Methought the billows spake and told me of it:
The wind did sing it to me; and the thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe,
----did bass my trespass!
TEMPEST.
----The seasons thus--
As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll,
Still find them happy, and consenting spring
Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads.
THOMSON.
Slowly and with trembling steps Ellen left the beach, and went towards
the village: not many yards had they proceeded ere they were met by
Bayfield and two or three of the men-servants. The poor woman had at
length been prevailed on to relinquish her infant charge to his nurse,
who had overtaken her; and fortunately meeting the men-servants, who,
impelled by curiosity, were going to the beach to look at the wreck, she
turned back with them, fearing lest any injury should befall her Lord or
Lady.
"Thank God, Madam," said the good creature, who still trembled and
looked pale, "that you are safe! the dear child is safe also: but where
is my Lord? Oh, my dear Lord! sure he has not trusted himself with that
wretch alone."
"Be calm, Bayfield, be pacified," said Ellen: "you terrify us with these
emotions: your Lord is safe; Mr. Charles Ross and the sailors are with
him: but who is this man you seem so much to fear? The poor creature
looks not likely to injure any one, for he appears half-dead."
"Oh, my Lady, don't pity him," cried Bayfield: "but are you sure he has
no pistols about him? It was a pistol you know, my Lady----, but I
forget myself: one word, Madam, if you please." She drew Ellen aside and
said--"Your Ladyship will not wonder at my alarm, when I tell you the
man you were talking with was the very person my Lord has sought in vain
so long; it was that wretch De Sylva! Oh, I remember the glance of his
dark malicious eye: it has never left my remembrance since the evening I
by accident met him with my late Lady walking in the Cork Grove, three
or four days before her death, when I did not know he was within many
miles of the place; and starting at seeing them together, he gave me
such a look; I never shall forget it: I thought he looked at me just the
same on the beach, and I expected every moment when he would draw out a
pistol and shoot some of us--perhaps the baby out of spite to my Lord,
and that made me run away in that manner: oh, I was not myself, nor
shall I be again this night. Oh that my Lord de Montfort was here to
have all his cruel doubts put an end to for ever, for sure the villain
will confess all now."
Ellen heard her with silent but tumultuous emotion, and hastened as much
as possible towards the Parsonage, sending the men however to meet their
lord.
The Parsonage being nearer to the beach than the Farm was, Ellen and her
friends stopped there, and begged Mr. Griffiths would hasten back to St.
Aubyn, and say where he would find her: she then requested Ross would go
into his study with her, and there, knowing he was perfectly acquainted
with the circumstances which had happened to St. Aubyn in Spain, she
entreated his advice how to proceed, and that he would endeavour to calm
the violent emotions which the discovery of De Sylva had excited in the
bosom of St. Aubyn.
"Surely," said the pious Ross, "the hand of heaven is evident in this
extraordinary event! The kind humanity which prompted Lord St. Aubyn to
save the poor mariners in the storm, was not only the means by which the
life of my son was preserved, and the grey hairs of his mother and
myself prevented from going down with sorrow to the grave, but has also,
I hope, procured for himself the satisfaction he most earnestly wished,
by bringing De Sylva once more within his reach. Wonder-working
Providence! from what apparently improbable causes does thy Almighty
hand bring forth the most interesting events!"
As he spoke, a bustle was heard without, and St. Aubyn rushed into the
room, pale, agitated, almost breathless. Charles Ross, Griffiths, and
two or three sailors, followed, leading, or rather bearing the miserable
De Sylva: miserable indeed was his whole appearance: his Turkish turban
had been torn from his head, and his long black hair streamed round his
face in wild disorder. That face which St. Aubyn remembered a few years
before glowing with animation and manly beauty, was now pale, haggard,
and displayed marks of premature old age.--Those eyes, once so full of
life and gaiety, now rolled in horrible dismay; and that form, so agile,
so graceful when with the unfortunate Rosolia he led the sprightly
dance, was now bowed by sickness, and shrunk by fear.--Oh, what havock
does guilt make in the human face and figure! such as he stood, with
looks that terrified each beholder. De Sylva was then but little more
than thirty years of age, yet the vigour of his constitution, exhausted
by excess, his soul a prey to every agony which racks the criminal--his
course was run; the grave opened to receive him, and a few short days it
was evident must terminate his life and sins together.
