A sojourn of several days, in which other feelings besides those of personal weakness, influenced Lady Marcella to keep her apartment, sufficiently restored the whole party, to enable them to recommence their journey northward without fear of fatigue.

The skill of the Spanish physician, (who united surgery with his medical science,) was so successful with Duke Wharton, that he, too, was pronounced capable of partaking the removal. A litter conveyed him to a hired yacht, which lay at the mouth of the Coquet. This mode of travel was chosen as the easiest for an invalid in his case; and Louis, with Don Garcia and Lorenzo, were his attendants. The wind was fair for Lindisfarne; and the smooth sea, sparkled under a bright noon-day sun, when the little party embarked.

Mr. Athelstone and Ferdinand accompanied the ladies by land. They had set off early in the morning, to travel by easy stages, so as to reach the island before night.

Though no words of mutual confidence on the subjects nearest to the hearts of Cornelia and Marcella, had passed the lips of either, yet each read the secret thoughts of the other, and soothed, or cheered, with a reciprocal delicacy, as amiable as it was salutary. The little taper in the bosom of each, which each covered with the care of a vestal, to conceal, but not to extinguish, gave to its owner the power of discerning the locked mysteries of her friend.

Cornelia had been benumbed with horror, when she first discovered that the noble invalid she had cherished as some illustrious foreigner, worthy to be loved by her virtuous cousin,—was the Duke of Wharton!—Illustrious, indeed, in birth, and station, and talents; noble in figure, and beloved by her cousin!—But the man, of all others in the world, whom she had most abhorred for the abuse of those faculties, which had been so richly bestowed, and so shamefully abandoned to the worst of purposes. She stood aghast at herself when she found, that she now not only knew him to be that reprobated Wharton, but that when he should close his eyes in death, (which was then hourly expected,) the world would then be a desert to her.

It was in the moment when Mr. Athelstone flashed it at once upon her mind, who was her guest, that as soon as the venerable man had left her to herself, she exclaimed in the agony of such a recognition,—

"Oh, Wharton! what the Prophet said of the Prince of Tyre, may too surely be said of thee: Thou didst seal up the sum! Full of wisdom, and perfect in beauty! Thou wast prosperous in thy ways, from the day thou wast created, until iniquity was found in thee. And, now, they draw the sword against the beauty of thy wisdom. They defile thy brightness, and bring down thy glory to the ashes of the grave!"

And who dare lament over such a grave? There is no sympathy for her who deplores a dishonoured name. There is no pity for her who weeps that the traitor is no more. She must glide by stealth to that lonely tomb. Her tears must fall in solitude on the trackless path; and, when lying on the neglected sod, there she may cry to Him alone, whose eye is over all, to pity and to pardon erring man!

"And so, Wharton!" exclaimed she, "I will lament and pray for thee!"

But, when her uncle informed her that this once offending and deprecated Wharton, regretted, with religious contrition, the transgressions of his youth, the severest pangs in her bosom were laid to rest; and she resumed what she believed her last duties about the dying patient, with a chastised tenderness, as soothing as it was pure from any earthly sentiment.

When her cares, and the will of Providence, recalled him from the brink of the grave to all the cheering promises of a speedy recovery; then she remembered what he had been, and armed herself against the external graces of his person, by recollecting the snares they had been to his virtues. The enchantments of his conversation, and the subduing influence of his mute gratitude, his eloquent looks, and often implied love, she shut from her heart, by recalling the various reported instances of his former delusions over man and woman. Cornelia believed that she had disgracefully deserted the best principle of her sex, in having admitted any sentiment more than compassion, for a stranger under the circumstances in which she found the Duke; and, when known, to continue to prefer him who had once been the world's idolater; she deemed so unworthy of herself, of all her declared opinions, that, stern in her self-controul, she turned from all his ardours with a coldness not to be subdued, and a resolution not to be shaken. In the dignity of unsullied virtue, Cornelia often strengthened herself by inwardly repeating, "Wharton, thy former sins must be thy temporary punishment; and my present weakness, the lasting scourge of mine!"

