"The worthy Monk," continued Sir Henry, "here concluded; and I bowed my
head in conviction to the justness of the reproach his last words
implied. As the good father intended, I could not avoid drawing a
comparison of our lives; and the resignation, the fortitude he had
evinced, indeed, raised a blush for the madness of which I had been
guilty. The mention he made of my Louise, however, and the hope that,
by means, I should be able to trace her, soon obliterated every
unpleasant sensation; and, without disclosing my history or name, I
informed him the infant he had mentioned was at that time the object of
my search. I related the treatment I had met with at the convent of St.
Ursule, and asked his advice as to the measures I should pursue to
discover her. He was urgent to know who we were, but, on my telling him
I was not at liberty to reveal what he asked, he desisted; and offered
to go himself and speak to the Abbess concerning Louise. I thankfully
accepted his offer, and, at his earnest solicitation, consented to take
the sustenance I truly wanted.
"He was gone nearly an hour, and returned unsuccessful in his mission.
Mother St. Brigide could not refuse to see him, though her answers were
very unsatisfactory. She confessed that Louise had been reared in the
Convent, but utterly disclaimed all knowledge of the lady who took her.
She had not, she said, ever been admitted to the confidence of her
predecessor; and the circumstance of Louise leaving the Convent had been
both secret and sudden. Finding it impossible to gain the information he
wanted, Father Hilaire returned to me. I received his account with a
sigh, and declared my resolution to re-commence my search after Louise
the ensuing morning. He approved my determination, and imperceptibly
drew me into a conversation, as entertaining as instructive; and when
we parted at night, gave me his blessing and a purse containing forty
louis.
"The supply was seasonable. I parted from him with regret; and early the
next morning left Rennes.
"For four months I wandered through Anjou, Poitou, and Bretagne, without
meeting with any occurrence worthy of mention, or being able to trace
Louise. When I rescued her from the Count, as I before observed, I did
not see her face; and, unsuspicious of who she was, still continued my
search; till my money being expended, and not knowing how to procure
subsistence, I engaged in the vessel which conveyed me to St. Helena."
"The history of Father Hilaire," said the Captain, "is not without its
moral; from the misfortunes of others, we are induced to draw a
comparative consolation under our own; and his may truly teach the
impatient sufferer an useful lesson."
"Yet I wish, Sir Henry," said Frederick, "you had informed him who you
were; for, from the idea I have conceived of the man, I think he would
have been highly gratified in repaying the obligation he owed your
father."
"He had more than cancelled the obligation, Frederick," answered Sir
Henry, "by preserving my life; and, had I acknowledged who I was, it
might have led to questions I should have found it difficult and
distressing to have answered."
The conversation here became general, and soon after they separated for
the night.
The relation of Sir Henry added greatly to Louise's solicitude to be
informed respecting her parents, but her inquiries and intreaties were
equally ineffectual; Sir Henry persevered in his mysterious silence on
the subject, though the anxiety she showed evidently added to his
unhappiness; and, on their nearer approach to England, they with grief
perceived in him every symptom of a rapid decline. The Captain in vain
urged medical assistance; and, as he watched the daily ravages of
sorrow, painfully anticipated the moment when death would bereave him of
the friend by whose means he had hoped to recover his Ellenor.
Frederick, independently of his concern on his uncle's account, regarded
Sir Henry with more than fraternal friendship; but his eloquence was
equally unavailing to discover the source from whence his unhappiness
arose.
At last, the loud shouts of the sailors proclaimed the appearance of
their native land, and in a few days they reached the Thames: thence
Harland, impatient to introduce his Louise to his parents, proceeded to
Harland-Hall; whilst the Captain, accompanied by Sir Henry and
Frederick, pursued his way toward London, intending, as soon as he had
transacted his business there, to renew his search after Ellenor; but in
this he was prevented, by the arrival of one of Mrs. Howard's servants,
who, the morning preceding the commencement of his intended search,
hastily entered the room where he was at breakfast, and, presenting a
letter, informed him his lady was at the point of death.
Alarmed at this intelligence, he eagerly opened the letter, which was
from the steward, and confirmed the bearer's account, with entreaties
that he would immediately repair to Bristol, where Mrs. Howard had for
some time resided.--Humanity demanded compliance: the Captain
accordingly set out with the messenger, and reached Bristol a few hours
previously to Mrs. Howard's dissolution; but the malignancy which had
ever marked her character displayed itself in her latest moments. She
received the Captain with that acrimonious contempt which, for years,
had accompanied each sentiment or look addressed to him. The loss of
life she regretted, as depriving her of the power of longer tormenting
him; and, with a smile of triumph that defied the power of death to
efface, told him, she had left him her fortune, but on restriction that
he never married again, as a punishment for his treatment of her.
The Captain could not affect a concern at her death which he did not
experience; for years she had proved literally a torment; and he could
not but feel that he was free: free to claim the promise of his Ellenor,
and, in an union with her, meet a recompence for the years of
unhappiness he had endured from Deborah, whose fortune, if requisite, he
would not have hesitated a moment in resigning; but that lady's wishes
had, in this respect, exceeded her power, for her fortune was fully
secured to him at the time of their marriage.
