Ex Lib vis 
 
 c. 
 
 — ^ 
 
 k. 
 
 O G D 1 N
 
 1
 
 ROSA CLAEENDALE.
 
 s;^B£t. 2'
 
 '"M^]i
 
 ROSA CLARENDALE, 
 
 AND HER 
 
 UNEXPECTED MAEEIAGE 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 OBJECT OF HER DEVOTED AFFECTION, 
 
 OR, 
 
 LOVELINESS AND VIRTUE REWARDED, 
 PPJDE AND MALIGNITY DEFEATED. 
 
 "Hope deferred maketh the heart sicTc, hut when it 
 is accuiiipiished is a Tree of Life." 
 
 .o>c5>. 
 
 WAKEFIELD : 
 
 WILLIAM NICHOLSON AND SONS. 
 
 London : S. D. Ewins Jr. & Co., 22, patekmostbr row.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IN calling the attention of our readers to the follow- 
 ing remarkable and interesting tale, they will find 
 that every chapter becomes more ^nd more captiva- 
 ting, and is calculated to rivet their minds to a 
 thorough perusal of the narration, and will no doubt 
 leave an interesting remembrance of the various 
 scenes and changes to which some are subject in this 
 life. 
 
 The conduct of the pure and noble-minded Tre- 
 lawney, and his singular discovery at the time of the 
 marriage ceremony; the strange interruption, that 
 the Lady Alexina was not the daughter, but only the 
 niece of Lord Fitzosbourne, (whom he was enjoined to 
 marry according to the will of his Father,) the break- 
 ing up of the ceremony, and his subsequent marriage 
 with the object of his first love, the lovely, beauti- 
 ful, and amiable Rosa Clarendale, call for special 
 mark, and make up one of the most charming and 
 fascinating tales ever written. 
 
 This edition has been thoroughly revised and made 
 copyright. 
 
 THE PUBLISHERS. 

 
 ROSA CLARENDALE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE WHITE COTTAGE. 
 
 IN that part of England, where the gentle Avon 
 meanders through the fertile plains of Warwick- 
 shire, and not far distant from the spot which gave 
 birth to Shakspere, the great poet of nature, stood 
 the White Cottage, — a structure which was venera- 
 ble from its antiquity, and attractive, from its neat- 
 ness and simplicity. It was situated at the declivity 
 of a hill, modestly rising above a clump of trees, by 
 which it was surrounded. From time immemorial it 
 had been the residence of the village clergyman; and 
 was lately occupied by the Rev. Mr. Clarendale, who 
 for twenty years had performed the duties of his sacred 
 calling with fidelity and zeal, enforcing the precepts 
 he taught, by a spotless example. To all his parish- 
 ioners he was well known ; and by all of them much 
 beloved. The cottages of the indigent, — the bed- 
 sides of the sick and dying, were his constant resorts. 
 To the former, when he could not aid their wants by 
 pecuniary gifts, he aiForded encouragement, by di- 
 recting their minds to a gracious and superintending 
 Providence ; and to the latter, he administered those 
 consoling truths, which soften the bed of death, and 
 point to a blissful immortalirj'. 
 
 In early life, the bright prospects of fortune opened 
 to his view. The only child of an aflfcctiouate father, 
 whose affluence was great, and who was extensively 
 embarked in mercantile concerns, he was the heir of 
 a large property. But the uncertainty of sublunary
 
 8 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAOE. 
 
 fliinfrs W(i8 fatally exemplified in the person and 
 affairs of the father of Mr. C'larendale. Heavy and 
 Buccessive losses at sea, with other miscarriages in 
 his concerns, produced embarrassments, which his 
 utmost eflorts could not etiectually counteract ; and 
 thus he was ultimately precipitated from the hijj^h 
 pinnacle of fortune, to ruin, and penury. These re- 
 verses operated so powerfully on his mind that he 
 fell a prey to melancholy, and quitted the world, just 
 before his son had attained his seventeenth year. 
 
 Thus wist on the staj^e of life, his hopes of compe- 
 tency blasted, young Clarendale was a helpless fusri- 
 tive, and di'f(nt>eles3 orphan, for in his early youth 
 he had be«n deprived, by death, of the fostering care 
 of an affectionate mother. Yet, amidst these dis- 
 couraging circumstances, the hand of Providence 
 was gently clearing his way. A few respectable 
 friends of his late father took him under their pro- 
 tection ; and with the view of qualifying him for the 
 church, sent him to the University. 
 
 Mr. Clarendale could not but feci the severity of 
 the shock which this sudden transition in his fortune 
 had occasioned; but, calling into action the excel- 
 lent principles he had imbibed in his youth, and the 
 aids of christian philosophy, he retired with dignity, 
 and without a murmur, to comparative obscurity. 
 This temper of mind he cultivated tiuring his resi- 
 dence in the University ; and, combining profound 
 learning with piety, he became eminently qualified 
 for those ministerial labours which were so beneficial 
 to his parishioners. 
 
 Having entered into holy orders, and a vacancy 
 occurring for a clergyman in this parish, he was, 
 through the interest of those friends who had pro- 
 cured his education, appointed to the living, with but 
 a moderate income, and of which the White Cottage 
 was the parsonage-house. Soon after entering upon 
 hih charge, Mr. Clarendale Consummated, by mar-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 9 
 
 riage, an attachment founded on the purest princi- 
 ples: an union, which, though it added but little to 
 his worldly interest, has rendered him one of the hap- 
 piest men in the neighbourhood. If fortune had de- 
 nied to him her golden stores, nature had furnished 
 him with a lovely and virtuous wife, and enriched 
 him with three promising children, a son and two 
 daughters; they had a resemblance to each other; 
 the only difference was, that Rebecca, the elder, had 
 blue eyes, and Rosa, the younger, dark hazel ; but 
 purity and simplicity reigned in each, and the silver- 
 toned voice of both sisters breathed in one ; when 
 Rebecca was absent, she was present in Rosa ; and 
 when Rebecca was only by, Rosa could not be for- 
 gotten. A striking resemblance of each, was also 
 visible in the fine countenance of their brother, 
 Henry, who when he was eighteen, might have 
 rivalled the sculptor's art to have drawn a more per- 
 fect model of manly beauty. 
 
 But exterior beauty and elegancies of person, are 
 not the objects by which the character is to be esti- 
 mated. No. These are no more than what the cas- 
 ket is which contains the precious jewel. It is the 
 disposition of the heart that forms the criterion by 
 which to judge of the man or of the woman. No 
 ene could be more sensible of this estimate than the 
 worthy pastor at the White Cottage ; and none eould 
 take more pains than he did to impress upon the 
 minds of his children, the value and excellency of in- 
 tellectual requirements and moral virtues. Nor had 
 lie laboured in vain. At the age already stated, 
 Henry Clarendale exhibited talents of the most pro- 
 mising order ; gave evidences of a mind influenced 
 by the noblest sentiments ; and a heart susceptible 
 of the most generous and amiable feelings; — while 
 his sisters excelled in all the softer virtues of the sex, 
 and shone in all the brilliancy of native simplicity. 
 
 While thus the White Cottage contained such
 
 10 THE MYKTERT0U8 MARRIAOE. 
 
 aniiftbloncss and excellence, it is not unnatural to 
 conclude, that nil care and anxiety, all painful solici- 
 tude, were banished from the favoured roof. But 
 even the brow of the reverend mossengfer of peace, 
 notwithstandinf? the severity of that discipline which 
 he had lonp; inflicted upon himself, wuuld now and 
 then be clouded with care, when ho looked at his 
 rising family, and considered his scanty means to 
 provide for their future interest. Not that he suflFer- 
 ed himself to sink into a state of melancholy furbo- 
 dings. No; he had a settled conviction of the just- 
 ness and goodness of Providence ; and whenever a 
 fretful thought came, he soon dismissed it, and re- 
 proved his heart for listening to any suggestion dis- 
 nonourable to the government of his Creator. 
 ♦' Why," he would say to himself, " why should I re- 
 pine at the dispensations of heaven, when I have 
 Deen the subject of such numerous and stupendous 
 mercies 'i Early in life I was forsaken of all earthly 
 protectors ; but even then the kindness of heaven 
 interposed, and provided an asylum for the child of 
 misfortune. Though fortune has been niggardly in 
 her gifts, yet is not this deficiency abundantly com- 
 pensattKi by the endearments of an affectionate wife, 
 and the sweet solace of my amiable children, whose 
 virtuous youth is unsullied by crime, and in whose 
 countenances is the ruddy glow of health r* There- 
 fore, b't gniteful adoratiun be ofiered to the Dispenser 
 of all mcrcioa, rather than repine at my lot." 
 
 Mrs. Clanndale was not free from tho.se solici- 
 tudes which maternal fondness feels on the view of 
 n dipt-ndant prog.-ny, who luuk up to paternal aflfec- 
 tion for help and succour. Yet the inhabitants of 
 the White Cottage were, on the whole, a contented 
 and happy family. It is not abundance that minis- 
 ters to real enjoyment; but he who is content and 
 gritrful for what he has, bo it little or much, can 
 liuvtr be an unhappy liian.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. II 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AN ACCIDENT, WHICH LEADS TO AN IMPORTANT 
 DISCLOSURE. 
 
 Ok the evening: of a fine summer's day, just be- 
 fore the sun sunk behind the western hills, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Clarendale were seated in an alcove, in front of 
 the White Cottage, enjoying the delicious breezes, 
 and the delights of connubial intercourse. As was 
 frequently the case, their children's welfare formed 
 the subject of their conversation. 
 
 *' Our dear children, Clarendale," said the enrap- 
 tured mother, "our dear children" "Are the 
 
 only treasures that we have," rejoined her husband : 
 *' And without them," added she, " what would trea- 
 sures avail ;■" a tear resting, like the dew on opening 
 roses, on the blue eyes of Mrs. Clarendale, which 
 penetrated the heart of the pastor. " My Fanny," 
 exclaimed he, "I am not addicted to compliment; 
 but I never think you so lovely, as when you are 
 speaking of our dear children. I should feel very 
 unwilling to excite in you fallacious hopes, in regard 
 to our fortune and future prospects, the disappoint- 
 ment of which would only tend to inflict a new 
 wound ; but I cannot conceal fi-om you, that of late 
 my mind has been strongly impressed with a per- 
 suasion, that kind Providence has some peculiar 
 good in store for us to enable us to realize our utmost 
 wishes in reference to our offspring. " 
 
 Here the interesting conversation was interrupted 
 by the arrival of their youngest daughter, Rosa, just 
 returned from an evening walk. " O papa," ex- 
 claimed the dear girl, almost out of breath, " have 
 you heard of the serious accident that has occurred 
 this evening, in the village 'r" " What accident, my 
 dear?" "Whj'," returned Rosa, "a post-chaise,
 
 12 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 di:»wii by four horses, nnd coutaininf^ a young pen- 
 th'inan, a stranger in this country, and his black 
 Bcrvant, has been overturned just oppo.site Mr. Wig- 
 pins's, the sign of the Turnpike-house, and it is said 
 that they are very much injured." "And what has 
 become of the gentleman and his servant 'f " They 
 were shown to Mr. Wiggins's ; and they must stop 
 there until their vehicle is repaired, which, I am, told, 
 cannot be done before to-morrow ; or until tbey are 
 sufUciently recovered." " Did you say, tHe gentle- 
 man was a stranger in these parts ?" " Yes, Sir, so 
 1 was informed ; and some person remarked, that he 
 has the appearance of a foreigner." 
 
 This story produced on the heart of Mr. Claren- 
 dale, compa.ssion and sympathy; and he instantly 
 formed the resolution of tendering his services to the 
 sufTeriug stranger. ' Heaven forbid, my dearest 
 Funny,' exclainud he, 'that old English hospitality 
 should be set aside, merely because people are not 
 known to each other. If he be sick, I may be able 
 to minister to his health ; if forlorn, to solace him 
 with the charms of friendly society, which is seldom 
 unwelcome to a person in a strange place. If he can 
 be removed to the White Cottage, he shall be wel- 
 come to its best cheer, and all the attention which 
 his situation recjuires.' 
 
 Mrs. Clarendale having cordially assented, he set 
 off, on his errand of kindnes.s, towards the village 
 alehou.se, but a very short distance, where he learnt 
 from Mrs. Wiggins, the landlady, that the injury 
 sustained by the gintleman, was so slight as to cause 
 liim but trifling inconvenience, and that of Muugo, 
 his black servent, was still less. 
 
 But before Mr. Clarendale's arrival, very serious 
 and boisterous debates had arisen botween Mr. and 
 Mr.-*. Wiggins, on the subject of suitable accomm.i- 
 dations tor their unknown guest. They were alike 
 f md of turning the penny ; and there was another
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 13 
 
 trait in their character, namely, that for the space of 
 thirty years, they had each been contending for the 
 mastery ; and as no decisive victory had been obtain- 
 ed by either party, the contest was renewed on every 
 fresh occasion. "V^'hatever one proposed, the other 
 had always a thousand objections against. This 
 cause, and the contiguity of a good market town, had 
 drawn away genteel travellers from the Turnpike- 
 house, very few being willing to seek refuge under 
 its roof, except in cases of accident, as in the instance 
 befure us. It is true the house could boast its Nos. 
 1, 2, and 3, of lodging-rooms, yet so seldom were 
 they tenanted, that ^Irs. Wiggins had occupied them 
 as store- rooms, for the preservation of her family 
 stock of potatoes, bacon, &c. 
 
 Now after the arrival of the stranger, and the ne- 
 cessity for taking up his residence there, at least for 
 the night, Mr. "Wiggins thus virulently attacked 
 his spouse. — ' There,' said he, * what is to be done 
 now \ You have crammed our bed-rooms with your 
 lumber, stripped the beds of their linen, turned' the 
 furniture topsy-turvey, and made the Tumpike-hou.se 
 into a wilderness. Here is a gentleman with servant 
 and horses, who may be forced to stop here some 
 iays, by whom we might turn a pretty penny, and 
 we haven't a room to put him into that's fit for a 
 travelling tinker.' Mrs. Wiggins resented the accu- 
 sation with fury. She insisted that, as mistress of 
 the house, she had a right to dispose of its concerns 
 as she liked; that she wouldn't give a fig for the 
 custom of gentlefolks, who wanted a great deal of 
 Waiting on, and spent little ; and that as for the man 
 in the parlour, that he called a gentleman, he was no 
 better than the rest, who all pretended to be such. 
 The landlord attempted a justification of his opinion, 
 by reckoning how much profit would be derived from 
 each horse and man per day ; but he had raised such 
 a Sturm in his dear rib, that all his eflurtd at demon-
 
 14 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Ptnitiun, only tended to inflame her temper, and in- 
 crease the volubility of her tongue. '1 know,' said 
 she, 'all that you want suih folks to come to the 
 house for, is, that you may sit idling away your time 
 and sotting with them ; and, to tell you niv mind, it 
 was to prevent such trumpery stopping here, and 
 your guz/.ling with them, that I filled our bcd-rooma 
 with more valuable commodities. I'd have you 
 know that the Turnpike-house is my own ; it was 
 kept by my mother, that's dead and gone, before 
 me ; but, if you must have had your way, you would 
 long ago have thrown the house out of the windows, 
 as the saying is.' 
 
 During this sharp engagement, Mungo, the stran- 
 ger's servant, an African by birth, and who was 
 much attached to his master, sat at the chimney cor- 
 ner of the kitchen, smoking a cigar, and thinking 
 his master dishonourably reflected upon, and Mrs. 
 "Wiggins having exhausted her strength, he seized 
 the first moment of silence, and thus warmly address- 
 ed her : — * You no say truth of my mas.sa — my massa 
 is no trumpery ; — he be gentleman ; — he pay all ; — 
 he give much money; — he good heart; — you bad 
 woman for say bad of my massa.' This eloquent de- 
 fence of his master, and reproof of the infuriated 
 landlady, delighted Mr. Wiggins, who considered it 
 a proof of his statement, and was about to give vent 
 to his triumph, when ho was anticipated by his wife, 
 who, casting a disdainful look upon Mungo, exclaim- 
 ed, 'Why, you outlandish black, how dare you call 
 me names 'r and in the presence of a man that calls 
 himself my husband ; if he had the spirit of a man, 
 he would instantly turn you out of doors ; and if you 
 bIiow any more impertinence, I will do it myself.' 
 'You no turn me out of door.s from my massa,' retor- 
 ted the African, ' me stop where my massa stop ; and 
 if you hurt Mungo, me make you sutfer.' At this 
 miimeut, the enraged hostess, having a bason of boil-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 15 
 
 i)-.g water in her hand, was about to discharge it in 
 Mungo's face, when she suddenly recollected, that 
 Khe had heard or read, that black people conceal 
 poison under their nails, and communicate it to any 
 one whom they supposed had done them an injury ; 
 and she inferred that the concluding sentence in 
 Mungo's rejoinder, contained a threat of retaliating 
 in this way. Never was there a more sudden, or 
 complete change in the colours of the ever-varying 
 cameleon, than was now produced in the temper ot 
 Mrs. Wiggins. The sour, forbidding frown upon 
 her countenance was succeeded by a placid smile; 
 and affecting a laugh, she said to Mungo, with ten- 
 derness and kindness: — 'Well, my worthy friend, I 
 have only been scolding to try your temper; and 
 speaking slightingly of your master, to see whether 
 you would defend him ; and whether you had a real 
 regard for him ; he shall have the best entertainment 
 this house can afford. The two best bed-rooms shall 
 be cleared, one for your master, and the other fca 
 you ; and you shall have no cause to regret that ac- 
 cident had brought you under this hospitable roof; 
 for I loves to be kind to strangers.' Then turning 
 to Mr. Wiggins, with an affability that he had not 
 witnessed for many a long year, ' Come, my dear,' 
 said she, ' sit down, smoke your pipe, and enjoy 
 yourself with our worthy stranger, over a tankard 
 of our two years old best ; I am quite delighted with 
 our company.' 
 
