- 
ously, for  some  time,  in  gloomy 
silence  ;  from  which,  however,  breaking 
wdth  sudden  vivacity,  "  No,  no  1"  she 
cried:  "  I  will  not  risk  any  aspersing 
doubt;  I  will  shew  him  I  have  a  soul 
that  strenuously  emulates  the  nobleness 
of  his  own.  He  shall  see,  he  shall  con- 
fess, that  no  meanness  is  mixt  with  the 
love  of  Elinor.  He  shall  not  suppose, 
because  she  glories  in  its  undisguised 
avowal,  that  she  waits  in  humble  hope 
for  a  turn  in  her  favour  ;  that  she  is  a 
*  candidate  for  his  regard ;    a  suppliant 


(     428     ) 

for  his  compassion!  No!  he  shall  see 
that  she  is  frank  without  weakness,  and 
free  from  every  species  of  dissimulation 
or  stratagem." 

She  then  rushed  out  of  the  room) 
shutting  the  door  after  her,  and  com- 
manding Ellis  not  to  follow  :  but  Ellis, 
fearing  every  moment  some  dreadful 
catastrophe,  softly  pursued  her,  till 
she  saw  her  enter  the  servants'  hall ; 
whence,  after  giving  some  orders,  in  a 
low  voice  and  hurried  manner,  to  her 
own  footman,  she  remounted  to  her 
chamber;  into  which,  without  opposition, 
or  even  notice,  Ellis  also  glided. 

Here,  eagerly  seizing  a  pen,  with  the 
utmost  rapidity,  though  with  many 
blots,  and  frequent  erazures,  she  wrote 
a  long  letter,  which  she  read  and  altered 
repeatedly  before  she  folded  ;  she  then 
wrote  a  shorter  one  ;  then  rang  for  her 
maid,  to  whom  she  gave  some  secret 
directions,  which  she  finished  by  com- 
manding  that  she  w^ould  find  out  Mf 
Harleigh,  and  desirie  that  hj3  would  go 
immediately  to  the  summer-house. 


"In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  which 
slie  spent  in  reading,  revising',  seah'ng, 
and  directing  her  letters,  tlie  maid  re- 
turned ;  and,  after  a  long  whisjjer,  said, 
that  she  had  given  the  niodsage  to 
Mr.  Harleigh. 

f^' Turning-  now  to  Ellis,  with  a  voice 
and  air  of  decision,  that  seemed  imperi- 
ously to  forbid  resistance,  she  put  into 
her  hand  the  long  letter  which  she  had 
just  written,  and  said,  "  Take  this  to 
him  immediately;  and,  while  he  reads  it, 
mark  every  change  of  his  countenance, 
so  as  to  be  able  to  deduce,  and  clearly 
to  understand,  the  sensations  which  pass 
in  his  mind." 

X^^AVh.en  Ellis  expostulated  upon  the 
Alttor  impropriety  of  her  following  Mr. 
Harleigh,  she  sternly  said,  "  Give  the 
letter,  then,  to  whatever  other  person 
you  judge  most  proper  to  become  a 
third  in  my  confidence !" 
''TT'She  then  nearly  forced  her  out  of  the 
room, 
•-'o  EHig  did  not  dare  venture  to  keep  the 


(     43^     ) 

letter,  as  she  wished,  till  some  oppor- 
tunity should  offer  for  presenting  it 
quietly,  lest  some  high  importance  shoukl 
be  annexed  to  its  quick  delivery ;  yet 
she  felt  that  it  would  be  cruel  and  in- 
delicate to  make  over  such  a  commission 
to  another ;  in  opposition,  therefore,  to 
the  extremest  personal  repugnance,  she 
compelled  herself,  with  fearful  and  un- 
willing, yet  hasty  steps,  to  proceed  again 
to  the  summer-house. 

She  found  Harleigh,  with  an  air  at 
once  pensive  and  alarmed,  waiting  for 
EHnor  ;  but  at  the  unexpected  sight  of 
vEllis,  and  of  Ellis  alone,  every  feature 
brightened;  thovjgh  his  countenance,  his 
manner,  his  whole  frame,  evinced  in- 
creased agitation. 

