“Nay, frown not thus on me.”
At breakfast Fitz-Ullin joined the ladies. The gravity of his countenance
and solemnity of his manner were almost austere.
During breakfast he silently placed whatever seemed desirable near Julia,
but scarcely spoke, except to answer Lady Oswald’s questions.
After breakfast he said, with some formality, that he was extremely sorry
the rules of the service would not admit of his altering his course on
private business; as this placed it out of his power to offer to land
Lady Julia L., he therefore feared, he added, that her Ladyship would be
under the necessity of proceeding to Leith. How unlike the whispers of
last night!
He next spoke of the fortunate chance of Lady Oswald’s being in the ship;
and finally it was arranged, that Julia should remain in Edinburgh with
Lady Oswald, till Lord L. should be apprised of her being there, and come
for her. Fitz-Ullin now left them.
“My dear Lady Julia L.,” said Lady Oswald, “I am going to ask a very
extraordinary question; but do tell me candidly, have you rejected the
addresses of Fitz-Ullin?” Julia looked at her ladyship with unfeigned
astonishment. “Because,” continued Lady Oswald, “his manner is so much
that of a refused lover, too proud to urge his suit, yet unable to
conquer his attachment; and, if such be the case, I would so ardently, so
anxiously, plead his cause. I would enumerate his virtues; nay, I would
expose my own and my son’s necessities to prove the nobleness of his
heart, and to obtain, if possible, happiness for one so willing to impart
the precious gift to others.”
“The happiness of him of whom you speak, Lady Oswald,” replied Julia,
suppressing a sigh, “is not in my hands.” Then recovering herself,
she added, with forced firmness, “From our childhood we have regarded
each other as brother and sister, and this habit may still tincture
our manners with a something which, to those unacquainted with, or not
recollecting the peculiar circumstances may seem—may appear—particular.
But, as a lover, Lord Fitz-Ullin has never addressed me.”
“Then most assuredly he will!” said Lady Oswald. Julia blushed and
smiled; the very sound of the words was welcome to her, while reason
was compelled to reject their meaning. “You have, you say,” continued
Lady Oswald, “the affection of a sister for Fitz-Ullin. If you entertain
a tenderer sentiment for any other being, I have no right to inquire
further; but if you do not, my dear Lady Julia, make me happy by saying
so!”
“Pray then be quite happy,” said Julia, affecting to laugh; “and now let
us recur no more to this foolish subject.”
Lady Oswald fell into a reverie. She was inclined to think,
notwithstanding the altered manners of the one, and the contradictory
assertions of the other, that a mutual attachment did subsist between
them; though at present interrupted by some misunderstanding; and
having arrived at this conclusion, she resolved, if possible, to become
instrumental to their happiness by bringing about an explanation. A
message at this moment very opportunely came from Fitz-Ullin, to say that
the day was tolerably fine, and to beg to know if the ladies would take
a walk on deck. They consented; and our hero came for them, bringing
with him a young lieutenant, by name Lord Surrel, and son to the Duke of
⸺. Fitz-Ullin offered his arm to Lady Oswald, leaving the care of our
heroine to Surrel.
Julia was absent and silent, and not even conscious of the animated and
delighted admiration with which she as instantly as unintentionally
inspired her companion. At length the conversation took a turn, which
drew something more of her attention.
“How much Fitz-Ullin feels the loss of his friend, Captain Ormond,”
observed Surrel, struck by the seriousness of our hero’s countenance as
they passed and repassed him and Lady Oswald.
“The circumstances were, I understand, very melancholy and very
remarkable,” faltered out Julia, in reply.
“Very much so, indeed!” rejoined Surrel. “You have heard all the
particulars, I suppose?”
“From no better authority than the newspapers,” she answered. “It was
not possible to enter on so painful a subject with Lord Fitz-Ullin. Even
Lady Oswald tells me she has not yet ventured to speak to him of his
unfortunate friend.”
“It was certainly the loss of his sister which first unsettled the mind
of Captain Ormond,” said Surrel. “Circumstanced as they were, there was
something very dreadful in her death; it was so evidently occasioned by
that unfortunate attachment, which had, I fancy, become uncontrollable,
before they were made aware of their near relationship.”
“Miss Ormond’s illness,” observed Julia, “Lady Oswald tells me, was
decline, brought on by a broken heart. Did you know Captain Ormond?”
“Oh, very well indeed!” replied Surrel; “I was his first lieutenant
during all the extraordinary circumstances which preceded his death. You
are aware that he died quite mad, poor fellow?”
“So the papers said,” she replied.
