Arrived at the Castle, Ellen once more began to breathe; her colour and appetite returned, and she speedily recovered her strength, and thought she had never been so happy: her Lord's renewed, and even encreased affection, Lady Juliana's sincere attachment, and the pleasing society of Laura Cecil, who remained her guest (Sir William being in Scotland with Lord and Lady Delamore), left her scarcely any thing to wish.

This little party received a very agreeable addition about a week after, by the arrival of Sir Edward Leicester, whose continued attentions to Miss Cecil seemed not ill received by her.

Soon after their return to Castle St. Aubyn, letters from Mr. Ross and Joanna arrived, filled with thanks and rejoicings for the promotion of Charles. They said not a word, nor seemed to know any thing of the late transactions; and Lord and Lady St. Aubyn were glad he had not revealed them. It appeared, that through St. Aubyn's interest, he had been made Lieutenant, and honoured with the command of a small frigate, and was gone to cruize in the Mediterranean. At this latter circumstance Ellen was not sorry; for she could not wish, after what had passed, to see Charles Ross again at present. Every thing, therefore, seemed now smooth before her; and though sometimes her thoughts would wander to the former mysterious expressions of St. Aubyn, and recollecting that the time he appointed for their elucidation was arrived, yet as she heard no more of it, and he seemed to have lost those fits of gloom, which even from the commencement of their acquaintance had been obvious in him, she hoped all was passed over, and determined by no ill-timed curiosity to revive painful ideas in his mind. But she yet fully knew not St. Aubyn, except when thrown off his guard by any sudden emotion: his command over his spirits and features was wonderful; and no one who saw him composed, cheerful, and even gay, could have suspected what at times passed in his mind, nor to what unpleasant scenes he now looked forward. Not even Lady Juliana knew what reason he had to think of the future with apprehension, though with much of what had formerly befallen him she certainly was acquainted.

The families round the Castle paid every polite attention to Lady St. Aubyn on her return: many, who had been absent when she was there before, now visited her; and though for the present she declined entering into large parties, every one seemed rejoiced to see her once more amongst them. Not the least delighted was Miss Alton, who with unfading charms, and exhaustless professions of regard, came eagerly to greet the charming Countess's return, to rejoice in her perfect recovery, and to assure her how much she had suffered at hearing she was ill in London.

"And oh! my dear Lady St. Aubyn," said she, "think how shocked I was to hear some rude wretch had annoyed you at the theatre, and that your excellent lord had like to have fought a duel about it. Oh! how thankful I am that these frightful scenes did not more materially injure your valuable health, and that you are returned to us, if possible, more beautiful than ever."

"And who, my dear Miss Alton," said Laura, who alone retained composure enough to answer her (for this familiar recurrence to scenes so painful had greatly disturbed Lady St. Aubyn and Lady Juliana), "who told you all this wonderful story?"

"Oh, it was a cousin of mine, who happened to be coming out of the playhouse just as it happened, and wrote me word of it; and that the gentlemen had exchanged cards: so you see I had pretty good authority."

"Yes," replied Lady Juliana, with her usual asperity, "and no doubt made pretty good use of it. Pray, Ma'am, did you think it necessary to send a man and horse round the neighbourhood with this amusing piece of intelligence; or were you contented with your own personal exertions?"

"Dear Lady Juliana, I am sure I thought no harm; I only just mentioned it——"

"To every one who would hear you, no doubt. If, at least, you had spared us the recital, it would have been quite as delicate, and more consistent with your tender feelings for Lady St. Aubyn."

Poor Miss Alton, quite shocked to find she had given such offence to the old lady, of whom she stood in great awe, vainly attempted to rally her spirits, and soon after took her leave, earnestly wishing Lady Juliana had staid in London; for she foresaw the entrÉ of the Castle would not be so easily granted to her now as it had been when only the kind-hearted Countess presided; and trembling, lest, if she were not more cautious in future, she should not be admitted to see the little stranger when it arrived, and take cake and caudle in Lady St. Aubyn's apartment.

"See," said Lady Juliana, drawing herself up, "see, my dear, the consequence of admitting such low, uneducated people to any degree of intimacy! This gossipping woman would not have ventured to hint at what had passed, had you kept her at a proper distance: but the easy impudence of such people in these degenerate times astonishes me. In the days of the Countess of St. Aubyn, my mother, she would scarcely have spoken to such a sort of person as this Miss—what do you call her?" For when Lady Juliana felt proud or indignant, she had a great knack of forgetting any name which had not a title tacked to it; though no one remembered more accurately those which had.