 Every spark of resentment fled from the bosom of 
 the African: he felt himself highly complimented; 
 joy sparkled in his sable countenance, and his ivory 
 teeih were more conspicuous than ever. As for the 
 landlord, it would require the pencil of an H(. garth 
 to do justice to the figure he exhibited. Before his 
 wife had half finished her tender address, his coun- 
 tenance was fixed in astonishment ; and when she 
 had concluded her invitation, he portrayed a man
 
 16 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 just recovering from a trance. Ignorant of the cause 
 of this sudden transformation in his wife, he could 
 not help thinking that some invisible power had 
 wrought a miracle upon her. Her atfectionate con- 
 duet, having continued for half an hour, during 
 whii'h he received many kind glances and words, he 
 began to trust the evidence of his senses, and to be- 
 lieve that his wife was a changed woman. How 
 hing Mrs. Wiggins retained this happy temper of 
 mind, it is not for this history to inquire; but her 
 apprehension at being aflfected with the poison under 
 Mungo's nails procured for the travellers a more cor- 
 dial reception than they otherwise would have re- 
 ceived. 
 
 Mrs. Wiggins was now preparing supper, for 
 Mungo had bespoke for his master a couple of fowla, 
 and just before she was ready to .serve it up, Mr. 
 Clarondale entered the house. Having made the 
 inquiries, and received the information as to the in- 
 juries received by the travellers, he informed Mrs. 
 Wiggins, that, hearing of the accident, and fearing 
 it was very serious, he had come to tender any ser- 
 vice in his power. Mungo, who never lost sight of 
 his master's comforts, rose, and making a low bow, 
 said, you very good. Sir, very good. My massa 
 gentleman; and me know, my massa would glad to 
 set> you, he like good company.' 
 
 The landlady was commissioned to announce to 
 her guest, who was alone in the parlour, his arrival, 
 and the object of his visit ; and did not fail to eulo- 
 gize Mr. C'larcndale, and to infoi-m him that he was 
 the clergyman of the parish. The stranger received 
 the message with great courtesy ; and requested 
 that he might be shown int(f the room. On his en- 
 trance, mutual civilitcs were kindly interchanged. 
 He found in him, though comparatively a youth, the 
 aeconipli.^hed gentleman ; his person handsome and 
 elegant; his mind stored with knowledge; his man-
 
 THE >nrSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. l7 
 
 ners gentle and suasive ; and in his demeanour, com- 
 bining dignity with affability. 
 
 'I come, Sir,' said Mr. Clarendale, *to solicit the 
 pleasure of your company at my cottage, until the 
 damage caused by the accident be repaired : the ac- 
 commodations of a village alehouse are but ill suited 
 to your station ; and the absence of social intercourse 
 will render irksome the tedious hours of delay. I 
 have not a splendid mansion, or the luxuries of fash- 
 ionable life, but with the greatest sincerity, and a 
 warm heart, I offer you my bed, my table, and the 
 best attentions of my family.' 
 
 Just as Mr. Clarendale concluded, Mrs. "Wiggins 
 entered with supper, served up in her best style ; the 
 yc«ung gentleman politely declining to accept Mr. 
 Clarendale' s entreaty, observing that the accommoda- 
 tions of the house were a matter of indifference to him, 
 considering his short stay ; and pressing him to stay 
 supper. ' On one condition,' rejoined Mr. Clarendale, 
 ' I accept the invitation, and that is, that you, and your 
 servant, afterwards accompany me to my house, and 
 remain imtil you proceed on your journey.' The 
 proposal was acceded to, and a messenger despatched 
 to the White Cottage, to prepare Mrs. Clarendale 
 for the reception of her two inmates. 
 
 Mrs. "Wiggins ha\nng heard the engagement be- 
 tween the two gentlemen in the parlour, commu- 
 nicated the information to her husband and Mungo, 
 with much apparent regret ; declaring she was al- 
 most heart-broken at the thought, and especially to 
 lose so good a soul as the worthy servant. This was, 
 however, all pretence; for the supposed poison 
 lodged under Mungo' s nails, had taken such fast 
 possession of her brain, that she could think of no- 
 thing else. The prospect of their leaving the house, 
 therefore, on that night, gave her unmingled plea- 
 sure. Mr. "\i^^iggins was differently affected ; for be- 
 sides the reduction of the shot, in eating, drinking
 
 18 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGT;. 
 
 and lodging, he feared that the removal of his gTiosts 
 might cause his wife's unruly number to resume its 
 clamour. Mungo, who had listened at the parlour 
 door, and heard his master converse with great cheer- 
 fulness, was still on the happy key ; such was the 
 interest he felt in his master's happiness or misery, 
 that they were identified with his own. ' Me no 
 care,' said he, ' massa is happy : when massa happy, 
 Mungo happy ; and Mungo sad, when massa sad.' 
 Mungo spoke the genuine sentiment of his heart. 
 
 By the time supper was over, and a bottle of wine 
 introduced, they formed so close an intimacy, as to 
 converse with the most friendly familiarity. ' Sir,' 
 said the stranger, * I take your visit as indicative of 
 the goodness of your disposition, and demanding my 
 sincerest acknowldgements. I hope that our ac- 
 quaintance which has commenced with your hospi- 
 tality to a stranger, shall one day ripen into a steady 
 friendship, for it would give me the greatest happi- 
 ness.' ' Why, Sir,' answered Clarondale, ' I know 
 of no earthly bliss that can exceed the enjoyment of 
 faithful friendship. True friendship unites itself 
 with, and transmits all its interests to its object; it 
 disregards varying circumstances; is neither bound- 
 ed by oceans nor continents ; and defies the lapse of 
 time. Such a friendship did I once form ; and such 
 a friend I once had— But, I fear, alas! ' 
 
 — He could no more. The big tear started from 
 his eye, and trickled down his venerable cheek. — 
 
 'Sir,' said his companion, greatly affected, 'your 
 emotions bring to my recollection the often over-ex- 
 cited feelings of my dear father, who terminated his 
 life in a foreign clime, when speaking of, and remem- 
 bering an early frieud.sliip he had formed in England. 
 Oil en did he declare,- ho would gladly sacrifice half 
 his inuuense property for a personal interview with 
 that friend ; while the heavings of his breast almost 
 produced suffocation.'
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. IVI 
 
 A short silence ensued ; when Clarendale recover- 
 in;^ himself, resumed: — ' Yes, I accompanied him to 
 the port, whence he sailed to a distant land ; on the 
 beach we had our last embrace ; and there repeated 
 oui' vows of eternal friendship. Well do I remember 
 his parting words, which thrilled through my frame, 
 and which made an impression on my heart which 
 has never been eflFaced to this hour. ' If,' said he, 
 ' it please heaven that I should die in a distant clime, 
 and see you no more, rest assured that the tenderest 
 remembrance of you and your interests will occupy 
 my last hours. Clat-eftdale, Farewell /" 
 
 My reader is now requested to call in the aid of his 
 imagination, while I direct his attention to the wpn- 
 derstruck youth! The red vermilion had forsaken 
 his cheeks! He sat like a statue! And much as 
 the reverend pastor had been affected with his own 
 recital, his concern and alarm were instantly directed 
 to his companion. At length the power of articula- 
 tion returned, and he repeated the emphatic words, 
 Clar-endale, farewell J ' Yes, it is the same ; no hu- 
 man being can answer the portrait drawn by my be- 
 loved parent so well as he: a kind Providence has 
 directed me to the man who had my father's confi- 
 dence and love.' 
 
 Mr. Clarendale, not comprehending the meaning 
 of the young stranger, thought his intellects were 
 somewhat disordered, and rose to call in some of the 
 family, when the latter threw himself into his arms, 
 exclaiming, ' Sir, pardon this apparent extravagance. 
 The friend of whom you speak, was my father, and 
 you now behold before you his only son, Tanjoro 
 Tielaicney ! I bear to you the dying testimony of 
 his fidelity to his friendship. Those very words* 
 Clarendale, farewell! has he frequently repeated 
 with tender emotions in ray hearing; and from 
 wl.ich, when reiterated by you, I perceive that you 
 are my father's Clarendale ; and that it was for you
 
 20 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 he uttered such impassioned expressions of attach- 
 ment.' 
 
 ' Tanjore Trelawney, son of my beloved friend !' 
 exclaimed the pastor, when he could no longer doubt 
 the reality of the circumstances ; while the other, in 
 rapturous accents, returned his salutation. ' Mr. 
 Clarendale, my father's Clarendale! He hath left be- 
 hiud him, Sir, the most unequivocal proof of his ar- 
 dent friendship for you ; — he remembered you to the 
 last hour of his existence I 'Tanjore,' exclumed he, 
 while his feverish hand was clasped in mine, ' I charge 
 you to remember Clarendale, my be.'^t and earliest 
 friend. When I shall cease to exist, hasten to Eng- 
 land, and bear the legacy I have left to him, in which 
 he will see, I have not forgotten the companion of 
 my boyish days! — he has a wife — he has children I' 
 Keed I tell you, Sir, with what pleasure I flew to 
 obey my father's last injunctions; in this cause I could 
 have travelled the wide expanse of ocean a thousand 
 times over. — After fulfilling the last offices of filial 
 duty. I quitted the Indies for England, and was now 
 travelling to the metropolis to learn the place of your 
 abode.' 
 
 'I'lie pastor felt that excess of joy, surprise, plea- 
 suit; and gratitude, which can only be felt by a gen- 
 eruus-hearted man, the father of three dear children, 
 unprovided for, and over whom he had let fall many 
 an anxious tear ; and pressing the hand so affection- 
 ately tendered to him, he burst into an involuntary 
 exclamation of — 'My Fanny? — my Henry! — my 
 Rosa! — my Rebecca!' but the pastor could pro- 
 ceed no further ; he sat down, and covering his face 
 with his handkerchief, he offered fervent praise to that 
 Being from whom all earthly blessings flow. Trelaw- 
 ney now told him that by a contract long made by 
 the ' Will of his Father^' and a particular coincidence 
 of events, he was engaged to offer his hand in mar- 
 riage to his cousin, Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne, the
 
 THE MYSTERIOITS MARRIAGE. 21 
 
 only dauorliter of Lord Fitzosbourne, who inherited 
 his title from an Irish descendant of that most an- 
 cient and illustrious family. 
 
 ' Among other things, you know, my dear Sir,' 
 said Trelawney, ' I shall go to Lady Alexina, whom 
 I have never seen, and, perhaps, may not like when 
 I do see her ; — however, I have four years to consider 
 of it, as this family contract is not to be fulfilled till 
 we have arrived at the sober age of twenty-five. 
 Kow, if my affianced bride should, like myself, have 
 many faults to correct, why there is plenty of room 
 for reformation, is not there, my good Sir ?' 
 
 'I should imagine so,' cried the pastor, smiling at 
 the vivacity which beamed in the fine countenance 
 of his friend ; ' but whatever faults you may have to 
 correct, my dear boy, you have already arrived to- 
 wards part of the amendment— being conscious that 
 you possess them. Many will pass through life 
 without acquiring that knowledge, or wait until ex- 
 perience is unavailing, and repentance too late. 
 
 The pastor and Trelawney then rose to depart, 
 Mrs. Wiggins herself preceding them to the gate 
 with two lights, curtseying and simpering all the 
 way, and hoping that their right worshipful honours 
 had liked their bill of fare. ' Very much indeed, my 
 good hostess,' cried Trelawney; and adding, with a 
 good tempered smile, while he slipped some silver 
 into Mrs. Wiggins's ever-ready hands, ' Mungo has 
 been troublesome, there is a small sum to reward 
 you.' 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 trelawxey's introduction at the white 
 
 COTTAGE. 
 
 Henry Clarendale was for the first time permitted 
 to sleep from his paternal home, and was now absent
 
 23 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 on a \nsit at a Dr. Bradbury's, whose residence was 
 only two miles distant, and to which Henry had been 
 invited, to celebrate the birth-day of his young friend 
 and school-fellow, Philip Bradbury, the only son of 
 the worthy doctor. Mrs. Clarendale received her 
 visitors with the most cordial smile of good sense and 
 good humour, and Trelawney had not been seated half 
 an hour by the pastor's fireside, before he grew enrap- 
 tured with the humble and domestic scenes present- 
 ed to his notice, in the pastor's White Cottage, in 
 which there was a neat and simple uniformity ; and 
 as he passed through a kitchen, to ascend the stair- 
 case which led to his chamber, even the cat, which 
 lay stretched before a warm fire, seemed to say, 
 ' This is my abode ; I seek no other ; here I have 
 full content.* Mungo was no less pleased with the 
 comfortable reception and civil treatment he had met 
 with from the pastor's servants, which consisted of 
 two personages, a middle aged female, and a clever ac- 
 tive lad ; these formed the whole kitchen establishment 
 of the pastor. Mrs. Clarendale, with the aid of her 
 two daughters, (for Rosa and Rebecca were not 
 fashionable young ladies, conducting the household 
 management of atiairs with the nicest economy — Re- 
 becca was in the parlour dusting the chairs and 
 tables, Rosa was in the kitchen preparing the break- 
 fast ; and Henry assisted Peter in the occupations in 
 which he was employed ; while Nanny Jones, who 
 had no competitor in making butter and cheese, was 
 assisted by the amiable mistress of the mansion.— 
 Yes. — A pastor's wife, in these days of folly and 
 fashionable dissipation, did not think herself degra- 
 ded in assisting her own servant ; yet this pastor's 
 wife was a highly accomplished and beautiful wo- 
 man, with a mind richly cultivated; the graces were 
 Been in the easy elegance of her manners ; yet Mrs. 
 Clarendale was often busy with Nanny Jones in 
 the dairy, and the next hall' hour would behold her
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS 5IARRIAGE. 23 
 
 seated at the head of her table, on which lay the 
 sacred volume, and where surrounded by her lovely 
 children, she 'would teach the young idea how to 
 shoot,' rear the tender thought, and pour instruction 
 on their youthfid minds. If every mother were thus 
 anxious over the tender brood wfiich heaven has 
 committed to her charge, parents would not have to 
 complain of the dissipation of their offspring. 
 
 'Be sure, Mungo, to call me early in the morning,' 
 cried Trelawney, 'the pastor's house is a wilderness 
 of sweets, and I shall think every moment an age 
 till I again enjoy society.' — Mungo was silent, and 
 drawing the curtains round the bed, gave a signifi- 
 cant glance at his master, the meaning of which it 
 ■would have been difficult to understand, but for a 
 short sentence which escaped him, for, as he closed 
 the door, he muttered to himself, — ' Yes, massa, him 
 all sweet when him see pretty woman ; white, black, 
 brown, dem all pretty to massa.' 
 
 That Mrs. Clarendale was a beautiful woman, 
 could not be doubted ; but with regard to the allu- 
 sion which Mungo had made, as to the taste of his 
 master, we can only form positive conclusions from 
 positive facts, which not appearing at the present, 
 must be undetermined till some future opportunity 
 shall have developed the character of Trelawney, who, 
 after a comfortable nighfs repose, awoke at a much 
 earlier hour than even Mungo had intended to call 
 him, and before any of the family had arisen. 
 
 There was an air of peculiar neatness and simpli- 
 city in the apartment into which Nanny Jones had 
 hushered Trelawney, who, having placed a bright 
 copper tea-kettle on the fire, dropped a curtsey, and 
 saying, ' Miss Rosa will be here presently. Sir,' left 
 the room. 'Miss Rosa,' thought Trelawney,' 'Oh, 
 doubtless, one of the pastor's family ; true, he in- 
 formed me, last night, he had two daughters, and 
 Rosa. I suppose is one of them.' The attention of
 
 24 THE MYSTEEIOXJS MARRIAG-E. 
 
 Trelawney was directed towards the door, and bis 
 curiosity was greatly excited, when one of the most 
 lovely and interesting females he had ever beheld in 
 his life, entered the room : — blushes, of the most un- 
 affected modesty, dyed her cheeks when she perceived 
 a stranger, to whom she had never been introduced, 
 present in the apartment. The task devolved on her 
 to prepare the family's breakfast, and instinctively, 
 she was going to retire, but Trelawney immediately 
 rose, and with a smile, and the most persuasive 
 sweetness, begged that he might not be considered 
 an intruder, or treated as a ceremonious visitor. 
 
