"Ellen, the time is come to clear up some of the mysterious words you
have heard me utter at Llanwyllan: what will you say to me when I tell
you--yet be not alarmed--when I tell you that, though my _name_ is
really _Mordaunt_, yet I have _deceived_ you--for that is not my _only_
designation: do not look so surprised and bewildered, my love; I am not
_inferior_ to the man you suppose me: he is indeed my relation, being
the natural son of my father's brother: he is many years older than I
am. Tell me, Ellen, are you afraid to hear the rest?" "No," she replied
firmly, though with marks of the most impatient curiosity in her
countenance. "I am so convinced of your integrity, that be who or what
you will, I am happy in being your wife, and ready to share your
station, be it ever so lowly." "Enchanting creature!" he exclaimed, and
clasped her to his bosom: "know then, that were the coronet which binds
your brow of the most costly materials instead of a simple flower, it is
your's by right, for I am the Earl, and you are the Countess of St.
Aubyn."
A moment Ellen struggled with the overwhelming surprize: then said: "How
could you condescend to one so much beneath you?" "Beneath me!" he
replied--"oh, in every thing but the mere accident of birth how greatly
my superior! But the surprize, my gentle love, has made you a little
pale; recover yourself, and let me see you again gay and playful as when
you supposed yourself only Mrs. Mordaunt." He fixed his penetrating eyes
upon her: even in that tender moment he sought to discover if any undue
pride or vanity elated her; but there was no trace of any such ignoble
passion: surprized, astonished as she was, and feeling some diminution
of the ease and equality with which she had but lately learned to regard
him, Ellen more than half regretted to find him so greatly her superior,
and to see herself raised so very much beyond the station her humility
led her to believe the only one she could fill with propriety; yet she
must have been more or less than woman, had she not felt charmed with
the disinterested love St. Aubyn had evinced in making her his wife.
Having a little recovered the emotion this interesting discovery had
caused in both, Ellen entreated him, whom yet she hardly knew how to
name, to explain the reason of his having appeared at Llanwyllan in a
character so inferior to his own; which he did in these words:
"I cannot, my love, nor would I wish at present to tell you all my
story, though some day you shall know every circumstance of my life: may
they come to your knowledge without lessening your felicity!" He sighed,
and thus continued:--"Some domestic misfortunes induced me, at different
times, to make several excursions under the name I bore when first I met
you, which is, indeed, that of my family: since my last return from the
Continent, about six months ago, I did not let my friends or servants
know I was come to England, but set out to travel through Wales,
sometimes by one mode of conveyance, sometimes another, and not
unfrequently as a mere pedestrian. I was always a good walker, and had
been accustomed to pass whole days on foot amongst the mountains of
Spain; frequently, therefore, I preferred walking, as giving me better
opportunities of exploring the most romantic scenes. In one of these
excursions I found myself at Llanwyllan; there I merely intended to stay
a day or two, till accident, and your father's hospitality, introduced
you to my knowledge--need I relate to you the progress of that passion
which soon took possession of my heart, and left me powerless to quit
you. A very few days determined me, if your affections were disengaged,
to do all in my power to secure your love; yet I delayed the declaration
of my own, in hopes of bringing some untoward circumstances to a
favourable conclusion; but when I found our good friend Ross began to be
alarmed for you, and fancied I saw in my Ellen's sweet face that she was
not happy, I thought it necessary to come to some decision, and to Ross
I fully explained my _whole_ situation: he was so perfectly convinced of
my honour and integrity, that he consented to give his lovely pupil to
me, even under all the unpleasant circumstances which at present
embarrass and torment me; and even though we both doubted whether a
marriage contracted by me under the name of Mordaunt only would be
completely binding: to obviate this objection, I bound myself to him,
not only to make upon you such settlements as my large income rendered
proper, and my heart prompted, but to remarry you as soon as I could do
so without absolute impropriety; and that I will do if I live before I
sleep again; though I believe the precautions we took render it
unnecessary, for after you left the vestry, the day we were married,
Ross and myself, as perhaps you observed, returned, and in his presence
I added the title of Earl of St. Aubyn to the names of Constantine
Frederick Mordaunt, which, I have no doubt, would substantiate our
marriage in any court in England: to avoid, however, all possible doubt,
now or in future, on this important point, I have at this instant a
special licence in my possession, and this evening, at Castle St. Aubyn,
Montague shall read the marriage service to us again.--Are you satisfied
with this arrangement, my love?"
