After strolling through some very pleasant fields, they came to a sequestered spot, where tall trees shaded a little murmuring rivulet, near whose banks a very neat farm-house attracted their attention.

"Ah, this reminds me of dear Llanwyllan!" said Ellen: "how much I should like to sit down here awhile!" "That," answered Mordaunt, "may be easily effected." He then went to the door, where he met a nice looking elderly woman, the farmer's wife, and saying he was thirsty, asked her to spare him a draught of milk or whey, with which she very civilly complied, and requested them to walk in. Ellen, delighted with the sight of the farm-yard and smell of the dairy, readily consented, and at Mordaunt's desire, the good woman said she would give them some cream, bread, &c. With great civility therefore, she shewed them into a neat parlour, and having placed before them brown bread, cream, and some bunches of well-ripened grapes, left them to themselves.

Ellen said:—"Now, my dear Mordaunt, I really feel as if I were at home again, and can do the honours (as you term it) of this little table very tolerably; but if, as I suspect, you are much visited by high people near you, will you not often have to blush for your awkward little rustic?" "If I had feared that," answered Mordaunt, "I would not have ventured it; but, as I have often told you, the natural propriety of your manner will very well supply the place of artificial graces; and as to the mere forms of society, they are so easily acquired, you will speedily attain them: but tell me, Ellen, after the cursory view you have had of something more refined, could you now be contented to sit down here for the rest of your life?" "With you," replied the tender Ellen, "I could be not only contented but happy any where yet I own you seem to me formed for something so superior, that I should forever regret your being confined to a sphere so limited."

Mordaunt, delighted with the sweetness of her words and manners, scarcely knew how to express how greatly he was pleased with all she said. After a few minutes he opened the little casement, for the day was mild and clear, more like spring than the beginning of November; and gathering some late blossoms of a white jassamine, which grew round it, and in that sheltered spot, so soft had been the season, still retained their beauty: he twisted them with some very small vine leaves across her brow, amongst her fine hair, in a very particular style, and making her look in the little glass which hung in the room where they sat, he said:—

"There, Ellen, that is very like a countess's coronet; the jasmine may pass for pearls, and the little branch of the vine for strawberry leaves: how should you like one in pearls or diamonds? I think it becomes you inimitably well." "This simple wreath may," she said, smiling as she surveyed herself; "but I believe that this little rustic person would not assort very well with the splendid ornament you describe." He smiled, and said—"Do not take it off, but sit down, and I will tell you a story." "A story!—delightful! I hope it is entertaining." "Very, and perfectly true. Once upon a time: do you like that beginning?" "Not much; it is too childish: try again." "Well then, once in the days of King Arthur——" "Oh! do not go quite so far back—your story will last all day." "What! a Welsh girl and not like to hear a tale of King Arthur. Oh! most degenerate damsel." Ellen still laughing, said—"Come, dear Mordaunt, make haste, I long to hear this interesting story."

He placed himself at her side, and with some agitation, said:—

"Ellen, the time is come to clear up some of the mysterious words you have heard me utter at Llanwyllan: what will you say to me when I tell you—yet be not alarmed—when I tell you that, though my name is really Mordaunt, yet I have deceived you—for that is not my only designation: do not look so surprised and bewildered, my love; I am not inferior to the man you suppose me: he is indeed my relation, being the natural son of my father's brother: he is many years older than I am. Tell me, Ellen, are you afraid to hear the rest?" "No," she replied firmly, though with marks of the most impatient curiosity in her countenance. "I am so convinced of your integrity, that be who or what you will, I am happy in being your wife, and ready to share your station, be it ever so lowly." "Enchanting creature!" he exclaimed, and clasped her to his bosom: "know then, that were the coronet which binds your brow of the most costly materials instead of a simple flower, it is your's by right, for I am the Earl, and you are the Countess of St. Aubyn."

A moment Ellen struggled with the overwhelming surprize: then said: "How could you condescend to one so much beneath you?" "Beneath me!" he replied—"oh, in every thing but the mere accident of birth how greatly my superior! But the surprize, my gentle love, has made you a little pale; recover yourself, and let me see you again gay and playful as when you supposed yourself only Mrs. Mordaunt." He fixed his penetrating eyes upon her: even in that tender moment he sought to discover if any undue pride or vanity elated her; but there was no trace of any such ignoble passion: surprized, astonished as she was, and feeling some diminution of the ease and equality with which she had but lately learned to regard him, Ellen more than half regretted to find him so greatly her superior, and to see herself raised so very much beyond the station her humility led her to believe the only one she could fill with propriety; yet she must have been more or less than woman, had she not felt charmed with the disinterested love St. Aubyn had evinced in making her his wife.

