Early in the morning, the Captain rose, and having dispatched his servant to Monmouth for a licence, left the house for the purpose of enjoying a ramble, till the appearance of his Ellenor; but had not proceeded many paces, when he perceived his son, Sir Henry, and Frederick. He immediately joined them, and, under the guidance of Edward, traced the tangled wilds, which had afforded an asylum to his Ellenor.

"It is now more than eighteen months," said young Howard, "since the appearance of Mr. Talton drove us from the house of Lieutenant Booyers, whither we had retired on the report of Sir Henry's death. Not knowing which way to direct our steps, and uncertain whether, in flying from one evil, we were not hurrying into a greater, we pursued an indirect road to Monmouth; where, leaving my mother and Mrs. Blond, I set out with our faithful Thomas, in search of an obscure village, or cot, that might afford us the shelter we required.

"Fortune conducted me to this spot, which was then in the wildest state of ruin. The beauties which surrounded it, and its retired situation, immediately pointed it out as a place designed by Heaven to afford the asylum we wanted. The owner, for a trifling consideration, agreed to my becoming his tenant, and here we removed the whole of our property, not amounting to a hundred pounds.—Industry, however, found out many means of procuring a livelihood: needle-work, embroidery, painting, every accomplishment was turned to account, and, with superintending our household affairs, employed the time of my mother and her friends.

"Thomas, before he entered the service of Sir Horace Corbet, had been engaged in the farming business; and under his direction, your Edward, my dear Sir, set his hand to the plough and spade; nor was our friendly Booyers idle; though deprived of an arm, he assisted in sowing, pruning, &c. and under his care, the garden soon assumed a pleasing and flourishing appearance.—On our first coming, we engaged an useful active man, who lived in the only cottage near our residence; and who, from his knowledge of the land, directed, as well as executed, our first plans of husbandry: his wife likewise superintends our dairy, who, with Susan, comprise the female attendants of our family. This man, we sent, as being unknown, to dispose of the furniture left in the residence we had so abruptly deserted: and he executed his commission with the greatest exactness; leaving the village, as we had directed, by a different route from the one he was really to pursue; by which means, we hoped to avoid being traced. Our house was soon repaired: and our harvest, though late, richly repaid our labour. Plenty, indeed, has here deigned to dwell; and, could we have forgotten the past, we might have been happy; but remembrance still recalled the friends we had lost, and, by a retrospect of the injuries we had suffered, cast a shade on the passing moment."

"But what, my son," said the Captain, "are the injuries to which you allude?"

The appearance of Mr. Talton and Lieutenant Booyers, prevented Edward from replying; and, on being joined by those gentlemen, the conversation was renewed on general subjects, till they arrived at the spot where the Captain had the preceding evening met with his son; when Mr. Talton said,—"I yesterday, Howard, should have treated the idea with the greatest ridicule, that the accidents we met with, could be the means of conducting us to Mrs. Crawton, or that by losing our way, you should meet with a son, you have so many years vainly sought.—But under your present embarrassments," he continued, addressing Edward, "do you think, young gentleman, you acted prudently in inviting two strangers to your house? Had Talton been the man you suspected, it might have been attended with unpleasant circumstances. But it was benevolence which impelled you, and it has been rewarded!"

"Or rather, Sir," said Edward smiling, "it was nature; which, the moment my father spoke, attached me to him, and destroyed the caution, which the situation of our affairs certainly required."

"Providence," said Frederick, "equally guided us all. By deviating from our road yesterday, we saved the life of a man and his son; who, in crossing a foot-bridge, by the heedlessness of the boy, fell into the current beneath. We likewise had the satisfaction of relieving a family, reduced to the lowest state of poverty and distress. These circumstances detained us a considerable time; and afforded such ample scope for conversation, that all remembrance of you and Mr. Talton was lost; and it was not till the close of day, you recurred to our recollection. Willing then to rectify the error we had committed, we took the nearest direction toward Brecon; but had not proceeded far, before Sir Henry's horse sunk into a morass; and in endeavouring to assist him, my own met with the same fate. This completed our distress; and by the time we had succeeded in extricating the unlucky animals, darkness had nearly enveloped the heavens. We would then have retraced our path, but could not discover it; and fearful of wandering from the spot where we were, we hallooed for assistance, but without effect; and I began to have very disagreeable ideas, when we were relieved by Argus, who sprung to Sir Henry, with the familiarity of an old acquaintance, enticing us to follow him; nor did we deliberate long, but, tying a handkerchief to his collar, submitted ourselves to his guidance. He soon conducted us to a firm road, and we were directing our steps toward the light, which beamed from the windows of our friends, when you, my dear uncle, so happily joined us."