 'Therefore, I humbly beseech you. Miss Claren- 
 
 dale is it not T — added Trelawney, ' I cannot be 
 
 mistaken ; you are the daughter of my excellent 
 friend, and your name is' ' Rosa Clarendale,' re- 
 plied she, with the sweetest simplicity; 'You are 
 right. Sir, but you will pardon my surprise, I am not 
 accustomed to see strangers, and when you arrived 
 here last night, my sister and I had retired to our 
 chamber — we go to bed early, Sir.' 
 
 Trelawney had riveted his eyes on her blushing 
 countenance, and, as Rosa was retreating fast to- 
 wards the door, after having spread a cloth on the 
 table, he exclaimed, ' If your sister is as lovely iw 
 yourself, you must be two of the most charming 
 creatures in existence !' — but, to his astonishment, 
 she gravely curtsied, as she withdrew, while she 
 modestly said, * Neither my sister nor I, Sir, are ac- 
 customed to hear, or listen to such unmeaning com- 
 pliments.' Though Trelawney had only uttered the 
 spontaneous efl'usions of a compliment, which any 
 other man would have oflfered at the shrine of loveli- 
 ness, he felt that to Rosa Clarendale it was highly 
 ridiculous, for she was the pastor's daughter; and 
 that he had taught her to appreciate qualities of 
 greater value than beauty, was evident from the ex- 
 pression of her eyes, which had glanced rather indig-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS ^MARRIAGE. 25 
 
 nantly towards him ; and TrelawBey was in perplex- 
 ity how to repair the fault he had committed. Thus 
 he was when Mrs. Clarendale entered the room with 
 her two daughters, followed by the pastor, who taking 
 Rosa and Rebecca by the hand, led them to Trelaw- 
 ney. * Tanjore Trelawney,' said he, ' I shall set all 
 fastidious ceremony aside, while I say, here are my 
 two girls, who, like their father, feel happy in pay- 
 ing their respects to you, and who during your stay 
 at the A\'Tiite Cottage will make it as comfortable as 
 they can for your reception: — you must not expect 
 to find fashionable young ladies* in my rustics, Tan- 
 jore, for they are as unsophisticated as the wild roses 
 which their hands have planted in my shrubbery ; — 
 in this cottage they were bom ; and in this cottage 
 they received the first rudiments of an education 
 taught only by their parents, which though it is not 
 always considered the most fashionable, is, I believe, 
 the most lasting.' Trelawney bowed to the charm- 
 ing sisters, for Rebecca was as beautiful as Rosa, but 
 as he caught a glance at Rosa's still blushing coun- 
 tenance, he felt more embarrassed than before; he 
 added a few words, indicative only of the ardent 
 friendship which having subsisted between his father 
 and the pastor now afi'orded him the pleasure in be- 
 coming acquainted with every branch of his amiable 
 family ; and immediately sat down to breakfast ; 
 after which Mrs. Clarendale, and her two daughters, 
 withdrew, to follow their domestic occupations, while 
 the pastor and Trelawney sallied forth to take a view 
 of the beautiful plantations which surrounded the 
 White Cottage. ' Observe those young pines,' said 
 the pastor, ' there was not one of them planted when 
 my son was born ! and those elms, how they have 
 flourished since his buth ! and, year after year, as I 
 have daily remarked their growth and strength, I 
 have anxiously looked forward to the ripening sun of 
 prosperity, which I once hoped would have smiled ou
 
 26 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAOB. 
 
 my o'svn tender blossoms — but, alas ! Mr. Trelawney, 
 a father's fond wishes have been unavailing — and my . 
 
 poor Henry' Trelawney saw a tear just ready to . 
 
 Btart in the pastors eye, and seizing the pastor's i 
 hand, he fervently exclaiuied, — ' The fortunes of 
 your Henry, Sir, not less luxuriant than those pines, 
 shall flourish, if you will permit, under the influence j 
 of a brighter sky than you have predicted! Do you 
 not know, Sir, that the unbounded generosity of my 
 father has made me as rich as a nabob: and saving 
 that clause wherein I am bound to marry Lady 
 Alexina, in all besides, has left me fr^e as the moun- 
 tain air, in the disposal of my vast property. I am 
 an inexperienced youth, Mr. Clarendale, but you 
 shall ever find me venerate the memory of my father! 
 and if all his virtues do not exist in my heart, that 
 of chilling apathy to his old friends shall never be ono 
 of my faults ! — Give me your Henry, — let him be the 
 hostage of my faith, my ardent zeal to serve my fa- 
 ther's Clarendale, and we will never, never part.' 
 
 ' Amiable boy!' uttered the pastor, as he returned 
 his allectionate embrace, ' I see you are all your 
 father's son ought to be ; but we will talk of your 
 kind intention to servo me some other time, for 
 though I would not repress your generous nature, 
 yet 1 must caution you, my dear Trelawney, against 
 the approaches of an insidious world, or otherwise 
 vour very ' graces will servo but as your enemit.s.* 
 I ."ihall have the happiness of introducing you to a 
 few friends this day, who will enliven our society at 
 the "White Cottage. — I have invited the Bradbury's 
 to dinner — they are a charming family — and though, 
 like ourselves, a little rusticated, are not the worse 
 on that account.' 
 
 " I positively will not hear a word more, IMr. Clar- 
 endale,' cried Trelawney, with gravity, *but on one 
 Condition.' — 'Name it, my dear boy,' replied the 
 pastor, as he still held grasped his hand from which
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 27 
 
 he could not release it. * That you will permit me,* 
 said Trelawney, ' to take a share in your family cun- 
 cems to-morrow morning, and to discharge a debt 
 •\N'hich is not j^t paid ; promise me this, and I am 
 your humble servant for the remainder of the day.' 
 
 'Well, well, as you please, Tanjore,' said the 
 pastor, while he viewed, with delight, the animated 
 glow of benevolent feelings in the countenance of 
 the young East Indian ; ' come, since you are deter- 
 mined on being Major Domo, to-moiTow shall be the 
 day ; at present let us attend to the ladies, — and 
 look, I protest there is Mrs. Clarendale with a brace 
 or two already at her elbow.' 
 
 There were the youngest daughter of Dr. Brad- 
 bury and Rebecca Clarendale, with her brother, who 
 now for the first time, met the inquiring eye, and re- 
 ceived the cordial salute of Trelawney, to whom the 
 pastor introduced him, with a conscious exultation, 
 only known by a father. 
 
 Henry had the look of Rosa ; the same rosy fresh- 
 ness—the quick intelligent glance— the love-beaming 
 smile, and even the tones of his voice were like hers ; 
 and the very first expression which Trelawney ad- 
 dressed to him as he walked through the shrubbery, 
 was, ' How excessively you resemble your sister.' 
 *"\yhat, my little madcap sister i'' said Henry, 
 smiling. 
 
 ' Of that I am unable to judge at present,' said 
 Trelawney, ' but it is the one you call Rosa, I am 
 alludii^g to ; never did I behold features so strikingly 
 alike.' But had Trelawney gazed on Rebecca as in- 
 tently as he had on Rosa, the remark might have ex- 
 tended to her also ; but this was not once the case, even 
 when the whole family were assembled in the old 
 oak parlour, to which he accompanied Henry, and 
 was introduced by the pastor to his friends, which 
 consisted of Doctor and Mrs. Bradbury-, the two Miss 
 Bradbury's, and Philip Bradbuiy, theii- only son,
 
 28 THE MYSTERIOUS MAREIAGE. 
 
 which with the Clarendale family, formed as inter- 
 esting and hapi>y a group as ever met, to render the 
 bonds of friendly intercourse complete; for here 
 were no studied forms of fastidious ceremony ; no 
 vain display of ostentatious power or wealth ; no idle 
 coquetry, and no rivalship of dress;— but hospitality 
 and pood humour were presidents of the festive board 
 ^and while the cheering glass went round, beauty 
 and simplicity, arrayed in robes of purest whire, 
 breathed their enchanting smiles to welcome mirlh, 
 in the peaceful and happy bosoms then in the "While 
 Cottasre. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE WILL — AND AN INTERESTING SECRET. 
 
 Very early the next morning, Trelawney remind- 
 ed the pastor of his promise, and in his study, pro- 
 duced the '"Will of his father,' to which was added 
 the codicil made in favour of Mr. Clarendale, to 
 whom the sum of five thousand pounds was bequeath- 
 ed as a legacy, and in case of his disease, to his heirs, 
 to be paid on the arrival of Tanjore Trelawney in 
 England. Nothing could exceed the astonishment 
 of the pastor, at the liberality of such a gift ; — ' Five 
 thousand pounds !' uttered he, 'my dear Trelawney, 
 have you not made an extension of this fact of gener- 
 osity, so noble, in your father ? so unexpected, that 
 I can scarcely credit the evidence of my senses.' 
 
 'Most willingly would I do that, if you will per- 
 mit me,' cried Trelawney ; ' but it is no gift of mine : 
 — examine the parchments, and you will perceive 
 that it is the said sum of five thousand pounds, to be 
 paid to you, William Henry Clarendale, by me, Tan- 
 jore Edward Trelawney.' The pastor having again 
 inspected the will, was thoroughly convinced of the 
 noble benefaction of his old and worthy friend, and
 
 THE MYSTERIOrS MARRIAGE. 29 
 
 burst into tears ; at length, recovering himself, he 
 grasped the hand of Tanjore Trelawney. — ' These 
 are, indeed, the tears of joy,' exclaimed he; *a tribute 
 to gratitude, and sacred to the memorj' of the most 
 noble and disinterested of human beings. Almighty 
 Providence ! I bow to thee in humble thanksgiving 
 and praise.' Trelawney remained in silent con- 
 templation of the pastor ; — but his feelings were of the 
 most transporting kind ; — for this sudden acquisition 
 of fortune, in a father, he well knew, would soon be 
 transmitted to the child ; for it was only one of the 
 pastor's children which now occcupied the thoughts of 
 Trelawney ; — it was the lovely, the enchanting Rosa, 
 that would be enriched by the gift of his father. As 
 these thoughts passed through the mind of Trelaw- 
 ney, he asked himself why Rosa Clarendale should 
 be the particular object of his calculations ? and he 
 settled it thus — that Rosa was the pastor's daughter, 
 whom of all men he venerated the most highly, as 
 the mtimate friend of his father. But his feelings 
 were a complex mixture of hopes and fears, pleasure 
 and pain, not to be described, as he pressed the hand 
 of the pastor, and exclaimed, ' Now, Sir, what is to 
 be done with your Henry ? I must know what are 
 your intentions before I set out for the metropoli.s, 
 which I am sorry to say will be in a few days.' 
 
 ' And then you are destined to leave us, Trelaw- 
 ney,' cried the pastor, with a deep-drawn sigh, ' and 
 perhaps, destined never to behold us more.' 
 
 ' Never to behold you more, Mr. Clarendale!' ut- 
 tered Trelawney, with great emotion, 'and what 
 earthly destiny, can you suppose, shall have the 
 t power of preventing me ? Can you think me such a 
 monster of ingratitude as, to forget the kindness I 
 have here experienced r' — Forget the White Cottage! 
 —Oh, never ; would to heaven that my stay could 
 
 ever be protracted within it.' ' Less warmth, my 
 
 dear buy,' cried the pastor 'believe me, I had no
 
 30 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 wish to wound the foeh'ngs which I vcnorate so 
 highly. I do not think you capable of ingratitude 
 but in the giddy vortex of fashion, to which you will 
 shortly be introduced, the votary of pleasure is too 
 apt no longer to relish the quiet sequestered society 
 of humble life. — Ah, who can burst the fetters (tf 
 youth's rosy dream, where opening sweets invite him 
 to partake of the luxuriant banquet, where smiling 
 beauty wooes his hand, and adulation courts his 
 favour;— would you then, Trelawney, think upon 
 the inhabitants of a poor cottage ? — Guest at the 
 sumptuous board, and inmate of the magnificent 
 mansion of Lord Fitzosbourne, could you cherish 
 with remembrance the family of Clarendale ?' 
 
 ' Try me, prove me, and I will stand the severest 
 test,' said Trelawney; and colouring deeply he add- 
 ed, 'perhaps, Sir, I 'bear a talisman about *my heart 
 which you are not aware of, and the sweet charm is 
 so potent, that I feel I shall be able to withstand all 
 the witcheries you have described, and be ready to 
 resign thorn without a sigh to meet the inhabitants of 
 the "White Cottage, whenever they shall think pro- 
 per to summon me.' The pastor looked grave ;— 
 
 the rapture with which Trela\\Tiey had uttered these 
 W(»rd8, led him to feel a momentary suggestion, 
 which he did not choose to indulge, for that sugges- 
 tion was painful in the extreme, — it was alarming; 
 and he instantly dismissed it from his mind. The 
 pastor replied, — ' My dear boy, we were talking of 
 the gaieties which will meet your arrival in the great 
 metropolis — not of hearts — and yours you know is 
 entirely out of the question ; because it ought to be 
 exclusively in the possession of Lady Fitzosbourne ; 
 and I now look upon you as the destined husband of 
 your beautiful cousin. Her birth was attended by a 
 melancholy event, was it not, Trelawney 'f' Yes, 
 Sir,' answered Trelawney, drily, ' it lost me an 
 aunt, and his Lord.ship a wife.'
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARHIAGE. 31 
 
 'And it also deprived Lady Alexins of a mother.' 
 retorted the pastor, impressively, ' a loss almost irre- 
 parable ; for Lady Fitzosbourne was a woman of the 
 most irreproachable morals, amiable disposition and 
 elegant manners, she was beside highly accomplish- 
 ed and tran.scendently lovely. I saw her, soon after 
 her marriage with the Earl, and I never beheld a 
 more heavenly creature! should the daughter re- 
 semble the mother, Trelawney will be blest indeed.' 
 
 Trelawney carelessly replied, ' Tlit n, Sir, if I am 
 to date my happiness from that supposition, I shall 
 be most grievously mistaken ; for Lady Alexinadoes 
 not at all resenible my aunt; — I have heard my fa- 
 ther say so a hundred times ; — she is the exact model 
 of his Lordship's sister,— a Lady Glenthorpe,— who 
 has resided with him ever since Lady Fitzosbourne's 
 death, and under whose auspices his daughter has 
 been educated, and brought out in the gay and splen- 
 did cii-cles of the hon ton. Such a mode of education 
 is not adapted to my taste ; I would have the maid I 
 love and wish to be my bride, blushing in native 
 sweets and innocence, like a lily of the valley, — re- 
 maikable only for her retiring modesty, — pure as the 
 snow-drop, — and fresh as the morning rose ;~^ this, 
 Sir. is the creature whom I could adore. I cannot 
 make love in a drawing-room at St. James's. — so 
 Lady Alexina will wait a long time, if she expects a 
 dying swain in Trelawney.' 
 
 ' Very possibly,' cried the pastor, smiling, ' but 
 Trelawney, it is ungenerous to form conclusions 
 without positive facts ; Lady Alexina may surely be 
 educated in the purlieus of fashion, without depart- 
 ing from the retiring modesty you mention, and as to 
 lilies of the valley and morning roses, they are always 
 made up by artificial ones.' — Trelawney preserved 
 a mortifying silence, which the pastor did not in- 
 terrupt : by a conversation, which for certain rea- 
 sons, he wished to avoid for the future : — and ' Din-
 
 32 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ner on the table,' pronounced by Peter, was a relief 
 to both parties. Trelawney soon rallied his spirits, 
 however, for accident had placed him opposite to Re- 
 becca, and next to Rosa. That there was a striking 
 resemblance between the two sisters, he clearly saw, 
 but there was a different expression of beauty in each, 
 of the lovely countenances. Rebecca was so trans- 
 parently fair, that the slightest tinge of the most 
 delicate rose was perceptible on her cheek, — when 
 animated by the subject of conversation, her blue 
 eyes had more of softness than of brilliancy, — a pro- 
 fusion of ligrht hair flowed in luxuriant tresses over a 
 forehead, white as alabaster, and a smile of serenity 
 played on each feature, showing that peace was the 
 inmate of her guiltless breast. 
 