The Captain wrote immediately for his nephew and Sir Henry, who arrived
the day after the funeral; and, having settled his affairs with the
steward, with every cheerful sentiment, hope could inspire, commenced
his projected search for Ellenor and his son.--Neither was Frederick
uninterested in the discovery of them; as the idea of the youthful Ellen
was still impressed on his mind; and he secretly wished fortune had
blessed him with independency, that he might have offered her his hand
and heart. Sir Henry likewise seemed to forget his own sorrow, in the
prospect of the Captain's happiness, and, by a number of little
anecdotes concerning the objects of their search, endeavoured to beguile
the time, and lessen the solicitude they could not altogether avoid
experiencing.
They crossed the Channel to Cardiff, and directed their course to the
humble dwelling of Jarvis, who, they thought, might, perhaps, by that
time have learned the route of the fugitives.
The honest innkeeper received them with a hearty welcome, and, in answer
to their inquiries, informed them, that a few weeks after they left the
village, a man arrived there, who declared himself commissioned by
Lieutenant Booyers, to dispose of the furniture of the cottage; which
was accordingly sold: that Jarvis had endeavoured to learn where the
Lieutenant had retired, but the man behaved with the greatest reserve.
On his leaving the village, however, he had taken a guide to Newport,
and by an inadvertent sentence he had uttered, he was induced to believe
the Lieutenant and the ladies were gone to reside at--or near
Gloucester. The Captain's heart beat with exulting hope at this
intelligence; and such was his impatience to recover the lost partner of
his heart, he would that instant have set out for Gloucester, could Sir
Henry have supported the fatigue of such rapid travelling. On his
account he consented to remain where they were till the morning, when
Sir Henry willingly obeyed his summons to continue their journey.
Early the ensuing day, they reached Gloucester, where the Captain, Sir
Henry, and Frederick, separated, to inquire through the city, agreeing
to meet in the evening, at the inn where they left their horses. For two
days they traversed the city, and, on the morning of the third, were
preparing to leave the inn, to search some of the adjacent villages,
when they were surprised by the appearance of Sir Arthur Howard. As the
Captain had long ceased to regard him with enmity, he cordially advanced
to meet him, whilst Frederick, forgetting his unkindness in the
unexpected rencounter, as eagerly sprung to embrace him. Sir Arthur was
equally surprised, though less pleased at beholding them; he, however,
returned their salutation, and, at their request, accompanied them into
the room they had quitted. He there answered to their inquiries
respecting his family, and coldly expressed his approbation at the
improvement seven years had made in the person and manners of Frederick.
Sir Arthur in reality was rather chagrined than pleased at the graceful
figure and deportment of his son, as they conveyed a reproach to
himself, at the time they evinced the care and attention of the Captain
to the duties which he, though a father, had neglected.
The Captain observed the displeasure depicted in his countenance, but,
unconscious of the cause, sought relief from an unpleasant pause in the
discourse, by asking the occasion of his being at Gloucester? The
question was likewise a relief to Sir Arthur, as it afforded him an
opportunity of venting his rising spleen.
"I came to recover a runaway," he replied, "who is endeavouring to
disgrace the family to which she has the honour to belong: but severely
shall she suffer for the fault she has committed!"
He then informed them, he had projected a match for his eldest daughter,
not only suitable, but highly advantageous, as the gentleman possessed a
noble independency, and had offered to take her without a portion: by
which means the fortune of his eldest son would be considerably
augmented; but that his daughter had objected to the union, and, on his
threatening her, had privately left the Hall. That he pursued her to
Gloucester, where, the preceding day, he had luckily overtaken her, and
was going to order his carriage, to re-convey her home, when he was
addressed by the Captain.
Frederick heard this account with concern; he well knew the harshness of
his father's temper, and sincerely pitied his sister, whom he had not
seen since the days of childhood. He now entreated he might have that
satisfaction, and Sir Arthur, who knew not well how to refuse, was
necessitated to comply: though he expressed his fear she would
endeavour to elude his vigilance, and again escape; and concluded with
an invective against children in general, for their wilfulness and
disobedience. The entrance of his daughter saved his auditors the
necessity of replying; her looks were pallid, and she approached with a
timidity, which was rather increased than relieved, by the appearance of
strangers. Frederick, however, soon recalled her recollection of a
brother to whom she had in her infancy been particularly attached; yet
she dared not yield to the pleasure she had in beholding him. Her
father's eye still sternly expressed his anger; tears fell from her own;
and folding her arms round the neck of Frederick, she wept in silence on
his bosom.
Sir Henry, who had hitherto been a silent spectator, could not, unmoved,
witness the distress of the amiable Theodosia; for every tear of
pleasure occasioned by the presence of her brother, was evidently
accompanied by one of sorrow at the treatment she received from her
father; he therefore advanced to her, and, in the mildest accents,
joined Frederick in his endeavours to soothe and cheer her. They at last
succeeded: a faint smile played on her lips, she looked up, and spoke
with some degree of confidence.