Having a little recovered the emotion this interesting discovery had caused in both, Ellen entreated him, whom yet she hardly knew how to name, to explain the reason of his having appeared at Llanwyllan in a character so inferior to his own; which he did in these words:

"I cannot, my love, nor would I wish at present to tell you all my story, though some day you shall know every circumstance of my life: may they come to your knowledge without lessening your felicity!" He sighed, and thus continued:—"Some domestic misfortunes induced me, at different times, to make several excursions under the name I bore when first I met you, which is, indeed, that of my family: since my last return from the Continent, about six months ago, I did not let my friends or servants know I was come to England, but set out to travel through Wales, sometimes by one mode of conveyance, sometimes another, and not unfrequently as a mere pedestrian. I was always a good walker, and had been accustomed to pass whole days on foot amongst the mountains of Spain; frequently, therefore, I preferred walking, as giving me better opportunities of exploring the most romantic scenes. In one of these excursions I found myself at Llanwyllan; there I merely intended to stay a day or two, till accident, and your father's hospitality, introduced you to my knowledge—need I relate to you the progress of that passion which soon took possession of my heart, and left me powerless to quit you. A very few days determined me, if your affections were disengaged, to do all in my power to secure your love; yet I delayed the declaration of my own, in hopes of bringing some untoward circumstances to a favourable conclusion; but when I found our good friend Ross began to be alarmed for you, and fancied I saw in my Ellen's sweet face that she was not happy, I thought it necessary to come to some decision, and to Ross I fully explained my whole situation: he was so perfectly convinced of my honour and integrity, that he consented to give his lovely pupil to me, even under all the unpleasant circumstances which at present embarrass and torment me; and even though we both doubted whether a marriage contracted by me under the name of Mordaunt only would be completely binding: to obviate this objection, I bound myself to him, not only to make upon you such settlements as my large income rendered proper, and my heart prompted, but to remarry you as soon as I could do so without absolute impropriety; and that I will do if I live before I sleep again; though I believe the precautions we took render it unnecessary, for after you left the vestry, the day we were married, Ross and myself, as perhaps you observed, returned, and in his presence I added the title of Earl of St. Aubyn to the names of Constantine Frederick Mordaunt, which, I have no doubt, would substantiate our marriage in any court in England: to avoid, however, all possible doubt, now or in future, on this important point, I have at this instant a special licence in my possession, and this evening, at Castle St. Aubyn, Montague shall read the marriage service to us again.—Are you satisfied with this arrangement, my love?"

"I am so ignorant in every thing, that I can only rely on you; which I do implicitly, and with full confidence."

Ellen then asked St. Aubyn if Doctor Montague knew who he was in reality recommending to her father, or whether he supposed it to be indeed Mr. Mordaunt? Lord St. Aubyn laughed at this question, and said Montague would have had reason to be surprized at hearing Mordaunt was going to be married, as he was a very stiff old Bachelor of at least sixty; but the fact was, he had written himself to Montague from Llanwyllan, informing him who the person really was respecting whom Powis's inquiries would be made, and desiring him to give such a character of that person as he thought was deserved, only not to betray his real title, as he was anxious to avoid the eclat such a discovery would produce, if made while they remained at Llanwyllan.

After a little more conversation on this interesting subject, St. Aubyn and his Ellen took leave of their hospitable entertainer, after remunerating her in the most liberal way for the trouble they had given her; and as by the time they reached the village the day was far advanced, they ordered a chaise directly, and proceeded to the end of the next stage, where they dined, and where St. Aubyn told Ellen his own carriage was to meet them, and convey them to the Castle, where his household were instructed to expect their lady.

Before they had quite dined, an elegant new travelling carriage and four, with coronets on the pannels, and out-riders in rich liveries, drove to the door, and the host, who had no idea of the rank of his guests, from their arriving in a hack carriage, unattended, was in the act of denying to the servants that Lord and Lady St. Aubyn were there, when the Earl, throwing up the sash, told the men to move about, but not put up the horses, as he should go in half an hour. While he was speaking, the stage-coach from London stopt at the door, and Ellen's maid stepping out, inquired whether any servant from one Mr. Mordaunt's, in that neighbourhood, was waiting for her. St. Aubyn, calling to one of his men, desired him to send that young woman to Lady St. Aubyn. The man obeyed, and told the astonished Jane she must go and speak to his lady. "What for, pray?" answered Jane, pertly. "Indeed I shall do no such thing; I am going on directly, and don't want such fellows as you to be joking with me." "Jane!" said Ellen, approaching the window, anxious to put a stop to a dialogue she feared might disclose more than she wished the servants should know. "Oh, dear Ma'am, are you there!" answered Jane. "Oh! I am so glad; I will come to you, Ma'am, directly." One of the men, wishing for an opportunity of seeing his new lady, said, "Come, young woman, I will shew you the way to her Ladyship."