Anxious  to  produce  her  excuse,  for  an 
intrusion  of  which  she  felt  utterlv 
ashamed,  she  instantly  presented  him 
the  letter,  saying,  *•  Miss  Joddrel  would 
take  no  denial  to  my  being  its  bearer. 
She  has  even  charged  me  to  remain  with 
you  while  you  read  it." 


(    431     > 

"  Were  that,"  said  he,  expressively, 
''  the  severest  pain  she  iaflicts  upon  me, 
I  should  soon  become  her  debtor  for 
feelings  that  leave  pain  apart! — Urgent, 
indeed,  was  my  desire  to  see  you  again, 
and  without  delay ;  for  after  what  has 
passed  this  morning,  silence  and  for- 
bearance are  no  longer  practicable." 

"  Yet,  at  this  moment,"  said  Ellis, 
striving,  but  ineffectually,  to  speak  with- 
out disturbance ;  "  it  will  be  impossi- 
ble for  me  to  defer  returning  to  the 
house.*' 

"  Yet  if  not  now,  when  ?" 
*'  I  know  not  —  but  she  will  be  very 
impatient  for  some  account  of  her  letter." 
"  She  will,  at  least,  not  be  desperate, 
since  she  expects,  and  therefore  will  wait 
for  you ;  how,  then,  can  I  hope  to  find  a 
more  favourable  opportunity,  for  obtain- 
ing a  few  instants  of  your  time  ?" 

'^  But,  though  she  may  not  be  des- 
perate just  now,  is  it  not  possible,  Sir, 
that  my  staying  may  irritate,  and  make 
her  so  ?" 


(     43^     ) 

"  That,  unhappily,  is  but  too  true ! 
There  is  no  relying  upon  the  patience, 
or  the  fortitude,  of  one  so  completely 
governed  by  impulse  ;  and  who  con- 
siders her  passions  as  her  guides  to 
glory,  —  not  as  the  subtlest  enemies  of 
every  virtue  !  Nevertheless,  what  I  feel 
for  her  is  far  bevond  what,  situated  as 
I  now  am  with  her,  I  dare  express. — 
Yet,  at  this  moment — " 

"  Will  you  not  read  her  letter  ?'* 

"  That  you  may  run  away  ?"  cried  he, 
half  smiling ;  "  no  ;  at  this  moment  I 
will  not  read  her  letter,  that  you  may  be 
forced  to  stay  !'* 

"  You  cannot  wish  me  to  make  her 
angry  r" 

''  Far,  far  from  it !  but  what  chance 
have  I  to  meet  you  again,  if  I  lose  you 
now  ?  Be  not  alarmed,  I  beg :  she  will 
naturally  conclude  that  I  am  studying 
her  letter  ;  and,  but  for  an  insuperable 
necessity  of — of  some  explanation,  I 
could,  indeed,  think  of  no  other  subject: 
for  dreadful  is  the  impression  which  the 


(    435    ) 

scene  that  I  have  just  had  with  her  has 
made  upon  ray  nerves.  —  Ah  I  how  could 
she  imagine  such  a  one  calculated  to 
engage  ray  heart  ?  How  wide  is  it  from 
all  that,  to  me,  appears  attractive !  Her 
spirit  I  admire  ;  but  where  is  the  sweet- 
ness I  could  love  ?  I  respect  her  under- 
standing ;  but  where  is  the  softness 
that  should  make  it  charm  while  it  en- 
lightens ?  I  am  grateful  for  her  par- 
tiahty ;  but  where  is  the  dignity  that 
might  ennoble  it,  or  the  delicacy  that 
might  make  it  as  refined  as  it  is  flattering? 
Where — where  the  soul's  fascination, that 
grows  out  of  the  mingled  excellencies, 
the  blended  harmonies,  of  the  under- 
standing with  the  heart  and  the  man- 
ners ?" 

