CHAPTER XVI

From all the various sufferings of Ellis, through the scenes of this

morning, the predominant remaining emotion, was that of pity for her

penitent young offender; whom she saw so sorely wounded by a sense of

his own misconduct, that he appeared to be almost impenetrable to

comfort.

But all her attention was soon called to the letter of Lady Aurora.

'To Miss Ellis.

'I cannot express the grief with which I have learnt the

difficulties that involve my dear Miss Ellis. Will she kindly

mitigate it, by allowing me, from time to time, the consolation of

offering her my sympathy? May I flatter myself that she has

sufficient regard for me, to let the enclosed trifle lead the way

to some little arrangement during her embarrassment? Oh! were I in

similar distress, I would not hesitate to place in her a similar

trust! Generously, then, sweet Miss Ellis, confide in my tender

regard.

'AURORA GRANVILLE.'

'At Lord Denmeath's,

Portman Square.'

The 'enclosed trifle' was a bank-note of twenty pounds.

Most welcome to the distress of Ellis was this kindness and this

succour; and greatly she felt revived, that, severe as had been her late

conflicts, they thus terminated in casting her, for all pecuniary

perplexities, upon the delicate and amiable Lady Aurora.

Uncertain what might prove her reception, she desired, upon approaching

Lewes, that the groom would ride on, and enquire whether she could have

the honour of seeing Mrs Maple. The man then said, that he had a note

for that lady, from Mrs Howel.

After being detained at the gate a considerable time, a servant came to

acquaint Miss Ellis, that the ladies were particularly engaged, but

begged that she would walk up stairs to her room.

There, again established, she had soon a visit from Selina, who

impatiently demanded, how she had parted from Lady Aurora; and, when

satisfied that it had been with the extremest kindness, she warmly

embraced her, before she related, that Aunt Maple had, at first,

declared, that she would never, again, let so unknown a pauper into her

house; but, when she had read the note of Mrs Howel, she changed her

tone. That lady had written word, that she was hastening to consign Lord

Melbury and Lady Aurora to their uncle; in order to be acquitted of all

responsibility, as to any continuance of this amazing acquaintance, now

that, at last, she was apprized of its unfitness. She conceived that she

had some claim, however, to desire, that Mrs Maple would, for the

present, receive the person as usual; since if any dismissal, or

disgrace, were immediately to follow her return from Howel House, it

might publish to the world what an improper character had been admitted

there; a mortification from which she thought that she had some right to

be exempted.

Mrs Maple was by no means the less offended, by the pride and

selfishness of this note, because those qualities were familiar to her

own practice. It is the wise and good alone that make allowance for

defects in others. Her resentment, however, endowed her with rancour,

but not with courage; she complied, therefore, with the demand which she

did not dare dispute; but her spleen against its helpless object was

redoubled; and she sent her a message, by Selina, to order that she

would complain of a sore throat, as an excuse for not quitting her room,

nor expecting any of the ladies to visit her: yet charged her to be

careful, at the same time, to say, that it was very slight, lest the

people in the neighbourhood, or the servants themselves, should wonder

at not seeing a physician.

Ellis could by no means repine at a separation, that saved her from the

pride and malevolence of Mrs Maple and of Ireton, and from the

distressing incongruities of Elinor.

Her spirits being thus freed from immediate alarm, she was able to

ruminate upon her situation, and upon what efforts she might make for

its amelioration. Her letter from abroad enjoined her still to live in

concealment, with respect to her name, circumstances, and story: all

hope, therefore, of any speedy change was blown over; and many fears

remained, that this helpless obscurity might be of long duration. It was

necessary that she should form some plan, to accommodate her mode of

life to her immediate condition; and to liberate, if possible, her

feelings, from the continual caprices to which she was now subject.

To live upon charity, was hostile to all her notions, though the

benefaction of Lady Aurora had soothed, not mortified, her proudest

sensations. But Lady Aurora was not of an age to be supposed already

free from controul, in the use of her income; and still less was she of

a character, to resist the counsel, or even wishes of her friends. Ellis

was determined not to induce her to do either: nor could she endure to

give a mercenary character to a grateful affection, which languished to

shew that its increase, as well as its origin, sprang from disinterested

motives. All her thoughts, therefore, turned upon making the present

offering suffice.

Yet she was aware how short a time she could exist upon twenty pounds;

and while a residence at Mrs Maple's would be now more than ever

unpleasant, recent circumstances had rendered it, more than ever, also,

unlikely.

To acquire that sort of independence, that belongs, physically, to

sustaining life by her own means, was her most earnest desire: Her many

accomplishments invited her industry, and promised it success; yet how

to bring them into use was difficult. She had no one with whom she could

consult. Elinor, though, at times, cordially her friend, seemed, in

other minutes, her enraged foe. Selina was warmly good natured, but

young in every sense of the word; and Mrs Maple considered her always

with such humiliating ideas, that to ask her advice would be to invite

an affront.

The occupation for which she thought herself most qualified, and to

which, from fondness for young people, she felt herself most inclined,

was that of governess to some young lady, or ladies; and, finally, she

settled, that she would endeavour to employ herself in that capacity.

This arrangement mentally made, she communicated it, in a letter of the

tenderest and most grateful thanks, to Lady Aurora; entreating her

ladyship's kind and valuable aid, to enable her to leave, in future, for

other distressed objects, such marks of benevolence as she had last

received; and to owe, personally, those, only, of esteem and regard;

which she prized beyond all power of expression.

The next day, again, very unexpectedly, Selina skipt into her room. 'We

have had a most terrible fuss:' she cried; 'Do you know Lord Melbury's

come on purpose to see you!'

'Lord Melbury? Is he not gone to town?'

'Mrs Howel wrote word so, and aunt thought so; but he only went a little

way; and then came back to spend two or three days with Sir Lyell

Sycamore, at Brighthelmstone. He asked after you, when he came in, and

said that he begged leave to be allowed to speak with you, a few

minutes, upon a commission from Lady Aurora. Aunt was quite shocked, and

said, that she hoped his lordship would excuse her, but she really could

not consent to any such acquaintance going on, in her house, now he knew

so well what a nobody you were; if not worse. Upon which he said he did

not doubt your being a well brought up young lady, for he was certain

that you were modesty itself. And then he begged so hard, and said so

many pretty and civil things to Aunt, that she was brought round; only

it was upon condition, she said, that there should be a witness; and she

proposed Mrs Fenn. Lord Melbury was as red as fire, and said that would

not be treating Miss Ellis with the respect which he was sure was her

due; and he could not be so impertinent as to desire to see her, upon

such terms. So, after a good deal more fuss, it was settled, at last,

that Sister Elinor should be present. So now you are to come down to her

dressing-room.'

Ellis, though startled at the effect that might be produced by his

remaining at Brighthelmstone, was sensibly touched by these public and

resolute marks of his confirmed and undoubting esteem.

Elinor, presently, with restored good humour, and an air of the most

lively pleasure, came to fetch her. 'Lord Melbury,' she cried,

'certainly adores you. You never saw a man's face of so many colours in

your life, as when Aunt Maple speaks of you irreverently. If you manage

well, you may be at Gretna Green in a week.'

They descended, without any answer made by Ellis, to the dressing-room.

The air of Lord Melbury was far less dejected than when they had last

parted; yet it had by no means regained its natural spring and vivacity;

and he advanced to pay his compliments to Ellis, with a look of even

studious deference. He would detain her, he said, but a few minutes; yet

could not leave the country, without informing her of two visits, which

he had made the day before: both of which had ended precisely with the

amity that she had wished.

Elinor, enchanted in believing, from this opening, that a confidential

intercourse was already arranged, declared, that her aunt must look

elsewhere for a spy, as she would by no means play that part; and then

ran into the adjoining room. Lord Melbury and Ellis would have detained,

but could not follow her, as it was her bed-chamber.

Lord Melbury then, who saw that Ellis was uneasy, promised to be quick.

'I demanded,' said he, 'yesterday, an interview with Mr Harleigh. I told

him, without reserve, all that had passed. I cannot paint to you the

indignation he shewed at the aspersions of Ireton. He determined to go

to him directly, and I resolved to accompany him.--Don't look pale, Miss

Ellis: I repeated to Mr Harleigh the promise you had exacted from me,

and he confessed himself to be perfectly of your opinion, that all angry

defence, or public resentment, must necessarily, in such a case, be

injurious. Yet to let the matter drop, might expose you to fresh

abominations. Ireton received us with a mixture of curiosity and

carelessness; very inquisitive to know what had passed, but very

indifferent whether it were good or bad. We both, by agreement, affected

to treat the matter lightly, gravely as we both thought of it: I thanked

him, therefore, for the salutary counsel, by which he had urged me to

procure myself so confounded a rap of the knuckles, for my assurance;

and Mr Harleigh made his acknowledgements in the same tone, for the

compliment paid to his liberality, of supposing that a person, who, in

any manner, should be thought under his protection, could be in a state

of penury. We both, I hope, made him ashamed. He had not, he owned,

reflected deeply upon the subject; for which, Mr Harleigh told me,

afterwards, there was a very cogent reason, namely, that he did not know

how! Mr Harleigh, when we were coming away, forcibly said, "Ireton,

placing Lord Melbury and myself wholly apart in this business, ask your

own sagacity, I beg, how a female, who is young, beautiful, and

accomplished, can suffer from pecuniary distress, if her character be

not unimpeachable?" Upon that, struck with the truth of the remark, he

voluntarily protested that he would make you all the amends in his

power. So ended our visit; and I cannot but hope that it will release

you from all similar persecutions.'

Ellis expressed her sincere and warm gratitude; and Lord Melbury, with

an air of penetrated respect, took his leave; evidently much solaced, by

the consciousness of serving one whom he had injured.

Ellis had every reason to be gratified by this attention, which set her

mind wholly at rest upon the tenour of Lord Melbury's regard: while

Elinor was so much delighted, to find the acquaintance advance so

rapidly to confidence, that she embraced Ellis, wished her joy, mocked

all replies of a disclaiming nature, and, accompanying her back to her

room, made her a long, social, lively, and entertaining visit; hearing

and talking over her project of becoming a governess, but laughing at

it, as a ridiculous idea, for the decided wife elect of Earl Melbury.

She was succeeded by Selina, who exultingly came to acquaint Ellis, that

Mr Ireton had just made a formal renunciation of all ill opinion of her;

and had told Mrs Maple, that he had indubitable proofs that she was a

person of the very strictest character. 'So now,' cried she, 'Lady

Aurora and I may vow our friendship to you for life.'

This was a very solid satisfaction to Ellis, to whom the calumny of

Ireton had been almost insupportable. She now hoped that Mrs Maple would

favour her new scheme, and that she might remain tranquilly in the house

till it took place; and equip herself, from the donation of Lady Aurora,

for her immediate appearance in the situation which she sought. She

resolved to seize the first opportunity for returning Harleigh his bank

notes, and the Miss Joddrels their half-guineas. She wished, also, to

repay the guinea of the worthy Admiral, and to repeat to him her

grateful acknowledgements: his name and address she concluded that she

might learn from Harleigh; but she deferred this satisfaction till more

secure of success.

The next day, Selina ran upstairs to her again. 'Who do you think,' she

cried, 'came into the parlour in the middle of breakfast? Mr Dennis

Harleigh! He arrived at Brighthelmstone last night. Sister Elinor turned

quite white, and never spoke to him; she only just made a sort of bow to

his asking how she did, and then swallowed her tea burning hot, and left

the room. He can stay only one day, for he must be in London to-morrow

night. He is come for his final answer; for he's quite out of patience.'