The poor girl was so much confused, by these different directions, that fortunately she had no power to refuse, or indeed to speak at all, but followed the servant into the room, where St. Aubyn and Ellen were sitting. "There," said the footman, in a low voice, and giving her a little push: "go in, child—that is my lady." "Grant me patience," said Jane, turning sharply to him: "why I tell you that is my mistress. I suppose you want to persuade me I don't know my own——." "Softly, Jane," said St. Aubyn: "there, go in, and speak to your lady, and you, Thomas, may go; we shall soon be ready to start."

He left Jane with her lady, not wishing to be present at the explanation. Ellen explained to the astonished girl, that she had, for particular reasons, concealed her title while in London, and did not wish her to say to the other servants that she had ever known her under any other name. Jane very willingly promised obedience, and was not a little elated to find herself own woman to Lady St. Aubyn, instead of waiting-maid to plain Mrs. Mordaunt. Indeed, Mrs. Birtley had had some scruples about suffering her to follow the mysterious couple at all, and charged her, if she did not find all right, to leave her place, and return to London immediately, all which her unguarded hints betrayed to Ellen, who felt a little confused at hearing her situation had been so misconstrued. "And there, Ma'am—beg pardon—my lady—there your Ladyship;" (for Jane was willing to make amends for her former ignorance, by using Ellen's title as often as possible)—"there your Ladyship left a book at Mrs. Birtley's—I forget the name of it; some poetry book it was, and in it was written, in one place, 'C. F. M. to Ellen P.' and I was to have brought it with me, but Mrs. Birtley was not at home when I came away, so I could not have it, and it was a great pity, for it is very handsome, in a fine binding, and with beautiful pictures: one of them was a man jumping off a rock, like into the sea, and with a sort of a clergyman's gown on, and with a musical instrument in his hand, something like a guitar, but not quite." "I know the book you mean," said Ellen; "it was Gray's Poems. I am sorry I left it behind." "Yes, Ma'am—my lady I mean, that was the very book; but I dare say your Ladyship can have it by sending to Mrs. Birtley; and in one part, my lady, there was a print of a church-yard, and over the print was put, 'Dear Landwilliam,' or some such name." "Yes, Jane, yes; that's the book—that will do: now give me my hat, and step down and inquire if Lord St. Aubyn is waiting for me."

It was the first time Ellen had framed her lips to say Lord St. Aubyn, and she wondered whether she should ever become accustomed to the sound. Jane was met at the door by one of the men servants, who came to know if her lady was ready, as his lord bade him say the carriage was come round. Jane, astonished at her own greatness, in being called Ma'am, and so respectfully addressed by such a fine gentleman, returned to Ellen with redoubled respect, and a new reinforcement of "my ladies." Ellen said she was ready, and ran down. "Come, my love," said St. Aubyn, "we shall be late at home."

Ellen's heart throbbed, as she thought of a home so far above her utmost ideas of splendour, and of being called to a situation to which she feared herself unequal; yet she composed her spirits as well as she could; for she saw, that to please her lord she must assert herself, and behave with a degree of dignity and self possession: she gave him her hand, therefore, with tenderness, but with a certain air of calmness, as if not too much elated with her new honours, or childishly delighted with her new carriage: he saw, and was charmed with her just discrimination, and encouraged her by saying, "Ever, my Ellen, all I wish." He then placed her in the carriage, and leaving Jane to follow with the luggage in a hack chaise, they were speedily on the road to Castle St. Aubyn. As they drew near it, they passed a neat little mansion, standing on a small lawn, surrounded by flowering shrubs, which St. Aubyn told Ellen was the house of the real Mr. Mordaunt. "Exactly such a place," said she, "had I figured to myself as your habitation, not indeed in Wales, for there my imagination did not soar to a pitch so high; but since we have been in England, and I saw what the smaller houses of genteel people were, such I fancied your's." "In a few minutes, my love," he replied, "we shall approach my real home, and most happy am I to say, my Ellen's home also; though in a different style, it will, I hope, be as much to your taste as this pretty place appears to be."

As he spoke, one of the out-riders passed the carriage, and ringing at a porter's lodge, the large and elegant iron gates were thrown open, and they turned into a noble park of no common dimensions. Here the hand of art had followed, not impeded that of nature: large trees, disposed in clumps, or singly, as the purest taste directed, shaded and ornamented the verdant lawn. A fine piece of water, almost bearing the aspect of a fine lake, with an elegant pleasure barge at anchor on its bank, skirted one side of the road which led to the house. Its pure waters were enlivened by various aquatic fowls, and on the shelving edges were light and tasteful cages for gold and silver pheasants and other foreign birds; while in picturesque groups under the trees, or bounding away at the approach of the carriage, herds of the finest deer gave new animation to the scene.

Ellen, enchanted, enraptured, though the closing twilight hardly afforded her light sufficient to see half the beauties round her, was every moment uttering exclamations of delight, with which St. Aubyn was highly gratified: but as they approached the immense pile of building which he told her was the house, she gradually assumed a more composed demeanor, determined not to betray to the servants that such things were totally new to her.