Sir Arthur observed Sir Henry's attentions, and learning from the
Captain who he was, permitted his features to unbend from their usual
severity. He was no stranger to Sir Henry's family, or the fortune
possessed by his father; and, knowing he was an only son, concluded his
possessions were equally the same. Sir Henry's attention, therefore,
which proceeded entirely from commiseration, he beheld with
satisfaction, as thinking them occasioned by a softer passion.
Theodosia, too, appeared to listen to, and regard him with unusual
pleasure; and he determined to encourage an acquaintance, as the Corbet
possessions were superior to those of the suitor he had wished Theodosia
to have accepted.
He now condescended to enter into conversation with Sir Henry: he
regarded his brother and son with a look of greater cordiality; and
declared his intention of remaining with them till the evening. The
Captain, who sincerely wished to be reconciled to him, looked on the
determination as arising from a return of fraternal friendship, and
cheerfully acceded to his proposal of passing the day together: nor
could Frederick conceal his delight at an appearance of regard he had
never before experienced, and as flattering to himself as it was
unexpected.
A half-suppressed sigh from Theodosia, reminded him of her unpleasant
situation; and, regarding the moment as favourable, he ventured to
intercede to Sir Arthur in her behalf: the Captain warmly seconded him:
Sir Henry did not think himself authorised to speak; but the concern
expressed in his countenance, and the glance of intercession he directed
to Sir Arthur, pleaded more effectually in her cause, than the eloquence
of Frederick and the Captain: as it erroneously added to his opinion,
that Sir Henry was enamoured of his daughter. Pleased with the idea, he
pretended to yield to intreaties, he would otherwise have disregarded;
and not only pronounced Theodosia's pardon for her elopement, but
promised to dismiss all thoughts of forcing her into an union with a man
she avowedly disapproved. Theodosia could not speak her joy--her thanks
at this unlooked-for indulgence; but, pressing her father's hand to her
lips, burst into tears. Sir Arthur's bosom was a stranger to the milder
virtues: he coldly reproved, what he termed, her childish behaviour;
and, withdrawing his hand, bade her not abuse the forgiveness she had by
no means merited; and remember that on her future behaviour must depend
the continuance of his good opinion.
Theodosia felt the ungenerous chiding of her father, at a moment when
her heart overflowed with the tenderest sentiments of filial gratitude
and affection; she, however, knew him to be too tenacious of his word,
to apprehend any farther importunity respecting her disagreeable lover;
and the joy, which at first expressed itself in tears, soon restored the
wonted smile to her animated countenance. Frederick beheld her returning
cheerfulness with pleasure; whilst Sir Arthur, equally pleased with Sir
Henry, and the chimerical idea he indulged of one day having him for a
son-in-law, endeavoured to soften his natural austerity, and to
conciliate the esteem of the interesting Corbet.
Early in the evening, as Sir Arthur had proposed, his carriage was in
readiness, and he parted from his brother and son, with the greatest
professions of friendship, pressing them, but more particularly Sir
Henry, to pass some weeks at Howard Hall. The Captain, highly gratified
at the occurrences of the day, readily accepted the invitation; and that
night, for the first time during many years, experienced a repose,
unembittered with the idea of a brother's hatred!
The next morning, he with his companions again continued his search
after Ellenor, hope still leading them on to the reward the ensuing day
might perhaps afford, to compensate for the disappointments of the one
which had passed.
Already had they traversed great part of Gloucestershire, when in
crossing from Painswick to Cheltenham, an equipage passed them, the
unusual elegance of which attracted the Captain's attention. A lady,
whose personal beauty, though on the wane, could be equalled by few, was
in the principal carriage; and was so intently engaged in perusing a
letter, that the party passed unheeded. The Captain was beginning to
express his admiration, when he was alarmed by Sir Henry's falling from
his horse, in a state of insensibility; from which their efforts to
recover him proved ineffectual. A servant was, therefore, dispatched for
assistance, and soon returned with a surgeon, to whose house Sir Henry
was conveyed.
The Captain's concern at this accident was considerably increased, when
he understood it might be attended with fatal consequences; and, not
being willing to intrust the life of Sir Henry entirely to the skill of
the surgeon, he sent to Gloucester for a physician, who, on visiting the
patient, declared there was no immediate danger: the illness of Sir
Henry proceeded from distress of mind; a confidential friend, he
affirmed, was the most essential requisite toward his recovery; to which
his native air might in some degree likewise conduce. To the surprise of
the Captain, and regret of the surgeon, Sir Henry instantly coincided
with the latter part of his advice, and as Ellenor, notwithstanding
Jarvis's supposition, might have retired to Caermarthen, the Captain
readily agreed to his proposal of proceeding to that county; and in
spite of Sir Henry's feeble state, which would scarcely admit of his
travelling, they, the next day, pursued their way toward Wales.