Mystery and Confidence Volume Ii Part 6

"Come, don't hurry her spirits with your raptures," said Lady Juliana.

"She is a good girl, and we shall be very happy together, I dare say.

But I find, Sir, you have been waiting for me, of all people, to chaperon your Lady about to all the fine places: I have had enough of them, and at my time of life I do not know any business I have at operas, b.a.l.l.s, and plays: however, to oblige you and _my niece_, I will go wherever you wish me. I do not think she is one who will tire me to death: I shall dine with you to-day, and if you choose to let one of your people go to Drury-lane, and inquire if there are places, we may hear the oratorio to-night."

Charmed with this speech, for St. Aubyn knew his aunt well enough to be sure if she had not been thoroughly pleased with Ellen, she would neither have called her niece, nor have staid to dine with them, he most readily accepted the kind offer.

They dined rather earlier than usual, that they might be in time for the opening of the oratorio, which Ellen was anxious to hear. Laura Cecil, in compliment to Lady Juliana, dined with them, and was quite delighted to see the affection, and even respect, with which she treated Lady St.

Aubyn: for Lady Juliana was not a person to do things by halves; and having once conquered her own prejudices, was determined to give her niece all the consequence in her power with every other person, and would have been extremely angry with any one, who had dared to treat her with half the contempt she herself had done the day before. Once a friend, she was a friend for life, unless the object of her affections proved really undeserving, and then she hated with as much warmth as she had loved.

Miss Cecil could not be persuaded to go with them to the theatre; and indeed Ellen was afterwards glad of it, for many of the songs were those which the sainted Juliet used to sing with so much sweetness and expression: and exquisitely as they were now performed, yet Ellen still felt something wanting. The soul that used to animate the eyes of Juliet, while she sung, was not there. The lips that had breathed those sacred strains, were so pure, so hallowed, that all the wonders of voice and science, now lavished for her entertainment, could not compensate to Ellen's mind for the pang she felt in recollecting that those eyes, those lips, were closed for ever.

"Mute was the music of her tuneful breath, And quenched the radiance of her sparkling eyes."

After this evening, Ellen's engagements became more frequent; but she was never seen in public, except with Lady Juliana, and seldom without her Lord. In vain did fas.h.i.+on dictate, or ridicule a.s.sail: the sly glance, the pointed sarcasm, alike were vain: she knew herself safe, her reputation secure, with protectors so respectable; yet there was nothing obtrusive or formal in St. Aubyn's attention to his lovely wife: he was neither inseparable from her side, or incapable of attention to any other lady, or expecting Ellen never to speak to any other gentleman.

But it was obvious, without being intrusive, that each was the first object of the other, and that their mutual honour and happiness were the most interesting care of both.

Hence no bold and disgusting flattery a.s.sailed the ears of Ellen; no forward flirting woman dared dispute with her the heart of St. Aubyn; so pure, so spotless was her character, that, raised as she had suddenly been to a rank which might easily excite the envy of those who thought they had a better claim to it, not even the bold license of the age we live in had dared to breathe one syllable against her.

Thus pa.s.sed the time till the latter end of April, which was the period fixed for Lady Meredith's famous fete, about which all the great world was going mad. The persons who were invited were expected to wear masquerade dresses, and the house appeared in masquerade, as well as the company. The whole had been new furnished in a fanciful style, and at an enormous expence, for this one evening; and her Ladys.h.i.+p's own dress was literally covered with jewels: she wore the habits and ornaments of an eastern beauty, and her attire was exactly copied from that Lady M. W. Montague describes for the fair Fatima, only, if possible, still more rich and splendid; and, if possible, still more calculated to display as well as to adorn the figure. No words can do justice to the magnificence and splendour of the whole entertainment: the Bow-street officers at the door, and Mr. G---- and his men serving ices and other refreshments in a room fitted up to represent a casino at Naples, with a panorama view of its beautiful bay, &c. gave it all the characteristics of a modern fete; and the number of gay dresses, s.h.i.+ning decorations, lights, and music, made the whole appear to Ellen more like a palace in a fairy tale than any thing "which the earth owns." She wore a black domino, but with a very fine set of diamonds, which Lady Juliana had given her the night before: amongst them was a sort of coronet, or chaplet, set to represent sprigs of jessamine and small vine leaves, in commemoration of that which St. Aubyn had woven of those simple materials the day he discovered to her his real rank; for Lady Juliana had heard the whole story, and was much pleased with that little incident.