"Retire, my love," said St. Aubyn to his trembling wife: "this is no
place for you: you know I perceive who this wretched being is: this
cross, which he offered to you, was that which the ill-fated Rosolia
wore the very evening she went to meet this villain in the Hermitage:
see here my cypher upon this plate of gold, for this, with the rich
necklace from which it depended, was my gift.--Go, my love: the story
which this wretched man has engaged to tell is unfitted for your tender
sensibility to partake of."
Ellen instantly and gladly obeyed, and the sailors also were sent away,
for the unhappy man, faint and exhausted, was too ill to make any
attempt at escaping, nor could he speak till some restoratives had been
administered.
During this pause, Ross suggested to St. Aubyn the propriety of having
some person present to receive De Sylva's confession who was able to
take it exactly as delivered, of which St. Aubyn, who alone was
sufficiently master of the French language to do so, was rendered
incapable by his extreme agitation; besides, it occurred to Ross, that
this person should be totally unconnected with Lord St. Aubyn, that his
testimony might be totally free and uninfluenced.
St. Aubyn perfectly agreed with him, but was at a loss on whom to fix,
when suddenly Ross recollected the Catholic priest, who was at that
moment actually in the house, and whom St. Aubyn had never seen.
This respectable old man was accordingly summoned, and St. Aubyn in a
few words explained to him the nature of the service required of him;
and he readily agreed to take, and witness, the deposition of De Sylva.
He spoke in French, and with frequent breaks and interruption, which his
weakness and emotion occasioned.
"I am by birth a Frenchman, but entered the Spanish service at an early
age, my father being dead, and my maternal relations of that nation
engaging to take care of my future promotion.
"I need not, my Lord, repeat the commencement of my acquaintance with
you, nor the kindness with which you received me at your villa near
Seville, a reception, the hospitality of which I afterwards so ill
repaid.
"The beauty of Lady St. Aubyn attracted every eye, and mine in
particular, for her eye beamed kindly on me in return.
"I will not, my Lord, offend you by detailing the progress of our
intimacy: you became displeased at it, and suddenly removed her to a
villa near Sierra Morena. By the aid of Theresa, her favourite maid, she
contrived to let me know where she was gone; and as soon as I could
obtain leave of absence, I followed her."
"We met frequently in the woods about the villa, and once were met
walking in the Cork Grove by your housekeeper, Mrs. Bayfield, and I had
reason to believe she afterwards watched her Lady's actions.
"Lady St. Aubyn, tired of the dreary life she led, proposed to escape
with me and go to Paris: to this end she furnished me with several sums
of money, and a great number of valuable jewels, amongst them a very
fine ring, which, she told me, was yours, my Lord, and highly valued by
you; and she owned that she had taken that ring in particular, because
she knew the loss would vex you; and she hoped, as Bayfield only had
access to the jewels, the loss of this valued jewel would lead you to
suspect her, and bring disgrace upon the woman we both hated."
Here St. Aubyn hid his face, and groaned: he grieved to hear the woman
he had once loved could have been so atrociously wicked.
"A few nights after this, my Lord," continued De Sylva, "you saw me
attempting to climb by a rope ladder the window of Lady St. Aubyn's
apartment: what followed is well known to you; but nothing was ever
farther from my intentions than meeting you at the place appointed; on
the contrary, I informed Rosolia by means of Theresa of what had passed,
and named that very hour to meet her at the Hermitage, whither I
proposed to bring a boy's habit, and elope with her under that disguise;
for which purpose I procured two horses, and stationed them in a thicket
between the Hermitage and the Posada at the foot of the mountain, where
I had resided since my arrival in that neighbourhood.
"I told you, my Lord, I had a friend there; but that was false, and I
only said it to induce you to wait till the next evening, that we might
have each a friend to witness our encounter.
"Rosolia watched you from the house after your return from Alhama,
whence, as you came alone, we concluded you had vainly sought your
friend; and, I am ashamed to say, in the few minutes we were together,
how much we diverted ourselves at the idea of your vain and fruitless
trouble."