 As Trelawney contemplated her beauty, he felt that 
 he could hail it with admiration ; but he also felt, 
 that there was a charm deficient in Rebecca, which. 
 60 irresistibly charmed in Rosa, — that charm was 
 fascination ! for Rosa Clarendale was neither so fair 
 as her sister, nor were her features of such delicate 
 regularity; but Rosa had a look of health, fresh as 
 the breath of morn, ever varying, like the glowing 
 hues of a bright carnation, and which was set off by 
 her dark brilliant eyes, full of eloquent expression ; 
 when she spoke, every feature was animation, every 
 action grace, every smile rapture, and every tear 
 sensibility; and her dark hair curled in natural 
 ringlets. 
 
 Rebecca's temper was more calm, tranquil, and 
 sedate ;— Rosa's more open, unsuspecting, and free; 
 she spoke without disguise the sentiments of her 
 heart, whether she was offended or pleased ; but Re- 
 becca never uttered a sentence before she predetermin- 
 ed whether it was prudent or not ; — while Henry was 
 fortunately possessed of the best traits in the dispo- 
 sitions of both his sisters. This pleasing contrast 
 was often a subject of private conference with Mr.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 33 
 
 and Mrs. Clarendnle, but there was no partiality 
 shown to the talent of either; it is true that the 
 lively spirits of little Rosa often amused the pastor 
 through many a weary hour, when his thoughts 
 would otherwise have taken a melancholy turn about 
 his affairs, and a kiss was the reward of the little 
 madcap's toil ; but Mrs. Clarendalehad a companion 
 in Rebecca ; and while liosa was climbing on her 
 father's knees, 'the envied kiss to share,' Rebecca 
 would quietly sit by the side of her mother, with her 
 little work bag-, and favourite kitten on her lap ; 
 which generally caused the pastor to say, ' My dear, 
 I am of your opinion respecting our two girls,— Re- 
 becca will make the best wife for a poor man, and 
 Rosa the best for a rich one.' 
 
 That Rosa Clarendale should possess so invincible a 
 charm over the mind of Trelawney, whose disposition 
 was like his own, was reasonable to suppose, for it 
 was blended in a form of such seducing loveliness ; 
 but he tried only to think of her as a most engaging 
 child, for Rosa was not yet sixteen years of age, (Re- 
 becca was eighteen,) and he became cautious, show- 
 ing no preference in those attentions which esteem 
 authorized him to take in the welliire of the pastor's 
 (amily. The same flowers that he gathered for Rosa, 
 were also placed in the same nosegay and presented 
 to Rebecca ; and if he praised the one, he admired 
 the qualifications of the other. This conduct greatly 
 :elicvcd the mind of the pastor of a lurking fear, that 
 .he chaims of his lovely daughters would not pre- 
 ponderate against that stern monitor, which (<ught 
 ver to whisper, 'I must not militate against the 
 Will of my Father.' And ardently did the pastor 
 iray for the happiness of his young friend, in his 
 )rospective union with Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne, 
 •vhich though it did not appear with Trelawney ' a 
 ionsummation devoutly to be wished,' yet he hoped 
 vould meet with, no opposition, where duty imperi- 
 c 

 
 31 THE MY8TERT0VS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ously comniRiided him to oboy. But a tiivial acci- 
 dent' had nearly exposed Trelawney to the censure of 
 the pH.stor, and overturned the resolution of his in- 
 difh rinrc for Rosa, — for risinp: one morning earlier 
 than usual, he strolled throuf,'h the shrubbery, and 
 there iliscovered, though unseen, Rosa and Rebecca 
 gnthtring strawberries for breakfiist ; — 'I wish, Rosa, 
 you would give nie your bunch of flowers, that I 
 vn:\y put thoni into the vase with mine;' when Rosa, 
 taking from her basket a bunch of flowers, handed 
 lluni to her sister, but as she did so, she withdrew a 
 b« .'Uitiful moss rose-bud. and placed it in her bosom, . 
 with a graceful look, which had more meaning in it 
 than volumes could have expressed. 
 
 'There, Rebecca.' said she, 'you may have the 
 rent and welcome,— but this rose-bud I will wear in 
 my bosom till the leaves are all faded.' 
 
 'Wear in your besom till the leaves are faded!' 
 uttered Rebecca, with a look of surprise — 'for what 
 purpo.se, pray "r there are more rose-buds where that 
 came from I — how can you be so ridiculous, Rosa ? 
 
 ' Cull it what you please,' cried Rosa with energy, 
 * out of my bosom this dear little rose-bud never goes 
 till it perishes.' 
 
 ' And pray, Rosa, where did you get that rose- ' 
 bud 'f 1 cannot help laughing at your folly ; suppose 
 1 were to say the same of my nosegay ; here arc several 
 rosebuds, as pretty as yours, and they were given ;' 
 me by Mr. Trelawney.' ' 
 
 ' And cmnot you guess m7/o gave me mine ?' said >'^ 
 Rosa with an arch smile, and a blush deeper than 1 
 the rose at her bosom. j 
 
 •And is this the reason why you would never jDarfci 
 with it!'' renlied Rebecca, with a mild but grave ■» 
 tone. ' Oh, Rosa, — oh, my sister, how you distress 
 me.' — 
 
 ' Di.stress you, Rebecca,' uttered Rosa with as- 
 tonishiutut; 'how can a gift from Mr. Trelawney,
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 35 
 
 similar to that whicli you yourself have received, 
 possibly give you any uneasiuess.' 
 
 ' Oh, it is not on my account that I feel grieved,' 
 said Rebecca, ' I am not so selfish ; but I am grieved 
 that my sister should incautiously use expressions 
 ■which might be deemed imprudence. Are you not 
 aware of the situation in which our inestimable friend 
 is placed, and that his engagements with Lady Alex- 
 ina Fitzosbourne are such as to render it a point of 
 imprudence, to mention his name as you have done ?' 
 
 ' Is it then imprudent to cherish the gilt of friend- 
 ship and to prize the giver?' inquired Kosa, now 
 trembling and abashed. 
 
 'Surely not,' answered Rebecca, *but friendship 
 does not demand such emotion as the deep blush now 
 upon your cheek, and makes your whole frame trem- 
 ble.— Friendship does not call forth that involuntaiy 
 sigh ; — and I fear also, that friendship had no hand 
 
 in placing that rose in your bosom. Oh, Rosa, — 
 
 oh, my dear sister, think me not unkind ; but should 
 you cherish a warmer sentiment for Trelawney than 
 prudence dictates, you are lost for ever I — your friends 
 would censure you,— and even Trelawney despise 
 you. Promise me that you will never again pro- 
 nounce his name with the same emotion — take the 
 rose from your bosom, fling it into the basket, and 
 look on Trelawney as the husband of Lady Alexina 
 — for such he certainly will be ; — promise me this, 
 Rosa, and be my o"wn dear sister again.' 
 
 The conscious, self-condemned, blushing Rosa, 
 took the rose in silence from her bosom, and flung it 
 into the shrubbery, where it was soon blown away 
 by the wind ; she then threw herself into the arms 
 of her sister,— and hiding her face in her bosom, sob- 
 bed out an acknowledgment of her error in a shower 
 of tears.
 
 '86 THB MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 TENDERNESS, SYMPATHY, AND GENEROSITY 
 ELICITED. 
 
 To have intruded himself on the privacy of the 
 two sisters, was hij^hly indelicate in Trelawney, but 
 he found it next to an impossibility to escape from 
 the shrubbery, without being immediately present 
 before them ; thus compelled to remain where he 
 fir.-t stood, he listened to the forcf^oing conversation 
 with emotions not to be described. The innocent 
 confession of the artless Rosa, — the secret which 
 had almost been divulged from lij)s so pure and 
 lovdy, nearly staggered all the resolutions of Trel- 
 awney ; and he felt that he could have resigned the 
 wealth of worlds for the possession of Rosa Claren- 
 dale. But the melting voice of his expiring fa- 
 ther, as he pronounced his last blessing, burst upon 
 his recollection, and recalled him to a sense of duty, 
 and forbade him to violate that vow he was bound to 
 hold sacred. ' No, lovely creature,' said he, 'happi- 
 ness with thee must not be puichased at the price of 
 that which man holds dearest, and without which 
 life would be worthless, — his honour. I have sworn 
 to my father a solemn oath, and that oath is register 
 ed in heaven. 
 
 Fortunately, for Trelawney, he could not behold 
 the tears of Rosa, as she wept on the bosom of Re- 
 bi'ccA, for whose character he now felt a degree 
 of respect amounting to veneration ; for she had nol 
 only evinced the tenderest regard for her sister, but 
 hud blended with it the prudent caution of a friend 
 to whose delicate sense of propriety he founc 
 liimself obliged to subscribe; for what could aval' 
 to him the uliections of this sweet girl, but the bilte: 
 pang of disappointed love, when honour would sooi 
 compel him to become the husband of another ; wuuh
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 37 
 
 it not be murderous to inspire a passion in so pure 
 a bosom, without the possibility of making that re- 
 turn which would have been his greatest pride to do, 
 Lad he been free ! 
 
 Love, however, first love, is not capable of much 
 reflection ; and poor Trelawney was no philosopher ; 
 he was not blind to his own merits, — yet that he 
 should be the object of Rosa's preference, — that Rosa 
 loved him, conveyed the most thrilling transports to 
 his heart. The picture was too seducing for delight- 
 ed fancy to dwell upon, and his present feelings were 
 a complete paradox ; painful but yet pleasing ; and 
 as he listened to the sound of her departing footsteps 
 through the shrubbery, lover-like, he could have 
 kissed the playful breeze that waved over the form he 
 adored. The unexpected appearance of Henry put 
 to flight all the witcheries which romantic love was 
 preparing in full battery against the heart of Trel- 
 awney, and recalled his senses to regions of a colder 
 temperature. 
 
 ' I am come in search of you, my dear Sir,' said 
 Kenry, ' by the special commands of my mother, who 
 is alarmed at your long absence from the breakfast 
 table ; she was fearful that some of the nymphs who 
 inhabit these woods had run away with your' 
 
 Trelawney smiled and said, ' I have been taking a 
 long ramble", but as to wood nymphs, I have not en- 
 countered any, I assure you.' 
 
 * Have you seen nothing of my sisters ?' inquired 
 Henry, ' for they are both truants as well as your- 
 self ; I am not surprised at our little madcap Rosa — 
 but our grave Rebecca ' 
 
 'I have not spoken to either of them this morning,' 
 answered Trelawney ; ' but come, Henry, I must 
 apologize to Mrs. Clarendale, and convince her that 
 no wood nymph could ever make me guilty of rude- 
 ness to my friends.' Entering the parlour, they 
 found Rosa and Rebecca already seated. Rebecca
 
 38 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 vn^ ftiiiinritod and talkative, — Ro>a silent and pen- 
 give, and bi'noiith her dark fringed eyes not a glance 
 Btolo towards Trelawney, which had betrayed the 
 oniutions of her fluttering heart to Rebecca, that 
 tenderly beloved sister, who was now become the 
 punrdian of her thoujrhts, for most credulously did 
 Ktbeccrt watch each look of Rosa's, answering every 
 question put to her by her fond njother, with the 
 eanie vivacity that Rosa would have done herself; — 
 but it was impossible to elude the discerning eye of 
 her faflirr, who gently demanded to know if she was 
 not well ? 
 
 * I'atijrued, papa, that is all,' instantly replied Re- 
 becca, ' for I have led the little gypsy such a ramble: 
 we went round by the woodlands, and, Rosa being 
 very hungry,— were not you, Rosar* — called in at 
 Dame Dunitley's cottage! when the poor old soul 
 crammed us with some nice cakes she had just baked. 
 
 This i-xcuse W!% no fabrication ; both Rosa and 
 hei-self having allied at old Dame Dunkley's ; but it 
 wa-< so unexpected by Rosa, that she involuntarily 
 laughed heartily at Rebecca's ingenuity, and she very 
 Boon regained the roses on her complexion, and her 
 vivacity returned. 
 
 Trelawnoy observed thf pains which Rebecca was 
 adopting, to shield her Rosa from the scrutinizing 
 glance of her father, and the inquiring look of her 
 mother; and he himself performed his part as well 
 as he was able ; but it was painful to his feelings 
 and foreign to his inclination — yet it was performed, 
 for (luring breakfast, he did not address one sentence 
 to Rosa, more than the common salutation of the 
 ujorning. 
 
 Thus did the sweet girl gradually recover her 
 serenity, unconscious of the deep interest which the 
 only being who ever had invaded it was taking to 
 preserve it. But as the day approached for the de- 
 parture of Trelawney, even the pastor looked grave,
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE, 39 
 
 in short he ahnost idolized the character of his young 
 friend. If Trelawney had a fault conspicuous in his 
 disposition, it was the tincture of romance which ap- 
 peared in the warmth of his attachments and the 
 generosity of his gifts ; he had also become so great 
 a favourite with the pastor's friends, the Bradbury's, 
 that they regarded him as a superior being ; — but no 
 words can do justice to the feelings of the worthy 
 doctor, when one morning finding himself alone with 
 Trelawney, the latter suddenly forced into his hands 
 a sealed paper, and as suddenly withdrew ; — leaving 
 him to contemplate the contents at his leisure. It 
 was short, but expressive ; for the doctor was struck 
 dumb with surprise, as he broke the seal, and per- 
 ceived a cheque on Mr. Trelawney' s banker, for the 
 sum of five hundred pounds, with the following 
 note : — 
 
 ' Dr. Bradbury,— Probably I may want a physician 
 when I get to London, for I have an aversion to the con- 
 fined air of great cities, and if this should be the case I 
 would rather have medical advice from you than any 
 man hving, because you are the friend of Mr. Clarendale. 
 To prevent trouble, therefore, I have enclosed you 
 a trifle to defray the travelling expenses of your journey 
 to London. This is my mode of settling accounts ;— no 
 thanks when we again see each other— not a sentence, I 
 hnplore you. Every man has his himiotu", and I have 
 mine. Yours, venj truly, 
 
 Tanjore Trelawney.^ 
 
 'Mrs. Smith has been waiting for her pills this 
 half hour, if you please, Sir,' said the doctor's ap- 
 prentice, abruptly thrusting his nose in at the par- 
 lour door, just as the doctor iinished reading Trelaw- 
 ney's eccentric epistle. 
 
 'Five hundred!' exclaimed the doctor, examining 
 the cheque minutely. 
 
 ' You told me only five and twenty. Sir,' uttered 
 the apprentice, surprised at the oddity of the doctor's 
 manner. The doctor looked up, and beheld his ap-
 
 •10 THE MYST^rilOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 prentice, and putting the cheque and Trelawney's 
 Icltcr into his pock(.t, sharply answered, ' Go about 
 vniir business, Sir, 1 will come presently.' 
 
 The boy was much frightened, and conceiving that 
 the doctor was out of his senses, ran up stairs to Mrs. 
 liradbury, and entreated her to come down immcdi- 
 atily, fur he believed his master was out of his mind; 
 ' for ho told me, Madam, to make up five and twenty 
 ] ills for Widow Sniilh, and ho will have it it was 
 1;ve hundred.* Away posted Mrs. Biadbury, but not 
 alarmed at the account given by the youth of the 
 state of the doctor's intellect.s, and finding him alone 
 ill the .shop, was soon informed of the cause of such 
 t-( rious apprehensions. 
 
 'Did you ever hear of so singi'.larly amiable and 
 di^inU■lested a being as this Trelawucy, my love,' 
 said the doctor ; 'and this is the way that he con- 
 Mantly bestows favours on his friends, and dispenses 
 blessings to the unfortunate; — he knew I was poor — 
 y(>s, the dear boy knew that my patients keep me so; 
 h<v whoever thinks uf paying a doctor's bill till they 
 want his help, ninety-nine times out of the hundred':' 
 A\' hat shall 1 do, !Mrs. Bradbury r" — you see he has 
 forbidden me to th:ink him.' 
 
 'Are there not more way.s of evincing gratitude to 
 a kind friend, for a generous action, than by words?' 
 answered Mrs. Bradbury; — ' Oh, yes, — the tear which 
 1 now delight to .shed— tlie silent tear— and the heart- 
 felt prayer — will speak, although the lips be dumb! 
 — 'i'es, Trelawney,— noble, excellent being, this mo- 
 thei's tear, be ever sacred to gratitude and thee!' 
 
 Mrs. Bradbury, overpowered by the natural sen- 
 sations of a susci I tible heart, threw hcrhjcli' into the 
 arms of her husband and wipt aloud. 
 