Selina had hardly descended the stairs, when Elinor herself mounted

them. She entered the chamber precipitately, her face colourless, and

her eyes starting from her head. 'Ellis!' she cried, 'I must speak with

you!'

She seated herself, made Ellis sit exactly opposite to her, and went on:

'There are two things which I want to say to you; or, rather, to demand

of you. Have you fortitude enough to tell truth, even though it should

wound your self-love? and honour enough to be trusted with a commission

a thousand times more important than life or death? and to execute it

faithfully,--though at the risk of seeing the greatest idiot that ever

existed, shew sufficient symptoms of sense to run mad?'

Alarmed by her ghastly look, and frightened at the abruptness of

questions utterly incomprehensible, Ellis gently entreated to be spared

any request with which she could not comply.

'I do not mean,' cried Elinor, with quickness, 'to make any call upon

your confidence, or to put any fetters upon your conduct. You will be as

free after you have spoken as before. I want merely to ascertain a fact,

of which my ignorance distracts me! If you have to give me a negative,

your vanity alone can suffer; if an affirmative--' She put her hand upon

her forehead, and then rapidly added,--'the suffering will not be

yours!--give it, therefore, boldly! 'Twill be heaven to me to end this

suspense, be it how it may!'

Starting up, but preventing Ellis from rising, by laying a hand upon

each of her shoulders, she gazed upon her eyes with a fixed stare, of

almost frantic impatience, and said, 'Speak! say Yes, or No, at once!

Give me no phrase--Let me see no hesitation!--Kill me, or restore me to

life!--Has Harleigh--' she gasped for breath--'ever made you any

declaration?'

'None!' steadily, forcibly, and instantly Ellis answered.

'Enough!' cried she, recovering some composure.

She then walked up and down the room, involuntarily smiling, and her

lips in a motion, that shewed that she was talking to herself. Then

stopping, and taking Ellis by the hand, and half laughing, 'You will

think me,' she cried, 'crazy; but I assure you I had never a more

exquisite enjoyment of my senses. I see every thing to urge, and nothing

to oppose my following the bent of my own humour; or, in other words,

throwing off the trammels of unmeaning custom, and acting, as well as

thinking, for myself.'

Again, then, walking up and down the chamber, she pursued her new train

of ideas, with a glee which manifested that she found them delightful.

'My dear Ellis,' she cried, presently, 'have you ever chanced to hear of

such a person as Dennis Harleigh?'

Ellis wished to avoid answering this question, on account of her

informant, Selina; but her embarrassment was answer sufficient. 'I see

yes!' cried Elinor, 'I see that you have heard of that old story. Don't

be frightened,' added she, laughing, 'I am not going to ask who blabbed

it. I had as lieve it were one impertinent fool as another. Only never

imagine me of the tribe of sentimental pedants, who think it a disgrace

to grow wiser; or who suppose that they must abide by their first

opinions, for fear the world should know that they think twice upon one

subject. For what is changing one's mind, but taking the _pro_ one time,

and the _con_ another?'

'But come,' continued she, 'this is no time for rattling. Two years I

have existed upon speculation; I must now try how I shall fare upon

practice. Is it not just, Ellis, that it should be you who should drag

me out of the slough of despond, since it was you who flung me into

it?--However, now for your commission. Do you feel as if you could

execute it with spirit?'

'With willingness, certainly, if I see any chance of success.'

'No ifs, Ellis. I hate the whole tribe of dubiosity. However, that you

may not make any blunder, I shall tell you my story myself; for all that

you have heard from others, you must set down to ignorance or prejudice.

Nobody knows my feelings, and nobody understands my reasons. So

everybody is at war against me in the dark.

'Now hearken!

'Just as I came of age, and ought to have shaken off the shackles of

Aunt Maple, and to have enjoyed my independence and my fortune together,

accident brought into my way a young lawyer--this Dennis Harleigh--of

great promise in the only profession in the world that gives wit fair

play. And I thought him, then,--mark me, Ellis, then!--of a noble

appearance. He delighted to tell me his causes, state their merits, and

ask my opinions. I always took the opposite side to that which he was

employed to plead, in order to try his powers, and prove my own. The

French Revolution had just then burst forth, into that noble flame that

nearly consumed the old world, to raise a new one, phoenix like, from

its ashes. Soon tired of our every day subjects and contests, I began

canvassing with him the Rights of Man. He had fallen desperately in love

with me, either for my wit or my fortune, or both; and therefore all

topics were sure to be approved. Enchanted with a warfare in which I was

certain to be always victorious, I grew so fond of conquest, that I was

never satisfied but when combating; and the joy I experienced in the

display of my own talents, made me doat upon his sight. The truth is,

our mutual vanity mutually deceived us: he saw my pleasure in his

company, and concluded that it was personal regard: I found nothing to

rouse the energies of my faculties in his absence, and imagined myself

enamoured of my vanquished antagonist. Aunt Maple did her little

best--for every thing she does is little--to forward the connexion;

because, though his fortune is trifling, his professional expectations

are high; and though he is a younger brother, he is born of a noble

family: and that sort of mean old stuff is always in her head; for if

the whole world were revolutionized, you could never make her conceive a

new idea. And the great fact of all is, she cannot bear I should leave

her house before I marry, because, she is sure, in one of my own, I

shall adopt some new system of life. Thus, in the toils of my self-love,

I became entangled; poor Dennis called himself the happiest of men; the

settlements were all drawn up; and we were looking about us for a house

to our fancy, and all that sort of stuff, when Dennis introduced his

family to us.--Now the rest, I suppose, you can divine?'

This was, indeed, not difficult; but Ellis durst not risk any reply.

With a rapidity scarcely intelligible, and in a manner wholly

incoherent, she then went on: 'Ellis, I pretend not to any mystery. Why

is one person adorable, and another detestable, but to call forth our

love and our hatred? to give birth to all that snatches us from mere

inert existence; to our passions, our energies, our noblest conceptions

of all that is towering and sublime? Whether you have any idea of this

mental enlargement I cannot tell; but with it I see human nature endowed

with capabilities immeasurable of perfection; and without it, I regard

and treat the whole of my race as the mere dramatis personae of a farce;

of which I am myself, when performing with such fellow-actors, a

principal buffoon.'

Nearly out of breath, she stopt a moment; then, looking earnestly at

Ellis, said, 'Do you understand me?'

Ellis, in a fearful accent, answered, 'I ... I am not quite sure.'

'Remove your doubts, then!' cried she, impatiently; 'I despise what is

obscure, still more than I hate what is false. Falsehood may at least

approach to that degree of grandeur which belongs to crime; but

obscurity is always mean, always seeking some subterfuge, always

belonging to art.'

Again she stopt; but Ellis, uncertain whether this remark were meant to

introduce her confidence, or to censure her own secresy, waited an

explanation in silence. Elinor was evidently, however, embarrassed,

though anxious to persuade herself, as well as Ellis, that she was

perfectly at her ease. She walked a quick pace up and down the room;

then stopt, seemed pausing, hemmed to clear her voice for speech; and

then walked backwards and forwards before the window, which she

frequently opened and shut, without seeming to know that she touched it;

till, at length, seized with sudden indignation against herself, for

this failure of courage, she energetically exclaimed, 'How paltry is

shame where there can be no disgrace!--I disdain it!--disclaim it!--and

am ready to avow to the whole world, that I dare speak and act, as well

as think and feel for myself!'

Yet, even thus buoyed up, thus full fraught with defiance, something

within involuntarily, invincibly checked her, and she hastily resumed

her walks and her ruminations.

'What amazing, unaccountable fools,' she cried, 'have we all been for

these quantities of centuries! Worlds seem to have a longer infancy

taken out of the progress of their duration, even than the long

imbecility of the childhood of poor mortals. But for the late glorious

revolutionary shake given to the universe, I should, at this very

moment, from mere cowardly conformity, be the wife of Dennis!--In spite

of my repentance of the engagement, in spite of the aversion I have

taken to him, and in spite of the contempt I have conceived--with one

single exception--for the whole race of mankind, I must have been that

poor man's despicable wife!--O despicable indeed! For with what

sentiments could I have married him? Where would have been my soul while

I had given him my hand? Had I not seen--known--adored--his brother!'

She stopt, and the deepest vermillion overspread her face; her effort

was made; she had boasted of her new doctrine, lest she should seem

impressed with confusion from the old one which she violated; but the

struggle being over, the bravado and exultation subsided; female

consciousness and native shame took their place; and abashed, and unable

to meet the eyes of Ellis, she ran out of the room.

In the whole of this scene, Ellis observed, with mingled censure and

pity, the strong conflict in the mind of Elinor, between ungoverned

inclination, which sought new systems for its support; and an innate

feeling of what was due to the sex that she was braving, and the customs

that she was scorning.

She soon re-appeared, but with a wholly new air; lively, disengaged,

almost sportive. Her heart was lightened by unburthening her secret; the

feminine delicacies which opposed the discovery, once broken through,

oppressed her no more; and the idea of passing, now, straight forward,

to the purposes for which she had done herself this violence,

re-animated her spirit, and gave new vigour to her faculties.

She laughed at herself for having run away, without explaining the

meaning of her communication; and for charging Ellis with a commission,

of which she had not made known even the nature. She then more clearly

stated her situation.

From the time of her first interview with Albert, her whole mind had

recoiled from all thought of union with his brother; yet the affair was

so far advanced, and she saw herself so completely regarded by Albert as

a sister, though treated by him with an openness, a frankness, and an

affection the most captivating, that she had not courage to proclaim her

change of sentiment.

The conflict of her mind, during this doubting state, threatened to cast

her into a consumption. She was ordered to the south of France. And

there, happily arrived, new scenes,--a new world, rather, opened to her

a code of new ideas, that soon, she said, taught her to scoff at idle

misery: and might even, from the occupation given to her feelings, by

the glorious confusion, and mad wonders around her, have recovered her

from the thraldom of an over-ruling propensity, had not Dennis, unable,

from professional engagements, to quit his country, been so blind, upon

hearing that her health was re-established, as to persuade his brother

to cross the Channel, in order to escort the two travellers home. From

the moment, the fated moment, that Albert arrived to be her guide and

her guard, he became so irresistibly the master of her heart, that her

destiny was determined. Whether good or ill, she knew not yet; but it

was fixed. Ill had not occurred to her sanguine expectations, nor doubt,

nor fear, till the eventful meeting with Ellis: till then, she had

believed her happiness secure, for she had supposed that nothing stood

in her way, save a little brotherly punctilio. But, since the junction

of Ellis, the spontaneous interest which Albert had taken in her fate,

and her affairs, had appeared to be so marvellous, that, at every new

view of his pity, his respect, or his admiration, she was seized with

the most uneasy feelings; which sometimes worked her up into pangs of

excruciating jealousy; and, at others, seemed to be so ill founded,

that, recollecting a thousand instances of his general benevolence, she

laughed her own surmises to scorn. How the matter still stood, with

regard to his heart, she confessed herself unable to form any permanent

judgment. The time, however, was now, happily, arrived, to abolish

suspense, for even Dennis, now, could bear it no longer. She expected,

she said, a desperate scene, but, at least, it would be a final one. She

had only, for many months past, been restrained from giving Dennis his

dismission, lest Albert should drop all separate acquaintance, from the

horrour of seeming treacherously to usurp the place of his brother.

Nevertheless, she would frankly have ended her disturbance, by an avowal

of the truth, had not Albert been the eldest brother, and, consequently,

the richest; and the disgraceful supposition, that she might be

influenced to desire the change from mercenary motives, would have had

power to yoke her to Dennis, for the rest of her weary existence, had

not her mind been so luminously opened to its own resources, and

inherent right of choice, by her continental excursion.