They were here interrupted by the arrival of a servant, with a summons to breakfast, and, on entering the parlour, they had the satisfaction of seeing Mrs. Blond, assembled with the rest of the family. Sir Henry instantly flew to her, and affectionately welcomed her return to their society.

"The happiness of my friend Ellenor, and the discovery of your existence," said Mrs. Blond, faintly smiling, "have been my restoratives; to see the child of my beloved Corbet; to know that the means of obtaining him justice, are in our possession—O, Harry, I cannot speak my joy!"

They proceeded to breakfast, and the Captain, at Ellenor's request, related the occurrences of his life, since their separation, and the little train of accidents which had conducted him to her. "And now, my Ellenor," he continued, "will you gratify my impatience, and explain a mystery, which for years has perplexed and rendered me unhappy?"

"As I live, there are Harland and Louise!" interrupted Sir Henry, as a carriage drove to the gate; and, hastening out of the room, he immediately introduced his sister and the Lieutenant. An exclamation of surprise escaped Mr. Talton, as Sir Henry presented her to him, but passed unheeded, as the Captain asked Harland, by what accident he had discovered where they were?

"By unexpectedly meeting your servant, Captain," answered Harland.—"We have for some weeks been engaged in a ramble through the adjacent parts, and were this morning going to Brecon, when we met James. He instantly informed us where you were, and of some farther particulars, which induced us to use the privilege of relationship, and join Sir Henry.

"Welcome, indeed," said Ellenor, "shall the relations of my Henry ever be. The countenance of Louise is a passport to the heart; nor is there one here, who could refuse her a claim to their friendship."

Louise looked wistfully at Ellenor; the strong resemblance between her and Sir Henry, the cordiality of her salutation, gave rise to the idea, that it might perhaps be the mother she so ardently wished to know, who embraced her. The name of mother faintly escaped her lips, as her inquiring eye glanced to Sir Henry, for a confirmation of her suspicion.

"No, my sweet girl," replied Sir Henry, "this Lady is not your mother; would to Heaven thine were equally amiable! This morning, Louise, is dedicated to the explanation of my life and conduct; and fortunately are you arrived to learn the particulars of your birth without necessitating me to repeat a tale, which will distress you equally to hear, as me to relate."

"I was early taught resignation to the will of Heaven, my brother," replied Louise; "nor will I shrink from the recital; though happy should I have deemed myself, if I had here found a mother!"

"In affection you shall, sweet girl," said Ellenor; "Louise is not answerable for the vices of her parents!"

The Captain here introduced his Ellenor and son, more particularly to Harland and Louise; who congratulated them on their restoration to each other; and after they had partaken of refreshments, the Captain reminded Sir Henry of the expected relation.

"Yet, before I commence my narrative," said Sir Henry, "let me explain the meaning of a sentence, you say has occasioned you so much anxiety—the secret to which your Ellenor in her letter alluded.

"In Ellenor Worton, then, give me leave to introduce the daughter of Sir Horace Corbet—the sister of my father! Worton was the name she received from her god-mother, and which she wholly assumed, when the harshness of Sir Horace drove her from her paternal roof; and when she discovered, that her Howard had been previously married, she regarded it as a punishment for her breach of filial obedience. Suspend your surprise a moment.—In Mrs. Blond, behold the youngest daughter of Sir James Elvyn:—another victim of my grandfather's cruelty and injustice!"

"Good God!" cried Mr. Talton: "And does your mother, Sir Henry, know of these circumstances?"

"She does, Mr. Talton," answered Sir Henry, with a sigh. The Captain's looks likewise testified his surprise.—"But wherefore, my Ellenor," he said, "the necessity of concealing your name from my knowledge?"

"With the character of my father, Howard," answered Ellenor, "you have already been made acquainted. Proud, vindictive, and avaricious, every consideration yielded to the gratification of those passions. On account of her fortune, he married my mother, to whom he proved literally a tyrant: nor did his children experience greater affection or indulgence. When I was seventeen, old Lord Aberford, who had accidentally seen me, declared himself my admirer; and as his offers were highly gratifying to my father, he little regarded sacrificing my happiness. In vain were my tears, my mother's intreaties, or the supplications of my brother: fury took possession of his bosom, at our daring to dispute his will; and in the first paroxysm of rage, he sent my mother to a ruinous seat he possessed in Cornwall, ordered my brother back to college, and confined me to my chamber; which he vowed I should never leave, till he resigned me to the arms of Lord Aberford. The being separated from my mother, was the severest punishment he could inflict, as her tenderness ever compensated for the harshness of his behaviour.