“When he first heard of the death of his sister,” continued Surrel, we
were laying off the coast of * * * *; I was standing with him on the
quarter-deck the morning he received the letter, which, we suppose,
brought the intelligence. He did not open it, however, at the time, but
ordered his boat and went ashore, where, after commanding the crew to
wait for him on the beach, he wandered up the country among the woods,
and was not heard of for several days. At length, when we were beginning
to fear that some fatal accident must have befallen him, he came one
morning on board in a shore-boat, and without noticing his prolonged
absence, gave some common orders. For a time there was no visible
change, except a more settled gloom of manner. Gradually, however, his
looks assumed an alarming wildness, his orders became inconsistent and
arbitrary, and from having been the mildest and a most indulgent of
commanders, he became quite tyrant. On one occasion when I ventured to
remonstrate in favour of a poor fellow whom, without the slightest
reason, he had ordered to be flogged, he commanded the marines to fire
on me, saying, that he would give me, while he walked the deck three
times, to prepare myself. Fortunately, before he had twice walked the
deck, he totally forgot the whole business, sat down on one of the
cannonade slides, wrung his hands, and wept like a child! We all stole
away unperceived. While we were at dinner, however, one of the youngsters
ran down and told us that the captain was walking the deck, carrying a
hanger in his hand, and looking very furious. While we were hesitating
about what was best to be done, we heard a tremendous noise in the
captain’s cabin, and hastening thither, found poor Ormond with scarcely
any covering, and in the very act of flinging himself from the open
window, from which he had just thrown both the clothes he had had on,
and all else which was moveable. We were now obliged to use force. The
resistance he made, poor fellow, was terrible. He was carried on shore,
where, in a few days, he died raging mad!
“Only think,” he added, “of the Admiral at * * * *, having me tried by
a court martial for what he termed my insubordination; but he was a
man incapable, in fact, from long habit, of comprehending the simplest
elements of natural justice, and who could form no idea of any rule of
right, distinct from the rules of the service. So, I was to allow a
man who was mad, to flog an innocent man to death, shoot me, and fling
himself out of the cabin window, merely because he was my superior
officer!”
Lady Oswald, meanwhile, intent on the execution of her kindly project,
made some comments to her companion on his sadness, with pauses between,
hoping that he would volunteer in making her his confidant (for they
walked quite apart from Julia and Surrel). But Fitz-Ullin only feared
she must find it cold, or made some irrelevant remark; in short, did
not take her ladyship’s hints. She determined, therefore, to put the
question in a direct form; and as a preparatory remark, said, “I can see,
Fitz-Ullin, that you are seriously attached to Lady Julia L.”
Fitz-Ullin reddened to the very brows; but did not seem to have any
answer composed; for he remained silent, and her Ladyship continued: “You
have some delicacy, some prejudice, some secret reason, which prevents
your urging your own wishes. Let me know all, place the business in my
hands; and, I think, I shall be able to make you both (with a smile, and
a peculiar emphasis on the word ‘both’) happier than you are at present.”
“Lady Oswald,” replied Fitz-Ullin solemnly, and at the same time
colouring still more deeply, “whatever my feelings are, or rather, have
been, I neither intend to seek, nor wish to obtain, Lady Julia L.’s
acceptance of my hand.”
“Nor wish to obtain!” repeated Lady Oswald.
“As a mark, therefore,” continued Fitz-Ullin, “of your kind regard for
me, I must request that you will never again recur to this subject.”
“But why, my dear Fitz-Ullin, why not accept at least the assistance of
my judgment ere you condemn yourself to any uneasiness of mind; for,
happy you certainly are not.”
“Impossible!” said Fitz-Ullin, “I cannot! I must not! I have no right!”
“I certainly have no right to be officious,” said Lady Oswald; “but
I do confess, I wish to see you happy, and I do think you would not
be refused.” He smiled bitterly. “But if you really do not wish to be
accepted—why—I have done,” continued her Ladyship.
He quickened his pace: then slackened it; then, discovering that it was
quite too cold for the ladies, abruptly put an end to the walk.
Lady Oswald, after this conversation, thought it a necessary point of
delicacy, when in company with Julia, to recur no more to the subject of
her nephew.
This morning the Euphrasia fell in with a small trader, which, though
bound for a port they had left behind, and having no accommodation suited
for ladies, could carry a letter that, by being put into the post that
evening, would probably reach Lord L. some time before the arrival of the
Euphrasia at Leith, and perhaps enable him to meet his daughter there.
At any rate, it would shorten his own period of anxiety. Such a letter
was accordingly written and dispatched. Its contents were calculated to
astonish his Lordship not a little. It spoke of Julia’s deliverance by
Fitz-Ullin in terms of the warmest gratitude; and naturally expressed
her unfeigned wonder, as to who could have committed the outrage of
attempting to tear her from her home; adding, that the only person whom
circumstances could justify her in suspecting, she had not even seen.