'The grand effect,' she continued, 'of beholding so many millions of

men, let loose from all ties, divine or human, gave such play to my

fancy, such a range to my thoughts, and brought forth such new,

unexpected, and untried combinations to my reason, that I frequency felt

as if just created, and ushered into the world--not, perhaps, as wise as

another Minerva, but equally formed to view and to judge all around me,

without the gradations of infancy, childhood, and youth, that hitherto

have prepared for maturity. Every thing now is upon a new scale, and man

appears to be worthy of his faculties; which, during all these past

ages, he has set aside, as if he could do just as well without them;

holding it to be his bounden duty, to be trampled to the dust, by old

rules and forms, because all his papas and uncles were trampled so

before him. However, I should not have troubled myself, probably, with

any of these abstruse notions, had they not offered me a new road for

life, when the old one was worn out. To find that all was novelty and

regeneration throughout the finest country in the universe, soon

infected me with the system-forming spirit; and it was then that I

conceived the plan I am now going to execute; but I shall not tell it

you in its full extent, as I am uncertain what may be your strength of

mind for measures of force and character; and perhaps they may not be

necessary. So now to your commission.

'I am fixed to cast wholly aside the dainty common barriers, which shut

out from female practice all that is elevated, or even natural. Dennis,

therefore, shall know that I hate him; Albert ... Ah, Ellis! that I hate

him not!'

'My operations are to commence thus: Act I. Scene I. Enter Ellis,

seeking Albert. Don't stare so; I know perfectly well what I am about.

Scene II. Albert and Ellis meet. Ellis informs him that she must hold a

confabulation with him the next day; and desires that he will remain at

Lewes to be at hand.--'

'Oh, Miss Joddrel!' interrupted Ellis, 'you must, at least, give me

leave to say, that it is by your command that I make a request so

extraordinary!'

'By no means. He must not suspect that I have any knowledge of your

intention. The truth, like an explosion of thunder, shall burst upon his

head at once. So only shall I truly know whether it will shake him with

dismay--or magnetize him by its sublimity.'

'Yet how, Madam, under what pretence, can I take such a liberty?'

'Pho, pho; this is no time for delicate demurs. If he be not engaged to

stay before I turn his brother adrift, he will accompany him to town, as

a thing of course, to console him in his willowed state. The rest of my

plot is not yet quite ripe for disclosure. But all is arranged. And

though I know not whether the catastrophe will be tragic or comic, I am

prepared in my part for either.'

She then went away.

CHAPTER XVII

Elinor returned almost instantly. 'Hasten, hasten,' she cried, 'Ellis!

There is no time to be lost. Scene the first is all prepared. Albert

Harleigh, at this very moment, is poring over the county map in the

hall. Run and tell him that you have something of deep importance to

communicate to him to-morrow.'

'But may he not--if he means to go--desire to hear it immediately?'

Elinor, without answering, forced her away. Harleigh, whose back was to

the stair-entrance, seemed intently examining some route. The distress

of Ellis was extreme how to call for his notice, and how to execute her

commission when it should be obtained. Slowly and unwillingly

approaching a little nearer, 'I am afraid,' she hesitatingly said, 'that

I must appear extremely importunate, but--'

The astonishment with which he turned round, at the sound of her voice,

could only be equalled by the pleasure with which he met her eyes; and

only surpassed, by the sudden burst of clashing ideas with which he saw

her own instantly drop; while her voice, also, died away; her cheeks

became the colour of crimson; and she was evidently and wholly at a loss

what to say.

'Importunate?' he gently repeated, 'impossible!' yet he waited her own

explanation.

Her confusion now became deeper; any sort of interrogation would have

encouraged and aided her; but his quiet, though attentive forbearance

seemed the result of some suspension of opinion. Ashamed and grieved,

she involuntarily looked away, as she indistinctly pronounced, 'I must

appear ... very strange ... but I am constrained.... Circumstances of

which I am not the mistress, force me to ... desire--to request--that

to-morrow morning--or any part of to-morrow ... it might be possible

that I could ... or rather that you should be able to ... to hear

something that ... that....'

The total silence with which he listened, shewed so palpably his

expectation of some competent reason for so singular an address, that

her inability to clear herself, and her chagrin in the idea of

forfeiting any part of an esteem which had proved so often her

protection, grew almost insupportably painful, and she left her phrase

unfinished; yet considered her commission to be fulfilled, and was

moving away.

'To-morrow,' he said, 'I meant to have accompanied my brother, whose

affairs--whatever may be his fate--oblige him to return to town: but

if ... if to-morrow--'

He had now, to impede her retreat, stept softly between her and the

staircase, and perceived, in her blushes, the force which she had put

upon her modesty; and read, in the expression of her glistening eyes,

that an innate sense of delicacy was still more wounded, by the demand

which she had made, even than her habits of life. With respect,

therefore, redoubled, and an interest beyond all calculation increased,

he went on; 'If to-morrow ... or next day--or any part of the week, you

have any commands for me, nothing shall hurry me hence till they are

obeyed.'

Comforted to find herself treated with unabated consideration, however

shocked to have the air of detaining him purposely for her own concerns,

she was courtsying her thanks, when she caught a glance of Elinor on the

stairs, in whose face, every passion seemed with violence at work.

Ellis changed colour, not knowing how to proceed, or how to stop. The

alteration in her countenance made Harleigh look round, and discern

Elinor; yet so pre-occupied was his attention, that he was totally

unmindful of her situation, and would have addressed her as usual, had

she not abruptly re-mounted the stairs.

Harleigh would then have asked some directions, relative to the time and

manner of the purposed communication; but Ellis instantly followed

Elinor; leaving him in a state of wonder, expectation, yet pleasure

indescribable; fully persuaded that she meant to reveal the secret of

her name and her history; and forming conjectures that every moment

varied, yet every moment grew more interesting, of her motives for such

a confidence.

Ellis found Elinor already in her chamber, and, apparently, in the

highest, though evidently most factitious spirits: not, however, feigned

to deceive Ellis, but falsely and forcibly elated to deceive, or, at

least, to animate herself. 'This is enchanting!' she cried, 'this is

delectable! this is every thing that I could wish! I shall now know the

truth! All the doubts, all the difficulties, that have been crazing me

for some time past, will now be solved: I shall discover whether his

long patience in waiting my determination, has been for your sake, or

for mine. He will not go hence, till he has obeyed your commands!--Is he

glad of a pretence to stay on my account? or impelled irresistibly upon

yours? I shall now know all, all, all!'

The lengthened stay of Albert being thus, she said, ascertained, she

should send Dennis about his business, without the smallest ceremony.

What she undertook, she performed. Early in the evening she again

visited Ellis, exultingly to make known to her, that Dennis was finally

dismissed. She had assigned no reason, she said, for her long

procrastination, reserving that for his betters, alias Albert; but she

had been so positive and clear in announcing her decision, and assuring

him that it proceeded from a most sincere and unalterable dislike, both

to his person and mind, that he had shewn spirit enough to be almost

respectable, having immediately ordered his horse, taken his leave of

Aunt Maple, and set off upon his journey. Albert, meanwhile, had said,

that he had business to transact at Brighthelmstone, which might detain

him some days; and had accepted an invitation to sleep at Lewes, during

that period, from poor Aunt Maple; whose provocation and surprise at all

that had passed were delightful.

'To-morrow morning, therefore,' she continued, 'will decide my fate.

What, hitherto, Albert has thought of me, he is probably as ignorant as

I am myself; for while he has considered me as the property of my

brother, his pride is so scrupulous, and his scruples are so squeamish,

that he would deem it a crime of the first magnitude, to whisper, even

in his own ear, How should I like her for myself? He is suspicious of

some sophistry in whatever is not established by antiquated rules; and,

with all his wisdom, and all his superiority, he is constantly anxious

not to offend that conceited old prejudice, that thinks it taking a

liberty with human nature, to suppose that any man can be so indecent as

to grow up wiser, and more knowing, than his grandpapa was before him.

'Trifling, however, apart, all my real alarm is to fathom what his

feelings are for you! Are they but of compassion, playing upon a

disengaged mind? If nothing further, the awakening a more potent

sentiment will plant them in their proper line of subordination. This

is what remains to be tried. He has not made you any declaration; he is

free, therefore, from any entanglement: his brother is discharged, and

for ever out of the question; he knows me, therefore, also, to be

liberated from all engagement. When I said that you had given me life, I

did not mean, that merely to hear that nothing had yet passed, was

enough to secure my happiness:--Ah no!--but simply that it inspired me

with a hope that gives me courage to resolve upon seeking certitude. And

now, hear me!

'The second act of the comedy, tragedy, or farce, of my existence, is to

be represented to-morrow. The first scene will be a conference between

Ellis and Albert, in which Ellis will relate the history of Elinor.'

Suddenly, then, looking at her, with an air the most authoritative,

'Ellis!' she added, 'there is one article to which you must answer this

moment! Would you, should the choice be in your power, sacrifice Lord

Melbury to Harleigh? No hesitation!'

'Miss Joddrel,' answered Ellis, solemnly, 'I have neither the hope, nor

the fear, that belongs to what might be called sacrifice relative to

either of them: I earnestly desire to preserve the esteem of Mr

Harleigh; and the urbanity--I can call it by no other name--of Lord

Melbury; but I am as free from the thought as from the presumption, of

expecting, or coveting, to engage any personal, or particular regard,

from either.'

Elinor, appeased, said, 'You are such a compound of mystery, that one

extraordinary thing is not more difficult to credit in you, than

another. My design, as you will find, in making you speak instead of

myself, is a stroke of Machievalian policy; for it will finish both

suspences at once; since if, when you talk to him of me, he thinks only

of my agent, how will he refrain, in answering your embassy, to betray

himself? If, on the contrary, when he finds his scruples removed about

his brother, he should feel his heart penetrated by the cause of that

brother's dismission--Ah Ellis!--But let us not anticipate act the

third. The second alone can decide, whether it will conclude the piece

with an epithalamium--or a requiem!'

She then disappeared.

Ellis saw her no more till the next morning, when, entering the chamber,

breathless with haste and agitation, 'The moment,' she cried, 'is come!

I have sent out Aunt Maple, and Selina, upon visits for the whole

morning; and I have called Harleigh into my dressing-room. There,

wondering, he waits; I shall introduce you, and wait, in my turn, till,

in ten minutes' time, you follow, to give me the argument of the third

and last act of my drama.'

Ellis, alarmed at what might be the result, would again have supplicated

to be excused; but Elinor, proudly saying, 'Fear no consequences for me!

Those who know truly how to love, know how to die, as well as how to

live!' forcibly dragged her down to the dressing-room; through which she

instantly passed herself, with undisguised trepidation, to her inner

apartment.

The astonishment of Harleigh was inexpressible; and Ellis, who had

received no positive directions, felt wholly at a loss what she was to

relate, how far she ought to go, and what she ought to require. Hastily,

therefore, and affrighted at her task, she tapped at the bedroom door,

and begged a moment's audience. Elinor opened it, in the greatest

consternation. 'What!' cried she, taking her to the window, 'is all

over, without a word uttered?'

No; Ellis answered; she merely wished for more precise commands what she

should say.

'Say?' cried Elinor, reviving, 'say that I adore him! That since the

instant I have seen him, I have detested his brother; that he alone has

given me any idea of what is perfection in human nature! And that, if

the whole world were annihilated, and he remained ... I should think my

existence divine!'

She then pushed her back, prohibiting any reply.