"I am so ignorant in every thing, that I can only rely on you; which I
do implicitly, and with full confidence."
Ellen then asked St. Aubyn if Doctor Montague knew who he was in reality
recommending to her father, or whether he supposed it to be indeed Mr.
Mordaunt? Lord St. Aubyn laughed at this question, and said Montague
would have had reason to be surprized at hearing Mordaunt was going to
be married, as he was a very stiff old Bachelor of at least sixty; but
the fact was, he had written himself to Montague from Llanwyllan,
informing him who the person really was respecting whom Powis's
inquiries would be made, and desiring him to give such a character of
_that person_ as he thought was deserved, only not to betray his real
title, as he was anxious to avoid the _eclat_ such a discovery would
produce, if made while they remained at Llanwyllan.
After a little more conversation on this interesting subject, St. Aubyn
and his Ellen took leave of their hospitable entertainer, after
remunerating her in the most liberal way for the trouble they had given
her; and as by the time they reached the village the day was far
advanced, they ordered a chaise directly, and proceeded to the end of
the next stage, where they dined, and where St. Aubyn told Ellen his own
carriage was to meet them, and convey them to the Castle, where his
household were instructed to expect their lady.
Before they had quite dined, an elegant new travelling carriage and
four, with coronets on the pannels, and out-riders in rich liveries,
drove to the door, and the host, who had no idea of the rank of his
guests, from their arriving in a hack carriage, unattended, was in the
act of denying to the servants that Lord and Lady St. Aubyn were there,
when the Earl, throwing up the sash, told the men to move about, but not
put up the horses, as he should go in half an hour. While he was
speaking, the stage-coach from London stopt at the door, and Ellen's
maid stepping out, inquired whether any servant from one Mr. Mordaunt's,
in that neighbourhood, was waiting for her. St. Aubyn, calling to one of
his men, desired him to send that young woman to Lady St. Aubyn. The man
obeyed, and told the astonished Jane she must go and speak to his lady.
"What for, pray?" answered Jane, pertly. "Indeed I shall do no such
thing; I am going on directly, and don't want such fellows as you to be
joking with me." "Jane!" said Ellen, approaching the window, anxious to
put a stop to a dialogue she feared might disclose more than she wished
the servants should know. "Oh, dear Ma'am, are you there!" answered
Jane. "Oh! I am so glad; I will come to you, Ma'am, directly." One of
the men, wishing for an opportunity of seeing his new lady, said, "Come,
young woman, I will shew you the way to her Ladyship."
The poor girl was so much confused, by these different directions, that
fortunately she had no power to refuse, or indeed to speak at all, but
followed the servant into the room, where St. Aubyn and Ellen were
sitting. "There," said the footman, in a low voice, and giving her a
little push: "go in, child--that is my lady." "Grant me patience," said
Jane, turning sharply to him: "why I tell you that is _my_ mistress. I
suppose you want to persuade me I don't know my own----." "Softly,
Jane," said St. Aubyn: "there, go in, and speak to your lady, and you,
Thomas, may go; we shall soon be ready to start."