 ' O, Mrs. Brauliiry, recollect that you are standing 
 in a doctor's shoi), who is every mo^nt hoping that 
 euhtomers may drop in, and give him a honest penny ; 
 and your name is plain. Kate. Let us have no more
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 41 
 
 tears, but run up stairs to Mary and Elizabeth, and 
 tell lliem that their father will have no caiise to look 
 in his book of bad debts for six months to come ; — 
 after which, you may dance a Scotch reel with them; 
 — but I will have no more tears.' So saying, the 
 doctor marched off to visit his patients and to recover 
 his spirits in the open air, which were agitated by 
 the unexpected gift from Mr. Trelawney, which 
 would enable him to jog merrily on in his business 
 for some time to come. But the doctor, though 
 not affluent, was not destitute ; he had received a 
 good fortune with his wife, and had husbanded it so 
 well, that he was only at times in want of money 
 fr(jm the debts owing to him by his patients; but 
 even these were in such good hands, that there was 
 no danger of his becoming a bankrupt whenever he 
 should demand it. Eminent in skill, he had no com- 
 petitor to struggle with ; and being many years es- 
 tablished, no one else was resorted to by the numer- 
 ous and respectable families round the village. Doctor 
 Bradbury was a man of rigid morals, and unshaken 
 integrity ; yet he had his oddities and humour ; he 
 could not bear to move out of his accustomed sphere, 
 without betraying a little petulance and contradic- 
 tion — would be master of his own house — he loved 
 his children, but not with a foolish indulgence — ho 
 adored his wife, but he would not suffer her to dom- 
 ineer over him — nor would he permit his daughters 
 to be visited by coxcombs, nor his son to form con- 
 nexions of which he was ignorant. Hence that 
 strong intimacy with, and attiicbment to the family 
 of Mr. Clarcndale ; — his own children growing with 
 his, like the tender branches of the young ivy cleav- 
 ing to the oak, which, firm and unshaken, had stood 
 tLo test of winter storms, and was not to be deserted 
 when summer suns smiled only on its loliage. 'Let 
 me,' said he one day to the pastor, ' while 1 am vig- 
 orous and healthy, labour lor tu<- c>upport of my chii-
 
 42 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 dim, but whfu I nm old, nnd loaded with infimiitiefi, 
 I expect that my children will labour to support me.' 
 
 It is no wonder then, that the pastor's daufjhtors 
 and the daughters of Doctor Bradbury regarded each 
 oilier with the aflection of Sisters, nor was it with 
 disnppmbation, that the Doctor and Mrs. Bradbury 
 perceived the growin^r attachment of their only son, 
 rhilip, for the eldest daughter of Mr. Clarendale — it 
 wuH the pride of the doctor's heart, for KcbeccaClar- 
 endale was precisely the female, whom the doctor 
 would have selected for the wife of his son, had not 
 his heart been already a voluntary captive to the 
 charms of the lovely maid ; not that one sentence of 
 passion had ever been breathed in her car; but is 
 there ouf^ht can hide the semblance of that tenderly 
 devoted love, which owes its existence to virtue, 
 without which it would have perished!'' — Oh, no ; it 
 was not a transit nt passion only which the charms of 
 Kebeeca had inspired ; it was her superior mind, and 
 the viitueof her disposition, which planted love in 
 the breast of Philip Bradbury for Kebeeca Claren- 
 dale; and it flourished there, not to be eradicated by 
 caprice, inconstancy, jealousy, or by worldly circum- 
 Btances. 
 
 Whether Rebecca loved Philip Bradbury, was yet 
 unknown ; not a word, not a look, not a sigh, or a 
 blush had once betrayed it ; she never departed from 
 the retiring modesty which characterized her man- 
 ners, in his presence or in the presence of others. 
 And Philip had not breathed his passion, though it 
 was pnnctioned both by her parents and his own. 
 The desponding sigh frequently caught the observa- 
 tion of llosa, and she divined the cause of Philip's 
 dejection; — t^he determined to bo his advocate, and 
 I'leaded his passion with her sister, whenever she 
 should have opportunity. ' Look at your carnations, 
 Kfbccca,' said she, one morning as they sat at work, 
 ' fur wuat of homebody to tie them up in the frames
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 43 
 
 they will be si^oiled ; and that would be a pity, when 
 I know a certain person who would feel so much 
 pleasure in setting them right for you ; why don't 
 you ask him, Rebecca P 
 
 Rebecca did not take her eyes from her work, 
 while she coldly replied, ' And pray whom should I 
 ask, Rosa h' ' Why, Philip Bradbury,' answered 
 Rosa. 
 
 ' Philip Bradbury !' repeated Rebecca, ' why should 
 he trouble himself about my carnations r' 
 
 Poor Rosa, disappointed, felt at a loss what reply 
 to make to so natural a question ; at length, after a 
 few moments of silent embarrassment, she again be- 
 came the champion of poor Philip. 
 
 ' I think Philip Bradbury such a good young man !' 
 uttered she. 
 
 ' I never heard any body doubt the assertion,' an- 
 swered Rebecca, calmly. 
 
 ' And as to his morals, they are excellent,' retorted 
 Rosa. 
 
 ' Did you ever hear of a good young man, whose 
 morals were bad ? My dear Rosa, you forget your- 
 self,' said Rebecca, smiling at Rosa's perplexity. 
 
 Rosa, the open-hearted, generous Rosa, could no 
 longer hide her kind intentions towards the object 
 whose cause she pleaded ; and she replied, 'It is true, 
 — we often forget ourselves when we are thinking of 
 others. — Poor Philip, how I pity him.' 
 
 ' Rebecca was ready to clasp the artless girl to her 
 bosom ; but she wanted to check that too quick sen- 
 sibility, and only answered, half laughing, ' Why is 
 Philip Bradbury so much the object of your concern, 
 Rosa ?' 
 
 'Because he is the object of aversion to my sister,' 
 returned Rosa, with greater energy ; the truth was 
 now out ; Rosa pouted a little ; and Rebecca laugh- 
 ed heartily ; she gently kissed the rosy cheek flush- 
 ed with resentment, and thus addressed her sister* —
 
 44 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ' What viprht, Rosa, have you to probe mo so 
 deeply r— Philip Bradbury is not the object of uiy 
 aversion, and he never will be ; I have the greatest 
 esteem for him; but am I therefore obliged to con- 
 fess that I love him ':' surely you would not compel 
 your sister unblushingly to acknowledge, that she 
 is ready to throw herself into the arms of a yoiuig 
 man who has never asked her a question V — When he 
 dues, it is then time enough for me to answer it.' 
 
 ' Eut love don't stay to be asked,' cried Rosa, with 
 a smile so arch, and a voice so fascinating, that it 
 would have disarmed anger from the coldest bosom; 
 'it comes, and it goes, and it c;)mcs again, whenever 
 it pl( ascs ; — just as you blush now, Rebecca ; for you 
 cannot scud that colour from your checks just now, 
 if you were to try ever so.' 
 
 Thus Rebecca was caught by surprise at Rosa's 
 remark, aud she did blush deeper than ever she 
 blushed before ; the cause of which remained a pro- 
 found secret to all, but the little urchin who had 
 been at such pains in callmg it forth. 
 
 ClIArXER yi. 
 
 LOVE AND JEALOrSY. 
 
 The next time that Trelawney visited Elm Grove, 
 the doctor could not avoid pressing his hand with a 
 warmth that rellected honour to his feelings ; nor 
 was Mrs. Bradbury silent when left alone v.ith him, 
 one morning when Henry and himself strolled over 
 to Elm Grove, to invite the Bradbury's to a farewell 
 dinner, at the AV'hite Cottage, previous to Trelaw- 
 ney's departure for the metropolis. 
 
 ' Y(ju depart faking many hf-art-felt ble.«sings from 
 this place, Mr. Trelawney, said Mrs. Bradbury, cm- 
 bracing thcouly opporiunity allurdedher, of expressing
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MAlir.IAGE. 4o 
 
 her gratitude ; 'will you not accept of my blessing-, 
 foi' the great favour you have conferred on a funuly 
 who will ever sincerely pray for your happiness. Ah, 
 Mr. Trelawnoy, there are few such hearts as yours, 
 to alleviate human sorrows. Nay, do not reject a 
 mother's thanks; — you must — you shall stay and 
 receive them.' 
 
 'Dear Mrs. Bradbury,' cried Trelawney, rising, 
 and taking his hat, 'why will you drive me from 
 your presence sooner than I intended; my time is 
 short, and I wish to divide it among my friends as 
 agreeably as I can ; but I will receive nothing from 
 you, but that little delicate bunch of jessamine 
 flowers, which I will present to my dear friends at 
 the White Cottage, Rosa and Rebecca Clarendale.' 
 
 ' Will you not suffer Ivlary or Elizabeth to gather 
 you some fresh ones 'r' said Mrs. Bradbury. 
 
 ' Indeed I will not,' ansvrered Trelawney, taking 
 the flowers out of the vase, ' these will do extremely 
 well ; ' and now my half hour is gone.' 
 
 ' Not by ten minutes, Mr. Trelawney,' said Mary 
 Bradbury, popping her head in at the parlour door, 
 * and that ten minutes you must give to me and Rosa 
 Clarendale.' As if that name had magic in the 
 sound, Trelawney dropped the flowers, his hat, and 
 his gloves,— and running to the door, he exclaimed, 
 — 'To you and Rosa I — why where is Rosa!-' — Rosa 
 Clarandale, did you say. Miss Mary ':' 
 
 ' Yes, Sir, Rosa Clarendale, — my Rosa !' answered 
 Mary Bradbury, laughing with her usual vivacity, 
 and holding out a drawing, but not sufficiently to 
 give Trelawney a full view of it,' and here she is; 
 but what will you give me for a good look at it '^ but 
 you shall have it only on one condition.' 
 
 Trelawney blushed a colour brighter than the 
 deepest ro.se, and, stooping down, he began collect- 
 ing the flowers which had fallen to the groimd ; to 
 have gazed on the portrait of Rosa, had no witness
 
 •If) THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 been present, \vould have afforded him extreme grrati- 
 fication ; but he was not inclined to avail himself of 
 this pleasure in the presence of Mrs. Bradbury or the 
 lively Mary, the arch expression of whose counte- 
 nance but increased his embarrassment ; he therefore 
 assumed inditlercnce, and coldly replied, — ' Why, 
 really, Miss Mary, I cannot say that 1 have any par- 
 ticular curiosity to examine the portrait ; you have 
 imposed a tax, which it may be impossible for dig to 
 pay; however, as you are so very solicitous ' 
 
 ' Not I, indeed,' said Mary laughing most mali- 
 ciously ; 'I am not in the least anxious; if you 
 don't like to see the picture, I shall not force you— I 
 can take it away again, though it is exactly like her, 
 is it not, maumia r' (The drawing was handed to 
 Mrs. Bradbury.) ' Who would not know that picture 
 to be Rosa's 'f— look at her eyes,' continued Mary, 
 ' and her mouth— the two little dimples on each side 
 — she looks as if she were laughing at us. Hud Mrs. 
 Bradbury given vent to her feelings, she would have 
 reprimanded Mary, for this attack upon Trelawney, 
 but she could not in his presence. Giving Mary a 
 look of displeasure, she observed, that it was very 
 like the pretty little Rosa, and returning it to Mary, 
 made an excuse of retiring, and left them together; 
 and Mary indulged herself with laughing at Trelaw- 
 ney, exclaiming, while she held the drawing at a 
 greater distance from him, — Yoiu half hour is now 
 out, Mr. Trelawney.' 
 
 * True, I had forgot,' said ho, rising from his chair, 
 but not daring to glance at the picture, which he 
 longed to beh(ild ; — ' Well, Miss Mary, what message 
 am I to bear to the Miss Clarcndales. 
 
 ' You may tell Ro.>-a that the grapes are sour ; that 
 I have taken her picture, which you are almost dying 
 to behold, but that you won't, because you are afraid 
 of paying the tax.* 
 
 This was loo much : — Trelawney returned to Mary,
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 47 
 
 and taking her hand, while he gently forced the 
 drawing out of the other, exclaimed, ' Oh, Mary, 
 dear, only name the conditions on which I shall be- 
 hold this picture, and they are gi'anted.' 
 
 'Well done, Mr. Philosopher,' cried Mary; *I 
 thought it would come to this ; you are fairly caught ; 
 — but the weapons are of your own making ; — and 
 you are now as eager to see this picture as ' 
 
 To clasp the original to my heart, if she were pre- 
 sent,' exclaimed Trelawncy. — ' Mary, Mary, little 
 sorceress, you have wrung a confession from my 
 soul, which no one could have done besides yourself; 
 but I know that it reposes in safety in a truthful 
 bosom. Give me that picture and Trelawney will be 
 your slave.' 
 
 'No, indeed Sir,' replied Mary, 'it is quite enough 
 to be the slave of one woman at a time ; besides I 
 don't like slavery. But, Mr. Trelawney, I wish not 
 to wound your feelings, believe me ; the picture is, 
 indeed, yours ; for you it was designed — penciled for 
 you, in true friendship, hvft without the knowledge 
 of E-osa ; I obtained her consent to sit for me — re- 
 ceive it, therefore, as the gift of friendship. The 
 condition is this, — that as I give it to you withuut 
 the knowledge or consent of my Mend, that you will 
 let it remain a secret to Kosa.' 
 
 'I promise you every thing, dear, kind, amiable 
 Mary,' said Trelawney. 'May this, your precious 
 gift, never be forgotten by me ; I shall remember it, 
 Mary, to the latest moment of my existemce. And 
 placing the picture of Rosa carefully in his breast, 
 and imprinting a kiss on the hand of IMary, he de- 
 parted ; but he was soon overtaken by Henry, who 
 had wondered at his having held so long a coni^rence 
 with Miss Bradbuiy ; not that Henry had ever en- 
 tertained for the daughters of Doctor Bradbury any 
 •warmer sentiment than fi-iend>hip ; they were very 
 amiable lovely girls ; but Mary was his favoxuite, — she
 
 4S TUT. MVf;TKRTOTTS MAlUilAGE. 
 
 was of Ihc same njro, and in disposition and mannnvs 
 resembled his sister Rosa ; but Henry was certainly 
 no lover of Mary Bradbury's. Sometimes he tlioufvht 
 Maiy too lively; from* Mr. Tielnvney observing'', 
 that Mary BrauLury was a deli^htlul f^irl. '"What 
 pay vou, Henry ':' L)o you not think that Mary 
 Bi'adiury is a charmiuij girl?.. so good temijercd, 
 and so lively.' 
 
 •Almost too lively, Sir,' returned Henry, 'for licr 
 vivacity sometimes runs away with her good sense.' 
 
 'Indeed,' said Trelawney, 'you wronjr the .sweet 
 girl, Henry ; I think she is quite as sensible as her 
 grave Fi^ter Elizabeth, who never speaks without 
 rule. But, friend Henry, you shall have Elizabeth, 
 and I will have Mary.' ' I do not intend to have 
 eiiher, 1 assure you, Mr. Trelawney,' said Henry, 
 * at all events, Mary would not be my choice.' 
 
 Arriving at the "\Vhite Cottage, and being joined 
 by the pastor, the conversation was suspended. 
 Though the last sentence uttered by Henry, caused 
 Trelawney to suspect that there was a desire lurking 
 in his bieast for jSIary Bradbury, and that she was 
 already the object of his secret pi efcreuce. 
 
 But Trelawuey immediately retired to dress ; Mun- 
 go was waiting to receive him, and with n sorrowful 
 countenance, ho attended his master, — informing him 
 that all the trunks were packed up for their depar- 
 ture from the White; Cotlago : — ' Ah, massa, Muiigo 
 no liaripy when he leave "NVhite cottage; Mungosuro 
 him die when him part with good, good friends,— he 
 leave behind I'eter, he is so good, — Nanny Jones, she 
 is so kind, and Ma.ssa Clarendalc, him such good 
 massa— Mungo he no look on him like again.' 
 
 ' But, Mungo, you f' .wt the mistress of the house,' 
 paid Trelawney, atUctLd at the graceful attachment 
 of the poor fellow; 'and the young ladies too, are 
 they not kind to you r' 
 
 ' Uh, ytb, niUisu, me iove missec, great, great deal,
 
 THE MYSTEEIOUS MARRIAGE. 49 
 
 — and Miss Rosy, — oh, she so pretty, — why massano 
 stay -wid Miss Rosy. Miss Rosy, me sure, cry, cry, 
 cry, when massa gone !' 
 
 Trelawney was really pleased at these remarks; 
 but without seeming to' notice it, he bid him finish 
 what he was about. He then selected a box, which 
 he had brought from India, full of rich beautiful 
 shawls, and taking half a dozen of the best, determin- 
 ed to present them, as testimonials of his regard to 
 all the ladies of the Bradbury and Clarendale fami- 
 lies. A scarf, of peculiar richness, beautifully em- 
 broidered, of a celestial blue colour, he intended to 
 give before his departure to Mary Bradbury. He 
 carried them down stairs, when he was summoned to 
 dinner, where he found all the Bradburys assembled. 
 He had previously obtained a private conference with 
 Mr. and Mrs. Clarendale respecting the future estab- 
 lishment of Henry, in which he earnestly begged 
 that he might take an active part. To have refused 
 any request of Trelawney's, would have been a difii- 
 cuit task for the pastor, but when that request was 
 made so much to the advantage and advancement of 
 his beloved son, it was granted with heartfelt grati- 
 tude. 'Take Henry toLondon with you, dear Trel- 
 awney,' said Mrs. Clarendale; 'O, what will you do 
 with him ?' 
 