Harleigh, to whom all was incomprehensible, but whose expectations every

moment grew higher, of the explanation he so much desired, perceiving

the embarrassment of Ellis, gently advanced, and said, 'Shall I be

guilty of indiscretion, if I seize this hurried, yet perhaps only

moment, to express my impatience for a communication of which I have

thought, almost exclusively, from the moment I have had it in view? Must

it be deferred? or--'

'No; it admits of no delay. I have much to say--and I am allowed but ten

minutes--'

'You have much to say?' cried he, delighted; 'ten minutes to-day may be

followed by twenty, thirty, as many as you please, to-morrow,--and after

to-morrow,--and whenever you command.'

'You are very good, Sir, but my commission admits as little of extension

as of procrastination. It must be as brief as it will be abrupt.'

'Your commission?' he repeated, in a tone of disappointment.

'Yes; I am charged by ... by ... by a lady whom I need not name--to say

that ... that your brother--'

She stopt, ashamed to proceed.

'I can have no doubt,' said he, gravely, 'that Miss Joddrel is

concerned, for the length of time she has wasted in trifling with his

feelings; but this is all the apology her conduct requires: the breach

of the engagement, when once she was convinced, that her attachment was

insufficient to make the union as desirable to herself as to him, was

certainly rather a kindness than an injury.'

'Yes,--but, her motives--her reasons--'

'I conceive them all! she wanted courage to be sooner decided; she

apprehended reproach--and she gathered force to make her change of

sentiments known, only when, otherwise, she must have concealed it for

ever.--Pardon this presumptuous anticipation!' added he, smiling; 'but

when you talk to me of only ten minutes, how can I suffer them to be

consumed in a commission?'

He spoke in a low tone, yet, Ellis, excessively alarmed, pointed

expressively to the chamber-door. In a tone, then, still softer, he

continued: 'I have been anxious to speak to you of Lord Melbury, and to

say something of the indignation with which I heard, from him, of the

atrocious behaviour of Ireton. Nothing less than the respect I feel for

you, could have deterred me from shewing him the resentment I feel for

myself. I should not, however, have been your only champion; Lord

Melbury was equally incensed; but we both acknowledged that our

interests and our feelings ought to be secondary to yours, and by yours

to be regulated. The matter, therefore, is at an end. Ireton is

convinced that he has done you wrong; and, as he never meant to be your

enemy, and has no study but his own amusement, we must pity his want of

taste, and hope that the disgrace necessarily hanging upon detected

false assertion, may be a lesson not lost upon him. Yet he deserves one

far more severe. He is a pitiful egotist, who seeks nothing but his own

diversion; indifferent whose peace, comfort, or reputation pays its

purchase.'

'I am infinitely obliged,' said Ellis, 'that you will suffer the whole

to drop; but I must not do the same by my commission!--You must let me,

now, enter more particularly upon my charge, and tell you--'

'Forgive, forgive me!' cried he, eagerly: 'I comprehend all that Miss

Joddrel can have to say. But my impatience is irrepressible upon a far

different subject; one that awakens the most lively interest, that

occupies my thoughts, that nearly monopolizes my memory; and that

exhausts--yet never wearies my conjectures.--That letter you were so

good as to mention to me?--and the plan you may at length decide to

pursue?--permit me to hope, that the communication you intend me, has

some reference to those points?'

'I should be truly glad of your counsel, Sir, in my helpless situation:

but I am not at this moment at liberty to speak for myself;--Miss

Joddrel--'

Her embarrassment now announced something extraordinary; but it was

avowedly not personal; and Harleigh eagerly besought her to be

expeditious.

'You must make me so, then,' cried she, 'by divining what I have to

reveal!'

'Does Miss Joddrel relent?--Will she give me leave to summon my brother

back?'

'Oh no! no! no!--far otherwise. Your brother has been indifferent to

her ... ever since she has known him as such!'

She thought she had now said enough; but Harleigh, whose faculties were

otherwise engaged, waited for further explanation.

'Can you not,' said Ellis, 'or will you not, divine the reason of the

change?'

'I have certainly,' he answered, 'long observed a growing insensibility;

but still--'

'And have you never,' said Ellis, deeply blushing, 'seen, also,--its

reverse?'

This question, and yet more the manner in which it was made, was too

intelligible to admit of any doubt. Harleigh, however, was far from

elated as the truth opened in his view: he looked grave and disturbed,

and remained for some minutes profoundly silent. Ellis, already ashamed

of the indelicacy of her office, could not press for any reply.

'I am hurt,' he at length said, 'beyond all measure, by what you

intimate; but since Miss Joddrel has addressed you thus openly, there

can be no impropriety in my claiming leave, also, to speak to you

confidentially.'

'Whatever you wish me to say to her, Sir,--'

'And much that I do not wish you to say to her,' cried he, half smiling,

'I hope you will hear yourself! and that then, you will have the

goodness, according to what you know of her intentions and desire, to

palliate what you may deem necessary to repeat.'

'Ah, poor Miss Joddrel!' said Ellis, in a melancholy tone, 'and is this

the success of my embassy?'

'Did you, then, wish--' Harleigh began, with a quickness of which he

instantly felt the impropriety, and changed his phrase into, 'Did you

then, suspect any other?'

'I was truly sorry to be entrusted with the commission.'

'I easily conceive, that it is not such a one as you would have given!

but there is a dangerous singularity in the character of Miss Joddrel,

that makes her prone to devote herself to whatever is new, wild, or

uncommon. Even now, perhaps, she conceives that she is the champion of

her sex, in shewing it the road,--a dangerous road!--to a new walk in

life. Yet,--these eccentricities set apart,--how rare are her qualities!

how powerful is her mind! how sportive her fancy! and how noble is her

superiority to every species of art or artifice!'

'Yet, with all this,' said Ellis, looking at him expressively, 'with all

this....' she knew not how to proceed; but he saw her meaning. 'With all

this,' he said, 'you are surprised, perhaps, that I should look for

other qualities, other virtues in her whom I should aspire to make the

companion of my life? I beseech you, however, to believe, that neither

insolence nor ingratitude makes me insensible to her worth; but, though

it often meets my admiration, sometimes my esteem, and always my good

will and regard, it is not of a texture to create that sympathy without

which even friendship is cold. I have, indeed ... till now....'

He paused.

'Poor, poor, Miss Joddrel!' exclaimed Ellis, 'If you could but have

heard,--or if I knew but how to repeat, even the millionenth part of

what she thinks of you!--of the respect with which she is ready to yield

to your opinions; of the enthusiasm with which she honours your

character; of the devotion with which she nearly worships you--'

She stopt short, ashamed; and as fearful that she had been now too

urgent, as before that she had been too cold.

Harleigh heard her with considerable emotion. 'I hope,' he said, 'your

feelings, like those of most minds gifted with strong sensibility, have

taken the pencil, in this portrait, from your cooler judgment? I should

be grieved, indeed, to suppose--but what can a man suppose, what say,

upon a subject so delicate that may not appear offensive? Suffer me,

therefore, to drop it; and have the goodness to let that same

sensibility operate in terminating, in such a manner as may be least

shocking to her, all view, and all thought, that I ever could, or ever

can, entertain the most distant project of supplanting my brother.'

'Will you not, at least, speak to her yourself?'

'I had far rather speak to you!--Yet certainly yes, if she desire it.'

'Give me leave, then, to say,' cried Ellis, moving towards the bedroom

door, 'that you request an audience.'

'By no means! I merely do not object to it. You may easily conceive what

pain I shall be spared, if it may be evaded. All I request, is a few

moments with you! Hastily, therefore, let me ask, is your plan decided?'

'To the best of my power,--of my ideas, rather,--yes. But, indeed, I

must not thus abandon my charge!'

'And will you not let me enquire what it is?'

'There is one thing, only, in which I have any hope that my exertions

may turn to account; I wish to offer myself as a governess to some young

lady, or ladies.'

'I beseech you,' cried he, with sudden fervour, 'to confide to me the

nature of your situation! I know well I have no claim; I seem to have

even no pretext for such a request; yet there are sometimes

circumstances that not only excuse, but imperiously demand extraordinary

measures: perhaps mine, at this moment, are of that sort! perhaps I am

at a loss what step to take, till I know to whom I address myself!'

'O Sir!' cried Ellis, holding up her hands in act of supplication, 'you

will be heard!'

Harleigh, conscious that he had been off all guard, silenced himself

immediately, and walked hastily to the window.

Ellis knew not whether to retire, at once, to her own room; or to

venture into that of Elinor; or to require any further answer. This

last, however, Harleigh seemed in no state to give: he leant his

forehead upon his hand, and remained wrapt in thought.

Ellis, struck by a manner which shewed that he felt, and apparently,

repented the possible meaning that his last words might convey, was now

as much ashamed for herself as for Elinor; and not wishing to meet his

eyes, glided softly back to her chamber.

Here, whatever might be the fulness of her mind, she was not allowed an

instant for reflection: Elinor followed her immediately.

She shut the door, and walked closely up to her. Elinor feared to behold

her; yet saw, by a glance, that her eyes were sparkling, and that her

face was dressed in smiles. 'This is a glorious day for me!' she cried;

''tis the pride of my life to have brought such a one into the history

of my existence!'

Ellis officiously got her a chair; arranged the fire; examined if the

windows were well closed; and sought any occupation, to postpone the

moment of speaking to, or looking at her.

She was not offended; she did not appear to be hurried; she seemed

enchanted with her own ideas; yet she had a strangeness in her manner

that Ellis thought extremely alarming.

'Well,' she cried, when she had taken her seat, and saw that Ellis could

find no further pretext for employing herself in the little apartment;

'what garb do you bring me? How am I to be arrayed?'

Ellis begged to know what she meant.

'Is it a wedding-garment?' replied she, gaily; 'or ...' abruptly

changing her tone into a deep hoarse whisper, 'a shroud?'

Ellis, shuddering, durst not answer. Elinor, catching her hand said,

'Don't be frightened! I am at this moment equal to whatever may be my

destiny: I am at a point of elevation, that makes my fate nearly

indifferent to me. Speak, therefore! but only to the fact. I have

neither time nor humour for narratory delays. I tried to hear you; but

you both talked so whisperingly, that I could not make out a sentence.'

'Indeed, Miss Joddrel,' said Ellis, trembling violently, 'Mr Harleigh's

regard--his affection--'

'Not a word of that trite class!' cried Elinor, with sudden severity,

'if you would not again work all my passions into inflammation involve

me no more in doubt! Fear nothing else. I am no where else vulnerable.

Set aside, then, all childish calculations, of giving me an inch or two

more, or an inch or two less of pain,--and be brief and true!'

Ellis could not utter a word: every phrase she could suggest seemed to

teem with danger; yet she felt that her silence could not but indicate

the truth which it sought to hide; she hung her head, and sighed in

disturbed perplexity. Elinor looked at her for some time with an

examining eye, and then, hastily rising, emphatically exclaimed, 'You

are mute?--I see, then, my doom! And I shall meet it with glory!'

Smiles triumphant, but wild, now played about her face. 'Ellis,' she

cried, 'go to your work, or whatever you were about, and take no manner

of heed of me. I have something of importance to arrange, and can brook

no interruption.'

Ellis acquiesced, returning to the employment of her needle, for which

Mrs Fenn took especial care that she should never lack materials.