"Ah!" thought Ellen, "how with pride so overbearing could I ever have hoped to be myself exempted from this general censure of such sort of persons! How fortunate I may think myself, to have overcome a prejudice of such long standing."

In the society of a few agreeable neighbours, and the ever-pleasing conversation of Laura, the time passed serenely till the end of August: yet there were moments when gloom seemed again to steal over the features of St. Aubyn. His foreign letters arrived more frequently, but appeared to give him no satisfaction. With Ellen he studiously avoided all conversation on the subject of his anxiety: for he dreaded, in her present state, the least alarm, and delayed by every means in his power the apparently fast approaching crisis of his fate, till her safety should have been secured.

At length, after some hours of uneasy watching, and the most painful anxiety, Lady Juliana announced to him the birth of a son, who, notwithstanding all the alarms his mother had undergone in London, seemed likely as well as herself to do well. Lady Juliana was in raptures at this event, to which she had so long looked forward with impatience. Nothing that money could procure was wanting to decorate either the infant or the chamber where he lay, which, as well as that of the Countess, had been entirely new furnished in the most superb and commodious manner at her expence, Lady Juliana having insisted on paying for every thing prepared, even to the elegant cradle lined with quilted white satin; and not even Lady Meredith had softer cushions than those on which the infant heir reposed.

St. Aubyn, charmed with the lovely little creature, and to see its mother safe, appeared as if he had no wish ungratified, and left no tender attention unpaid which might ensure his Ellen's health and comfort. As she approached towards convalescence, Laura Cecil was her constant and most delightful companion, and well knew how to cheer and adorn the hours which were necessarily given to the quietude of her own apartments. The infant was rather delicate though healthy; but safe in its mother's fostering cares it strengthened every day, without those cares——

Incessantly anxious about the babe, Lady St. Aubyn could not soon permit it to be removed from her apartments, it lay therefore with its nurse in a smaller room within that where Lady St. Aubyn slept.

It was about six weeks after this event, so interesting to all parties, had taken place, and Ellen had for some time been returned to the society of her own family, that one day, just as they had finished dinner, St. Aubyn was told two gentlemen in a chaise and four had just arrived, and requested to speak to him immediately. He changed colour, but conquering his purturbation, desired they might be shewn into his study, and he would go to them. "Who are they?" said Lady Juliana. "I did not know, nephew, you expected any company." "Perhaps," said St. Aubyn, evading her questions, "they may not remain here an hour, perhaps till to-morrow morning." He hastily left the room, and Ellen was convinced these strangers were the persons at whom St. Aubyn had often hinted as connected with the mystery which hung around him: she trembled, and felt dismayed, but endeavoured to be as composed as possible. In a few minutes after St. Aubyn had left the room, Mr. Mordaunt was sent for; and as he had been some time an invalid, St. Aubyn desired a carriage might be dispatched to bring him to the Castle. Ellen passing soon after up stairs to the nursery, crossed him in the hall, followed by his assistant with a quantity of papers and parchments: they bowed, and went into the study. "Oh, I know now," said Lady Juliana, who was with her, "who St. Aubyn has with him: it is I suppose Lord De Montfort, and his guardian and tutor, Mr. O'Brien, a Catholic priest, who has the entire management of the young man, and will I suppose now have the entire direction of his estates, which have till now been under the care of my nephew, who was appointed by his father's will the young Earls guardian, as far as related to his English property, till he should be twenty-four, though his Catholic relations have had the care of his person. Rejoiced shall I be when St. Aubyn has finally concluded all his concerns with that family. Heaven knows they have given him trouble enough already! and this young man I know hates him. I don't suppose he will stay an hour after the accounts are settled, indeed he would not have come at all, only Mordaunt having all the affairs in his hands, and being too unwell to go from home, it was I conclude necessary: this I know, if these people stay here to-night, I shall remain in my own room."

Ellen carefully and anxiously attended to all she said, yet this discourse gave her no clue by which to unravel the mysterious speeches of St. Aubyn. After spending an hour in the nursery, both ladies returned to the drawing-room, and sent a servant to know if coffee should be carried into the study, or if Lord St. Aubyn and his guests would join the ladies. Orders were given for tea and coffee in the study; and Lady Juliana could not restrain her curiosity enough to refrain asking who was with Lord St. Aubyn: from the servant she learned that the party consisted of his Lordship, Mr. Mordaunt, his clerk, and two strange gentlemen, one elderly, the other young, and apparently in ill health. This confirmed her surmises, and soon after tea, not wishing to see Lord De Montfort, should he make his appearance, she retired to her own room, leaving Ellen and Laura together, with a strict injunction to the former not to be kept up too late.