Vainly  Ellis  strove  to  appear  uncon- 
scious of  the  comparison,  and  the  ap- 
plication, which  the  eyes  of  Harleigh, 
yet  more  pointedly  than  his  words, 
marked  for  herself  in  this  speech  :  her 
quickly  rising  blushes  divulged  all  that 
her  stillness,  her  unmoved  features  tried 

VOL.  I.  V 


(     434     ) 

to  disguise;  and/  to  get  rid  of  her 
confusion,  shW' ''again  desired  that  he 
would  open  the  letter,  and  with  an 
urgency  which  he  could  not  resist.  He 
merely  stipulated  that  she  would  wait 
to  hear  his  answer  ;  and  then  read  what 
follows. 


./.  ••  'j  i  • 


f  ^**.. 


"  For  Albert  Harleigh. 

^'  I  am  sick  of  the  world,  yet  still  I 
crawl  upon  its  surface.  I  scorn  and  defy 
the  whole  human  race,  yet  doom  my- 
self to  be  numbered  in  its  community. 
While  you,  Albert  Harleigh,  you  w4iom 
alone,  of  all  that  live  and  breath,  I 
prize,  —  you,  even  your  sight,  I,  from 
this  moment,  eternally  renounce  !     Such 

the  mighty  ascendance  of  the  passion 
which  you  have  inspired,  that  I  will 
sooner  forego  that  only  blessing  — 
though  the  universe  without  it  is  a  hateful 
blank  to  my  eyes — than  risk  opposing 
the  sway  of  your  opinion,  or  suffer  you 
to  think  me  ignoble,  though  you  know 
iriT  to  be  enslaved.     O  Harleigh!  how 


(     435     ) 

fkt  from  all  that  is  vile  or  debasing  is  the 
flame,  the  pure,  though  ardent  flame  that 
you  have  kindled !  To  its  animating 
influence  I  am  indebted  for  one  precious 
moment  of  heavenly  truth ;  and  for 
having  snatched  from  the  grave,  which 
in  its  own  nothingness  will  soon  moul- 
der away  my  frame,  the  history  of  my 
feelings. 

1     "  I  have  conquered  the  tyrant  false 
pride  ;  I  have  mocked  the  puerilities  of 
education  5    I  have   set  at  nought   and 
defeated    even    the    monster    custom ; 
but  you,  O  Harleigh  !  you  I  obey,  with- 
■  out   waiting   for   a   command;    you,    I 
i  3eek    to    humour,   without   aspiring   to 
r- please  !    To  you,  my  free  soul,  my  liber- 
/^ated  mind,  my  new-born  ideas,  all  yield, 
'  slaves,   willing   slaves,   to   what  I  only 
—  conceive  to  be  your  counsel,  only  con- 
jecture to  be  your  judgment ;  that  since 
I  have  failed  to  touch  your  heart,  after 
having  opened  to  you  my  own,  a  total 
separation  will  be  due  to  my  fame  for 
the  world,  due  to  delicacy  for  myself. . 

u  2 


C   436    ) 

"  Be  it  SO5  Albert  .  .  .  we  will  part !  — 
Though  my  fame,  in  my  own  estimation, 
would  be  elevated  to  glory,  by  the  pub* 
lication  of  a  choice  that  does  me  honour; 
though  my  delicacy  would  be  gratified, 
would  be  sanctified,  by  shewing  the  pu- 
rity of  a  passion  as  spotless  as  it  is  hope- 
less—  yet  will  I  hide  myself  in  the 
remotest  corner  of  the  universe,  rather 
than  resist  you  even  in  thought.  O  Al- 
bert! how  sovereign  is  your  power!  — 
more  absolute  than  the  tyranny  of  the 
controlling  world  ;  more  arbitrary  than 
prescription ;  more  invincible  than  the 
prejudices  of  ages!  —  You,  I  cannot  re- 
sist !  you,  I  shall  only  breathe  to  adore ! 
—  to  bear  all  vou  bear,  —  the  tortures  of 
disappointment,  the  abominations  of  in- 
certitude ;  to  say,  Harleigh  himself  en- 
dures this !  we  suffer  in  unison !  our 
woes  are  sympathetic  1  —  O  word  to 
charm  all  the  rigour  of  calamity!  .... 
Harleigh,  I  exist  but  to  know  how  your 
destiny  will  be  fulfilled,  and  then  to 
come   from   my   concealment,   and  bid 


(     437     ) 

you  a  last  farewell !  to  leave  upon  the 
record  of  your  memory  the  woes  of  my 
passion ;  and  then  consign  myself  for 
ever  to'^my  native  oblivion.  Till  when, 
adieu,  Albert  Harleigh,  adieu  ! 