Elinor spoke to her no more; but her ruminations, though undisturbed by

her companion, were by no means quiet, or silent. She paced hastily up

and down the room; sat, in turn, upon a chair, a window seat, and the

bed; talked to herself, sometimes with a vehemence that made several

detached words, though no sentences, intelligible; sometimes in softer

accents, and with eyes and gestures of exultation; and, frequently, she

went into a corner by the side of the window, where she looked, in

secret, at something in a shagreen case that she held in her hand, and

had brought out of her chamber; and to which she occasionally addressed

herself, with a fervency that shook her whole frame, and with

expressions which, though broken, and half pronounced, denoted that she

considered it as something sacred.

At length, with an air of transport, she exclaimed, 'Yes! that will

produce the best effect! what an idiot have I been to hesitate!' then,

turning with quickness to Ellis: 'Ellis,' she cried, 'I have withheld

from any questions relative to yourself, because I abominate all

subterfuge; but you will not suppose I am contented with my ignorance?

You will not imagine it a matter of indifference to me, to know how I

have failed?'

She reddened; passion took possession of every feature, and for a moment

nearly choaked her voice: she again walked, with rapid motion, about the

room, and then ejaculated, 'Let me be patient! let me not take away all

grandeur from my despair, and reduce it to mere common madness!--Let me

wait the fated moment, and then--let the truth burst, blaze, and flame,

till it devour me!

'Ellis,' she presently added, 'find Harleigh; tell him I wish him a good

journey from the summer-house in the garden. Not a soul ever enters it

at this time of the year. Bid him go thither directly. I shall soon join

him. I will wait in my room till you call me. Be quick!'

Ellis required not to have this order repeated: to place her under the

care of Harleigh, and intimate to him the excess of her love, with the

apprehensions which she now herself conceived of the dangerous state of

her mind, was all that could be wished; and where so essential a service

might be rendered, or a mischief be prevented, personal punctilio was

out of the question.

He was not in the hall; but, from one of the windows, she perceived him

walking near the house. A painful sensation, upon being obliged again,

to force herself upon his notice, disturbed, though she would not suffer

it to check her. He was speaking with his groom. She stopt at the

hall-door, with a view to catch his eye, and succeeded; but he bowed

without approaching her, and continued to discourse with his groom.

To seem bent upon pursuing him, when he appeared himself to think that

he had gone too far, and even to mean to shun her, dyed her cheeks of

the deepest vermilion; though she compelled herself, from a terrour of

the danger of delay, to run across the gravel-walk before the house, to

address him. He saw her advance, with extreme surprise, but by no means

with the same air of pleasure, that he had manifested in the morning.

His look was embarrassed, and he seemed unwilling to meet her eyes. Yet

he awaited her with a respect that made his groom, unbidden, retire to

some distance; though to await her at all, when he might have met her,

struck her, even in this hurried and terrified moment, as offering the

strongest confirmation which she had yet received, that it was not a man

of pleasure or of gallantry, but of feeling and of truth, into whose way

she was thus singularly and frequently cast: and the impression which

she had made upon his mind, had never, to her hitherto nearly absorbed

faculties, appeared to be so serious or so sincere, as now, when he

first evidently struggled to disguise a partiality, which he seemed

persuaded that he had, now, first betrayed. The sensations which this

discovery might produce in herself were unexamined: the misery with

which it teemed for Elinor, and a desire to relieve his own delicacy, by

appearing unconscious of his secret, predominated: and she assumed

sufficient self-command, to deliver the message of Elinor, with a look,

and in a voice, that seemed insensible and unobservant of every other

subject.

He soon, now, recovered his usual tone, and disengaged manner. 'She must

certainly,' he said, 'be obeyed; though I so little expected such a

summons, that I was giving directions for my departure.'

'Ah, no!' cried Ellis, 'rather again defer it.'

'You would have me again defer it?' he repeated, with a vivacity he

tried still more, though vainly, to subdue than to disguise.

The word again did not make the cheeks of Ellis paler; but she answered,

with eagerness, 'Yes, for the same purpose and same person!--I am forced

to speak explicitly--and abruptly. Indeed, Sir, you know not, you

conceive not, the dreadfully alarming state of her nerves, nor the

violence of her attachment.--You could scarcely else--' she stopt, for

he changed colour and looked hurt: she saw he comprehended that she

meant to add, you could scarcely else resist her: she finished,

therefore, her phrase, by 'scarcely else plan leaving her, till you saw

her more composed, and more reconciled to herself, and to the world.'

'You may imagine,' said he, pensively, 'it is any thing rather than my

inclination that carries me hence ... but I greatly fear 'tis the only

prudent measure I can pursue.'

'You can best judge by seeing her,' said Ellis: 'her situation is truly

deplorable. Her faculties are all disordered; her very intellects, I

fear, are shaken; and there is no misfortune, no horrour, which her

desperation, if not softened, does not menace.'

Harleigh now seemed awakened to sudden alarm, and deep concern; and

Ellis painfully, with encreasing embarrassment, from encreasing

consciousness, added, 'You will do, I am sure, what is possible to

snatch her from despair!' and then returned to the house: satisfied that

her meaning was perfectly comprehended, by the excess of consternation

into which it obviously cast Harleigh.

CHAPTER XVIII

Comforted, at least, for Elinor, whose situation in being known, seemed

to lose its greatest danger, Ellis, with less oppression upon her

spirits, returned to the dressing-room.

Elinor was writing, and too intently occupied to heed the opening of the

door. The motion of her hand was so rapid, that her pen seemed rather to

skim over, than to touch her paper. Ellis gently approached her; but,

finding that she did not raise her head, ventured not even to announce

that her orders had been executed.

At length, her paper being filled, she looked up, and said, 'Well! is he

there?'

'I have delivered to him, Madam, your commands.'

'Then,' cried she, rising with an exulting air, 'the moment of my

triumph is come! Yes, Harleigh! if meanly I have offered you my person,

nobly, at least, I will consecrate to you my soul!'

Hastily rolling up what she had been writing, and putting it into a

desk, 'Ellis!' she added, 'Mark me well! should any accident betide me,

here will be found the last and unalterable codicil to my will. It is

signed, but not witnessed: it is not, however, of a nature to be

disputed; it is to desire only that Harleigh will take care that my

bones shall be buried in the same charnel-house, in which he orders the

interment of his own. All that remains, finally, of either of us, there,

at least, may meet!'

Ellis turned cold with horrour. Her first idea was to send for Mrs

Maple; yet that lady was so completely without influence, that any

interference on her part, might rather stimulate than impede what it was

meant to oppose. It seemed, therefore, safest to trust wholly to

Harleigh.

The eyes of Elinor were wild and fierce, her complexion was livid, her

countenance was become haggard; and, while she talked of triumph, and

fancied it was what she felt, every feature exhibited the most tortured

marks of impetuous sorrow, and ungoverned disappointment.

She took from her bureau the shagreen case which she had so fondly

caressed, and which Ellis concluded to contain some portrait, or

cherished keep-sake of Harleigh; and hurried down stairs. Ellis

fearfully followed her. No one happened to be in the way, and she was

already in the garden, when, turning suddenly round, and perceiving

Ellis, 'Oh ho!' she cried, 'you come unbidden? you are right; I shall

want you.'

She then precipitately entered the summer-house, in which Harleigh was

awaiting her in the keenest anxiety.

His disturbance was augmented upon observing her extreme paleness,

though she tried to meet him with a smile. She shut and bolted the door,

and seated herself before she spoke.

Assuming then a mien of austerity, though her voice betrayed internal

tremour, 'Harleigh!' she cried, 'be not alarmed. I have received your

answer!--fear not that I shall ever expect--or would, now, even listen

to another! 'Tis to vindicate, not to lower my character that I am here.

I have given you, I am aware, a great surprise by what you conceive to

be my weakness; prepare yourself for a yet greater, from an opposite

cause. I come to explain to you the principles by which I am actuated,

clearly and roundly; without false modesty, insipid affectation, or

artful ambiguity. You will then know from what plan of reasoning I adopt

my measures; which as yet, believing to be urged only by my feelings,

you attribute, perhaps,--like that poor scared Ellis, to insanity.'

Ellis forced a smile, and, seating herself at some distance, tried to

wear the appearance of losing her apprehensions; while Harleigh, drawing

a chair near Elinor, assured her that his whole mind was engaged in

attention to what she might disclose.

Her voice now became more steady, and she proceeded.

'You think me, I know, tarnished by those very revolutionary ideas

through which, in my own estimation, I am ennobled. I owe to them that I

dare hold myself intellectually, as well as personally, an equal member

of the community; not a poor, degraded, however necessary appendent to

it: I owe to them my enfranchisement from the mental slavery of

subscribing to unexamined opinions, and being governed by prejudices

that I despise: I owe to them the precious privilege, so shamefully new

to mankind, of daring to think for myself. But for them--should I not,

at this moment, be pining away my lingering existence, in silent

consumption? They have rescued me from that slow poison!'

'In what manner,' said Harleigh, 'can I presume--'

She interrupted him. 'Imagine not I am come to reproach you! or, still

less, to soften you!' She stopt, confused, rose, and again seated

herself, before she could go on. 'No! littleness of that description

belongs not to such energies as those which you have awakened! I come

but, I repeat, to defend myself, from any injurious suspicion, of having

lightly given way to a mere impulse of passion. I come to bring you

conviction that reason has guided my conduct; and I come to solicit a

boon from you,--a last boon, before we separate for ever!'

'I am charmed if you have anything to ask of me,' said Harleigh, 'that

my zeal, my friendship, my attachment, may find some vent; but why speak

of so solemn a separation?'

'You will grant, then, what I mean to request?'

'What can it be I could refuse?'

'Enough! You will soon know. Now to my justification. Hear me,

Harleigh!'

She arose, and, clasping her hands, with strong, yet tender, emotion,

exclaimed. 'That I should love you--' She stopt. Shame crimsoned her

skin. She covered her face with both her hands, and sunk again upon her

chair.

Harleigh was strongly and painfully affected. 'O Elinor!' he cried, and

was going to take her hand; but the fear of misinterpretation made him

draw back; and Elinor, almost instantly recovering, raised her head, and

said, 'How tenacious a tyrant is custom! how it clings to our practice!

how it embarrasses our conduct! how it awes our very nature itself, and

bewilders and confounds even our free will! We are slaves to its laws

and its follies, till we forget its usurpation. Who should have told me,

only five minutes ago, that, at an instant such as this; an instant of

liberation from all shackles, of defiance to all forms; its antique

prescriptions should still retain their power to confuse and torment me?

Who should have told me, that, at an instant such as this, I should

blush to pronounce the attachment in which I ought to glory? and hardly

know how to articulate.... That I should love you, Harleigh, can

surprise no one but yourself!'

Her cheeks were now in flames; and those of Harleigh were tinted with

nearly as high a colour. Ellis fixed her eyes stedfastly upon the floor.

Shocked, in despite of her sunk expectations, that words such as these

could be heard by Harleigh in silence, she resumed again the haughty air

with which she had begun the conference.

'I ought not to detain you so long, for a defence so unimportant. What,

to you, can it matter, that my valueless preference should be

acknowledged from the spur of passion, or the dictates of reason?--And

yet, to the receiver, as well as to the offerer, a sacrifice brings

honour or disgrace, according to its motives. Listen, therefore, for

both our sakes, to mine: though they may lead you to a subject which you

have long since, in common with every man that breathes, wished

exploded, the Rights of woman: Rights, however, which all your sex, with

all its arbitrary assumption of superiority, can never disprove, for

they are the Rights of human nature; to which the two sexes equally and

unalienably belong. But I must leave to abler casuists, and the slow,

all-arranging ascendence of truth, to raise our oppressed half of the

human species, to the equality and dignity for which equal Nature, that

gives us Birth and Death alike, designs us. I must spend my remaining

moments in egotism; for all that I have time to attempt is my personal

vindication. Harleigh! from the first instant that I saw you--heard

you--knew you--'

She breathed hard, and spoke with difficulty; but forced herself on.