 'Place him at one of the Universities,' said Trel- 
 awney, ' and from thence he shall mount the pulpit, 
 and be able to preach as good a sermon as his fa- 
 ther. Forgive me, Mr. Clarendale, I do not intend 
 to offend you, when I prognosticate, that your son 
 Henry will prove a bright and shining example to 
 the British clergy ; for he will pracrice what he 
 preaches, and that is saying much, in days so vitia- 
 ted as these.' 
 
 ' Oh, Trelawney, how shall we ever be able to re- 
 pay your unexampled kindness towards us r' cried 
 [ Mrs. Clarendale, with eyes glistening in tears.
 
 50 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 'Have you not already done it.' said Trelawney, 
 
 * by your hospitality, affection, and kindness, and by 
 entrust inp me with your son. I honour the trust so 
 highly, that the hos'tajre will be sacred as life I Come, 
 Henry, you were never more wanted than now. 
 Your'father and mother are about to get rid of you; 
 they say you are a troublesome bargain, and I will 
 take you off their hands. "Will you go with such an 
 eccentric follow, as 1 am, to London I'' And he gave 
 him his hand — 
 
 • I will follow you through the world, Sir, if you 
 think mo worthy of your regard ; honoured with your 
 approbation, and exalted by your good opinion, I 
 Bhall deem myself the most fortunate and happiest 
 of beings.' 
 
 ' You hear, Mr. Clarendale,' exclaimed Trelawncy, 
 
 * he consents to march under my banners ; it is now 
 a settled point, — Htnry goes with me to London.' 
 
 These words were lieard by all the party ; and 
 whf'n Trelawney and Henry inade their appearance. 
 a deeper colour than usual sutfused the cheeks of 
 Mary Bradbury. Mr. Trelawney saw it, and he re- 
 solved to retaliate for the occurrence of the morning, 
 and ho said aloud to the doctor, giving a sly glance 
 at Mary, — 'Am I not a monopolizer, Doctor Brad- 
 bury, to take away Mr. Clarendale, junior, from 
 these agreeable parties : he is so kind as to go with 
 me to London.' 
 
 'The more the merrier.' said the doctor, 'and I 
 wish you would take me with you; it would be bet- 
 ter to me than physic, and dancing after bad debts.' 
 
 * But pray, d<jctor, what would become of your pa- 
 tient.s .'' said Mrs. Clarendale. 
 
 'Oh, 1 would leave Mrs. Bradbury to be my ?oc?<;»- 
 ie)ie>is in my absence, Madam ; my Kate is an excel- 
 lent physician, and would kill or cure without much 
 danger of trying experiments.' This produced a 
 •tnile, aad the conversation then became general.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 51 
 
 Mary Bradbury smiled too ; and though she never 
 once addressed Henry after the intelligence given by 
 Trelawney, yet her eyes often wandered on him, but 
 •were as often withdrawn ; once she caught the ob- 
 servation of Trelawney, and she coloured deeply, as 
 approaching her he whispered, ' Now, Mary, I have 
 my full revenge on you.' 
 
 But prudent Rebecca could not reconcile the ca- 
 price which she imagined guided Trela^vney, nor 
 could she account for the familiarity with which 
 Mary Bradbury addressed Trelawney. But if Trel- 
 awney surprised Rebecca, how much more did it 
 affect Rosa? to whose sensitive bosom it gave the 
 greatest pain ; not that Trelawney had abated his 
 attentions to her; he was still the same. — and the 
 same to Rebecca ; but it was the conduct of Mary 
 Bradbury that surprised her ; for Rosa loved Mary 
 with all the ardour of friendship, and she had long 
 suspected that her brother Henry was not an object 
 of her indifference, though Mary had never owned 
 it ; but like Rebecca, she had observed Trelawney 
 whispering in her ear, and the blush of Mary, pro- 
 duced one on the face of Rosa. Both sisters were 
 perplexed whether the impropriety belonged to Trel- 
 awney or to Mary Bradbury, 
 
 After dinner, Trelawney begged permission to ex- 
 hibit the shawls to the ladies. To Mrs. Bradbury 
 and Mrs. Clarendale, he presented a shawl suitable 
 to each ; he then selected two for Rosa and Rebecca, 
 of an exact pattern and quality, so that no partialiry 
 could be intended to either ; and to Miss Elizabeth 
 Bradbury he gave a most elegant one, which was re- 
 ceived with a gracious smile ; then he said to Mary 
 Bradburj": — 'Miss Mary, I have quite forgotten you.' 
 To which she answered, with nonchalance,—'' Oh, 
 never mind me ;— I can borrow Elizabeth's, or mam- 
 ma will lend me hers, if I should have occasion.' 
 
 ' Indeed I will not permit you to do either,' said
 
 62 THE MYSTEHIOrS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Trolawnry, pidiluciiig tho beautiful scarf, and spread- 
 iug it on llic tabic, to Ihe adn)iratiouof all ; 'you must 
 wear this scarf, Miss Mary, instead of a shawl; it is 
 a very becoming dress to the Indian belles, and we will 
 Bee whether it is not equally so on an English lady.' 
 So saying, Trelawney threw tho scarf playfully over 
 the shoulders of Mary Bradbury, who exhibited a 
 confusion she could not hide ; her cheek was crim- 
 soned with blushes, on perceiving Henry casting a 
 look at her;— and he suddenly quitted the room. 
 Rosa and llebecca were silent, — while the innocent, 
 good-natured Mary, conscious that no design was 
 premeditated by the generous Trelawney, in giving 
 her the scarf, or in her having accepted it, felt con- 
 scious how little she merited the cold locks which 
 Henry had cast at her; but there was a spirited 
 pride in Mary, which could not easily forgive a sus- 
 picion for which she had given no cause; unless 
 Henry, therefore, sued for an explanation of her be- 
 ing so friendly towards Trelawney, she determined 
 that explanation he should never have from her ; and 
 when he returned, she redoubled her vivacity, and 
 folding up the scarf, she sportively said, — ' Ten thou- 
 sand thanks, Mr. Trelawney, for your beautiful pre- 
 sent, which I shall reserve for holidays. But what 
 a situation it would have placed me in, if I was not 
 in the presence of kind friends, who are too generous 
 to criticise the superiority of your gift. If Lady 
 Alexina had been present, what would have become 
 of Mary Bradbury.' 
 
 ' Had Lady Alexina been present, Mary Bradbury 
 need not have blushed to accept a gift from Trelaw- 
 ney,' he said with peculiar energy. Mary had now 
 made things worse, and given greater cause to 
 Henry, Rosa, and Rebecca, to suspect that she waa 
 aiming for a conquest over the heart of Trelaw- 
 ney ; — and that Trelawney was fostering a pustion 
 for Mary ; and thus condemned, they bade each other
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 53 
 
 good night, with displeasure at the conduct of Mary 
 Bradbury. The next morning was set apart to pre- 
 pare for Henry's journey to London, who, notwith- 
 standing his good prospects in life, felt a severe pang 
 in quitting the bosom of his family, and his paternal 
 home; nor was Mrs. Clarendale without a mother's 
 feelings ; — she wept and smiled alternately, while her 
 daughters assisted her in packing Henry's clothes. 
 ' Oh, my Henry,' cried she, as he entered the room, 
 as she hung round his neck sobbing, ' Oh, my Henry, 
 were it not for the opinion which I have of the exalt- 
 ed being with whom you are going, I could not part 
 with you; — need I impose an injunction, that when 
 absent always to think of your mother and sisters, 
 whose hearts throb so for your welfare, — and that 
 you will write to your father at every opportunity.' 
 
 ' Think of my mother, — think of my sisters!' ex- 
 claimed Henry, as he returned his mother's embrace, 
 ' Oh, you are dearer to me than existence. Be com- 
 posed, my dearest mother ; — be comforted, my Rosa 
 and Rebecca ; — and rest assured, that your Henry 
 only lives in the hope of returning to promote your 
 happiness. Your tears overpower me.' He then 
 turned to Rebecca, clasping her to his heart, ' Re- 
 becca, you have fortitude, exert it for the sake of my 
 mother and Rosa — tell them the hour of parting will 
 be doubly repaid by the hour of meeting ; do, dearest 
 girl, comfort them when I am absent.' 
 
 ' Do you then think, my brother, that none but my 
 mother and Rosa will feel it ?' said Rebecca, smiling 
 through her tears ; ' There is poor Mary Bradbury 
 too, — she has a tear left for you.' 
 
 ' And a smile for somebody else,' cried Henry, col- 
 ouring; adding ' That as Mary's tears would not flow 
 for him, he could not be answerable for any effect they 
 might produce on her feelings.' 
 
 'Why, Henry,' said Rebecca, 'fond as I am of 
 Mary, I do not admire her faults j her strange man-
 
 64 THE MYSTrRTOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 upr latfly to Mr. Trelawney, has changed my opinion 
 of her.' 
 
 • ihcro is, doubtless an understanding? between 
 th( in,' answered Henry, 'of a mysterious nature, but 
 to what it relates is a matter of indifference to me, 
 and I ho^ that you will never ap:ain mention her 
 name. I cannot bear levity, and I detest coquetry.' 
 
 ' My dear children,' said Mrs. Clarendale, ' I dis- 
 approve of this severity ajiainst one not present to 
 justify herself in your opinion; I have observed an 
 alteration in Mary Bradbury towards Mr. Trelaw- 
 nry ; but from what cause it proceeds is not our 
 business; besides, you forget, that while you are 
 condemning Mary, you arc attaching an equal por- 
 tion of blame to 'i'rclawney. Therefore suspend your 
 judgment on the conduct of either party, till you 
 have better grounds for suspicions of an innocent 
 girl and an honourable man.' Henry was abashed, 
 silent, and confused ; ' but, jealousy is a green-eyed 
 monster, that mocks the meat it feeds on,' and the 
 sensations which Henry felt for Mary Bradbury, sly- 
 ly whispered, that it was a sentiment composed both 
 of love and jealousy ; and though his mother had 
 softened the asperity of his resentment towards her, 
 she had by no means removed the suspicion from his 
 mind, that Trcluwney was the object of her particular 
 regard. 
 
 Mtanwhile, poor Mary had great suffering; it 
 chased sleep from her pillow for the two succeeding 
 nights after Trelawney had become the owner of 
 liosa's picture, which she now repented having done. 
 — What was to be done with Henry ? Could she 
 suffer him to leave her, withoutjustifying the seeming 
 capriciousness of her conduct •' — The proud heart of 
 Henry, — would he ever forgive an appearance of 
 levity •'—No.— Mary knew that heart too well ; and, 
 though guiltless, shed tears of repentance. — What 
 then was to be done with* Henry F or, if she betrayed
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MAEEIAGE. 65 
 
 the confidence of Trelawney, how would her heart 
 answer an upbraiding conscience ? Mary sought the 
 bosom of her best friend, to whom she imparted all 
 her grief and perplexity — and that best friend was 
 — her mother, by whose counsel she determined to be 
 guided. 
 
 'You have been imprudent and thoughtless, my 
 dear child,' said Mrs. Bradbury, 'and I fear that 
 this imprudence will carry its punishment along with 
 it.' How so, my dear mamma r' anxiously inquired 
 Mary. 
 
 ' Because, my dear, you will probably lose the con- 
 fidence of Henry, in order to preserve the secret of 
 Trelawney ;' but perceiving Mary grow pale, she add- 
 ed, ' this will only be for a short time ; Trelawney, 
 when he knows your embarrassment for his sake, 
 will not long suffer you to be condemned by Henry, 
 or any other person. But you must wait the event 
 of circumstances, to unravel this seeming mystery of 
 your conduct to the Clarendale family. Trelawney's 
 secret must be held sacred, even at the expense of 
 friendship, or of love.' 
 
 Mrs. Bradbury kissed ofi" the tear from Mary's pale 
 cheek, and Mary with a heavy heart and weeping 
 eyes put on her hat and shawl, and walked to the 
 "\Vhite Cottage. At the little gate the first person 
 she met was Trelawney ; he saw that she was pale 
 and agitated, and respectfully inquiring the cause, 
 was answered by Mary with a flood of tears, which 
 surprised and affected him ; but Trelawney did not 
 guess the true cause, — or Henry would that night have 
 been undeceived, and Mary reinstated in his good 
 graces, as firmly as her image was engraven on his 
 heart ; but it was not so ; for the precise moment in 
 which Trelawney had taken the hand of Mary, and 
 held it to his lips, Henry approached, and apologizing 
 fur his intrusion, instantly withdrew ; — leaving poor 
 Mary with fresh tortures of mind: but, not daring to
 
 66 THE MYSTERIOUS MAERIAGE. 
 
 disclose her thoughts to Trelawney, she tried to re- 
 cover her composure, when she found herself in the 
 presonoo of Mr. and Mrs. Clarcndalo, who received 
 hor in tlioir usual kind manner. Taking her hand, 
 ho tenderly inquired if she was not well ? ' for you 
 know, Mary,' cried the pastor, ' it is unusual to see 
 you out of spirits.' Mary pleaded the effects of a vi- 
 olent head-ache, and the attentions of the pastor, 
 soothed the anguish of her heart, while it flattered 
 and consoled her. 
 
 But IMary had created a general sympathy, and the 
 pastor's fireside wanted that social harmony, which 
 had till now been ' the feast of reason and the flow of 
 soul.'— —Henry was dejected, — Trelawney agitated, 
 — Rebecca grave, — and Rosa pensive. Trelawney 
 had more than once looked at her with a tenderness 
 which ho had never done before, — he was less talka- 
 tive with Mary Bradbury, from whom Rosa had al- 
 ready withdrawn the unfavourable impression she 
 had cherished towards her. A similar scene was 
 taking place in the kitchen: — for Mungo, with tears, 
 was distributing the little presents which his master 
 had given him for Peter and Nanny Jones, while 
 they expressed th jir unfeigned sorrow at being obli- 
 ged to part with poor Mungo. 'But, I hope we 
 shall meet one day again, Mr. Mungo,' whimpered 
 Nanny, drying hor eyes with her apron. 
 
 ' Yes, black, white, all meet when him go in toder 
 country,' cried Mungo, ' we all happy dere ; — no want 
 sugar-cane, — no care for plantain, — sun shine in de 
 heart make all glad, all merry." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE BECONCILIATION ; AND THE DEPAETrRE OF 
 TRELAWNEY AND HENRY. 
 
 Mary Bradbury, at the solicitation of the pastor 
 and Mrs. Clarendale, stayed to partake of supper;
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 67 
 
 affer which she rose to take leave of Mr. Trelawney, 
 who, surprised at the particular manner in which she 
 addressed him, as she expressed her sincere wishes 
 for his health and happiness, answered, — 'And shall 
 I not have the pleasure of seeing you again, Miss 
 Bradbury, before my departure ?' 
 
 ' Very possibly not, Sir,' cried Mary ; ' all day to- 
 morrow I shall be particularly eng-aged, and as you 
 depart in the evening, excuse me from taking a foi'- 
 mal farewell.' 
 
 Trelawney, with a desponding sigh, said, ' Accept 
 my best wishes, amiable Mary, for your prosperity 
 and happiness.' 
 
 Mary extended her hand towards the outstretched 
 one of Trelawney, and shook hands. 
 
 * Surely, Heniy,' said the pastor, 'you are not go- 
 ing to suffer ;Mary Bradbury to walk to Elm Grove 
 by herself ;— a mighty pretty specimen of your gal- 
 lantry indeed. Stay, Mary, I .shall see you home, if 
 nobody else will.' 
 
 Trelawney slightly offered his services, but sus- 
 pecting that Henry would be a more wished-for com- 
 panion, did not press her to accept of them ; so that 
 Henry was now compelled to escort Mary to Elm 
 Grove ; which he did without exchanging one word, 
 or offering his arm, till they reached a well-known 
 stile, and politeness obliged him to assist her, and 
 this he did in a very awkward manner ; but Mary 
 having once possession of his arm did not relinquish it, 
 and with one of those smiles which had so often 
 charmed him, suddenly exclaimed, — ' I shall often 
 look at that stile, Henry, and think of you ; it was 
 there that you caught the little linnet, which you 
 made me a present of when I left school ; and in this 
 field you used to gather me fresh blowing violets, and 
 all the flowers of the early spring, to make my gar- 
 lands with, when we had a holiday;— ah, Henry, 
 those were happy days.'
 
 58 THE MY8TERIOXJ8 MARRIAGE. 
 
 This WAS too much for Henrj' ; as the voice and 
 look of Mary would have melted the firmest stoic. 
 But he was determined to be angry with Mary, and to 
 k't her know that he was so ; and he coldly replied, — 
 
 ' Surely, Miss Mary Bradbury need not go so far 
 f .r a recollection of happy days; she can transfer the 
 remembrance of past scenes to aid her more perfect 
 recollection of present ones.' 
 