Their party consisted of Lord and Lady St. Aubyn, Lady Juliana, and Sir Edward Leicester, a particular friend of St. Aubyn's, a very amiable young man, who appeared much charmed with Laura Cecil, and paid her great attention, whenever he had an opportunity of being with her. They spent a very agreeable evening: it concluded with a splendid supper, at which all the company appeared unmasked, and the super-eminence of Lady St. Aubyn's beauty was allowed by all.

A few nights after this, Lord and Lady St. Aubyn, Lady Juliana, Lady Meredith, and her favourite beau, Colonel Lenox, went to the Opera: the entertainment for the evening happened to be the beautiful opera of Artaserse. Ellen, lost in delight at the superb stage decorations, the exquisite beauty of the music, and the interest of the story, which, by the help of the action, and having read it in English, she understood very well, was scarcely sensible of any thing around her, till the scene in which Arbace is accused of the murder of the king. Turning then to speak to St. Aubyn, who sat behind her, she saw him pale, agitated, and trembling: "What is the matter?" asked she, in a voice of alarm; but pressing his hand on her arm, he said, in a low voice, "Be silent--do not notice me."

At that moment the voice of the singer, who performed Arbace, in the most pathetic tone, breathed out, "Sono Innocente," to which Artaserse replies:

Ma l'apparenza O Arbace T'accusa ti condanna!

A stifled sigh, almost amounting to a groan, from St. Aubyn, met the ear of Ellen. Recovering himself a little, he whispered--"Remember, Ellen, _and I too am innocent_!"

In spite of the precaution with which he spoke, Lady Meredith turned, and asked him if he were unwell.

"I have a violent head-ache," he replied, forcing himself to appear more composed.

"You look pale, indeed, my Lord," returned Lady Meredith: "and Lady St.

Aubyn seems quite overcome with this pathetic scene."

She spoke of the opera, but a crimson flush spread over St. Aubyn's face, and complaining of the intolerable heat, he rose, and went out of the box.

"Bless me!" said Lady Juliana: "what is the matter?"

"Only Lord St. Aubyn complains of the head-ache," said Lady Meredith.

"Oh, I know what it is," answered Lady Juliana: "my nephew hates to be disturbed when he is attending to music; and I suppose you, Lady Meredith, have been talking to him, as you always do at the Opera."

Lady Meredith only laughed; and St. Aubyn returning soon after, nothing more pa.s.sed. When the opera was over, and St. Aubyn and Ellen were alone in the carriage, he still appeared so restless and agitated, that Ellen could not resist addressing to him a few words, indicative of curiosity, if not of alarm. For a time he evaded her tender inquiries; but, at length, grasping her hands with an action expressive of the utmost emotion, he again repeated his former words: "Remember, Ellen, oh, remember that I too am innocent!"

"I know it, I am sure of it," she returned: "but why thus confide by halves? Why torture yourself and me by these mysterious hints?"

"Ah, why indeed!" said he: "I ought to have more command of myself: but that scene--that fatal instrument of a horrid deed!--Appearances how false, yet how convincing!"

"To me," she replied, "appearances are not and never shall be any thing, when opposed to your single a.s.sertion, to my confidence in your integrity."

"A thousand thousand thanks," he replied, "for the sweet a.s.surance!

Soon, too soon, perhaps, you will be tried!"

"Demanding so much reliance, so much implicit _confidence_ from his wife, under such _mysterious_ conduct, was St. Aubyn willing, if called upon, to grant an equal share to her?"

CHAP. VII.

Think'st thou I'll make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon With fresh surmises?--No; to be once in doubt Is to be resolv'd---- I'll see before I doubt; what I doubt prove.