'From that first instant, Harleigh! I have lived but to cherish your

idea!'

Her features now regained their highest expression of vivacity; and,

rising, and looking at him with a sort of wild rapture, 'Oh Harleigh!'

she continued, 'have I attained, at last, this exquisite moment? What

does it not pay of excruciating suspense, of hateful, laborious

forebearance and unnatural self-denial? Harleigh! dearest Harleigh! you

are master of my soul! you are sovereign of my esteem, my admiration, my

every feeling of tenderness, and every idea of perfection!--Accept,

then, the warm homage of a glowing heart, that beats but for you; and

that, beating in vain, will beat no more!'

The crimson hue now mounted to her forehead, and reddened her neck: her

eyes became lustrous; and she was preparing, with an air of extacy, to

open the shagreen case, which she had held folded to her bosom, when

Harleigh, seizing her hand, dropt on one knee, and, hardly conscious of

what he did, or what he felt, from the terrible impression made by a

speech so full of love, despair, and menace, exclaimed, 'Elinor! you

crown me, then, with honours, but to kill me with torture?'

With a look of softness new to her features, new to her character, and

emanating from sensations of delight new to her hopes, Elinor sunk

gently upon her chair, yet left him full possession of her hand; and,

for some instants, seemed silent from a luxury of inward enjoyment. 'Is

it Harleigh,' she then cried, 'Albert Harleigh, I see at my feet? Ah!

what is the period, since I have known him, in which I would not

joyfully have resigned all the rest of my life, for a sight, a moment

such as this! Dear, dear, delicious poison! thrill, thrill through my

veins! throb at my heart! new string every fibre of my frame! Is it,

then, granted me, at last, to see thee thus? and thus dare speak to

thee? to give sound to my feelings; to allow utterance of my love? to

dare suffer my own breath to emit the purest flame that ever warmed a

virgin heart?--Ah! Harleigh! proud Harleigh!--'

Harleigh, embarrassed had risen, though without quitting her hand, and

re-seated himself.

'Proud, proud Harleigh!' she continued, angrily snatching away her hand;

'you think even this little moment of sympathy, too long for love and

Elinor! you fear, perhaps, that she should expect its duration, or

repetition? Know me, Harleigh, better! I come not to sue for your

compassion,--I would not accept it!--Elinor may fail to excite your

regard, but she will never make you blush that you have excited hers. My

choice itself speaks the purity of my passion, for are not Harleigh and

Honour one?'

She paused to recover some composure, and then went on.

'You have attached neither a weak, giddy, unguarded fool, nor an idly

wilful or romantic voluptuary. My defence is grated upon your character

as much as upon my own. I could divide it into many branches; but I will

content myself with only striking at its root, namely, the Right of

woman, if endowed with senses, to make use of them. O Harleigh! why have

I seen you wiser and better than all your race; sounder in your

judgment, more elegant in your manners, more spirited in your

conduct;--lively though benevolent,--gentle, though brilliant,--Oh

Albert! Albert! if I must listen to you with the same dull ears, look at

you with the same unmarking eyes, and think of you with the same

unmeaning coldness, with which I hear, see, and consider the

time-wearing, spirit-consuming, soul-wasting tribe, that daily press

upon my sight, and offend my understanding? Can you ask, can you expect,

can you wish to doom half your species to so degraded a state? to look

down upon the wife, who is meant for the companion of your existence;

and upon the mother, of whose nature you must so largely partake; as

upon mere sleepy, slavish, uninteresting automatons? Say! speak! answer,

Harleigh! can such be your lordly, yet most unmanly desire?'

'And is it seriously that Elinor would have me reply to such a

question?'

'No, Harleigh! your noble, liberal nature answers it in every word, in

every look! You accord, then,--you conceive, at least, all that

constitutes my defence, in allowing me the use of my faculties; for how

better can I employ them than in doing honour to excellence? Why, for so

many centuries, has man, alone, been supposed to possess, not only force

and power for action and defence, but even all the rights of taste; all

the fine sensibilities which impel our happiest sympathies, in the

choice of our life's partners? Why, not alone, is woman to be excluded

from the exertions of courage, the field of glory, the immortal death of

honour,--not alone to be denied deliberating upon the safety of the

state of which she is a member, and the utility of the laws by which she

must be governed:--must even her heart be circumscribed by boundaries as

narrow as her sphere of action in life? Must she be taught to subdue all

its native emotions? To hide them as sin, and to deny them as shame?

Must her affections be bestowed but as the recompence of flattery

received; not of merit discriminated? Must every thing that she does be

prescribed by rule? Must everything that she says, be limited to what

has been said before? Must nothing that is spontaneous, generous,

intuitive, spring from her soul to her lips?--And do you, even you,

Harleigh, despise unbidden love!'

'No, Elinor, no!--if I durst tell you what I think of it--'

He stopt, embarrassed.

'I understand you, Harleigh; you know not how to find expressions that

may not wound me? Well! let me not pain you. Let us hasten to conclude.

I have spoken all that I am now capable to utter of my defence; nothing

more remains but the boon I have to beg. Harleigh!--if there be a

question you can resolve me, that may mitigate the horrour of my

destiny, without diminishing its glory--for glory and horrour go hand in

hand! would you refuse me--when I solicit it as a boon?--would you

refuse, Harleigh, to satisfy me, even though my demand should be

perplexing? could you, Harleigh, refuse me?--And at such a moment as

this?'

'No, certainly not!'

'Tell me, then, and fear not to be sincere. Is it to some other

attachment--' a sort of shivering fit stopt her for a moment, but she

recovered from it by a pride that seemed to burn through every vein, as

she added, 'or is it to innate repugnance that I owe your dislike?'

'Dislike? repugnance?' Harleigh repeated, with quickness, 'can Elinor

be, at once, so generous and so unjust? Can she delineate her own

feelings with so touching and so glowing a pencil, yet so ill describe,

or so wilfully fail in comprehending mine?'

'Dare, then, to be ingenuous, and save me, Harleigh,--if with truth you

can, the depression, the shame, of being rejected from impenetrable

apathy! I ought, I know, to be above such narrow punctilio, and to allow

the independence of your liberty; but I did not fall into the refining

hands of philosophy, early enough to eradicate wholly from my mind, all

dregs of the clinging first impressions of habit and education. Say,

then, Harleigh, if it be in your power so to say, that it is not a free

heart which thus coldly disdains me; that it is not a disengaged mind

which refuses me its sympathy! that it is not to personal aversion, but

to some previous regard, that I owe your insensibility! To me the event

will be the same, but the failure will be less ignoble.'

'How difficult, O Elinor!--how next to impossible such a statement makes

every species of answer!'

'At a period, Harleigh, awful and finite to our intercourse like this,

fall not into what I have hitherto, with so much reverence, seen you,

upon all occasions, superiour to, subterfuge and evasion! Be yourself,

Harleigh!--what can you be more noble? and plainly, simply let me into

the cause, since you cannot conceal from me the effect. Speak, then! Is

it but in the sullen majesty of masculine superiority,

'Lord of yourself, uncumber'd by a wife,'[8]

that you fly all marriage-bonds, with insulated, haughty singleness? or

is it that, deceived by my apparent engagement, your heart never asked

itself the worth of mine, till already all its own pulsations beat for

another object?'

[Footnote 8: Dryden.]

Harleigh tried to smile, tried to rally, tried to divert the question;

all in vain; Elinor became but more urgent, and more disordered. 'O

Harleigh!' she cried, 'is it too much to ask this one mark of your

confidence, for a creature who has cast her whole destiny at your feet?

Speak!--if you would not devote me to distraction! Speak!--if you would

not consign me to immediate delirium!'

'And what,' cried he, trembling at her vehemence, 'would you have me

say?'

'That it is not Elinor whom you despise--but another whom you love.'

'Elinor! are you mad?'

'No, Harleigh, no!--but I am wild with anguish to dive into the full

depth of my disgrace; to learn whether it were inevitable, from the very

nature of things,--from personal antipathy,--gloss it over as you will

with esteem, regard, and professions;--or whether you had found that

you, also, had a soul, before mine was laid open to you. No evasion--no

delay!' continued she, with augmenting impetuosity; 'you have promised

to grant my boon,--speak, Harleigh, speak!--was it my direful fate, or

your insuperable antipathy?'

'It was surely not antipathy!' cried he, in a tone the most soothing;

yet with a look affrighted, and unconscious, till he had spoken, of the

inference to which his words might be liable.

'I thank you!' cried she, fervently, 'Harleigh, I thank you! This, at

least, is noble; this is treating me with distinction, this is honouring

me with trust. It abates the irritating tinglings of mortified pride; it

persuades me I am the victim of misfortune, not of contempt.'

Suddenly, then, turning to Ellis, whose eyes, during the whole scene,

had seemed rivetted to the floor, she expressively added, 'I ask not the

object!'

Harleigh breathed hard, yet kept his face in an opposite direction, and

endeavoured to look as if he did not understand her meaning. Ellis

commanded her features to remain unmoved; but her complexion was not

under the same controul: frequent blushes crossed her cheeks, which,

though they died away almost as soon as they were born, vanished only to

re-appear; evincing all the consciousness that she struggled to

suppress.

A pause ensued, to Harleigh unspeakably painful, and to Ellis

indescribably distressing; during which Elinor fell into a profound

reverie, from which, after a few minutes, wildly starting, 'Harleigh,'

she cried, 'is your wedding-day fixed?'

'My wedding-day?' he repeated, with a forced smile, 'Must not my wedding

itself be fixed first?'

'And it is not fixed?--Does it depend upon Ellis?'

He looked palpably disconcerted; while Ellis, hastily raising her head,

exclaimed, 'Upon me, Madam? no, indeed! I am completely and every way

out of the question.'

'Of you,' said Elinor, with severity, 'I mean not to make any enquiry!

You are an adept in the occult sciences; and such I venture not to

encounter. But you, Harleigh, will you, also, practise disguise? and

fall so in love with mystery, as to lose your nobler nature, in a blind,

infatuated admiration of the marvellous and obscure?'

Ellis resentfully reddened; but her cheeks were pale to those of

Harleigh. Neither of them, however, spoke; and Elinor continued.

'I cannot, Harleigh, be deceived, and I will not be trifled with. When

you came over to fetch me from France; when the fatal name of sister

gave me a right to interrogate you, I frankly asked the state of your

heart, and you unhesitatingly told me that it was wholly free. Since

that period, whom have you seen, whom noticed, except Ellis! Ellis!

Ellis! From the first moment that you have beheld her, she has seemed

the mistress of your destiny, the arbitress of your will. My boon, then,

Harleigh, my boon! without a moment's further delay! Appease the raging

ferment in my veins; clear away every surmize; and generously, honestly

say 'tis Ellis!--or it is another, and not Ellis, I prefer to you!'

'Elinor! Elinor!' cried Harleigh, in a universal tremour, 'it is I that

you will make mad!' while Ellis, not daring to draw upon herself, again,

the rebuke which might follow a single declaiming word, rose, and

turning from them both, stood facing the window.

'It is surely then Ellis! what you will not, Harleigh, avow, is

precisely what you proclaim--it is surely Ellis!'

Ellis opened the window, and leant out her head; Harleigh, clapping his

hand upon his crimsoned forehead, walked with hasty steps round the

little apartment.