 'Unkind Henry,' cried Mary, 'how have I so 
 seriously offended you, as to cause you to address me 
 in a luanncr so wounding to my feelings!''' 'Can you 
 L'( a btrauger to my feelings r' retorted Henry, — * No, 
 }>Iary, you arc not so ; you have excited my displea- 
 -tire, nay, almost my aversion, and you are not a 
 .-;r;:nger to the cause.' 
 
 'Your aversion! — Oh, Henry!' exclaimed Mary, 
 uid dropping his arm, she burst into tears, and sob- 
 lii'd as if her heart would break, 'if I had deserved 
 your censure, I could bear your severity much bet- 
 Ilt ; but, on my honour, Henry, I do not; you are 
 deceived, — I am innocent of the slightest impropriety 
 rcs])icting my conduct towards Mr. Trelawney.' 
 
 'Prove it, Mary ;— justify it, if you can;' cried 
 Henry, now greatly softened by her emotion, 'and I 
 will endeavour to think you so.' 
 
 ' Endeavour to think me so !' answered Mary, -with, 
 the blush of conseious innocence glowing on her 
 check. ' you s//ff/nhink me so; and at some future 
 opportunity, when all is explained, you will repent 
 fur having thus accused me.' 
 
 'And cannot that explanation take place now ?' in- 
 quired Henry; 'Oh, Mary, torture rue not thus ;— 
 ca^e my heart of this agonizing suspense ; or say 
 that you are the object of Mr. Trelawney's affection, 
 and that he is the object of yours.' 
 
 ' Then should I tell you false, Sir, observed Mary, 
 wiihalook of ingenuou.sness, which nearly carried 
 '.ouvicti'jn to the heart of Henry; — ^lam not the oh-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 59 
 
 ject of Mr. Trelawney's affections, and he can never 
 be the object of mine.' 
 
 ' It is plain, then, that you know ivho is ? cried 
 Henry, but in a voice softened to tenderness ; 'why 
 am I not permitted to share in your confidence?' 
 
 ' Because I am bound by a promise the most sacred,' 
 answered Mary, 'to permit no one to share in it. 
 By a trifling- incident it was incautiously revealed to 
 me, and I as incautiously promised concealment ; but 
 having once done so, I must hold sacred the secret of 
 Trelawney. My compliance inspired his future con- 
 fidence and esteem ; hence arose that easy familiarity 
 between us, and which has led you to misconstrue 
 every word and look, I addressed to him, as proofs of 
 levity and impropriety ; but while this wrings my 
 heart, Henry, and gives me pangs more keen than I 
 can express, it shall never make me guilty of bretray- 
 ing the confidence which is reposed in me ; — till 
 he himself shall release me from the necessity of 
 concealment, even though I risk what is dearer to me 
 than life itself— yoeo* esteem V 
 
 Henry, now relieved from a heavy burden, stood in 
 silent and rapturous contemplation of the lovely 
 countenance of Mary, whose every word carried con- 
 viction to his transported heart. 
 
 ' Forgive me, Mary,' cried Henry, now taking her 
 hand, and pressing it tenderly to his lips, 'that I 
 doubted the unerring rectitude of your heart, the pos- 
 session of which I prize so highly, that to part with it 
 would make life a burden, and the fairest prospects 
 dark. Oh, Mary, cannot you guess the sentence which 
 would follow, were I now sanctioned to breathe on 
 this dear hand vows of love and everlasting truth ?' 
 
 'Mercy on me!' cried Mary, now smiling; 'that is 
 saying more than yuu ought'to say for ten years to 
 come ; wait till that time and then— 
 
 ' Yuu will be mine, Mary Y demanded Heni-y, with 
 the greatest anxiety.
 
 60 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 * Not I indeed,' said Mary, * I shall not say a word, 
 till at least you have served an apprenticeship, as 
 Labiin did for' Rachel, seven long years.' 
 
 'And then, Mary, ' 
 
 'Why then,' continued Mary, *I cannot precisely 
 say what will be the consequence, for, as the old song 
 pays, you know, 'Maidens never tell their minds.' 
 But. at present, Henry, I must wish you good night.* 
 
 'Angels preserve and bless you, Mary !' exclaimed 
 Henry, as they had now reached Elm Grove, but as 
 the hour was growing late, he deferred taking his 
 leave of the fiimily, and returned to the White Cot- 
 tage, in a state of mind so diflerent to that in which 
 he had quitted it, that the change was very percepti- 
 ble to all present, especially to Trelawney. But he 
 could not divest himself of a pang of bitter regret, 
 that though with Henry and Mary no obstacle inter- 
 vened, to blight the tender blossom of ripening af- 
 fection, yet with him and Rosa the barrier was insur- 
 mountable ; hero no influence could prevail, no 
 wealth purchase, and no power obtain ; — Rosa never 
 could be his ; and this rctlcction was so Uiolancholy 
 and despairing, that it produced others on his imagi- 
 nation more alarming still ; for Rosa would be ano- 
 ther's ;— yes, a very few succeeding years, and Rosa 
 would bo the wife of another. Such exquisite beauty 
 and sweetness were not destined to bloom unseen, or 
 waste its ' sweetness on the desert air ;' — she must be 
 seen, and being once seen, her attraction, like the 
 magnet, would bo powerful. — The idea was insup- 
 portably painful, so much so, that the pastor noticed 
 it, and asked him the reason. 
 
 ' A little sombre,' said Trelawney, forcing a smile. 
 'The fact is,' said Trelawney, 'Mr. Clarendalo, like 
 Mary Biadbury, I am unwilling to take a formal 
 farewell of my friends, and I shall jump into the 
 chaise to-morrow, without bidding adieu to any of you. 
 
 ' I cannot see the necessity of such a proceeding,*
 
 THE MTSTEEIOtrS MAHPvIAGE. 61 
 
 said the pastor, marking: with displeasure, the aprita- 
 ted looks of Rosa, who,"in conversation with her bro- 
 ther, could scarcely suppress her tears. ' We,' said 
 the pastor, 'shall have most cause to deplore the loss 
 of your society; recollect, Trelawney, that though 
 you have gladdened all hearts around you here, tve in 
 our turn must not be seljish ; and that there is much 
 happiness awaiting you at Lord Fitzosbourne's; 
 where there is one object^ who has an exclusive claim 
 on your attentions.'' 
 
 This speech was a sort of monitor, that whispered 
 to Trelawney, jour father's tvill ; and he made an 
 effort to recover his tranquillity. But Rosa could not 
 tranquillize hers ; she wept, and at last audibly sob- 
 bed on the bosom of her brother : Rebecca trembled 
 for her sister, and gently hurried her out of the room 
 to her chamber, before the pastor had time to inquire 
 the cause of her emotion. Rebecca mildly reproved 
 Rosa, for betraying a weakness so highly reprehen- 
 sible ; to which Rosa replied, with some embarrass- 
 ment, — ' Is not Henry going to leave us ?' 
 
 'Yes, — and another person also is going to leave 
 us,' said Rebecca, ' and it is for hihi that your tears 
 now flow. AVhy, Rosa, will you persist in cherish- 
 ing sentiments disgraceful to yourself, and distress- 
 ing to me ? — what will papa think of your conduct 
 — or Trelawney of your weakness r' 
 
 ' I will not do so again, Rebecca,' said Rosa ; ' but 
 I was thinking how happy Lady Alexina will be 
 when she is the wife of Trelawney.' 
 
 'It is proper that every body should be happy 
 when they marry,' observed Rebecca, ' or they had 
 better never marry at all.' 
 
 *But they do marry, and yet are ver^' unhappy 
 afterwards,' said Rosa, 'how is that, Rebecca r' 
 
 ' Perhaps. Rosa, it is the result of contradiction.' 
 
 ' I should not like to be forced to marry, for all 
 that,' said Rosa.
 
 62 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 'But when it is the JFill of your Father,'' said Re- 
 becca, ' a sacred promise, given at the bedside of a 
 dying parent, you will then admit it is indispensable, 
 and ought 'tiever to be broken.' At this moment a 
 gentle breeze whispered among the honey-suckles, 
 which bloomed through the lattice of the window, at 
 which they were seated ; and as Rebecca uttered tho 
 last sentence, it was responded to, by a deep and hol- 
 low sigh, which audibly murmured in their cars, — 
 
 ' Oh ! Never !' 
 But in a voice utterly unknown to them. The con- 
 sternation of the two sisters, almost overpowered 
 them. Rebecca recovering herself, endeavoured to 
 impart confidence to the trembling Rosa, and looked 
 out of the window, but perceiving not a vestige of a 
 human being, observed, — ' Wo have been watched by 
 some person, and it is plain that they listened to our 
 conversation, and have repeated some part of it for a 
 fi'olic; but don't alarm yourself, Rosa, we have no- 
 thing to fear.' 
 
 'Nofhinrf r 
 Murmured the same voice; and Rebecca, in terror 
 greater than before, instantly shut down the window 
 and closed the shutters, while she attempted to calm 
 the teiTified Rosa. Rebecca, on the first alarm, 
 thought of calling Nanny Jones, but she was con- 
 vinced that the voice proceeded from no one who had 
 any evil intention towards them, for it flowed more 
 from the accents of sorrow, than from any alarming 
 expression ; Yet that it was an incident of an extra- 
 ordinary nature, she could not but admit, but still she 
 could not see the immediate necessity of informing 
 the pastor, unless the visit was repeated ; cautioning 
 Rosa to silence, not a word was mentioned of the af- 
 fair, and, indeed, little time was given to reflect on 
 any thing of the past, for the departure of Trelawney 
 and Henry was to take place at six o'clock the ensu- 
 ing evening, and all was bustle and preparation at
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 63 
 
 the Y\'liite Cottage. Henry had contrived to steal a 
 few moments, to run over to Elm Grove, where he 
 bade farewell to Mary, who had declined accompany- 
 ing: her mother, the doctor and Elizabeth, to the pis- 
 tor's ; but she could not so easily excuse herself from 
 the sight of Henry, nor hide her tears, as pressing 
 her hand for the last time, he repeated an assurance 
 of his unalterable affection, and said, ' Heaven bless 
 you, [Mary ! I dare not write to Elm Grove, but I 
 shall think and believe there is one within it, who is 
 not indifferent to the destiny of Henry.' Mary was 
 silent, but her look was eloquent to her lover, and he 
 departed with Philip Bradbury, with whom he had 
 agreed to hold a regular correspondence, and he 
 should thus hear of all that concerned his beloved 
 Mary. But he had yet a severe trial in bidding adii-u 
 to his family, who, on his return, were all assembled 
 in the oak parlour. 
 
 'Heniy, my darling I' cried Mrs. Clarendale, but 
 she could not get out another word, for at that mo- 
 ment the chaise, which was ordered from the Turn- 
 pike-house, drove up to the gate, with Trelawney's 
 four grey horses. Mungo was to ride on horse-back ; 
 and Peter with Mr. Wiggins, who had come over to 
 assist in arranging the baggage, which being done, 
 Mungo entered the parlour, "with ' Massa, now all 
 ready,' which acted like electricity on all present. 
 The pastor started from his chair ; he was collected 
 and calm, but when he turned to disengage Henry 
 from the arms of his mother, all the father was in his 
 soul ; ' Fanpy, my dear, the chaise is waiting ; — 
 Henry !' here he wept — but it was not a weak- 
 ness ; he was soon a philosopher again, and he took 
 the arm of Trela\vney. whose voice was inarticulate 
 from emotion, and hurried him into the chaise ; — he 
 then returned for Henry, and giving him a moment's 
 time to kiss his sisters, and nod a kind adieu to tlie 
 Bradbury family, placed him by the side of his bene-
 
 64 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAOE. 
 
 factor. Tlien pressing a hand of each, with the firm 
 grasp of a man and a christian, he ejaculated, 'Angels 
 of Providence preserve and bless you both !' and de- 
 sired' the postillion to drive as expeditiously as possi- 
 ble from the door. The order was instantaneously 
 obeyed,— and in a few moments, they lost sight of 
 the'White Cottage. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A SKETCH OF THE FITZOSBOUKNE FAMILY, 
 
 ' Absence makes the heart grow fonder.' Thus 
 did the forms of ilosa and of Mary, as the travellers 
 got further from the White Cottage, become the chief 
 source of their happiness. They had nearly arrived 
 at the first stage of their journey before they ex- 
 changed one syllable to each other, so sacred is si- 
 lence, when our thoughts are occupied by those we 
 love. They alighted at a pleasant inn, and the first 
 sentence Trelawney addressed to his young compan- 
 ion, when seated in a snug little parlour, was, — ' Now, 
 Plenry, could we, like Fortunatus, put on a wishing- 
 cap, how quickly would the White Cottage, and its 
 dear inhabitants, appear before us.' 
 
 ' Yes, and I should like to have a view of Elm 
 Grove, at the same moment,' said Henry, ' my friend 
 Philip Bradbury would be no unpleasing companion, 
 and the facetious doctor, bow he would enliven us.' 
 
 The best medicine that a doctor can prescribe for 
 his patients,' said Trelawney; 'but pray, Henry, 
 would not a certain lively young lady of our acquain- 
 tance, prove as good a substitute as the doctor 'i what 
 think you of Bliss Mary Bradbury ? 
 
 Henry made no reply, but coloured extremely. 
 
 'Ah, Henry,' said Trelawney, enjoying his confu- 
 sion, that blush would betray you in a court of con-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 65 
 
 gcience, despite the positive assertion, that * Mary 
 would never be the object of your choice ;' — but come, 
 let us have supper and a glass of wine.' 
 
 The attempt, however, which Trelawney had made 
 to rally his own spirits and those of his young friend, 
 proved ineffectual, as he refitcted, that he was now 
 within a few hours only of entering upon scenes so 
 uncongenial with those he had quitted, and of mixing 
 in society, for which he felt little relish. 
 
 In the bosom of the Clarendale family, Trelawney 
 had acquired a taste for all that was domestic, rational 
 and useful; but in that of Lord Fitzosboume's, he 
 knew he must enter upon habits quite unfamiliar to 
 him, — accustom himself to different hours, and be- 
 come the slave of prejudice, or otherwise be consider- 
 ed an unsocial being. But this was not the most 
 painful of Trelawney' s reflections ; there was yet an- 
 other, he was to meet Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne, 
 his offianced wife, — the wife of his Father s choice, 
 and not his own, — a young and beautiful woman, but 
 the woman he dreaded to see. She would expect the 
 homage due to her charms and her exalted rank, — 
 she would expect the attentions of a lover, and the 
 possession of his heart, and that heart he had not to 
 give ; and it is probable that she never would have 
 possessed it, had he never beheld Rosa. 
 
 Yet to hope for Rosa was madness, — and to live 
 without Rosa, most painful to his existence ; but that 
 he must live without her, he now felt was his awful 
 destiny ; to submit, therefore, was his only remedy. 
 "With a full determination of submission to the Will 
 of his Father, Trelawney tried to tranquillize his 
 harrassed mind; for, perhaps. Lady Alexina might 
 not like him, and yet be as ready to make a voluntary 
 Bacrilice of her affections, and to the Will of her 
 Father. Lady Alexina might be amiable ; he could 
 nnot say that she was not so ; in either case, her peace 
 should not be wounded by him.
 
 66 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Thus was Trelawney kept awake, lonj^ after Henry 
 had closed his eyes in gentle sleep, for here no phan- 
 toiii frighted young love from his roseate slumbers ; 
 but the form of the lovely Mary appeared to him, 
 crowned with flowers, and a face radiant with smiles 
 and anxious love. 
 
 It was not, however, without concern, that he 
 p-rceted his benefactor at an early hour in the morn- 
 ing, and beheld his pale dejected countenance ; but 
 Henry beheld it in silence ; he could not presume to 
 hazai'd an inquiry, which might be deemed intru- 
 sive; respecting the sorrows, therefore, which he 
 could not heal, he could only redouble his attentions 
 towards him, in all those little kindnesses, which 
 might tend to soothe his despondency and lessen his 
 grief. But he often pondered over the words of 
 Mary Bradbury, and reflected on their last conversa- 
 tion respecting Trelawney, who, it was doubtless, 
 cherished an attachment towards some object whom 
 he could never possess, but it did not occur to the 
 mind of Henry, that this object could be either of his 
 sisters ; for he knew that Itebecca would never be- 
 stow her hand or affections on any but I'hilip Brad- 
 bury, who, of late, had been more frequent in his 
 vi^^its at the "White Cottage ; her carnations very 
 suddenly began to flourish with luxuriant beauty, be- 
 neath the fostering hand of Philip Bradbury, her 
 wlent admirer. But Henry could not imagine who 
 had so deeply insi)ired the affections of Trelawney. 
 That Rosa would have been the most likely of the 
 two, he admitted, for she possessed beauty the 
 most attractive, and, therefore, the most seductive; 
 but Rosa was too young, and too unsophistica- 
 tea, a'l the present, he conceived, to have created a 
 pa.ssion in Tanjorc Trelawney ; but that it was some 
 liKly whom he had left in the East, who had so 
 strongly nvetted his chains, was the conjecture of 
 llv:iuy, as lie fulloWyd his silent and peu&ive com-
 
 THE >nrSTEliIOUS MAHRIAGE. 67 
 
 panion into the chaise, which waited to conduct them 
 to the gay and smilinji: metropolis. 
 
