"Are then the sons of interest only wise?
Can pomp alone essential good impart?
Mistaken world; ah! why thus vainly prize
Those gifts which but contract the human heart?
"Why only _folly_ that fond passion call,
Which Heaven itself implanted in the mind;
Links each to each, and, harmonizing all,
Swells the rapt heart with sympathy refin'd."
The reflections of a long and sleepless night determined Mordaunt on the
line of conduct he ought to pursue; and as soon as he thought the early
breakfast at the Parsonage would be ended, he walked thither, and asking
for Mr. Ross, was shewn into the little study, which that good man
called exclusively his own. Yet here, in the very last place where he
would have expected to find her, to his utter astonishment he saw Ellen.
Ellen alone--seated at a table covered with books, from one of which she
appeared learning something, or rather to have been so employed, for at
the moment he entered her thoughts had wandered; and she was sitting,
one fair hand holding the open book, the other covering her eyes.
Supposing the person who entered to be Mr. Ross, who had that day
commenced the office of her tutor, she looked up; but seeing Mordaunt,
the book fell from her hand, and she vainly endeavoured to rise from her
seat--a ceremony not yet exploded by the unfashionable inhabitants of
Llanwyllan. Mordaunt sprang eagerly forward, exclaiming, "Here Ellen!
Good Heavens! could I have hoped to see you here! At last then we meet
again, without the irksome restraint of surrounding witnesses, of almost
hostile eyes! Fear not, dearest, for ever dearest Ellen." Seeing she
looked half alarmed at his unusual warmth, for in general his manner
towards her was, though tender, composed,--"fear not: never may word nor
look of mine give you reasonable cause of alarm or vexation. Worlds
would I give for one hour's uninterrupted conversation with you--but now
another moment may prevent my saying more. Tell me then, sweetest girl,
may I, will you permit me to apply to Mr. Ross for his interest with
you, and with your father, till I can hope that my assiduities, if not
my merit, may have excited in you a tenderer sentiment than mere
esteem?"
Bewildered--perplexed--hardly knowing or understanding what she heard,
or believing that Mordaunt could be in earnest in what she could not but
suppose a declaration of his love, Ellen gasped, trembled, and half
fainted in his supporting arms.
At this moment Ross entered, and seeing this extraordinary scene, gazed
with surprize, almost with dismay, upon them. "I was told," said he,
gravely advancing, "that Mr. Mordaunt wished to speak to _me_. What is
the matter Ellen? are you ill?" "Forgive my vehemence, dear Ellen," said
Mordaunt. "I have startled your tender spirits by my impatience: permit
me to conduct you to your friends; or shall Mr. Ross and I retire
together?"
The particular tenderness of this address, and this almost open avowal
of the interest he took in her, still more and more surprized Ross.
Ellen rose, and with difficulty supporting herself, murmured she would
go to Mrs. Ross--"Do so," said Ross; "but let _me_ assist you.--Mr.
Mordaunt, be seated; I will return to you immediately."--Without
speaking more to her, he took her arm in his, and having seated her in
the parlour, (where fortunately Joanna was alone), he told her to
compose herself, and returned to a visitor whom every hour made him
think more perplexing and extraordinary. Mordaunt extended his hand, and
grasping Ross's within it, said, with noble frankness, "You have been,
my dear Sir,--perhaps still are displeased with me: but the time is come
when the mysteries which surround me shall be cleared away. If you will
grant me your attention for an hour I will relate to you some
circumstances upon which I must at present beg you to be silent; but to
the truth of all which I pledge myself by every asseveration which can
bind the man of principle and honour."
They were seated, and Mordaunt related to Ross many events, and
disclosed many secrets, which we shall for the present take leave to
pass over. Having finished the astonishing recital, he said, "And now,
my dear Sir, having heard all I know of myself, and all I may hereafter
fear, will you candidly tell me whether I may hope not only for your
consent, but for your good wishes that I may marry Ellen Powis? May I,
do you think, venture to make her mine, when perhaps a few months may
involve me in so much vexation if not disgrace? And do you think I may
hope such a share of affection from her as will reconcile her to future
events, of whatever nature they may be?"--"I see," said Ross, "that my
cautious fears for her peace have a little precipitated your measures.