Losing now all self-command, and wringing her hands, in a transport of

ungovernable anguish, 'Oh, Harleigh! Harleigh!' Elinor cried, 'to what a

chimera you have given your heart! to an existence unintelligible, a

character unfathomable, a creature of imagination, though visible! O,

can you believe she will ever love you as Elinor loves? with the warmth,

with the truth, with the tenderness, with the choice? can she show

herself as disinterested? can she prove herself as devoted?--'

'She aims, Madam, at no rivalry!' said Ellis, gravely, and returning to

her seat: while Harleigh, tortured between resentment and pity, stood

still; without venturing to look up or reply.

'Rivalry?' repeated Elinor, with high disdain: 'No! upon what species of

competition could rivalry be formed, between Elinor, and a compound of

cold caution, and selfish prudence? Oh, Harleigh! how is it you thus can

love all you were wont to scorn? double dealing, false appearances, and

lurking disguise! without a family she dare claim, without a story she

dare tell, without a name she dare avow!'

A deep sigh, which now burst from Ellis, terminated the conflict between

indignation and compassion in Harleigh, who raised his eyes to meet

those of Elinor, with an expression of undisguised displeasure.

'You are angry?' she cried, clasping her hands, with forced and terrible

joy; 'you are angry, and I am thankful for the lesson. I meant not to

have lingered thus; my design was to have been abrupt and noble.'

Looking at him, then, with uncontrolled emotion, 'If ever man deserved

the sacrifice of a pure heart,' she continued, ''tis you, Harleigh, you!

and mine, from the period it first became conscious of its devotion to

you, has felt that it could not survive the certitude of your union with

another. All else, of slight, of failure, of inadequate pretensions,

might be borne; for where neither party is happy, misery is not

aggravated by contrast, nor mortification by comparison. But to become

the object of insolent pity to the happy!--to make a part of a rival's

blessings, by being offered up at the shrine of her superiority--No,

Harleigh, no! such abasement is not for Elinor. And what is the charm of

this wretched machine of clay, that can pay for sustaining its burthen

under similar disgrace? Let those who prize support it. For me,--my

glass is run,--my cup is full,--I die!'

'Die?' repeated Ellis, with a faint scream, while Harleigh looked

petrified with horrour.

'Die, yes!' answered Elinor, with a smile triumphant though ghastly; 'or

sleep! call it which you will! so animation be over, so feeling be past,

so my soul no longer linger under the leaden oppression of

disappointment; under sickness of all mortal existence; under incurable,

universal disgust:--call it what you please, sleep, rest, or death;

termination is all I seek.'

'And is there, Elinor, no other name for what follows our earthly

dissolution?' cried Harleigh, with a shuddering frown. 'What say you if

we call it immortality?'

'Will you preach to me?' cried she, her eyes darting fire; 'will you bid

me look forward to yet another life, when this, short as it is deemed, I

find insupportable? Ah, Harleigh! Harleigh!' her eyes suffusing with

sudden tenderness; 'were I your's--I might wish indeed to be immortal!'

Harleigh was extremely affected: he approached her, took her hand, and

soothingly said, 'My dear Elinor, compose your spirits, exert your

strength of mind, and suffer us to discuss these subjects at some

length.'

'No, Harleigh; I must not trust myself to your fascinations! How do I

know but they might bewitch me out of my reason, and entangle me, again,

in those antique superstitions which make misery so cowardly? No,

Harleigh! the star of Ellis has prevailed, and I sink beneath its

influence. Else, only sometimes to see you, to hear of you, to watch

you, and to think of you always, I would still live, nay, feel joy in

life; for still my imagination would gift you, ultimately, with

sensibility to my regard. But I anticipate the union which I see to be

inevitable, and I spare my senses the shock which I feel would demolish

them.--Harleigh!--dearest Harleigh, Adieu!'

A paleness like that of death overspread her face.

'What is it,' cried Harleigh, inexpressibly alarmed, 'what is it Elinor

means?'

'To re-conquer, by the courage of my death, the esteem I may leave

forfeited by my jealousy, my envy, my littleness in life! You only could

have corrected my errours; you, by your ascendance over my feelings,

might have refined them into virtues. Oh, Harleigh! weigh not alone my

imperfections when you recollect my attachment! but remember that I have

loved you so as woman never loved!'

Her voice now faultered, and she shook so violently that she could

not support herself. She put her hand gently upon the arm of Harleigh,

and, gliding nearly behind him, leant upon his shoulder. He would have

spoken words of comfort, but she seemed incapable of hearing him.

'Farewell!' she cried, 'Harleigh! Never will I live to see Ellis

your's!--Farewell!--a long farewell!'

Precipitately she then opened the shagreen case, and was drawing out its

contents, when Ellis, darting forward, caught her arm, and screamed,

rather than articulated, 'Ellis will never be his!--Forbear!

Forbear!--Ellis never will be his!'

The astonished Harleigh, who, hitherto, had rigorously avoided meeting

the eyes of Ellis, now turned towards her, with an expression in which

all that was not surprise was resentment; while Elinor, seeming suddenly

suspended, faintly pronounced, 'Ellis--deluding Ellis!--what is it you

say?'

'I am no deluder!' cried Ellis, yet more eagerly: 'Rely, rely upon my

plighted honour!'

Harleigh now looked utterly confounded; but Ellis only saw, and seemed

only to breathe for Elinor, who recovering, as if by miracle, her

complexion, her voice, and the brightness of her eyes, rapturously

exclaimed, 'Oh Harleigh!--Is there, then, sympathy in our fate? Do you,

too, love in vain?'--And, from a change of emotion, too sudden and too

mighty for the shattered state of her nerves, she sunk senseless upon

the floor.

The motive to the strange protestations of Ellis was now apparent: a

poniard dropt from the hand of Elinor as she fell, of which, while she

spoke her farewell, Ellis had caught a glance.

Harleigh seemed himself to require the aid that he was called upon to

bestow. He looked at Elinor with a mixture of compassion and horrour,

and, taking possession of the poniard, 'Unhappy Elinor!' he cried, 'into

what a chaos of errour and of crime have these fatal new systems

bewildered thee!'

The revival of Elinor was almost immediate; and though, at first, she

seemed to have lost the remembrance of what had happened, the sight of

Ellis and Harleigh soon brought it back. She looked from one to the

other, as if searching her destiny; and then, with quick impatience,

though somewhat checked by shame, cried, 'Ellis! have you not mocked

me?'

Ellis, covered with blushes and confusion, addressing herself to

Harleigh, said, 'Pardon, Mr Harleigh, my seeming presumption, where no

option has been offered me; and where such an option is as wide from my

expectations as it would be from my desert. This terrible crisis must be

my apology.'

A shivering like that of an ague-fit again shook the agitated Elinor,

who, ejaculating, 'What farce is this?--Fool! fool! shall I thus

sleepily be duped?' looked keenly around for her lost weapon.

'Duped? no, Madam,' cried Ellis, in a tone impressive of veracity: 'if I

had the honour to be better known to Miss Joddrel, one assertion, I

flatter myself, would suffice: my word is given; it has never yet been

broken!'

While this declaration, though softened by a sigh the most melancholy,

struck cold to the heart of Harleigh, its effect upon Elinor was that of

an extacy which seemed the offspring of frenzy. 'Do I awake, then,' she

cried, 'from agony and death--agony, impossible to support! death,

willing and welcome! to renewed life? to an interesting, however

deplorable, existence? is my fate in harmony with the fate of Harleigh?

Has he, even he! given his soul,--his noble soul!--to one who esteems

and admires him, yet who will not be his? Can Harleigh love in vain?'

Tears now rolled fast and unchecked down her cheeks, while, in tones of

enthusiasm, she continued, 'I hail thee once again, oh life! with all

thy arrows! Welcome, welcome, every evil that associates my catastrophe

with that of Harleigh!--Yet I blush, methinks, to live!--Blush, and feel

little,--nearly in the same proportion that I should have gloried to

die!'

With these words, and recoiling from a solemn, yet tender exhortation,

begun by Harleigh, she abruptly quitted the little building; and, her

mind not more highly wrought by self-exaltation, than her body was

weakened by successive emotions, she was compelled to accept the

fearfully offered assistance of Ellis, to regain, with tottering steps,

the house.

CHAPTER XIX

Ellis entered into the chamber with Elinor; who, equally exhausted in

body and in mind, flung herself upon her bed, where she remained some

time totally mute: her eyes wide open, yet looking at nothing,

apparently in a state of stupefaction; but from which, in a few minutes,

suddenly starting, and taking Ellis by the hand, with a commanding air,

she abruptly said, 'Ellis, are you fixed to marry Lord Melbury?'

Ellis positively disclaimed any such idea.

'What am I to infer?' cried Elinor, with returning and frightful

agitation; 'Will you be firm to your engagement? Is it truly your

decision to refuse the hand of Harleigh, though he were to offer it

you?'

Ellis shuddered, and looked down; but answered, 'I will surely, Madam,

never forget my engagement!'

The most perfect calm now succeeded to the many storms which had both

impelled and shattered Elinor; and, after swallowing a copious draught

of cold water, she laid her head upon her pillow, and fell into a

profound and heavy, though not tranquil sleep.

Ellis, unable to conjecture in what frame of mind she might wake, did

not dare leave her. She sat watchfully by her side, amazed to see, that,

with such energy of character, such quickness of parts, such strength of

comprehension, she not only gave way to all her impulses like a child,

but, like a child, also, when over-fatigued, could suddenly lose her

sufferings and her remembrance in a sort of spontaneous slumber.

But the balmy rest of even spirits, and a composed mind, was far from

Elinor; exhausted nature claimed some respite from frantic exertion, and

obtained it; but no more. She awoke then; yet, though it was with a

frightful start, even this short repose proved salutary, not only to

her nerves, but to her intellects. Her passions became less inflamed,

and her imagination less heated; and, though she remained unchanged in

her plans, and impenitent in her opinions, she acknowledged herself

sensible to the strangeness of her conduct; and not without shame for

its violence. These, however, were transitory sensations: one regret

alone hung upon her with any serious weight: this was, having suffered

her dagger to be seen and seized. She feared being suspected of a mere

puerile effort, to frighten from Harleigh an offer of his hand, in

menacing what she had not courage, nor, perhaps, even intention to

perform.

This suggestion was intolerable: she blushed with shame as it crossed

her mind. She shook with passion, as she considered, that such might be

the disgraceful opinion, that might tarnish the glory that she meant to

acquire, by dying at the feet of the object of her adoration, at the

very moment of yielding to the happier star of an acknowledged rival; a

willing martyr to successless, but heroick love.

She was now tempted to prove her sincerity by her own immediate

destruction. 'And yet,' she cried, 'shall I not bear what Harleigh

bears? Shall I not know the destiny of Harleigh?'

This idea again reconciled her to present life, though not to her actual

situation; and she ruminated laboriously, for some time, in gloomy

silence; from which, however, breaking with sudden vivacity, 'No, no!'

she cried: 'I will not risk any aspersing doubt; I will shew him I have

a soul that strenuously emulates the nobleness of his own. He shall see,

he shall confess, that no meanness is mixt with the love of Elinor. He

shall not suppose, because she glories in its undisguised avowal, that

she waits in humble hope for a turn in her favour; that she is a

candidate for his regard; a supplicant for his compassion! No! he shall

see that she is frank without weakness, and free from every species of

dissimulation or stratagem.'

She then rushed out of the room, shutting the door after her, and

commanding Ellis not to follow: but Ellis fearing every moment some

dreadful catastrophe, softly pursued her, till she saw her enter the

servants' hall; whence, after giving some orders, in a low voice and

hurried manner, to her own footman, she re-mounted to her chamber; into

which, without opposition, or even notice, Ellis also glided.