Ellen's anxiety made her somewhat silent; and Laura, never very talkative, easily fell into her present humour, so that for some time very little conversation passed between them. Laura was netting, and Ellen attempting a drawing; but her hand was unsteady, and her attention divided, therefore finding she should not succeed, she threw down her pencil, and listened in silence to a loud equinoxial wind, which howled around, and shook with "murmur not unlike the dash of ocean on his sounding shores" the ancient trees which grew near the mansion. A chilling sensation insensibly stole upon her, and at length, to break the melancholy silence of the apartment, rather than that she wished to speak, she said, "'Tis a rough night, and cold."

"Yes," said Laura; and they both drew nearer the fire.

"Do you know Lord De Montfort?" asked Ellen.

"I have seen him when a boy," replied Laura, "and think I should know him again, though six or seven years make a great alteration at his age."

"Was he handsome?"

"Yes, but not so much so as his sister."

"Is he like her?"

"A little, but of a darker complexion: her's was a clear lively brown; dark hazle eyes, full of spirit, and indeed at times of scorn, a Grecian nose, full lips, the upper one curled a little, which gave a haughty air to her countenance; Edmund was thinner, paler, and his eyes had a softer look."

"Edmund is his name?"

"He has a long list of names, according to the Spanish custom; but his sister always called him Edmund, which was his father's."

"I wonder whether we shall see him?"

"Of course,—I suppose so," said Laura, with some surprize: "it is too late for him to quit the Castle to-night, and he will without doubt pay his compliments to you before he departs."

"I think," replied Ellen, "from what Lady Juliana said just now, that St. Aubyn and Lord De Montfort are not on very good terms, that made me doubt whether he would stay the night."

"It may be so," said Laura, "yet unless they are decidedly at enmity, the young man cannot avoid seeing you."

Soon after the supper tray was brought into the room, and on its being announced to the gentlemen, St. Aubyn came to the library, accompanied by Mr. Mordaunt and Mr. O'Brien, the latter of whom he introduced to the ladies. St. Aubyn looked pale, and his manners had lost some of its usual composure. O'Brien was a grave, respectable old man, of Irish extraction, but bred in a convent abroad, and speaking English but imperfectly.

"I will return to the study," said St. Aubyn, "and see once more if I can persuade Lord De Montfort to take some refreshment. You remember De Montfort, Miss Cecil?—He is my other guest, but he pleads fatigue, and disinclination to see any one, and will not be prevailed on to take even a glass of wine. I will once more endeavour to induce him to join you."

"Indeed, my Lord," said Ellen, "I hope he will: if he be fatigued, he must the more need refreshment."

"My love," said St. Aubyn, "will you have the goodness to order beds to be prepared for Lord De Montfort and Mr. O'Brien. They remain here this night."

He then left the room, and Ellen ringing the bell, desired Mrs. Bayfield might be sent to her dressing-room, whither a few minutes after she went herself to give orders respecting the beds. As she passed the study door, which was not quite close, she distinctly heard St. Aubyn say:—

"For Heaven's sake, De Montfort, be persuaded; do not wrong me so cruelly! Why condemn me on mere appearances?"

Ellen passed hastily on, and heard St. Aubyn close the door with some violence, warned perhaps by the light she carried that some one might overhear him.

In her dressing-room she met Mrs. Bayfield, and was instantly struck with her pale countenance and agitated appearance.

"My good Bayfield," said Ellen, "I sent for you to request you would see chambers prepared for the strange gentlemen; but you look ill, pray go to bed: Jane shall go with the housemaids and see that all is right."

"I am not ill, my Lady," said Mrs. Bayfield; "but a glimpse I caught of Lord De Montfort just now, and the tone of his voice, reminded me of so many painful events—"

She paused, sighed, and the tears ran down her cheeks as she added:

"I wish he had not come here; I wish he was gone back to Spain; I cannot bear to see him."

"His likeness to your late lady affects you perhaps, my good friend?" said Ellen.

"Oh, no, Madam; it is not that; he is like her to be sure; but it is not that. I feel so uneasy when I see him.—He does not love my Lord; and yet he used to love him. But forgive me, Madam; I forget myself: will your Ladyship please to give your orders now?"

"I will leave all to your care, my good Bayfield. I suppose the gentlemen will like to be near each other: the two chambers at the end of the gallery where I sleep (those next to that your Lord sleeps in at present, I mean) will suit them best, I think: see that they have good fires, for it is cold to-night: the wind is really alarming."

"Your Ladyship had better take another shawl round your shoulders: the staircase is cold."

Ellen thanked her careful old friend, and returned to the company.

END OF VOL. II.

B. Clarke, Printer, Well Street, London.