"Go on, Sir," cried St. Aubyn, fiercely--"spare this detail, and hasten
to the conclusion of this detestable story."
"Rosolia then," resumed De Sylva, "told her brother she had a bad
head-ache, and would endeavour to walk it off. From this young man she
was grieved to part, and left him with emotion. She hastened to the
Hermitage: we had no time to lose: she had brought with her all the
valuables she could collect, and had round her neck the fine necklace of
rubies you had given her at Seville, and that very cross I just now
offered to those ladies on the beach.
"I pressed her to change her dress quickly, and was retiring for a few
minutes, while she adjusted her male attire.
"Fearing a surprize, and thinking it might be wanted to defend us in our
flight, I had brought with me the pistol, you, my Lord, gave me the
night before: this I took in my hand, lest any one should approach to
seek Lady St. Aubyn, determined if any did, to put an end to their
existence; and (I will confess all) I should not have been sorry had
Bayfield crossed my path.
"But as I turned to leave the Hermitage, my foot struck against an
inequality in the floor, and endeavouring to recover myself, the pistol
went off in my hand, and the ball entered the head of the unfortunate
Rosolia.
"She fell instantly--one groan alone escaped her. I approached, hoping
she was only alarmed by the report, or but slightly hurt; but to my
astonishment and horror she was a breathless corpse.
"In this dreadful moment, my first idea was instant flight, since that
alone could save me.--But why, thought I, since she is dead, should I
leave behind those valuable ornaments?--And O!--how hardened was my
heart!
"The woman I had admired, and professed to love, had that instant
breathed her last--fallen by my hand, though from an unintended stroke,
and in the very moment, when, by a guilty flight, she had resolved to
give me the greatest proof of love, and unite her fate with mine: yet so
little impression did these dreadful circumstances make upon me, that I
had sufficient composure to unclasp the costly necklace from her neck,
and the bracelets from her arms, though that body, lately so blooming
and so animated, was not yet cold in death.--Such is the love of the
wicked!
"By some means, as I afterwards discovered, I dropt, and lost the
valuable ring I mentioned before; and as I knew I had it just before I
entered this fatal Hermitage, I concluded it was there I had lost it.
"I now fled as fast as possible towards the place where my horses stood,
and mounting one, and leading the other, I galloped off at full speed.
"Concluding the first search for me would be amongst the mountains, I
took a road immediately opposite, and reached the little town of Andurar
that night: I there sold my horses, and bought a change of garments,
lest those I wore should identify my person; for I concluded I should be
suspected of the murder, either wilful or accidental, of the unfortunate
Countess; but I was also convinced I should have two or three hours the
start of my pursuers, as she was in the constant habit of rambling about
at least that time, and consequently would not be missed.
"I travelled, however, chiefly by night, lurking by day either in thick
woods, or the remains of Moorish castles, and only venturing near a town
or village when provisions were indispensably necessary; for now the
fear of being arrested as a deserter, my leave of absence having been
some time expired, made the strictest caution necessary for my security.
"In about a week I reached Almaneca, and disposing of some of my jewels,
I embarked on board a vessel which was going to Venice, where I meant to
remain some time, and then assuming another name, to go to Paris, where
I knew my speaking French like a native would prevent me from being
recognized. We had not been but three days at sea when an Algerine
corsair bore down upon us, and after a short but severe conflict we were
captured, and carried into Algiers.
"Here, robbed of all my ill-gained riches, except that cross, which some
remains of affection for the memory of the unfortunate Rosolia had
induced me to conceal so cautiously that it was not discovered, I found
myself a prisoner, and seemed doomed to end my days in slavery.
"It was my fortune to be purchased by a master high in favour with the
Dey, who, pleased with my vivacity, and the skill I had in music,
received me into his favour, and at length tempted me with such high
offers, if I would become a Mahometan, that I, who never knew what true
religion was, and held my principles too lightly to be very strenuous in
their support, soon consented to be what he would have me, and solemnly
abjuring the Christian faith, I became his adopted son, and heir to all
his riches. By this means too I was certain of escaping any search that
might be made for me; for who could think of looking for De Sylva under
the turban of a Turk, and in the adopted son of the Bey Abdallah?
