"Well, Sir, your explanation if you please."
Ross now entered into a long detail of the circumstances which had
misled him, stated his fears of St. Aubyn under the name of Mordaunt,
when he first saw him at Llanwyllan; that no letters from thence had
reached him on the station where he had remained for the last half year,
till, about a month before his ship had come home, and he had been
ordered to London to receive a promotion as unexpected as it was
welcome; that he happened to lodge at Mrs. Birtley's, and by chance,
finding the volume of Gray Lady St. Aubyn had left there, he recognized
the initials "C. F. M. to E. P." in the first page, which the words
"Dear Llanwyllan," written in another, confirmed. The answer Mrs.
Birtley made to his impatient questions had convinced him who the Mr.
and Mrs. Mordaunt she spoke of were: this woman had given him also such
accounts as led him to believe they were not married, and hence his mad
insulting conduct at the theatre had arisen. He next repeated so
accurately every word that had passed between him and Ellen, and
described their mutual astonishment at meeting so unexpectedly in such a
natural manner, that had St. Aubyn doubted before, he could have done so
no longer.
"Yet," said Ross, "convinced as I now was how wrong I had been, I could
not prevail on myself to apologize to one whom I confess I hated, for he
had robbed me of the only woman I ever loved; yet she had never, even in
the happy hours of our youth, given me the slightest hope of ever
obtaining more than the affection of a sister from her, and even that
seemed at times more the effect of habit than choice; for rough and
unpolished, my manners repulsed, and choleric and hasty my temper,
alarmed the gentle Ellen; yet I still flattered myself, time, and the
retired situation in which she lived preventing her extraordinary beauty
from being known, might have done much for me; but from the moment Mr.
Mordaunt was known to her, I easily perceived that hope was at an end;
and now I had only to desire that I might fall by the hand of the man
who had raised her to that greatness. I could have done no more than
wish for her; I therefore determined to keep my engagement for this
morning. But yesterday it came to my knowledge that the promotion
intended for me had been granted to the solicitations of Lord St. Aubyn.
Struck, ashamed at the base ingratitude of my conduct, I resolved at
length to make every explanation, every concession. I have done so, and
now, my Lord, it rests with you to accept this apology: if you refuse
it, I am ready to stand your fire, for never will I lift my hand in a
cause so unjust, and against a man, who, without my knowledge, had so
generously befriended me."
"I told you before, Mr. Ross," said St. Aubyn, "that for your excellent
father's sake I would overlook that in you which in another man I would
instantly have resented. I am not of a vindictive spirit, and the
practice of duelling, though I have in some measure been forced to
countenance it, is against my principles. You are at liberty, Sir, to
retire; I am satisfied."
"I dare not, my Lord," said Ross, "attempt to offer any thanks for the
kindness you intended me in my professional career; still less can I
consent to profit by it: I have not deserved it at your hands, and
declining the promotion offered to me, I shall return to my ship, and
leave England as soon as possible, and I hope for ever."
St. Aubyn's generous spirit was moved by this renunciation.
"That promotion, Mr. Ross," he replied, "was sought for you at the
request of Lady St. Aubyn, who had not forgotten the friend of her
childhood, and in hopes of gratifying your most worthy father, from
whom, as well as from your mother and sister, both my wife and myself
have experienced much kindness and friendship: I must therefore request
you will not renounce it.
"At this moment Lady St. Aubyn is extremely ill, in consequence of the
alarming scene to which your mistake and my rashness gave rise: should
this illness prove fatal," (and his lips quivered with emotion as he
spoke), "never more must you and I meet again! Should she recover, as I
hope and trust she will, I am so perfectly satisfied with the
explanations I have received, that I shall not be sorry to see your
early acquaintance renewed: for the present we part as friends."
Then bowing, he took Sir Edward's arm, and hastened to his carriage,
leaving Ross overwhelmed with shame and remorse for the treatment he
had given to a man so generous.
