"The worthy Monk," continued Sir Henry, "here concluded; and I bowed my head in conviction to the justness of the reproach his last words implied. As the good father intended, I could not avoid drawing a comparison of our lives; and the resignation, the fortitude he had evinced, indeed, raised a blush for the madness of which I had been guilty. The mention he made of my Louise, however, and the hope that, by means, I should be able to trace her, soon obliterated every unpleasant sensation; and, without disclosing my history or name, I informed him the infant he had mentioned was at that time the object of my search. I related the treatment I had met with at the convent of St. Ursule, and asked his advice as to the measures I should pursue to discover her. He was urgent to know who we were, but, on my telling him I was not at liberty to reveal what he asked, he desisted; and offered to go himself and speak to the Abbess concerning Louise. I thankfully accepted his offer, and, at his earnest solicitation, consented to take the sustenance I truly wanted.

"He was gone nearly an hour, and returned unsuccessful in his mission. Mother St. Brigide could not refuse to see him, though her answers were very unsatisfactory. She confessed that Louise had been reared in the Convent, but utterly disclaimed all knowledge of the lady who took her. She had not, she said, ever been admitted to the confidence of her predecessor; and the circumstance of Louise leaving the Convent had been both secret and sudden. Finding it impossible to gain the information he wanted, Father Hilaire returned to me. I received his account with a sigh, and declared my resolution to re-commence my search after Louise the ensuing morning. He approved my determination, and imperceptibly drew me into a conversation, as entertaining as instructive; and when we parted at night, gave me his blessing and a purse containing forty louis.

"The supply was seasonable. I parted from him with regret; and early the next morning left Rennes.

"For four months I wandered through Anjou, Poitou, and Bretagne, without meeting with any occurrence worthy of mention, or being able to trace Louise. When I rescued her from the Count, as I before observed, I did not see her face; and, unsuspicious of who she was, still continued my search; till my money being expended, and not knowing how to procure subsistence, I engaged in the vessel which conveyed me to St. Helena."

"The history of Father Hilaire," said the Captain, "is not without its moral; from the misfortunes of others, we are induced to draw a comparative consolation under our own; and his may truly teach the impatient sufferer an useful lesson."

"Yet I wish, Sir Henry," said Frederick, "you had informed him who you were; for, from the idea I have conceived of the man, I think he would have been highly gratified in repaying the obligation he owed your father."

"He had more than cancelled the obligation, Frederick," answered Sir Henry, "by preserving my life; and, had I acknowledged who I was, it might have led to questions I should have found it difficult and distressing to have answered."

The conversation here became general, and soon after they separated for the night.

The relation of Sir Henry added greatly to Louise's solicitude to be informed respecting her parents, but her inquiries and intreaties were equally ineffectual; Sir Henry persevered in his mysterious silence on the subject, though the anxiety she showed evidently added to his unhappiness; and, on their nearer approach to England, they with grief perceived in him every symptom of a rapid decline. The Captain in vain urged medical assistance; and, as he watched the daily ravages of sorrow, painfully anticipated the moment when death would bereave him of the friend by whose means he had hoped to recover his Ellenor. Frederick, independently of his concern on his uncle's account, regarded Sir Henry with more than fraternal friendship; but his eloquence was equally unavailing to discover the source from whence his unhappiness arose.

At last, the loud shouts of the sailors proclaimed the appearance of their native land, and in a few days they reached the Thames: thence Harland, impatient to introduce his Louise to his parents, proceeded to Harland-Hall; whilst the Captain, accompanied by Sir Henry and Frederick, pursued his way toward London, intending, as soon as he had transacted his business there, to renew his search after Ellenor; but in this he was prevented, by the arrival of one of Mrs. Howard's servants, who, the morning preceding the commencement of his intended search, hastily entered the room where he was at breakfast, and, presenting a letter, informed him his lady was at the point of death.

Alarmed at this intelligence, he eagerly opened the letter, which was from the steward, and confirmed the bearer's account, with entreaties that he would immediately repair to Bristol, where Mrs. Howard had for some time resided.—Humanity demanded compliance: the Captain accordingly set out with the messenger, and reached Bristol a few hours previously to Mrs. Howard's dissolution; but the malignancy which had ever marked her character displayed itself in her latest moments. She received the Captain with that acrimonious contempt which, for years, had accompanied each sentiment or look addressed to him. The loss of life she regretted, as depriving her of the power of longer tormenting him; and, with a smile of triumph that defied the power of death to efface, told him, she had left him her fortune, but on restriction that he never married again, as a punishment for his treatment of her.

The Captain could not affect a concern at her death which he did not experience; for years she had proved literally a torment; and he could not but feel that he was free: free to claim the promise of his Ellenor, and, in an union with her, meet a recompence for the years of unhappiness he had endured from Deborah, whose fortune, if requisite, he would not have hesitated a moment in resigning; but that lady's wishes had, in this respect, exceeded her power, for her fortune was fully secured to him at the time of their marriage.