Marcella's meditations were less painful than Cornelia's; for the object of her thoughts was spotless as her own purity. There was no torture in her retrospections, excepting the memory of her last interview with Louis in the inn; but, as she now intended to obliterate its impressions on him, by an unchanging distance in her manner; she flattered herself that he would doubt the evidence of her former confusion; and that, hereafter, they might resume the character to each other, of mere mutual benevolence. She believed this, and she was tranquil; but she deceived herself on the grounds of this serenity. Hope was the spirit of peace, which had taken its hidden station in her heart; and health dawned, and spread upon her cheek, as the inward principle slowly, but surely gained power.

The reception of the party at Lindisfarne, was that of the re-union of dear and long acquainted friends. Mrs. Coningsby and the Marchioness, met with the frank cordiality of persons who already held that connection, which the marriage of their children would confirm. Alice was bathed in tears, when her future second mother folded her to her breast, and put her hand into the rapturous grasp of Ferdinand. Marcella was greeted with equal kindness; and Mrs. Coningsby herself, drew the old abbot's ebony couch into the circle, for the accommodation of her gentle guest. Peter, the grey headed butler, placed its cushions with assiduous care; and as she thanked him in the English language, but in the Spanish custom stretched out her hand to him; he kissed it respectfully, and prayed God to bless her!

Tea was soon prepared in that room, where Ferdinand had first beheld the lovely sisters; and compared their unsophisticated beauties, with those of more worldly charms. He was then a despairing wretch; he was now a happy lover! The same moon seemed shedding her silver light through the feathery shrubs at the window. The evening was chill, with all its brightness; and a fire blazed as before, under the Gothic mantle piece. The cat and the dog were also there; and the venerable Pastor completed the picture of delighted memory:—He sat by the side of the glowing hearth, smiling in conscious piety; as with one hand leaning on the couch of Marcella, he addressed her with all the tenderness of a parent. The Marchioness conversed animatedly with Mrs. Coningsby. His own Alice, was at that moment dispensing the fragrant tea, in the very china from which he had drank it three years ago! Cornelia was by her side; enjoying with a fond sister's delight, the perfect happiness of this evening's re-union.

When the tea equipage was withdrawn, and they all drew into little groups, the artless Alice exclaimed, "oh, how I wish Louis were here!"

"I wish so too," rejoined Ferdinand, in the same affectionate tone; and glancing at his sister, who had heard the tender apostrophe, though spoken in a half whisper; and her kindling cheek bore witness that she shared the sentiment.

Cornelia sighed; for she thought, "who is there, that would wish for Wharton?"

She was near Marcella; and Marcella understanding whose image was in that invisible sign, almost unconsciously pressed the hand of her friend, and softly whispered, "and the Duke too!" Cornelia's blush was now more vivid than Marcella's; and it was accompanied by a glow of gratitude to her, which shed a distant gleam on him, she before shrunk at remembering. His idea then was not so obscured to the eye of virtue, but that Marcella, the all pure and saintly Marcella, could think of him at that moment, with the approbation of a wish!

The embrace with which the two friends parted at night, told much of this without the agency of words.

That night, when all else in the family were gone to rest, Mr. Athelstone imparted to Mrs. Coningsby, the whole history of Wharton; from the commencement of his friendship with Louis, to the time of his being found by him, wounded and dying in the herdsman's hut.

When she listened to the explanation of his most suspicious, and even hostile proceedings against her nephew; when she was told the dangers he had exposed himself to, to shield that nephew; and considered his generous forbearance with regard to the Duke his father; when she comprehended all his late exertions for the reputation of the one, and the rights of the other:—she was in an ecstacy of amazement; and with all the usual ardour of her nature exclaimed,

"How is such a man to be sufficiently admired! How can he ever be repaid for such unexampled friendship?"

"I believe it will be in your power," replied the Pastor, gently smiling.

"In mine, Mr. Athelstone?"

"Yes, give him Cornelia! and I am mistaken, if he would accept the future Empress of Germany in exchange."

A full explanation immediately ensued. And, after having mutually agreed, not to notice the latter discovery to Cornelia, until the Duke should avow his sentiments to her guardians; Mr. Athelstone, and the happy mother parted; he, to his midnight orisons; and she, not neglectful of the same, but also to plan every comfortable accommodation for the reception of him, whom she now hoped, would be her second son-in-law.