On reaching Cavendish Square he found Lady Juliana in the utmost alarm;
for missing him when she arose, and hearing at how early an hour he had
left the house, she had immediately suspected his errand abroad: she had
sent to Sir Edward Leicester's, and learned from the servants that their
master and Lord St. Aubyn had gone out together. Still more and more
alarmed, Lady Juliana paced from room to room in dreadful agitation, not
knowing whither to send or what to do. Soon after eight o'clock, Laura
sent a note by Jane to Lady Juliana, saying Lady St. Aubyn was awake,
that the delirium had totally subsided, but had left her so extremely
weak and low she could hardly speak to be heard, but was anxious to see
her and Lord St. Aubyn, whose affectionate inquiries she had heard of
with much delight, and was prepared to see him with composure, and
without recurring to the past. To trust herself near Ellen, agitated as
she was, Lady Juliana knew was impossible; she therefore ordered Jane to
say, that having sat up almost the whole night, neither the Earl nor
herself was up, but in an hour or two they would be with her; then
assuring the girl that the unfortunate misunderstanding of the day
before was perfectly explained, she charged her not to drop a hint of it
amongst the servants, which Jane readily promised, and faithfully
performed.
Soon after this, Doctor B. called, and to him Lady Juliana communicated
her fears on St. Aubyn's account: he entreated she would not go near the
Countess till her spirits were quieter, and by no means to let any ill
tidings reach her, should such arrive: then visiting the sick room, he
rejoiced to find his young and lovely patient out of danger, though
extremely weak. The excellence of her constitution, assisted by his
skill, had triumphed over the disease, and if no new alarm occurred, he
doubted not her perfect recovery: leaving strict and repeated orders
that no one should be admitted at all likely to hurry her spirits, he
left her, and as he passed down the staircase, was rejoiced to see St.
Aubyn enter safe and well. The Earl hastened to him with the most eager
inquiries for his patient, and listened to his favourable accounts with
thankful joy.
"As to Lady Juliana, my good Lord," said the physician, "she is scarcely
in her senses; you have frightened her almost to death: come, let me
have the pleasure of leading you to her, and telling her at the same
time how much better our fair patient is, after which I would advise you
both to take some repose, for your countenance tells me you have not had
much rest last night, and I promise you, you must not go to Lady St.
Aubyn with those pale and haggard looks."
The joy of Lady Juliana at seeing St. Aubyn return safe and unhurt was
extreme, and was still increased when he owned to her candidly where he
had been, and the satisfactory explanation he had received from Ross,
which so completely put an end to this untoward affair for ever.
In the afternoon, St. Aubyn, promising to be as composed as possible,
was permitted to see Ellen for a few minutes. Both forbore to speak of
what had passed, for both felt they could not endure to recur to it; but
the warmth and unaffected tenderness of his manner assured her that all
suspicion had been effaced from his mind; while the affectionate
softness of her's proved to St. Aubyn that his unkindness was forgiven.
In a very few days Ellen was pronounced convalescent, though her
remaining weakness, and Lady Juliana's precautions, confined her to her
dressing-room: there, by slow degrees, she learned from her
affectionate Laura all the circumstances which had led to Charles Ross's
mistake, and that of St. Aubyn, nor could she help acknowledging that
appearances had been in both instances against her: relieved however by
having all her anxieties removed, and by a full though affecting
explanation with St. Aubyn, who gave her the tenderest assurances that
every jealous disposition was for ever removed from his mind, she now
rapidly recovered: but as the weather was now becoming very warm, and
she had had no great reason to delight in London, she earnestly
requested to be allowed to return to Castle St. Aubyn; and the advice of
her medical attendants coinciding with her wishes, the request was
easily granted.
Before she left London, however, she, with her Lord, paid another visit
to the officer's widow and her interesting family, and so arranged for
them as to ensure them a neat residence a little way out of town, and
the certain means of comfortable subsistence for the present; for it was
her intention, with St. Aubyn's permission, to form a school, and other
useful institutions, in the neighbourhood of the Castle, in which she
hoped to render the widow a service, as well as gratify herself, by
placing her at the head of the village seminary. She also visited Mr.
Dorrington again, and spent a delightful hour amongst his treasures;
then leaving her P. P. C. for Lady Meredith, and some other slight
acquaintances, she joyfully left London on her way to Northamptonshire,
accompanied by the Earl (more tenderly attached than ever), Lady
Juliana, and Miss Cecil, Sir Edward Leicester promising to pay them a
visit very soon.
Delighted indeed was Ellen once more to breathe the pure air of the
country; and as they passed the little inn where they had stopped on
their former journey from town, and caught a distant glimpse of the
farm-house where he had told her his real name and rank, she tenderly
pressed St. Aubyn's hand, and with a soft tear on her cheek, reminded
him of the circumstance.
"Ah, my Ellen," he said, "much have we both suffered since that
interesting moment, but never more, through fault of mine, shall you
shed another tear, save such as now glitter in your eyes--tears of
tenderness and affection."