It might have been better, perhaps, to let things go on quietly till the
return of that young man you have mentioned to me from abroad might have
explained his future intentions: perhaps his opinions may have altered
during his absence: be that as it may, if you were now to leave
Llanwyllan without coming to a farther explanation with Ellen, I fear
her peace would be too deeply endangered; for though I would
scrupulously guard her delicacy, and leave the declaration of her
sentiments to her own lips, yet it would be idle to deny my conviction
that she has seen her _friend Mordaunt_ with what I believe I must call
_preference_. Is not that the proper word, think you, Sir?" He smiled,
and added such kind professions of regard for Mordaunt, and expressed so
much delight at his truly disinterested love for Ellen, as left our
traveller nothing to wish from him.
It was determined that not even Ellen should know at present the
circumstances Mordaunt had revealed to Ross. "If she knows them," said
Mordaunt, "she will think duty calls upon her to impart at least some of
them to her father, and we are sure our worthy friend Powis will make no
secret of them; you cannot doubt, Mr. Ross, how greatly it would annoy
me to have them known while we remain at Llanwyllan; when we are gone,
the leading circumstances will not remain a secret long, for I hope for
your kind interest with Ellen and her father, that I may take her with
me ere long, before winter has rendered travelling over your 'staircase
roads,' as some one expresses it, unpleasant, if not unsafe. I am
perhaps presuming too far, but I think, I hope, from Ellen's gentle
tremor and not repugnant looks, when just now I was hurried into
something very like a declaration of my love, though I came purposely to
consult you before I made it, that she will not be inexorable." "I
think," replied Ross, "I may venture to assure you she will not even
affect a hesitation which her heart disclaims. Ellen has been brought up
in the most perfect modesty, but at the same time in the most perfect
sincerity, and it is really out of her power to conceal her sentiments;
and to me, who have known her from her infancy, they are as obvious as
if her heart was open to my view; but I will not say more," said he,
with a benevolent smile.--"I ought not to betray my darling little
pupil: by the bye," added he, turning to the books, &c. "my office of
schoolmaster will, I suppose, soon be taken from me; I might as well not
have attempted to take it out of your hands." Mordaunt laughed, and
asked Ross if he might not request to see Ellen then. "You may easily
imagine my anxiety," added he. "Why," said Ross, "there is something so
formidable in sending for the poor little girl, and seating her formally
to hear what you undoubtedly are impatient to say, that if you can allow
her a little time to compose herself, after the flurry she has had this
morning already, I really think it will be better. Will you partake of
our humble dinner to-day--can you eat at our unfashionable early hour?
for the good people here, amongst other things, are amazed at your usual
hours; if you can, pray favour me; and after dinner I will so far relax
my late vigilance, as to permit you to speak to Ellen apart for ten
minutes: will that be long enough?" "Not quite," said Mordaunt, half
laughing; "but how shall we manage with Mrs. Ross, who, I believe, holds
me in very serious aversion, and with Joanna, who will, I know, have her
mother's commands not to stir from Ellen?" "How well you have read us
all," said Ross, laughing in his turn: "but trust to me: I will remove
all these formidable obstacles--yet do not fancy my good woman has any
dislike to you; whatever displeasure she has shewn originated in her
vexation at seeing your influence had deranged the plans she thought
best for Ellen to pursue, and endangered, as we feared, her happiness;
for though she may not shew it exactly according to the manner a more
enlightened mind might chuse, assure yourself Mrs. Ross loves Ellen with
the affection of a mother." "I doubt it not," replied Mordaunt with
vivacity: "who can see and not love that exquisite creature?--what a
person--what a mind she has! You may believe, after all I have told you,
that 'for several virtues have I liked several women.' I may go on and
add, that 'she, so perfectly and so peerless, was created of every
creature's best.'"
"Indeed," said Ross, "I have ever highly appreciated Ellen, but I
believe not highly enough, for I never thought of her making a conquest
so important: the little gipsy is not aware of the power of her charms."
"Ah," said Mordaunt, shrinking, "do not lead my thoughts that way, do
not let me suppose, if she knew them better, my success with her might
be less to be hoped; that when the world shall have taught her to
estimate them more highly--" "Ah, beware of jealousy," said Ross. "Name
not the horrid word," cried Mordaunt, with some emotion; "too much
reason have I to know its misery; but with your virtuous, with your
pious Ellen, I shall surely be secure." "Doubt it not," replied Ross,
gravely; "if ever human being might be relied on for truth, for
sincerity, for singleness of heart, that being is Ellen Powis; yet the
world is a dangerous school, and you, I hope, will watch with unceasing
care over your inexperienced pupil, whose very virtues may betray her,
if not into error, into the appearance of it."
A few more words passed between them, and then Mordaunt retired to dress
for dinner, a custom from which he never departed even in this retired
spot.