"About a year ago my adoptive father died; and weary of the supine and
inactive life the Turks usually lead, I determined to fit out an armed
vessel, and amuse myself by sailing up the Archipelago, and visiting
some of the Grecian islands, not without a latent intention of quitting
Algiers altogether, and returning to some European state: to which end I
carried with me all the wealth I could make portable: this design I
executed accordingly, but I had not long quitted Algiers, when we were
attacked and captured by a French frigate.
"From that moment I have never known peace.
"Fearing to be discovered, knowing that the punishment for desertion
must be mine, should we touch at any Spanish port, and I should be
recognized; dreading to be accused of the murder of Lady St. Aubyn, of
which, though innocent, I could not clear myself; and, above all, my
conscience awakened, by being once more amongst Christians, to the sin I
had been guilty of in apostatizing from my religion, I have led a life
of fear, inquietude, and anguish--a life which I feel will soon be
terminated: and, oh, how dreadful the reflection that my punishment is
but beginning.
"Oh, Sir," added the poor wretch, throwing himself at the feet of the
venerable priest, who, as well as all present, had heard the detail of
his crimes with horror, "you are a priest, a Catholic of that church I
so wickedly abandoned. Can you give me hope? Will you pray for me?"
"I am a priest, and a Catholic," replied the old man, "and shall be
willing and desirous of giving you all the consolation in my power. At
present you have given the best proof of repentance, by the confession
you have made, and to confirm it, you must sign it with your name, and
acknowledge the truth of what I have written, before all present."
He then gave the paper to De Sylva to read, who signed it, and declared
it was correct.
"I would swear it," he added, in heart-broken accents: "but oh! by what
can a wretch like me swear, and be believed!"
He was now conveyed to a decent bed in Ross's house, who, like a true
Christian pastor, would not abandon him to his despair; but placed by
his bed-side, strove in conjunction with the Catholic priest, De la
Tour, by the most consoling attentions, and hopes founded on his present
repentance, to beat away the busy meddling fiend, who laid strong siege
unto the wretch's soul.
The miserable De Sylva lingered nearly a week, racked with guilty fears,
and scarcely daring to hope for mercy: yet for mercy his pious
comforters bade him hope, since he repented deeply, and sought it in
that holy name, which, though once he had denied, he now most humbly
acknowledged.
On the sixth evening he expired.
"Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all."
As soon as De Sylva's confession had been received, St. Aubyn sent an
express messenger to the proper persons in London, requesting permission
to dispatch Jean Batiste de la Tour, a French priest, into Oxfordshire,
where he understood Lord de Montfort then was at one of his seats, with
papers of the utmost importance to that nobleman and to himself, De la
Tour having witnessed the confession of a prisoner since dead, which
involved concerns of the most material interest. He also requested
permission for De la Tour to remain attached to Lord de Montfort's
suite, or to be at liberty on his parole at Castle St. Aubyn, till he
could obtain the consent of government to his returning to his native
country; for St. Aubyn could not bear that this helpless and venerable
old man should remain as a prisoner of war, and end his days in a
strange country.
The answer was favourable to his Lordship's wishes, and Charles Ross
undertook to escort De la Tour into Oxfordshire: in the meantime a
detachment arrived to guard the other prisoners to the depot in
Shropshire.
Ross and De la Tour departed together, taking with them the deposition
of De Sylva, the cross of the unfortunate Rosolia, which had been found
in his possession, and every other document which could carry conviction
to the mind of De Montfort.
Tranquillity seemed now restored to the village of Llanwyllan, but in
spite of the satisfaction St. Aubyn felt in being thus completely able
to exonerate himself from whatever suspicion might yet lurk in the bosom
of Edmund, his own mind was by no means tranquil.
Painful was the retrospect the confession of De Sylva had forced upon
him: every misery he had so many years before experienced seemed
renewed, and his imagination dwelt upon the horrid scenes of the
Hermitage. The bleeding body of Rosolia lay again in fancy before him,
and his pity for her wretched fate "cut off even in the blossom of her
sins," made him forget all the crimes she had been guilty of towards
him.
For many days he continued exceedingly dejected, and it required all
Ellen's tender attentions, and the cheering smiles of his lovely boy, to
chase from his mind those painful impressions which the late discovery
had planted there.