Here, eagerly seizing a pen, with the utmost rapidity, though with many

blots, and frequent erazures, she wrote a long letter, which she read

and altered repeatedly before she folded; she then wrote a shorter one;

then rang for her maid, to whom she gave some secret directions, which

she finished by commanding that she would find out Mr Harleigh, and

desire that he would go immediately to the summer-house.

In about a quarter of an hour, which she spent in reading, revising,

sealing, and directing her letters, the maid returned; and, after a long

whisper, said, that she had given the message to Mr Harleigh.

Turning now to Ellis, with a voice and air of decision, that seemed

imperiously to forbid resistance, she put into her hand the long letter

which she had just written, and said, 'Take this to him immediately;

and, while he reads it, mark every change of his countenance, so as to

be able to deduce, and clearly to understand, the sensations which pass

in his mind.'

When Ellis expostulated upon the utter impropriety of her following Mr

Harleigh, she sternly said, 'Give the letter, then, to whatever other

person you judge most proper to become a third in my confidence!'

She then nearly forced her out of the room.

Ellis did not dare venture to keep the letter, as she wished, till some

opportunity should offer for presenting it quietly, lest some high

importance should be annexed to its quick delivery; yet she felt that it

would be cruel and indelicate to make over such a commission to another;

in opposition, therefore, to the extremest personal repugnance, she

compelled herself, with fearful and unwilling, yet hasty steps, to

proceed again to the summer-house.

She found Harleigh, with an air at once pensive and alarmed, waiting for

Elinor; but at the unexpected sight of Ellis, and of Ellis alone, every

feature brightened; though his countenance, his manner, his whole frame,

evinced increased agitation.

Anxious to produce her excuse, for an intrusion of which she felt

utterly ashamed, she instantly presented him the letter, saying, 'Miss

Joddrel would take no denial to my being its bearer. She has even

charged me to remain with you while you read it.'

'Were that,' said he, expressively, 'the severest pain she inflicts upon

me, I should soon become her debtor for feelings that leave pain

apart!--Urgent, indeed, was my desire to see you again, and without

delay; for after what has passed this morning, silence and forbearance

are no longer practicable.'

'Yet, at this moment,' said Ellis, striving but ineffectually to speak

without disturbance; 'it will be impossible for me to defer returning to

the house.'

'Yet if not now, when?'

'I know not--but she will be very impatient for some account of her

letter.'

'She will, at least, not be desperate, since she expects, and therefore

will wait for you; how, then, can I hope to find a more favourable

opportunity, for obtaining a few instants of your time?'

'But, though she may not be desperate just now, is it not possible, Sir,

that my staying may irritate, and make her so?'

'That unhappily, is but too true! There is no relying upon the patience,

or the fortitude, of one so completely governed by impulse; and who

considers her passions as her guides to glory,--not as the subtlest

enemies of every virtue! Nevertheless, what I feel for her is far beyond

what, situated as I now am with her, I dare express--Yet, at this

moment--'

'Will you not read her letter?'

'That you may run away?' cried he, half smiling; 'no, at this moment I

will not read her letter, that you may be forced to stay!'

'You cannot wish me to make her angry?'

'Far, far from it! but what chance have I to meet you again, if I lose

you now? Be not alarmed, I beg: she will naturally conclude that I am

studying her letter; and, but for an insuperable necessity of--of some

explanation, I could, indeed think of no other subject: for dreadful is

the impression which the scene that I have just had with her has made

upon my nerves.--Ah! how could she imagine such a one calculated to

engage my heart? How wide is it from all that, to me, appears

attractive! Her spirit I admire; but where is the sweetness I could

love? I respect her understanding; but where is the softness that should

make it charm while it enlightens? I am grateful for her partiality; but

where is the dignity that might ennoble it, or the delicacy that might

make it as refined as it is flattering? Where--where the soul's

fascination, that grows out of the mingled excellencies, the blended

harmonies, of the understanding with the heart and the manners?'

Vainly Ellis strove to appear unconscious of the comparison, and the

application, which the eyes of Harleigh, yet more pointedly than his

words, marked for herself in this speech: her quickly rising blushes

divulged all that her stillness, her unmoved features tried to disguise;

and, to get rid of her confusion, she again desired that he would open

the letter, and with an urgency which he could not resist. He merely

stipulated that she would wait to hear his answer; and then read what

follows.

'For Albert Harleigh.

'I am sick of the world, yet still I crawl upon its surface. I

scorn and defy the whole human race, yet doom myself to be numbered

in its community. While you, Albert Harleigh, you whom alone, of

all that live and breath, I prize,--you, even your sight, I, from

this moment, eternally renounce! Such the mighty ascendance of the

passion which you have inspired, that I will sooner forego that

only blessing--though the universe without it is a hateful blank to

my eyes--than risk opposing the sway of your opinion, or suffer you

to think me ignoble, though you know me to be enslaved. O Harleigh!

how far from all that is vile and debasing is the flame, the pure,

though ardent flame that you have kindled! To its animating

influence I am indebted for one precious moment of heavenly truth;

and for having snatched from the grave, which in its own

nothingness will soon moulder away my frame, the history of my

feelings.

'I have conquered the tyrant false pride; I have mocked the

puerilities of education; I have set at nought and defeated even

the monster custom; but you, O Harleigh! you I obey, without

waiting for a command; you, I seek to humour, without aspiring to

please! To you, my free soul, my liberated mind, my new-born ideas,

all yield, slaves, willing slaves, to what I only conceive to be

your counsel, only conjecture to be your judgment; that since I

have failed to touch your heart, after having opened to you my own,

a total separation will be due to my fame for the world, due to

delicacy for myself....

'Be it so, Albert ... we will part!--Though my fame, in my own

estimation, would be elevated to glory; by the publication of a

choice that does me honour; though my delicacy would be gratified,

would be sanctified, by shewing the purity of a passion as spotless

as it is hopeless--yet will I hide myself in the remotest corner of

the universe, rather than resist you even in thought. O Albert! how

sovereign is your power!--more absolute than the tyranny of the

controlling world; more arbitrary than prescription; more

invincible than the prejudices of ages!--You, I cannot resist! you,

I shall only breathe to adore!--to bear all you bear,--the tortures

of disappointment, the abominations of incertitude; to say,

Harleigh himself endures this! we suffer in unison! our woes are

sympathetic!--O word to charm all the rigour of calamity!....

Harleigh, I exist but to know how your destiny will be fulfilled,

and then to come from my concealment, and bid you a last farewell!

to leave upon the record of your memory the woes of my passion; and

then consign myself for ever to my native oblivion. Till then,

adieu, Albert Harleigh, adieu!

'ELINOR JODDREL.'

Harleigh read this letter with a disturbance that, for a while, wholly

absorbed his mind in its contents. 'Misguided, most unfortunate, yet

admirable Elinor!' he cried, 'what a terrible perversion is here of

intellect! what a confusion of ideas! what an inextricable chaos of

false principles, exaggerated feelings, and imaginary advancement in new

doctrines of life!'

He paused, thoughtfully and sadly, till Ellis, though sorry to interrupt

his meditations, begged his directions what to say upon returning to the

house.

'What her present plan may be,' he answered, 'is by no means clear; but

so boundless is the licence which the followers of the new systems allow

themselves, that nothing is too dreadful to apprehend. Religion is, if

possible, still less respected than law, prescriptive rights, or any of

the hitherto acknowledged ties of society. There runs through her

letter, as there ran through her discourse this morning, a continual

intimation of her disbelief in a future state; of her defiance of all

revealed religion; of her high approbation of suicide.--The fatal deed

from which you rescued her, had no excuse to plead from sudden

desperation; she came prepared, decided, either to disprove her

suspicions, or to end her existence!--poor infatuated, yet highly gifted

Elinor!--what can be done to save her; to recall her to the use of her

reason, and the exercise of her duties?'

'Will you not, Sir, see her? Will you not converse with her upon these

points, in which her mind and understanding are so direfully warped?'

'Certainly I will; and I beg you to entreat for my admission. I must

seek to dissuade her from the wild and useless scheme of seclusion and

concealment. But as time now presses, permit me to speak, first, upon

subjects which press also,--press irresistibly, unconquerably!--Your

plan of becoming a governess--'

'I dare not stay, now, to discuss any thing personal; yet I cannot

refrain from seizing a moment that may not again offer, for making my

sincerest apologies upon a subject--and a declaration--I shall never

think of without confusion. I feel all its impertinence, its inutility,

its presumption; but you will make, I hope, allowance for the excess of

my alarm. I could devise no other expedient.'

'Tell me,' cried he, 'I beg, was it for her ... or for me that it was

uttered? Tell me the extent of its purpose!'

'You cannot, surely, Sir, imagine--cannot for a moment suppose, that I

was guided by such egregious vanity as to believe--' She stopt,

extremely embarrassed.

'Vanity,' said he, 'is out of the question, after what has just passed;

spare then, I beseech, your own candour, as well as my suspense, all

unnecessary pain.'

'I entreat, I conjure you, Sir,' cried Ellis, now greatly agitated,

'speak only of my commission!'

'Certainly,' he answered, 'this is not the period I should have chosen,

for venturing upon so delicate--I had nearly said so perilous a subject;

but, so imperiously called upon, I could neither be insincere, nor

pusillanimous enough, to disavow a charge which every feeling rose to

confess!--Otherwise--just now,--my judgment, my sense of propriety,--all

in the dark as I am--would sedulously, scrupulously, have constrained my

forbearance, till I knew--' He stopt, paused, and then expressively, yet

gently added, 'to whom I addressed myself!'

Ellis coloured highly as she answered, 'I beg you, Sir, to consider all

that was drawn from you this morning, or all that might be inferred, as

perfectly null--unpronounced and unthought.'

'No!' cried he with energy, 'no! To have postponed an explanation would

have been prudent,--nay right:--but every sentiment of my mind, filled

with trust in your worth, and reverence for your virtues, forbids now, a

recantation! Imperious circumstances precipitated me to your feet--but

my heart was there already!'

So extreme was the emotion with which Harleigh uttered these words, that

he perceived not their effect upon Ellis, till gasping for breath, and

nearly fainting, she sunk upon a chair; when so livid a paleness

overspread her face, and so deadly a cold seemed to chill her blood,

that, but for a friendly burst of tears, which ensued, her vital powers

appeared to be threatened with immediate suspension.

Harleigh was instantly at her feet; grieved at her distress, yet charmed

with a thousand nameless, but potent sensations, that whispered to every

pulse of his frame, that a sensibility so powerful could spring only

from too sudden a concussion of pleasure with surprise.

He had hardly time to breathe forth a protestation, when the sight of

his posture brought back the blood to her cheeks, and force to her

limbs; and, hastily rising, with looks of blushing confusion, yet with a

sigh that spoke internal anguish, 'I cannot attempt,' she cried, 'Mr

Harleigh,--I could not, indeed, attempt--to express my sense of your

generous good opinion!--yet--if you would not destine me to eternal

misery, you must fly me--till you can forget this scene--as you would

wish me to fly perdition!'

She rose to be gone; but Harleigh stopt her, crying, in a tone of

amazement, 'Is it possible,--can it be possible, that with intellects

such as yours, clear, penetrating, admirable, you can conceive eternal

misery will be your portion, if you break a forced engagement made with

a mad woman?--and made but to prevent her immediate self-destruction?'

Shaking her head, but averting her eyes, Ellis would neither speak not

be detained; and Harleigh, who durst not follow her, remained

confounded.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Wanderer (Volume 1 of 5), by Fanny Burney