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.