During this long conference, poor Mrs. Ross had been in a complete
fidget (to use her own word) to know its subject: her curiosity had long
since reached its highest point, and she repeated almost incessantly to
Ellen and Joanna, who sat at work beside her,--"Well, what in the whole
world can Mr. Mordaunt have to say to Mr. Ross--well, what can they be
talking of all this time? Dear, I hope they won't quarrel." "Quarrel!"
repeated Joanna, while Ellen's work dropt from her fingers, and she
looked amazed and terrified: "quarrel! my dear mother, what should they
quarrel about? Besides, did you ever know my father quarrel with
anybody?" "No: true enough, he has a very fine temper; but then, _that_
Mr. Mordaunt seems so hasty, and sometimes looks so strangely,
that--besides, I thought he seemed quite angry when we went away last
night." She then opened the parlour door, which was exactly opposite to
that of the study, and stood a minute as if to catch the sound of their
voices.
"Well, I declare they are talking still, but not loud: bless me! I
actually heard one of them laugh." "So much the better, mamma," said
Joanna; "I always like to hear people laugh; it shews there is no
mischief going on." "Not at all, not at all, Joanna," said Mrs. Ross,
whose irritated curiosity disposed her to contradiction. "I am sure I
have often thought, when I have heard you two girls chattering and
laughing, that you were planning some mischief." "Well, mamma, I am sure
we never executed it, for you know we were always the best girls in the
world." "Pretty well, pretty well sometimes," replied Mrs. Ross, half
smiling in the midst of her bustle.
At length the study door opened, and Mordaunt was seen to pass through
the little garden before the house, to which Ross attended him: they
shook hands at parting. "You see, mamma, they have not quarrelled," said
Joanna; "so far from it, I have a great notion they are better pleased
with each other than they have been lately;" and she glanced slily at
Ellen, for Joanna had little doubt what subject had employed, at least,
part of the time they had been together.
As soon as Mordaunt was gone, Ross came into the parlour, and
said,--"What have we for dinner to-day, my dear?" "Well, Mr. Ross, I
don't think I ever heard you ask before in all my life." "Possibly not,
my dear; but I wish to know, because Mr. Mordaunt dines with us." "Mr.
Mordaunt!" repeated Mrs. Ross: "well, of all things, that is the last I
should have expected. Why, _now_ I am surprized indeed:--then we have
such an odd dinner to-day;--nothing but----" "Never mind, my dear, never
mind, you can easily make a little alteration: come with me, and I will
tell you more; in the meantime, girls, go and make yourselves very
smart. Mr. Mordaunt is only gone home to dress, and will be here again
soon; of course, as he is so nice in his own appearance, he will expect
to find you lasses dressed to receive him." "Dear Mr. Ross," said the
good woman, staring at him, "I do not know you to-day! What in the world
is come to you? First you inquire about dinner, and then you tell the
girls to go and dress themselves; two things which I never knew you take
the slightest concern in before."
Ross laughed and took her away, and Joanna, looking smilingly at Ellen,
said--"Are you quite as much at a loss to understand all this as my
mother, Ellen? Come, do exert yourself a little, and perhaps by and bye,
with Mordaunt's assistance, you may find out the meaning of some of
these extraordinary things." Ellen half laughed, and blushing, told her
she was very teasing; but the pleasure which shone in her eyes evinced
she was tolerably sure the cause of these new appearances, when
explained, would not be disagreeable. Mrs. Ross came in again with a
face of wonder, and saying only--"Lord bless me! well,--what strange
things have come to pass!--come, Ellen, child, make haste and dress
yourself as nicely as possible--come, Joanna, I want you--there are
fifty things to do," took Joanna away. Ross joined Ellen, who was
hastily putting up her work, impatient to escape to her own room, and
reflect in quiet; and taking her hand with paternal tenderness, while
his fine countenance was radiant with benevolent joy, said:--
"Compose yourself, my dear child; abate as much as possible this evident
emotion; for though with pleasure I tell you every wish of your heart is
likely to be fulfilled, nay in some respects perhaps exceeded, yet I
would have you receive Mr. Mordaunt's declaration, of what I believe to
be the sincerest regard, with something of composure, nay, even of
dignity: for though, my dear girl, your station in life may, and does
render you his inferior, yet, with your mind and person, he ought to
think the affection of a heart so guileless no mean acquisition. Go, my
dear, to your room, and tranquillize the too visible agitation of your
spirits."
Ellen affectionately kissed the kind hand which held her own, and
silently retired.