More than twelve months had elapsed since the death of Sir Henry, when the fleet returned to St. Helena. The pleasure experienced by his officers and crew, on attaining this favourite spot, extended itself to the bosom of the Captain: the mind of Harland too yielded to its influence; the stern contraction of his brow gave place to the smile of satisfaction, and, with a heart unwontedly attuned to cheerfulness, he accompanied the Captain and Frederick to the Governor's, where a large party were assembled, not only of the principal inhabitants, but several officers and passengers belonging to some French vessels bound for Pondicherry, and which had arrived there the preceding day.

Amongst the passengers, the Marchioness de Valois, her daughters, and a Mademoiselle de St. Ursule, claimed pre-eminence; the beauty of the latter, indeed, gained universal admiration, nor could the bosom of Harland long resist the influence of a softer passion. The Governor's nephew likewise yielded an unresisting captive to charms unequalled in the Eastern clime; and, uncontrolled by any authority but that of an uncle, whose partiality ever extenuated his faults, and exaggerated the few amiable qualities he possessed to the height of human perfection, he looked on success as certain wherever he chose to prefer his suit.

Harland observed the freedom of his addresses with an eye of jealousy, heightened by the diffidence he for the first time experienced of himself. Humbled, yet indignant, he returned on board, and hastened to his cabin; whence, in the morning, he was roused by the information, that they were to pass the day with the Marchioness, with whom the Captain had been acquainted in England.

Impetuous in every pursuit, this intelligence in an instant dissipated every mortifying reflection, and he impatiently waited for the hour which would again present the lovely Louise to his sight.

The sentiments with which she had inspired him, he attempted not to conceal; his conduct through the day sufficiently evinced them; whilst the blushing sweetness with which she permitted his assiduities, and the mildness of her manners, so different from the generality of the French, but increased the passion he had imbibed.

Though convinced she regarded the Governor's nephew with indifference, he became still more dissatisfied with that gentleman's behaviour toward her, which he found would oblige him to a declaration to the Marchioness sooner than he intended; as he wished to have been previously certified of Louise's sentiments respecting himself, and to learn from her an account of her family and connexions, with which he was as yet unacquainted. He could not, however, in idea yield to the pretensions of another, and accordingly, a few days after, took the opportunity of accompanying the Captain to the Marchioness, and, with all the energy of an unfeigned passion, declared his admiration of Louise, and entreated her permission to his addresses.

The Marchioness, imagining the declaration to proceed from a prepossession as easily eradicated as raised, answered—"That Louise is deserving of your highest admiration, I acknowledge; but her station in life is beneath what you may with justice aspire to. She is an orphan—without a name; brought up by charity, and received into my family, at the request of my daughters, as a companion: and I think, young gentleman, you must acknowledge I should ill deserve the name of patroness, if I permitted an acquaintance a few weeks must unavoidably dissolve.—As a friend of Captain Howard, and a gentleman, I shall ever be happy to see you in the circle of my acquaintance, but never as the lover of Louise.

"It is now nineteen years, Captain," continued the Marchioness, "since Louise was found at the gate of the Convent of St. Ursule: the picture, as we suppose, of her mother, was tied round her neck with a paper, on which was written the word—"Louisa!" The Abbess caused a search to be made after the parents; but, not being able to discover them, received and reared the infant. My daughters were educated at St. Ursule's, and attached to Louise from her childhood; at their request, when she was about sixteen, the Abbess resigned her to my protection."

Ill could the haughty soul of Harland brook this refusal of the Marchioness, which was beginning to raise a sentiment of indignation in his breast against that lady, when the entrance of Louise obliterated every idea but of her; each moment presented new attractions to his fascinated senses; and he determined to espouse her privately, and leave the issue to Providence, rather than forego his addresses; as love and pride whispered—her birth must be reputable, if not noble!

The day succeeding this, he accompanied the Captain and Frederick to a fÊte at the Governor's, where the Marchioness and her family were likewise present: but the pleasure Louise's presence would have created, was destroyed by the marked attentions of young Ferrand, the Governor's nephew; and, unable to endure the seeming satisfaction, or even the presence of his rival, which prevented his conversing freely with Louise, he entreated to speak with her in private, and, without waiting for an answer, conducted her into an adjoining room. He there acquainted her with his application to the Marchioness; her rejection of his suit; and vehemently urged her to a private marriage.