The Captain wrote immediately for his nephew and Sir Henry, who arrived the day after the funeral; and, having settled his affairs with the steward, with every cheerful sentiment, hope could inspire, commenced his projected search for Ellenor and his son.—Neither was Frederick uninterested in the discovery of them; as the idea of the youthful Ellen was still impressed on his mind; and he secretly wished fortune had blessed him with independency, that he might have offered her his hand and heart. Sir Henry likewise seemed to forget his own sorrow, in the prospect of the Captain's happiness, and, by a number of little anecdotes concerning the objects of their search, endeavoured to beguile the time, and lessen the solicitude they could not altogether avoid experiencing.

They crossed the Channel to Cardiff, and directed their course to the humble dwelling of Jarvis, who, they thought, might, perhaps, by that time have learned the route of the fugitives.

The honest innkeeper received them with a hearty welcome, and, in answer to their inquiries, informed them, that a few weeks after they left the village, a man arrived there, who declared himself commissioned by Lieutenant Booyers, to dispose of the furniture of the cottage; which was accordingly sold: that Jarvis had endeavoured to learn where the Lieutenant had retired, but the man behaved with the greatest reserve. On his leaving the village, however, he had taken a guide to Newport, and by an inadvertent sentence he had uttered, he was induced to believe the Lieutenant and the ladies were gone to reside at—or near Gloucester. The Captain's heart beat with exulting hope at this intelligence; and such was his impatience to recover the lost partner of his heart, he would that instant have set out for Gloucester, could Sir Henry have supported the fatigue of such rapid travelling. On his account he consented to remain where they were till the morning, when Sir Henry willingly obeyed his summons to continue their journey.

Early the ensuing day, they reached Gloucester, where the Captain, Sir Henry, and Frederick, separated, to inquire through the city, agreeing to meet in the evening, at the inn where they left their horses. For two days they traversed the city, and, on the morning of the third, were preparing to leave the inn, to search some of the adjacent villages, when they were surprised by the appearance of Sir Arthur Howard. As the Captain had long ceased to regard him with enmity, he cordially advanced to meet him, whilst Frederick, forgetting his unkindness in the unexpected rencounter, as eagerly sprung to embrace him. Sir Arthur was equally surprised, though less pleased at beholding them; he, however, returned their salutation, and, at their request, accompanied them into the room they had quitted. He there answered to their inquiries respecting his family, and coldly expressed his approbation at the improvement seven years had made in the person and manners of Frederick. Sir Arthur in reality was rather chagrined than pleased at the graceful figure and deportment of his son, as they conveyed a reproach to himself, at the time they evinced the care and attention of the Captain to the duties which he, though a father, had neglected.

The Captain observed the displeasure depicted in his countenance, but, unconscious of the cause, sought relief from an unpleasant pause in the discourse, by asking the occasion of his being at Gloucester? The question was likewise a relief to Sir Arthur, as it afforded him an opportunity of venting his rising spleen.

"I came to recover a runaway," he replied, "who is endeavouring to disgrace the family to which she has the honour to belong: but severely shall she suffer for the fault she has committed!"

He then informed them, he had projected a match for his eldest daughter, not only suitable, but highly advantageous, as the gentleman possessed a noble independency, and had offered to take her without a portion: by which means the fortune of his eldest son would be considerably augmented; but that his daughter had objected to the union, and, on his threatening her, had privately left the Hall. That he pursued her to Gloucester, where, the preceding day, he had luckily overtaken her, and was going to order his carriage, to re-convey her home, when he was addressed by the Captain.

Frederick heard this account with concern; he well knew the harshness of his father's temper, and sincerely pitied his sister, whom he had not seen since the days of childhood. He now entreated he might have that satisfaction, and Sir Arthur, who knew not well how to refuse, was necessitated to comply: though he expressed his fear she would endeavour to elude his vigilance, and again escape; and concluded with an invective against children in general, for their wilfulness and disobedience. The entrance of his daughter saved his auditors the necessity of replying; her looks were pallid, and she approached with a timidity, which was rather increased than relieved, by the appearance of strangers. Frederick, however, soon recalled her recollection of a brother to whom she had in her infancy been particularly attached; yet she dared not yield to the pleasure she had in beholding him. Her father's eye still sternly expressed his anger; tears fell from her own; and folding her arms round the neck of Frederick, she wept in silence on his bosom.

Sir Henry, who had hitherto been a silent spectator, could not, unmoved, witness the distress of the amiable Theodosia; for every tear of pleasure occasioned by the presence of her brother, was evidently accompanied by one of sorrow at the treatment she received from her father; he therefore advanced to her, and, in the mildest accents, joined Frederick in his endeavours to soothe and cheer her. They at last succeeded: a faint smile played on her lips, she looked up, and spoke with some degree of confidence.