"  ELI^30R  JODDREL.'* 

Harleigh  read  this  letter  with  a  dis- 
turbance that,  for  a  while,  wholly  ab- 
sorbed his  mind  in  its  contents.  "  Mis- 
guided, most  unfortunate,  yet  admirable 
Elinor  !'*  he  cried,  "  what  a  terrible  per- 
version is  here  of  intellect!  what  a  con- 
fusion of  ideas !  what  an  inextricable 
chaos  of  false  principles,  exaggerated 
feelings,  and  imaginary  advancement  in. 
new  doctrines  of  life  T^ 

He  paused,  thoughtfully  and  sadly, 
till  Ellis,  though  sorry  to  interrupt  his 
meditations,  begged  his  directions  what 
to  say  upon  returning  to  the  house. 

"  What  her  present  plan  may  be," 
he  answered,  "is  by  no  means  clear  j 
but  so  boundless  is  the  licence  wliich 
the  followers  of  the  new  svstems  allow 

u  ? 


(    438     ) 

themselves,  that  nothing  is  too  dreadful 
to  apprehend.  Religion  is,  if  possible, 
still  less  respected  than  law,  prescrip- 
tive rights,  or  any  of  the  hitherto  ac- 
knowledged ties  of  society.  There  runs 
through  her  letter,  as  there  ran  through 
her  discourse  this  morning,  a  continual 
intimation  of  her  disbelief  in  a  future 
state ;  of  her  defiance  of  all  revealed 
religion;  of  her  high  approbation  of 
suicide.  —  The  fatal  deed  from  whieh 
you  rescued  her,  had  no  excuse  to 
plead  from  sudden  desperation ;  she 
came  prepared,  decided,  either  to  dis- 
prove her  suspicions,  or  to  end  her  ex- 
istence !  —  poor  infatuated,  yet  highly 
gifted  Elinor !  —  what  can  be  done  to 
save  her  ;  to  recal  her  to  the  use  of  her 
reason,  and  the  exercise  of  her  duties  ?" 

"  Will  you  not.  Sir,  see  her  ?  Will  you 
not  converse  with  her  upon  these  points, 
in  which  her  mind  and  understanding 
are  so  direfuUy  warped  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  will;  and  I  beg  you  to 
entreat  for  my  admission.  I  must  seek  to 


\ 


(     439     ) 

dissuade  her  from  the  wild  and  useless 
scheme  of  seclusion  and  concealment. 
But  as  time  now  presses,  permit  me  to 
speak,  first,  upon  subjects  which  press 
also,  —  press  irresistibly,  unconquer- 
ably !  —  Your  plan  of  becoming  a  gover- 
ness — " 

"  I  dare  not  stay,  now,  to  discuss  any 
thing  personal ;  yet  I  cannot  refrain 
from  seizing  a  moment  that  may  not 
again  offer,  for  making  my  sincerest 
apologies  upon  a  subject  —  and  a  decla- 
ration —  I  shall  never  think  of  without 
confusion.  I  feel  all  its  impertinence,  its 
inutility,  its  presumption  ;  but  you 
will  make,  I  hope,  allowance  for  the  ex- 
cess of  my  alarm.  I  could  devise  no 
other  expedient." 

"  Tell  me,"  cried  he,  "  I  beg,  was 
it  for  her  .  .  .or  for  me  that  it  was 
uttered  ?  Tell  me  the  extent  of  its  pur- 
pose 1" 

"  You  cannot,  surely.  Sir,  imagine  — 
cannot  for  a  moment  suppose,  that  I  was 
guided    by    such    egregious    vanity    as 


(     440     ) 

to  believe — "  She  stopt,  extremely  em- 
barrassed. 