Louise was concerned at the Marchioness's refusal, but declared she never would consent to any engagement without her approbation; and gently chid Harland for the rudeness of his behaviour to Ferrand. Harland could not conceal his chagrin at this second rejection, and accused Louise of an unjust preference to his rival; against whom he vowed the severest vengeance.

The East-Indian, who had equally observed the assiduities of Harland, and equally felt the influence of jealousy, had followed them unperceived, and heard the whole of their conversation. He now sprung from his concealment, and would have commenced hostilities on the spot, had not the terrified Louise entreated Harland to reconduct her to the company. Though hurried nearly to madness by the violence of passion, the voice of Louise recalled him to reason; or rather her request, trivial as it was, implied, he thought, a preference to him over his rival, which, by gratifying his wishes, conduced to calm the tumult raised in his bosom.

Louise, though she had given a denial to his suit, could not behave to him with indifference: on the contrary, she endeavoured, by many little attentions, to soften her rejection, and which Harland was too happy at the moment in receiving, to bestow a thought on the motive whence they arose.

Amidst the festivity which reigned, young Ferrand was the only one really unconscious of pleasure. Ungovernable in his passions, he could as little brook an appearance of slight, as Harland could refusal. A sentiment of respect and awe he entertained for his uncle, withheld him from disturbing the mirth of the evening by an open quarrel with the Lieutenant; he therefore determined on a surer revenge than he was certain of being able to inflict with his own hand.

It was late when the company separated, and Harland, with the Captain and Frederick, were returning to the Bay, when they were attacked by four men, who in a moment struck the Captain to the ground. Harland, whose courage equalled his passions, immediately drew, as did Frederick, and endeavoured to guard the Captain, against whose life the ruffians seemed principally to direct their attention. A sharp conflict ensued, in which their assailants had evidently the superiority, and they were nearly overpowered, when a man, wrapped in a large roquelaure, hastily approached. Frederick apprehended an associate of the ruffians, but was agreeably undeceived by one of them being instantly levelled with the dust by the contents of a pistol! The stranger then flew to his side, and, seizing the Captain's sword, obliged the assassins in their turn to act on the defensive.

Alarmed by the report of the pistol, the boat's crew, who were waiting for the Captain, followed the direction of the sound, and arrived at the moment the ruffians, unable to perpetrate their design, fled; leaving their companion behind them, severely wounded.

Frederick instantly assisted to raise his uncle; and the sailors, mistaking the stranger for one of the assassins, as instantly secured him, and, finding the fort alarmed, took the Captain in their arms and returned to the boat.

When they arrived on board, proper applications were used to restore the Captain, who had been rendered senseless by the blow; and who, after assuring his nephew he was not materially hurt, inquired after the men who had assaulted them.

Frederick, whose anxiety for his uncle had till that moment precluded every other idea, immediately recalled to mind the generous stranger; and, with the warmest praises on his bravery, related the service he had rendered them. The glow of impatient gratitude for a moment warmed the cheek of the Captain, as he looked round for this unknown friend: but not discovering him, he eagerly asked where he was?—and, to his great surprise, was informed the men had confined him till his pleasure respecting him should be known.

"Merciful Heaven!" he ejaculated. "What a return!—Frederick—"

Frederick flew out of the cabin, and in a short time re-entered, conducting the stranger, who held his cloak to his face, as wishing to be concealed.

The Captain rose, supported by Harland, and, extending his hand, said—"I know not, Sir, how to offer an apology for the injurious treatment you have received, from the honest but mistaken zeal of my men, but, misled by appearance, they could not distinguish whether you were friend or foe. To the aid you so generously afforded, I am undoubtedly indebted for the preservation of my life, for which I return my most sincere thanks. Will you now inform me to whom I am thus obliged, that I may likewise by my actions prove my gratitude."

The stranger appeared agitated, clasped his hands, then, hastily advancing to the Captain, sunk at his feet, and, throwing off the roquelaure, discovered to his astonished senses—Sir Henry Corbet!

With a countenance pale as though oppressed by death, the Captain regarded him, whilst Sir Henry, seizing his hand, pressed it to his breast, and exclaimed—"Repay the obligation, then, by restoring me to that place in your friendship I once possessed, and granting that protection I still must entreat!"

