… “Why,
Did I look upon her fatal beauty!”
We said, that one of our hero’s appellations, was still Edmund. Written
at full length, his names and titles are, Edmund-Oscar, Ormond, Earl
Fitz-Ullin. As an infant, previous to his being stolen from home, he had
always been called Edmund, to please his mother, from whose father he
derived that name; but, after that Lady’s death, and the second marriage
of the Earl, it became the custom of the family, to call the nurse’s boy,
(who then filled the place of the stolen child,) by the name of Oscar,
one to which Lord Fitz-Ullin was partial, as having been frequently borne
by the representatives of the title.
Our hero remained but one day at Lodore. To Mrs. Montgomery he explained
every thing, but the cause of his own feelings: the state of them he did
not attempt to hide. When Mrs. Montgomery spoke of Lady Susan’s marriage,
as the cause of his despairing letter, he neither confessed that it was,
nor said that it was not. This conduct the kind old lady construed into a
confession, that she was right. She, accordingly, after endeavouring to
rally him, without being able to extort a smile, closed the subject, by
gently hinting, that she had expected more firmness of mind from him: and
hoping, that a little change of scene, would make him, very shortly, see
things in quite another point of view.
Even Mr. Jackson, who, according to the determination he expressed on
first hearing Edmund’s letter read, had gone up to town, even he had not
been able to draw forth a word on the subject. Once, indeed, Fitz-Ullin
said, after a long reverie, and when no question had been asked: “The
longer I live, Jackson, the more strongly I feel the excellent truth of
your early lessons; had I always obeyed the suggestions of conscience,
not only in the letter, but in the spirit; had the plain road, pointed
out by duty, been resolutely trod; without waiting to inquire of passion,
if there were not a flowery by-path that would, ultimately, lead to
the same end; my present sufferings had possibly been, at least, less
poignant than they are.”
Mr. Jackson was, for a moment, puzzled, almost alarmed. “You can only
mean,” he said, “that it would have been more strictly honourable in
you, to have avoided Lady Susan’s society, while your birth was unknown,
and your fortune limited—Yet—as things have turned out—had her Ladyship
entertained a reciprocal preference, why—”
“In your kind zeal to place me on good terms with myself,” said Edmund,
mournfully, “you are becoming a sophist, Jackson! What had my sense of
duty to do with events which I did not, could not foresee?”
This was a sort of admission, that Mr. Jackson had been right, in
ascribing Edmund’s wretchedness to his disappointment, about Lady Susan;
but nothing more was said on the subject then, or at any other time.
Fitz-Ullin, without evincing any desire to enjoy his new found rank and
fortune, joined his ship immediately. He seemed to seek escape, from the
mental exertion of considering whither he should fly, by thus subjecting
himself to the necessity of going wherever, and doing whatever, the
service should require of him. Among the particulars, respecting the
discovery of our hero’s birth, which the late circumstances brought
to light, it appeared that his nurse, who, when she wrote to Mrs.
Montgomery, thought herself dying, not only recovered and repented of
her repentance, but married again, a man who would have made a market of
the secret, had Ormond been without principle. This man was among the
persons, who made the offers already mentioned. He undertook that his
wife, the nurse, should not be forthcoming; or, that were she obliged to
come forward, she should, on cross-examination, purposely so contradict
herself, as to invalidate her evidence.
It was, therefore, of his own free will, that poor Ormond had resigned at
once, the rank, the wealth, and the home, in which he had from infancy
lived, believing them his birth-right. His twin sister, who was in
courtesy called Miss Ormond, had received a very superior education, to
fit her for the situation of governess.
It is a remarkable circumstance, that, in point of fact, the actual fund
which had supplied an education, so fatal in its consequences, was the
wages of sin; the very remuneration bestowed by the munificent Earl, on
the dependant he had seduced. Thus, as by a remarkable retribution, this
command of money in the hands of the guilty mother, became the means of
blighting the young hearts of both her ill-fated children, and bringing
her own grey hairs with shame and sorrow to the grave.
The poor young woman had been settled for some years, in the capacity
of governess, in a highly respectable private family, at the time that
the marriage between Ormond and her was attempted; which was one of the
reasons why the wretched mother was not aware how far matters had gone,
till almost the last moment.