Sir Arthur observed Sir Henry's attentions, and learning from the Captain who he was, permitted his features to unbend from their usual severity. He was no stranger to Sir Henry's family, or the fortune possessed by his father; and, knowing he was an only son, concluded his possessions were equally the same. Sir Henry's attention, therefore, which proceeded entirely from commiseration, he beheld with satisfaction, as thinking them occasioned by a softer passion. Theodosia, too, appeared to listen to, and regard him with unusual pleasure; and he determined to encourage an acquaintance, as the Corbet possessions were superior to those of the suitor he had wished Theodosia to have accepted.

He now condescended to enter into conversation with Sir Henry: he regarded his brother and son with a look of greater cordiality; and declared his intention of remaining with them till the evening. The Captain, who sincerely wished to be reconciled to him, looked on the determination as arising from a return of fraternal friendship, and cheerfully acceded to his proposal of passing the day together: nor could Frederick conceal his delight at an appearance of regard he had never before experienced, and as flattering to himself as it was unexpected.

A half-suppressed sigh from Theodosia, reminded him of her unpleasant situation; and, regarding the moment as favourable, he ventured to intercede to Sir Arthur in her behalf: the Captain warmly seconded him: Sir Henry did not think himself authorised to speak; but the concern expressed in his countenance, and the glance of intercession he directed to Sir Arthur, pleaded more effectually in her cause, than the eloquence of Frederick and the Captain: as it erroneously added to his opinion, that Sir Henry was enamoured of his daughter. Pleased with the idea, he pretended to yield to intreaties, he would otherwise have disregarded; and not only pronounced Theodosia's pardon for her elopement, but promised to dismiss all thoughts of forcing her into an union with a man she avowedly disapproved. Theodosia could not speak her joy—her thanks at this unlooked-for indulgence; but, pressing her father's hand to her lips, burst into tears. Sir Arthur's bosom was a stranger to the milder virtues: he coldly reproved, what he termed, her childish behaviour; and, withdrawing his hand, bade her not abuse the forgiveness she had by no means merited; and remember that on her future behaviour must depend the continuance of his good opinion.

Theodosia felt the ungenerous chiding of her father, at a moment when her heart overflowed with the tenderest sentiments of filial gratitude and affection; she, however, knew him to be too tenacious of his word, to apprehend any farther importunity respecting her disagreeable lover; and the joy, which at first expressed itself in tears, soon restored the wonted smile to her animated countenance. Frederick beheld her returning cheerfulness with pleasure; whilst Sir Arthur, equally pleased with Sir Henry, and the chimerical idea he indulged of one day having him for a son-in-law, endeavoured to soften his natural austerity, and to conciliate the esteem of the interesting Corbet.

Early in the evening, as Sir Arthur had proposed, his carriage was in readiness, and he parted from his brother and son, with the greatest professions of friendship, pressing them, but more particularly Sir Henry, to pass some weeks at Howard Hall. The Captain, highly gratified at the occurrences of the day, readily accepted the invitation; and that night, for the first time during many years, experienced a repose, unembittered with the idea of a brother's hatred!

The next morning, he with his companions again continued his search after Ellenor, hope still leading them on to the reward the ensuing day might perhaps afford, to compensate for the disappointments of the one which had passed.

Already had they traversed great part of Gloucestershire, when in crossing from Painswick to Cheltenham, an equipage passed them, the unusual elegance of which attracted the Captain's attention. A lady, whose personal beauty, though on the wane, could be equalled by few, was in the principal carriage; and was so intently engaged in perusing a letter, that the party passed unheeded. The Captain was beginning to express his admiration, when he was alarmed by Sir Henry's falling from his horse, in a state of insensibility; from which their efforts to recover him proved ineffectual. A servant was, therefore, dispatched for assistance, and soon returned with a surgeon, to whose house Sir Henry was conveyed.

The Captain's concern at this accident was considerably increased, when he understood it might be attended with fatal consequences; and, not being willing to intrust the life of Sir Henry entirely to the skill of the surgeon, he sent to Gloucester for a physician, who, on visiting the patient, declared there was no immediate danger: the illness of Sir Henry proceeded from distress of mind; a confidential friend, he affirmed, was the most essential requisite toward his recovery; to which his native air might in some degree likewise conduce. To the surprise of the Captain, and regret of the surgeon, Sir Henry instantly coincided with the latter part of his advice, and as Ellenor, notwithstanding Jarvis's supposition, might have retired to Caermarthen, the Captain readily agreed to his proposal of proceeding to that county; and in spite of Sir Henry's feeble state, which would scarcely admit of his travelling, they, the next day, pursued their way toward Wales.