The Captain endeavoured to raise and answer him, but, unable to speak, gave a faint groan, and sunk into the arms of Frederick; who, confounded and amazed at the apparition, could scarcely credit the evidence of his senses, or believe the person of his friend to be real.

Sir Henry, equally alarmed at the state of the Captain, assisted to convey him to his cabin; and, when recovered, joined his entreaties to the surgeon's, that he would seek the repose he so much required. The Captain unwillingly yielded to their solicitations; as he wished to have had an immediate explanation respecting the re-appearance of one whom he had so long thought dead; but, Sir Henry promising to satisfy his curiosity on the morrow, retired—having been previously assured that his request for protection should not a second time be refused.

Accordingly, in the morning, he attended with Frederick; and the Captain, as soon as he beheld him, gave him his hand, saying with a smile—"I find, Sir Henry, I must be doubly your debtor: your assistance last night preserved my life and now to you I must look for those blessings which can alone render life desirable. To you, my Ellenor, in her letter, refers me for intelligence: tell me then what fate she has hitherto experienced; for much I fear fortune may have in every respect proved unfavourable."

"Of Ellenor and your son, Captain," answered Sir Henry, "I have little to relate. At the time she left London with her infant, she sought the protection of my father, who procured her an honourable asylum in the family of the Reverend Mr. Blond; with his relict I believe she at present resides. Edward, when I first quitted England, was pursuing his studies at the University; which he left previously to the report of my death; and, with his mother and Mrs. Blond, fled—to avoid the unfeeling hand of oppression; but where to—I know not."

"I feared as much!" sighed the Captain.—"But Heaven," he continued with a more cheerful accent, "may yet befriend me. I have by a miracle, I cannot call it less, recovered you from the grave: and from your hand I still hope to receive my Ellenor. I am, I find, necessary to the elucidation of the mysteries Mr. Talton formerly mentioned: the friendship you have shown to my son, independently of the regard I entertain for yourself, demands from me the readiest assistance: tell me, then, what course I am to pursue, and doubt not my proving the friend you wish."

Sir Henry warmly thanked the Captain for the generous offer. "Personal protection," he continued, "is all I at present request...." He paused a moment, then again continued—"I last night, Captain Howard, promised to explain to you the accident by which you were led into the belief of my death, and, as far as I am at liberty, to relate the particulars of my conduct. Of the latter, I can say but little; and only entreat you will not judge or condemn me by appearances.

"Mr. Talton, I presume, has already acquainted you with the marriage of my parents; of which I am the only offspring: the offspring, indeed, of indifference! Since reason dawned, I have drunk the bitter draught of unhappiness: my childhood passed in sorrow; parental hatred still pursued me—and the events of one night, soon after the death of my father, I acknowledge, nearly bereft me of reason! To fly from scenes I had not strength of mind to support, I left my home, and sought relief in the bosom of friendship; till a mother's tears won me to return, when again I became the prey of midnight horrors!

"Long I sustained them; till nature sunk beneath their influence, and nearly resigned me to the grave! Again I resolved to fly.—'Seek my Edward,' said your Ellenor; 'his generous hand will sustain thee, and hereafter bear thy character open to the world!' She accordingly wrote, and, with the assistance of a gypsey, from whom I procured an humble disguise, I eluded the watchfulness of my mother, and again became an itinerant.