"  Vanity,"  said  he,  "  is  out  of  the 
question,  after  what  has  just  passed  ; 
spare  then,  I  beseech,  your  own  can- 
dour, as  well  as  my  suspense,  all  unne- 
cessary pain.'* 

"  I  entreat,  I  conjure  you,  Sir/*  cried 
Ellis,  now  greatly  agitated,  "  speak  only 
of  my  commission  1" 

"  Certainly,"  he  answered,  "  this  is 
not  the  period  I  should  have  chosen,  for 
venturing  upon  so  delicate — I  had  near- 
ly said  so  perilous  a  subject ;  but,  so  im- 
periously called  upon,  I  could  neither  be 
insincere,  nor  pusillanimous  enough,  to 
disavow  a  charge  which  every  feeling 
rose  to  confess!  — Otherwise  — just  now, 
.— -my  judgment^  my  sense  of  propriety, 
—  all  in  the  dark  as  I  am  —  would  se- 
dulously, scrupulously  have  constrained 
my  forbearance,  till  I  knew — "  He 
stopt,  paused,  and  then  expressively, 
yet  gently  added,  ''  to  whom  I  addressed 
myself!" 


(     441      ) 

Ellis  coloured  highly  as  she  answered, 
"  I  beg  you.  Sir,  to  consider  all  that  was 
drawn  from  you  this  morning,  or  all  that 
might  be  inferred,  as  perfectly  null  — 
unpronounced  and  unthought." 

"  No  !"  cried  he  with  energy,  "  no ! 
To  have  postponed  an  explanation  would 
have  been  prudent,  —  nay  right :  —  but 
every  sentiment  of  my  mind,  filled  with 
trust  in  your  worth,  and  reverence  for 
your  virtues,  forbids,  now^,  a  recantation! 
Imperious  circumstances  precipitated  me 
to  your  feet — but  my  heart  was  there 
already  1" 

So  extreme  was  the  emotion  with 
which  Harleigh  uttered  these  words,  that 
he 'perceived  not  their  effect  upon  Ellis, 
till,  gasping  for  breath,  and  nearly 
fainting,  she  sunk  upon  a  chair  j  when 
so  livid  a  paleness  overspread  her  face, 
and  so  deadly  a  cold  seemed  to  chill  her 
blood,  that,  but  for  a  friendly  burst  of 
tears,  whicli  ensued,  her  vital  powers 
appeared  to  be  threatened  with  imme- 
diate suspension. 


(     442     ) 

Harleigh  was  instantly  at  her  feet ; 
grieved  at  her  distress,  yet  charmed  with 
a  thousand  nameless,  but  potent  sensa- 
tions, that  whispered  to  every  pulse  of 
his  frame,  that  a  sensibility  so  powerful 
could  spring  only  from  too  sudden  a 
concussion  of  pleasure  with  surprise.  • 

He  had  hardly  time  to  breathe  farth 
a  protestation,  when  the  sight  of  his 
posture  brought  back  the  blood  to  her 
cheeks,  and  force  to  her  limbs  ;  and, 
hastily  rising,  with  looks  of  blushing 
confusion,  yet  with  a  sigh  that  spoke 
internal  anguish,  "  I  cannot  attempt," 
she  cried,  "  Mr.  Harleigh,  —  I  could 
not,  indeed,  attempt  —  to  express  my 
sense  of  your  generous  good  opinion  1  — 
yet  —  if  you  would  not  destine  me  to 
eternal  misery,  you  must  fly  me  —  till 
you  can  forget  this  scene — as  you  would 
wish  me  to  fly  perdition  1'' 

She  rose  to  be  gone ;  but  Harleigh 
stopt  her,  crying,  in  a  tone  of  amaze- 
ment,  "  Is  it  possible,  —  can  it  be 
possible,    that   with    intellects   such   as 


(     443     ) 

yours,  clear,  penetrating,  admirable,  you 
can  conceive  eternal  misery  will  be  your 
portion,  if  you  break  a  forced  engage- 
ment made  with  a  mad  woman  ?  —  and 
made  but  to  prevent  her  immediate  self- 
destruction  ?'* 

Shaking  her  head,  but  averting  her 
eyes,  Ellis  would  neither  speak  nor  be 
detained  ;  and  Harleigh,  who  durst  not 
follow  her,  remained  confounded. 


END    OF    THE    FIRST   VOLU^IE, 


Strahan  and  Preston, 
Printers-Street,  Loudon. 


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