The medicines ordered by her skilful physician had so salutary an
effect, that towards midnight Ellen fell into a quiet sleep, from which
every thing favourable might be expected. Lady Juliana was therefore
prevailed on to retire to bed, Miss Cecil, Jane, and the housekeeper,
sitting up with Lady St. Aubyn, the two latter in the anti-chamber. But
Lady Juliana was far from being satisfied, notwithstanding the
assurances of St. Aubyn that all was at an end between him and Ross: she
knew him too well to believe he would pass over insults so marked; and
her watchfulness had convinced her no apology from Ross, in writing or
otherwise, had been received. Sir Edward Leicester, too, had called once
or twice in the course of the day; and though she had tormented him and
her nephew, by resolutely remaining in the room in defiance of the hints
St. Aubyn gave of wishing to be alone with his friend, yet she overheard
a few words, that more and more convinced her a duel was intended. She
left orders, therefore, to be called by day-break; and unable to prevail
on St. Aubyn to go to bed, wearied and exhausted by emotions, which, at
her time of life, she could ill support, she at length left him to
himself.
Determined as he was to meet Ross in the morning, and avoiding
reflections, which, though he felt how decisive they were against the
practice of duelling, he yet thought came too late. St. Aubyn's frame
was shaken by various sensations. Recollection of the past, and terror
for the future, hung heavily upon him; yet not for himself he feared:
but should any thing amiss happen to him, what would become of Ellen--of
Ellen, whom he should leave upon a bed of sickness, which, then he felt
convinced, would be to her the bed of death!
"And was it for this," he exclaimed, as he paced his study, "for this I
drew her from her native shades, where, happy and contented, but for me
she might have blossomed still. Oh! little, my Ellen, hast thou had
cause to rejoice in that elevation which doubtless many have envied
thee. Too often have I been to thee the mysterious cause of sorrow and
anxiety. Perhaps I shall have been also the cause of thine untimely
end."
The idea so dreadfully shook him, he dared no longer think, lest it
should quite unman him; but determined to look upon her once more, he
took the taper, which burnt beside him, and, with light steps, passed to
her apartment. In the anti-room he found the housekeeper and Jane both
sleeping in their chairs: all was profoundly still, and he began to fear
Ellen was left without a wakeful guard; but at the sound of his
footsteps, almost noiseless as they were, and the approaching light, for
the bed-room door was open for air, Laura Cecil stole to meet him: she
motioned to him to be silent, and advancing a few steps into the
anti-room, said, in the lowest whisper, "For heaven's sake, Lord St.
Aubyn, why this--why are you not retired to rest?"
"Ah, Laura! dear, kind Laura," he exclaimed, grasping her hand, "how
could I rest, while that injured, perhaps that murdered angel lies
suffering thus, and through my fault, through my accursed, headlong
jealousy!"
"Deeply, indeed," said Laura, "do I lament that appearances should have
thus misled you, my Lord, and am indeed astonished at it: had you but
waited one hour, ere you so harshly condemned, from me you might have
learned her perfect innocence: she pressed me to go with her this
morning, which my having a bad head-ache prevented: she told me where
she was going, shewed me the letter she had received, detailed her kind
plans for relieving the poor widow, and mentioned not having explained
her intentions to you, lest you should prevent her going; and she wished
so much, she said, to see the _poor little infant_; certainly she did
not mention any intention of going to that fatal house where you found
her, and which, I am assured, she never thought of till passing the top
of the street she recollected the book she so much valued, and which I
one day heard her tell Jane to call for; but all this is now unavailing:
let me beg you to retire: should the murmur of our voices disturb her, I
shall indeed greatly lament it."
"Oh, let me look upon her--once more let me see her! Will she die? Is it
possible she may recover?"
"It is very possible, almost certain, from her sleeping so quietly, if
you do not disturb her: but think, if she should awake and see you, at
this strange hour, with those distracted looks!"
"Yet I must see her _now_--yes, Laura, I must venture all; for how do I
know if I shall ever see her more!"
"For heaven's sake, what do you mean? Surely, surely you do not think
of--you are not meditating----"
"No matter what," said he hastily; "I must see her _now_."
Laura shrunk back astonished and dismayed; but feeling that he would not
be contradicted, she again, with light steps, approached the bed; where,
in a profound sleep, the effect of opiates, lay Ellen, "fair lily, and
whiter than her sheets;" and but that in the stillness of night her
quick short breathings were distinctly heard, it could hardly have been
known she lived.
Laura then beckoned St. Aubyn to approach, which he did with trembling
steps, and shaded by the curtain, gazed wistfully upon her. Overcome by
the touching spectacle of youth, beauty, and innocence, in a few hours
almost destroyed by his rash jealousy, the tears now ran down his manly
cheeks; and hardly could he restrain the groans which heaved his bosom,
while Laura's eyes streamed at the affecting sight before her. At that
moment Ellen moved a little, and they both retreated, that if she opened
her eyes she might not see them; but she still slept; and only murmuring
"dear St. Aubyn," and a few inarticulate words, she was again silent.
Again St. Aubyn asked Laura if it were possible she could recover, and
she assured him that Ellen already looked better than she had done an
hour before; and at last, after he had knelt and imprinted a soft kiss
on one of her hands, which lay on the counterpane, and lifted up his
heart to heaven, in silent prayer for her recovery, he was prevailed on
to quit the room.
The rest of the night St. Aubyn spent in settling some papers, and
adding a few lines to his will, all of which he locked into a drawer,
and sealing up the key, directed it to Lady Juliana.
At day-break his valet, according to order, came to him. To this
confidential servant St. Aubyn explained the cause of his going from
home so early, and left the pacquet for Lady Juliana in his care, to be
delivered to her, should he not return in safety. He then sent to
inquire of Jane for her lady, and had the happiness of hearing a
favourable account of her. St. Aubyn then set off, attended only by one
servant, to the house of Sir Edward Leicester, whose carriage was at the
door, and they instantly proceeded to Wimbledon, where, on the spot
marked in Charles Ross's letter, they alighted; and telling the coachman
to draw off, and wait at a place they pointed out to him, the two
friends walked up and down some time, expecting Ross.
In about ten minutes they saw him approaching, but alone: St. Aubyn just
touched his hat, and said, "Mr. Ross, where is your friend?"
"My Lord," said Ross, in a firm tone, "I am here, not to fight, not to
double the injuries you have already received from me, but to make every
concession you can desire. I have brought no friend with me; I trust my
honour and my life implicitly in your hands. Are you prepared to hear my
explanation?--if not, I am ready to stand your fire."
"I know not, Sir," said St. Aubyn, haughtily, "what has caused this
sudden alteration in your sentiments: this meeting was at your own
request; and the insults you bestowed on Lady St. Aubyn yesterday make
me as desirous of it now as you were when you appointed it."
"Yet, my Lord," said Sir Edward, "hear Mr. Ross: if this affair can be
accommodated without bloodshed, I think myself called upon to insist it
shall be so."