In as short a time as was possible, a messenger returned from Lord de
Montfort. He acknowledged his full conviction of St. Aubyn's innocence,
and implored his pardon for those years of uneasiness his suspicions had
made him suffer: he expressed the greatest gratitude for the forbearing
kindness of St. Aubyn's whole conduct towards his unhappy sister, of
which he now had such convincing proofs, and a horror of her guilt,
which was too overwhelming to be dwelt upon. De la Tour he requested to
retain in his suite till arrangements could be made for his returning to
France, should the old man ultimately wish to do so.
In a short time after this letter arrived, Ellen received one from Lady
Juliana, in which she expressed some dissatisfaction at their long stay
in Wales, and bade them consider that at her time of life she could not
hope to enjoy much more of their society, and the smiles of her darling
Constantine, whose growth and improvement she longed to witness.
This letter determined Lord and Lady St. Aubyn to quit Wales as soon as
possible: indeed, the autumn was now advancing, and they feared for
their young traveller the miserable roads, and of course wished to be at
the Castle before the summer was ended.
Lady St. Aubyn had however set her heart on being witness to Joanna's
marriage, and seeing every thing arranged for the removal of the Rosses
to the Farm: it was also necessary for Charles Ross to go to London on
his own concerns; Joanna therefore was induced to give her hand to
Griffiths sooner than she had intended, and early in August the ceremony
was performed by the venerable Ross. Lord St. Aubyn gave away the bride,
and when the ceremony was ended, said--
"May you, my dear Joanna, and your worthy husband, but experience as
much happiness as I and my dear Ellen have since this altar witnessed
our mutual vows, and you will indeed be as happy as humanity can hope to
be."
Ellen tenderly embraced her early friend, and with tears of affection
joined in the kind wishes of her beloved Lord.
The whole of the bride's wardrobe had been the present of Lady St.
Aubyn, who shewed her judgment, by ordering every thing excellent in its
kind, but nothing fine or shewy.
Lord St. Aubyn presented the newly-married couple with several useful
and handsome articles of plate and furniture; and when they left
Llanwyllan, they had the happiness of knowing that the worthy Powis
would be rendered truly comfortable by his new inmates, and that all
Ellen's first connections were blessed to the extent of their wishes.
Charles Ross travelled part of the way with Lord and Lady St. Aubyn,
full of grateful thanks for all their kindness to him and his family;
and having conquered every aspiring wish, he was delighted to witness
the happiness of his once-loved Ellen, without envying that of her
excellent Lord.
They had soon after the pleasure of hearing that all matters relative to
his late disastrous voyage had been happily and honourably adjusted, his
prize had safely reached the destined port, and through Lord St. Aubyn's
interest, Charles Ross was soon promoted to the rank of Captain and the
command of a fine frigate.
The St. Aubyns found Lady Juliana waiting their arrival at St. Aubyn
Castle: and her intended chidings for their long stay were turned into
tears of joy at the sight of her darling Constantine, now able to walk
alone, and with expressive looks of love endeavouring to articulate,
though yet but imperfectly, the sweet names of papa and mamma, and soon
learning to distinguish Lady Juliana with smiles of affection, and
little arms twined round her neck, whenever she approached him.
Just before Christmas, Sir Edward and Lady Leicester arrived at
Rose-hill, where they spent some weeks. De Montfort passed that evening
at the Castle, with several other visitors. The once gloomy and
eccentric Edmund was become another creature; and his manners, now
animated and cheerful, were very elegant, and the trifling degree of
singularity which still at times shewed itself in his expressions, only
seemed to give an air of originality to his character.
* * * * *
We have now brought our narrative to a close; for scenes of continued
peace and happiness, however desirable to the possessors, are but
insipid in delineation.
St. Aubyn and his charming wife long enjoyed that serene happiness their
virtues merited; and diversifying the scene, by occasional excursions
into Wales, they had there the comfort of finding their friends
surrounded by blessings, for which they were to them indebted. At the
Castle, or in London, surrounded by their lovely young family, they
still acknowledged that in domestic life they found their dearest
felicity; and with no more sorrow than is inseparable from humanity,
their years glided on amidst the joys of friendship, and the delights of
connubial and parental love.
THE END.