"His increasing severity, every time he visited my apartment, had nearly reduced me to compliance, when Thomas returned from Cornwall, and secretly delivered me a letter from my mother. She advised me, if my father still persisted in forcing me into an union with Lord Aberford, to leave the Hall, and seek an asylum at Mrs. Radnor's, the bosom friend of her early days. The means of escape were easily effected by Thomas, who at night placed a ladder at my window, and conducted me in safety to the park-gate, whence Owen, the gamekeeper, who was waiting with horses, escorted me to Radnor Moor.—Mrs. Radnor received me with open arms, and, fully aware of the violent temper of my father, advised my taking the name of Worton; and, to screen me more effectually from his knowledge, a few days after left the Moor for Brighthelmstone.

"I there, Howard, became acquainted with you. The sentiments we entertained for each other, were reciprocal; and freely should I have communicated the secret of my family, but Mrs. Radnor strenuously opposed it. Her detestation of my father, daily increased, and as he had declared that he no longer regarded me as his daughter, I should not, she said, with her approbation, ever acknowledge him as a father. The favourable opinion she entertained of you, encouraged the passion I had imbibed, and, regarding her councils as those of a parent, I early avowed my affection and consented to plight my faith to you for ever.

"At this time, my brother privately visited us. My father, he said, continued inveterate against me, and having discovered that my mother had been the instigator of my elopement, he still confined her at his estate in Cornwall, though he occasionally allowed my brother the liberty of seeing her. Henry brought me a letter, the last I ever received from my beloved mother. It was dictated by maternal tenderness. The happiness of her children, she said, constituted hers: Henry's, she thought, would be established in his expected union with Miss Elvyn; and mine, she hoped, would be equally secured, in the choice I had made. She added a blessing on our nuptials; and the morning after Henry left us, to join his friend Booyers, previously to his intended marriage, I gave my hand to you at the altar.

"Happy, indeed, were the days which succeeded our union, till the illness of Mrs. Radnor; which was occasioned by the sudden disclosure of my mother's death: her own followed in a few days, and I had to mourn the loss of both, and the knowledge I then first received of a brother's unhappiness.

"Gladly would I have flown to the bosom of my Edward, for consolation; but Mrs. Radnor had extorted a promise from me, not to undeceive you.—'If Crawton, my child,' she said, 'should find that you have acted disingenuously by him, it may implant suspicion in his mind, and destroy the tenderness you at present experience. Rest satisfied, then, my love, with the happiness you enjoy, nor hazard its destruction by that which cannot possibly increase it. If I advise wrong, may Heaven forgive me; but I speak from the best of motives.'

"Ah! she knew not the heart of Howard, or the precaution had been needless. What passed from that time, Edward, till the discovery of your prior marriage, I need not repeat: and what I experienced at that moment, is beyond my power to describe! An idea of self-destruction took possession of my mind, till the remembrance of my infant checked my despair; when, finding Susan willing to follow my fortune, I determined on flight. Your absence favoured my design; and leaving a few lines for you, with Mary, I proceeded to London.

"I was there delivered of my Edward, and as soon as I was enabled to bear the fatigue of travelling, proceeded to Caermarthen; where I sent a peasant to the Hall, and a few hours after had the satisfaction of beholding my brother.

"But ah, what an alteration had two years made in the once blooming, and ever interesting Corbet! All indeed was changed, but the heart of Henry!

"He wept over the sorrows of his Ellenor, promised to prove a father to my babe, and a protector to me: but, starting from his seat, he exclaimed, 'O God! vain is the promise!—Your father, Ellenor, has deprived me of the power. To revenge your refusal of Lord Aberford, he has cut you off from every part of his fortune; and prohibited my affording you the least pecuniary assistance, under forfeiture of every part of my property, but that entailed from my ancestors. Yet, think not, Ellenor, I can desert you: no, though I cannot publicly support you as my sister, I still will prove myself a brother!'

"Till that moment I knew not the death of my father: tears relieved my oppressed heart, and Henry, again embracing me, continued—'Grieve not, my sister; your father, in his last moments, wished he had been less severe; blessed his Ellenor, and prayed she might find a better friend than he had proved. He would have altered his will, but death prevented him: and your brother must ever be subjected to the control of—.'

"He paused—Alas! my brother, I knew not then the full extent of your misery!

"He that evening conducted me to the house of Mr. Blond, where for seventeen years I lived secluded from the world. The occurrences which then drove me from Caermarthen, will be fully recounted in the narrative of our Henry."

"Thanks, my dear Ellenor," said the Captain, "for your part of these explanations. It indeed shows me, by what trifles the happiness or misery of life may be occasioned. For a farther and final explanation, Sir Henry, we must now refer to you."

"The task," said Sir Henry, "is indeed a painful one: as it must discover the vices of a parent—nature still forces me to love!" He paused a moment, when, perceiving all were attentive, he began his relation, in the following words.

END OF VOLUME II.