"I was nearly three weeks, in the weak state of my health, crossing the kingdom; as I had gained intelligence you were stationed at Yarmouth; where I was inquiring if any of your crew were on shore, when the appearance of Mr. Talton nearly annihilated me! Imagining he was in quest of me, I heeded not the answer to my question; but fled—and Providence conducted me to your nephew. Not wishing to be known to any other than the Captain Howard, whom I sought, I assumed the name of my friend, which shame afterwards withheld me from resigning, or delivering the letter I had received from Ellenor.—Refused your protection when discovered by Mr. Talton, and fearing, if persuasion failed, he would force me to return with him, I had no alternative but to leave the ship. Scarcely knowing what I did, I gave the letter to one of the men, and, hastily descending to the boat, was conveyed on shore. I pursued my way toward Lowestoff, when, recollecting Talton probably would endeavour to trace me, I changed clothes with a lad I overtook, and, giving him my watch, he promised secrecy, should any inquiries respecting me be made. My intention then was to have proceeded to Harwich; whence I thought it probable I might find some vessel going to the Continent: but, late in the evening, I was met by some smugglers. Without ceremony, they demanded who I was, and where I was going? I answered these questions to their satisfaction; when, judging by my garb I should suit their service, they, without farther interrogation, informed me I must go with them. As my life was fully in their power, I thought it most prudent to assent with an appearance of good-will, and therefore readily accompanied them on board a cutter they had lying a little distance from the shore. Our sails were immediately set, and we passed before the wind with such rapidity as soon freed me from my fears of Talton. We proceeded to the coast of Holland, where with some difficulty I escaped from my companions, and got on board a trading vessel belonging to Cardigan; and, wishing to see your Ellenor and Mrs. Blond, immediately on my arrival there set out for Caermarthen, which I reached in the evening.

"Fearful of passing near the hall, lest any of the servants should discover me, I went by the village; but, my precaution was useless: an old man, who had formerly been in the service of my grandfather, accidentally followed, and knew me notwithstanding my disguise; and, misled by the report of my death, declared to some of his neighbours he had seen my spectre! As I was hastening to the humble dwelling of Mrs. Blond, I was stopped by the appearance of Mallet, my mother's steward; and, knowing the consequence which must ensue if I were seen by him, I fled to the cottage of old Owen for shelter. Owen had that instant entered, and was relating his tale to his wife, when my re-appearance and voice convinced him of his mistake. He acquainted me with the tale which was circulated of my death, and regretted the freedom with which he had mentioned seeing me that evening: for Owen well knew the circumstances which had driven me from my home; and, as Mr. Talton was returned, advised me instantly to fly Caermarthen; promising, if any notice should be taken of what he had uttered, to conduct himself in such a manner as should effectually screen me from danger. I thanked him, and, finding Mallet was gone, hastened to the residence of your Ellenor. But, alas! Captain, it was deserted; she had left her ancient asylum, with Mrs. Blond, but a few days before! This intelligence I learned from a servant who was left in the house, and who likewise told me some particulars, that"—

Sir Henry paused—hesitated!

"I was obliged to enter the walls of Corbet Hall—what passed, I may hereafter relate; though, would to Heaven it could be for ever blotted from my remembrance!

"Spiritless and truly forlorn, every hope destroyed, I retraced my steps to Cardigan; and engaged as a common sailor, in a merchantman trading to Havre-de-Grace; but not liking the Captain, I left him on our arrival there, and led a wandering life: till I entered on board a vessel at L'Orient bound for Pondicherry; which arrived at this island with others a few days since.

"The restraint imposed on me by the presence of my messmates, was too severe to support continually: beside the anguish which preyed on my mind, my heart was with you; I wished to eradicate those sentiments you entertained from the misrepresentations of Talton, and regain that place in your friendship I once enjoyed.

"To indulge these wishes, and enjoy the freedom of reflection, I last night sought for solitude; when the clashing of swords drew me to your assistance. I first distinguished the voice of Frederick, which brought with it the idea that Mr. Talton (as he once mentioned an intention of visiting the Indies) might be with you: as the most probable means of concealment, I therefore determined on silence; trusting that in the hurry of their attendance on you, I might unobserved satisfy my suspicions, and, if they were just, escape again to shore."

"Yet, tell me," said the Captain, "on what account you so anxiously wish to avoid Mr. Talton? or why my Ellenor so precipitately fled from Lieutenant Booyers's, on hearing of his arrival in the village? He hinted that she was involved in pecuniary difficulties; to which Talton's name was annexed. Is she answerable to him for any money?"

Sir Henry answered in the negative, and begged to know what he particularly alluded to, as he had not mentioned the immediate cause of her flight. The Captain related what had passed at Lieutenant Booyers', and the idea he entertained, that Mr. Talton, notwithstanding his assertion to the contrary, had proved an enemy to his Ellenor.

Sir Henry gave a sigh to the sorrows of poor Booyers; who, he said, would prove a real protector to Ellenor till it pleased Heaven to conduct them to her. "But, alas!" he continued, "the cloud which envelopes me, likewise extends its pernicious influence to her."