He left Jane with her lady, not wishing to be present at the
explanation. Ellen explained to the astonished girl, that she had, for
particular reasons, concealed her title while in London, and did not
wish her to say to the other servants that she had ever known her under
any other name. Jane very willingly promised obedience, and was not a
little elated to find herself own woman to Lady St. Aubyn, instead of
waiting-maid to plain Mrs. Mordaunt. Indeed, Mrs. Birtley had had some
scruples about suffering her to follow the mysterious couple at all, and
charged her, if she did not find all right, to leave her place, and
return to London immediately, all which her unguarded hints betrayed to
Ellen, who felt a little confused at hearing her situation had been so
misconstrued. "And there, Ma'am--beg pardon--my lady--there your
Ladyship;" (for Jane was willing to make amends for her former
ignorance, by using Ellen's title as often as possible)--"there your
Ladyship left a book at Mrs. Birtley's--I forget the name of it; some
poetry book it was, and in it was written, in one place, 'C. F. M. to
Ellen P.' and I was to have brought it with me, but Mrs. Birtley was not
at home when I came away, so I could not have it, and it was a great
pity, for it is very handsome, in a fine binding, and with beautiful
pictures: one of them was a man jumping off a rock, like into the sea,
and with a sort of a clergyman's gown on, and with a musical instrument
in his hand, something like a guitar, but not quite." "I know the book
you mean," said Ellen; "it was Gray's Poems. I am sorry I left it
behind." "Yes, Ma'am--my lady I mean, that was the very book; but I dare
say your Ladyship can have it by sending to Mrs. Birtley; and in one
part, my lady, there was a print of a church-yard, and over the print
was put, 'Dear Landwilliam,' or some such name." "Yes, Jane, yes; that's
the book--that will do: now give me my hat, and step down and inquire if
Lord St. Aubyn is waiting for me."
It was the first time Ellen had framed her lips to say Lord St. Aubyn,
and she wondered whether she should ever become accustomed to the sound.
Jane was met at the door by one of the men servants, who came to know if
her lady was ready, as his lord bade him say the carriage was come
round. Jane, astonished at her own greatness, in being called Ma'am, and
so respectfully addressed by such a fine gentleman, returned to Ellen
with redoubled respect, and a new reinforcement of "my ladies." Ellen
said she was ready, and ran down. "Come, my love," said St. Aubyn, "we
shall be late at home."
Ellen's heart throbbed, as she thought of a home so far above her utmost
ideas of splendour, and of being called to a situation to which she
feared herself unequal; yet she composed her spirits as well as she
could; for she saw, that to please her lord she must assert herself, and
behave with a degree of dignity and self possession: she gave him her
hand, therefore, with tenderness, but with a certain air of calmness, as
if not too much elated with her new honours, or childishly delighted
with her new carriage: he saw, and was charmed with her just
discrimination, and encouraged her by saying, "Ever, my Ellen, all I
wish." He then placed her in the carriage, and leaving Jane to follow
with the luggage in a hack chaise, they were speedily on the road to
Castle St. Aubyn. As they drew near it, they passed a neat little
mansion, standing on a small lawn, surrounded by flowering shrubs, which
St. Aubyn told Ellen was the house of the _real_ Mr. Mordaunt. "Exactly
such a place," said she, "had I figured to myself as your habitation,
not indeed in Wales, for there my imagination did not soar to a pitch so
high; but since we have been in England, and I saw what the smaller
houses of genteel people were, such I fancied your's." "In a few
minutes, my love," he replied, "we shall approach my real home, and most
happy am I to say, my Ellen's home also; though in a different style, it
will, I hope, be as much to your taste as this pretty place appears to
be."
As he spoke, one of the out-riders passed the carriage, and ringing at a
porter's lodge, the large and elegant iron gates were thrown open, and
they turned into a noble park of no common dimensions. Here the hand of
art had followed, not impeded that of nature: large trees, disposed in
clumps, or singly, as the purest taste directed, shaded and ornamented
the verdant lawn. A fine piece of water, almost bearing the aspect of a
fine lake, with an elegant pleasure barge at anchor on its bank, skirted
one side of the road which led to the house. Its pure waters were
enlivened by various aquatic fowls, and on the shelving edges were light
and tasteful cages for gold and silver pheasants and other foreign
birds; while in picturesque groups under the trees, or bounding away at
the approach of the carriage, herds of the finest deer gave new
animation to the scene.
Ellen, enchanted, enraptured, though the closing twilight hardly
afforded her light sufficient to see half the beauties round her, was
every moment uttering exclamations of delight, with which St. Aubyn was
highly gratified: but as they approached the immense pile of building
which he told her was the house, she gradually assumed a more composed
demeanor, determined not to betray to the servants that such things were
totally new to her.