OTh.e.l.lO.

After the scene at the Opera, which effectually destroyed her pleasure there, Lady St. Aubyn felt for some days not at all disposed to enter into the gay parties which were offered for her amus.e.m.e.nt: a gloom hung over her, and she had a weight on her spirits, which in some degree affected her health. Some one says, "A belief in _presentiment_ is the favourite superst.i.tion of feeling minds;" and Ellen was certainly not entirely free from it. Lady Juliana and Miss Cecil perceived the effect without knowing the cause; and supposing it to be merely a temporary indisposition, persuaded her to remain quietly at home for a day or two; but finding the nervous sort of depression under which she laboured was encreased by indulgence, they imagined a moderate share of amus.e.m.e.nt might remove it; and prevailed on her to take places at Covent-Garden, to see Mrs. Jordan in a favourite comedy.

Laura did not yet shew herself in public; Ellen therefore went to the play with only St. Aubyn and Lady Juliana. They were joined there by two or three gentlemen, and amongst them Sir Edward Leicester, who, between the acts, made so many inquiries for Miss Cecil, and spoke so highly of Lady St. Aubyn's "charming friend," as convinced her he took a deep interest in all that concerned Laura. This gave real pleasure to Ellen, who thought so well of Sir Edward, as to wish he might succeed in rendering the prepossession mutual. They were all extremely well pleased with the play. Who, indeed, that ever saw Mrs. Jordan act was otherwise? And Lady Juliana was rejoiced to see Ellen quite as cheerful as usual. They did not choose to stay the farce, and finding at the end of the play the carriage was in waiting, left the box. Lady Juliana being rather timid, and not very alert in getting into a carriage, St.

Aubyn gave her his arm, and requested Sir Edward would take care of Lady St. Aubyn.

As they were crossing the lobby, a gentleman accidentally trod on Ellen's train, and entangled it in his spur, by which she was detained half a minute before it could be disengaged. He begged her pardon, and pa.s.sed on. St. Aubyn and his aunt not perceiving the circ.u.mstance, had advanced some steps before the Countess and Sir Edward. At that moment two or three young men pushed rather rudely by them; and Sir Edward extending his hand, said, "Take care, gentlemen, you incommode the lady."

One of them turned round, and looking in Ellen's face, exclaimed:

"By heaven 'tis she! 'tis Ellen Powis!"

Lady St. Aubyn starting at the name, cast her eyes upon him, and instantly recognized Charles Ross: but before she could speak to him, as she was preparing to do in a friendly manner, he stamped violently, and with a countenance where the utmost rage was expressed, and a dreadful oath, exclaimed:

"Is this the villain that has undone thee?--But where, then, is that accursed Mordaunt? Ah, Ellen! abandoned, miserable girl, art thou, then, so lost already?"

Pale, gasping for breath at this shocking language, Ellen clung more closely to the arm of Sir Edward, and faintly articulated, "For G.o.d's sake let me pa.s.s!"

"What do you mean, Sir?" said Sir Edward, fiercely: "Are you intoxicated, or mad? How dare you insult this lady!"

"And how dare you, Sir," answered Charles, approaching in a menacing att.i.tude, "after seducing her from her friends, and from those who loved her, to look me in the face?"

"Madman!" replied Sir Edward, pus.h.i.+ng him aside with one hand, while with the other he supported the now almost fainting Ellen. "Gentlemen, I request you will secure him till I place this lady in her carriage, and then I am ready to give him any explanation he may wish for."

Some of the gentlemen, who by this time surrounded them, knowing Charles, said to him: "Come away, Ross; you are very wrong: at any rate, this quarrel shall go no farther."

At this moment St. Aubyn, having placed his aunt in the carriage, wondering at Ellen's delay, returned to seek her; and astonished at what he beheld, exclaimed:

"For heaven's sake, what is the matter? My love, what makes you look so pale? Has any one dared to insult you?"

"Oh! you are there, Sir, are you," said Charles: "I know you: I saw you once, and then foretold what has happened: you are the man who must give me satisfaction."