 As to the house of the Earl of Fitzosbourne, am- 
 bition and pride were its hereditary features. The 
 Earl did not inherit a large portion of wealth from 
 his ancestors; an instance of which was, the Lady 
 Louisa, his only sister, very early became the wife of 
 Lord Glenthorpe, from the consideration, that he had 
 unbounded wealth, of which Lady Louisa was desti- 
 tute ; and a secondary consideration of her brother, 
 under whose protection she was left, was, that a por- 
 tionless sister was an incumbrance to his narrow es- 
 tablishment, and that the sooner he got her otf his 
 hands the better ; with a sentiment of such brotherly 
 affection, the young Louisa, gave her hand to Lord 
 Glenthorpe, her senior by twenty years ; but he was 
 rich, and that was sufficient to secure him the respect 
 of his beautiful bride, who thus aggrandized by for- 
 tune, plunged into the giddy vortex of extravagance 
 and dissipation,— a blazing luminary in the fiishion- 
 able hemisphere. But Lady Louisa very soon lost 
 the affections of her husband, of whom she became 
 the torment, but she was past government, and never 
 formed for domestic happiness, and was insensible to 
 those joys which it pruuuces. 
 
 At this period the Earl of Fitzosbourne became 
 acquainted with the family of ]Mr. Trelawney, just 
 then arrived from India; and, offering his hand in 
 rnariiage to his beautiful and accomplished sister, 
 Hiss Alexina Trelawney, became possessed of that 
 large fortune, which was the foundation of all his 
 future aggrandizement ; nor was he less happy in 
 the possession of his lovely wife, whose beautiful 
 person was blended with a mind of unequalled sweet- 
 ness, gentleness and virtue, the unerring rectitude of 
 her conduct rendered her the idol of her brother, and 
 of her adoring hu.sband. But while thus endeared to 
 the hearts of her brother and her lord, she was the
 
 68 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE, 
 
 obiprt of envy and aversion to his sister. Lady Glen- 
 thorpe, because she possessed qualities which she 
 knew she did not. 
 
 But Lady Glenthorpe had too much dissimulation, 
 to sutfor this aversion to be perceptible to her bro- 
 ther. She was too great an adept in duplicity, and 
 even rivalled others in her attentions to Lady Fitz- 
 osbourne. Thus was the lovely victim caught in 
 the wily snare. 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe, on her brother's union with 
 Miss Trelawney, congratulated herself on the large 
 fortune she had brought into the family, and finding 
 that her own was daily diminishing, from squander- 
 ing away nearly the residue of her husband's once 
 handsome property, now thought she could retrieve 
 her immense losses, by the ready purse of the tender- 
 hearted Alexina. Thus was the amiable Countess 
 imposed upon by Lady Glenthorpe for large sums of 
 money, without the knowledge of her husband, — 
 promised, indeed, to be repaid, but which she never 
 intended. 
 
 Nor was this the only artillery used by Lady 
 Glenthorpe, for she also mad 3 the brother of Alexina 
 h; r I asy dupe, by putting on the semblance of virtues 
 •which she possessed not. If Mr. Trelawney was in- 
 disposed. Lady Glenthorpe flew to inquire after his 
 health, nor was her carriage ever absent from Trel- 
 awney' s house, during his confinement ; while she 
 bestowed the tenderest caresses on the little Tanjore, 
 then a lovely boy of three years old, the only son of 
 Trelawney, and sole heir to the vast property which 
 his father accumulated in the eastern isles. 
 
 On the beauty of young Tanjore, Lady Glenthorpe 
 Would expatiate for hours to the fond father, who 
 idolized him ; and when it is considered, that this 
 flattery was breathed from a beautiful woman, it is 
 no Wonder that Trelawney listened to the tale with 
 raptuie ; in short, she had become so great a favour-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS M ' IIKIAGE. 69 
 
 ite, that had the hand of Lady Glenthorpe been free, 
 it was not improbable that the generous East Indian 
 would not have permitted her to have remained a 
 ■widow lon^ ; but fortunately for Tanjore Trelawney, 
 this event was not likely to take place, for Lord 
 Glenthorpe was not only living-, but likely to bcnonie 
 a father shortly, about which time Lady Fitzos- 
 boume also promised an heir to her Lord. 
 
 About this time, Mr. Trelawney was compelled to 
 return to India, much as he regretted that he could 
 not remain to witness the fond hopes of his beloved 
 sister realized, in becoming a mother. But the mandate 
 he had received was peremptory, and he was obliged 
 to obey its call, not so much for his own sake as for 
 the future prospects of his darling son, in whom all 
 his earthly happiness was centered. 
 
 But his departure caused much disappointment to 
 Lady Glenthorpe, while it caused the gentle Alexins 
 a pang of unfeigned sorrow, and both ladies felt the 
 absence of Trelawney, and his little son a drawback 
 on their approaching felicity, in becoming mothers. 
 
 She was one morning surprised by Lady Glenthorpe, 
 who, entering her dressing-room, thus addressed her: 
 — 'What, my pretty Alexina, still, still drowned in 
 tears, because your naughty brother will leave us ;' 
 said her Ladyship, in the most coaxing accents ; 
 'won't naughty brother stay to see the little stran- 
 ger 'r come, don't cry, that's a darling, for I have 
 thought of such a charming- plan, — would be Ihe 
 subject for a delightful novel, — quite sentimental, I 
 assure you.' 
 
 •But what has your Lady.ship's plan to do with 
 my brother's going away ':' said Lady Fitzosbourne. 
 
 ' There now,' said Lady Glenthorpe. *you are vexed, 
 because I don't instantly place my characters before 
 you. There is you, and your brother, and your little 
 nephew, Tanjore Trelawney, — and there may be the 
 daughter of Lord Fitzo^boul■ne ; and now, Alexina, 
 cannot you guess at my plan f
 
 7U THE MTSTERIOtTS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ' I roally cannot,' answered Lady Fitzosbouvne. 
 
 'When the dear little soul is born,' said Lady 
 Glenthorpe, ' I suppose it will be either a bov or a ?:irl.' 
 
 ' I should iuiao-ine one of the two,' said Lady Fitz- 
 osboume, laujrliing- at her Ladyship's remarks. 
 
 ' Well, my dear,' said her Ladyship, ' suppose it to 
 be the latter, a little Alexina, the picture of beautiful 
 mamma, then marry her to her cousin, your nephew, 
 Tanjore Trelawney. — Now, my dear, how do you 
 like my plan 'f 
 
 'Amazingly!' said the delighted Countess, with 
 tears, at the suggestion, that a child of hers would 
 ever become the wife of her nephew ; ' but how is 
 this plan to be put into execution!'' cried she, 'my 
 brother is going to India, his return is uncertain, he 
 will never permit Tanjore to leave him, and in case 
 of his demise, how can Tanjore Trelawney become 
 the husband of my daughter r' 
 
 *By the Will of las Father^' answered Lady Glen- 
 thorpe, her eyes expressing a malignant triumph 
 oyer the subdued feelings of Lady Fitzosbourne ; 
 ' how easily can you obtain this promise from your 
 brother. Cannot he make what contract he pleases? 
 and, being made, will Tanjore, do you imagine, ever 
 shrink from its performance, when it is expressed in 
 the Will of /lis Father ? — assuredly not, my dear. 
 
 And here comes your brother. — I shall leave you 
 
 now, Alexina, to demand that promise; a contract 
 to be made in his 7(7//, which no earthly tie can ever 
 dissolve.' 
 
 Alexina, clasping to her bosom her little nephew, 
 with the fondest atiection, now demanded of her 
 brother that promise, on which she assured him that 
 her sole happiness depended, that should the infant 
 with which she was then pregnant, survive its birth, 
 and prove a daughter, that daughter should become 
 the wife of his son, — ' Promise me this, my beloved 
 brother, and your Alexina will die happy.'
 
 THE MTSTEPIOTJS MARRIAGE. 71 
 
 'And is this all that my Alexina has to a?k of the 
 brother who adores her "r' cried TrelawTiey, now fold- 
 ing her to his heart with redoubled tenderness. 
 
 ' All I wish,' said Lady Fitzosbourne. 
 
 ' Then be it granted, my dear sister ;' ' my boy 
 shall become the husband of your daughter, if a 
 daughter be bom, he shall marry her by the Will of 
 his Father. I will, in the presence of the Earl, and 
 other witnesses, cause my will to be made, wherein a 
 contract shall be given, and should I, my Alexina,' 
 said Trelawney, kissing the pale cheek of the Coun- 
 tess, ' should I not behold you again, doubt not but 
 with my last breath, I will have this contract made 
 certain by the promise I A\ill demand of my son. — 
 yes, for your sake, dear Alexina, I will demand it, 
 and I believe that by Trelawney it will never be 
 broken.' 
 
 The Countess was satisfied. Trelawney kept his 
 word. Tanjore smiled on his lovely aunt, as she 
 pressed his rosy cheek to hers, for the last time, be- 
 fore he accompanied his father to the Indian stores. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DEATH OF LADY FITZOSBOURNE ; — ARRIVAL OF 
 TRELAWNEY AXD HEXRY IN LONDON, (fcC. 
 
 The words of Trelawney were prophetic ! how lit- 
 tle did he imagine when he imprinted a kiss on the 
 lips of his beloved sister, that it was the last embrace 
 she ever would receive from him. or that he had 
 gazed for the last and only time on the exquisite beau- 
 ties of that Ljvely form, which in a few succeeding 
 months would be mouldering in the dust. Ah I how 
 wisely has Providence disposed of our destiny, by 
 rendering it inipervious to our \-iew. 
 
 Trelawnej- had nut been long in India, before in-
 
 72 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 telligence reached him of the death of Lady Fitzos- 
 bourne in child-birth ; which had he but anticipated, 
 he felt that it would have been utterly impossible for 
 him to survive the shock. The letter he received 
 was from the Earl, which contained the following 
 words : — 
 
 * 0, my Friend and Brother ! 
 
 ' What words can paint the an^ish of my soul, 
 by informing you, that you have no longer a sister, nor 
 the miserable Fitzosbourne a wife ? Our Alexina, an<iel 
 that she was, has fled to her native skies ; and in giving 
 birth to a daughter, has paid the forfeit of her own spot- 
 less life. 
 
 ' Oh, Trelawney, I can write no more ; — I cannot dwell 
 upon the heart-renclmg scene of my present calamity. — I 
 can only conclude, by adding, that my daughter, who is 
 now six months old, bears the name of her angel mother ; 
 need I say with what transports I shall hail her as the 
 destined bride of our dear Tanjore, shoiUd heaven but 
 spare her to the arms other fond, but now inexpressibly 
 wretched and afflicted father, 
 
 'Charles TJicoclore Fitzosbourne' 
 
 Mr. Trelawney, remained a long time inconsolable 
 for the loss of a "sister whom he had so loved ; but 
 when time had softened his affliction, he looked for- 
 ward to the iultilment of the promise made to his be- 
 loved sister with great anxiety, when he should ratify 
 the solemn contract of marriage, between the daugh- 
 ter of his Alexina, and his own son, Tanjore Trel- 
 awney. 
 
 It afforded him the greatest pleasure, to receive 
 such Haltering accounts of the rajDid growth and ac- 
 quirements of the young Alexina, as communicated 
 by the Eail, and sometimes by Lady Glenthorpe. 
 But on his i-eturn to England, he was greatly morti- 
 fied and disappointed on finding that his niece, though 
 a fine girl, and very beautiful, bore not the slightest 
 resemblance to her angel mother, neither in form nor 
 feature ; but she was the exact model of Lady Glen- 
 thorpe, who, having lost her husband, now resided
 
 THE MTSTERIOrS MARRIAGE. 73 
 
 vrith her brother at Fitzosboume House, to stiperin- 
 tend the education of Lady Alexina. The accouche- 
 ment of Lady Fitzosbourne and that of Lady Glen- 
 thorpe nearly took place at the same time, and that 
 the child of Lady Glenthorpe, which was a son, was 
 still born. 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe was confined only three weeks 
 previous to that of Lady Fitzosbourne,'but her strong 
 attacJtment to the amiable Countess, for whose safely 
 she was particularly solicitous, had induced her to 
 part with her oivn nurse, (in whose favour Lady 
 Fitzosbourne had been greatly prejudiced,) in order 
 that she might exclusiveb/ attend her ; it was also 
 true, that the kind Lady Glenthorpe, risking all per- 
 sonal danger, actually came wrapt up to Fitzosbourne 
 House, to assist Judith at the bedside of the suffer- 
 ing Alexina, who breathed but a few moments after 
 the birth of her infant ; and that this woman, Judith 
 0' Conner, continued to be the nurse of the little 
 Alexina. On the first intelligence to the Earl of the 
 death of his wife, he remained for months inconsola- 
 ble, and shut himself up in a solitary apartmrnt. 
 Lady Glenthorpe only was permitted to approach or 
 converse with him, and it was in her arms that he 
 first beheld his infant daughter, Alexina, but not till 
 two months had elapsed, since the death of Lady 
 Fitzosbourne, could the Earl behold his child. 
 
 All this was communicated to Trelawney by Lady 
 Glenthorpe, with which he seemed satisfied, retuin- 
 ing once more to India, with deep regret, that the 
 young Alexina so little resembled her mother. At a 
 later period, when Tanjore asked his father if hisafll- 
 anced wife resembled his departed aunt, he with a dt^ep 
 sigh, said, ' No. my dear boy, Alexina is not like 
 your aunt ; but I think there is a strong family like- 
 ness to her father, and her aunt, Lady Glenthorpe.' 
 
 ' Who. 3-0U say, is an extremely beautiful wotuan,* 
 said Tanjure.
 
 ) 
 
 74 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ' Uncommonly so,' answered Mr. Trelawney, * but 
 it is a beauty of the bold and inspiring- kind.' The 
 beauty of Lady Glenthorpe, though it might attract 
 the million, would utterly fail to engage the atTec- 
 tiuns of a single individual ;-— she looks, indeed, like 
 Cleopatra ' 
 
 ' Who engaged the heart of Mark Anthony,' ex- 
 claimed Tanjore; 'well, if Lady Alexiua so strongly 
 resembles her aunt, why, you know, lather, I shall 
 have no great reason to complain of the personal 
 qualifications of my future bride, at all events.' 
 
 ' Certainly not, my dear bo}%' answered Trelawney, 
 The reflection that Lady Alexina did not resemble 
 her mother, and that his father had told him so was 
 often the subject of Trelawney's secret cogitations, — 
 'but what of that,' thought Trelawney, 'suppose she 
 is not like my aunt, of whom my father was so very 
 fond as to think every woman her inferior, cannot I 
 say, in the words of Juliet, 
 
 ' That which we call a rose, 
 
 * By any other name would smell as SAveet, 
 'Were it so called.' 
 And as time insensibly passed, he ceased to think of 
 Lady Alexina at all, until the death of his much 
 honoured and revered father, who reminded him of 
 the sacred promise which had bound him in contract 
 with his beloved sister. Lady Fitzosbourne ; and 
 Trelawney now demanded, with his dying breath, as 
 sacred a one from the lips of his son, who did not 
 hesitate to give it, and as he pressed the cold hand of 
 his expiring father, (on whose quivering lip the name 
 of Alexina rested in soft, low, and broken murmurs,) 
 he received its last pressure as the reward of filial 
 att>ction; — under which impression, after having 
 
 f)aid every respect to the funei'al obsequies of his be- 
 oved parent. Tanjore Trelawney, lost no time in 
 hastening to England, to comply with the dying in- 
 junctions of his lather. Alas, poor Treiawuey knew
 
 THE MTSTEKIOUS MARRIAGE. 75 
 
 not what fetters were then forgoins: for the capture 
 of that heart, which had throbbed with conipa>s.ion, 
 sighed with tender sympathy, glowed with the gener- 
 ous warmth of fiiendship, but till now had never pul- 
 sated with love. 
 
 Absorbed in serious reflections, Trelawney pensive- 
 ly reclining back in the -chaise, conversed only at in- 
 tervals with his young fi-iend. as they rapidly pro- 
 ceeded towards London, but when they were sudden- 
 ly whirled over the stones, and surrounded with the 
 most brilliant lights, which gave the most effective 
 appearance to the gay and elegant shops, it produced 
 astonishment even on the mind of Trelawney, while 
 on that of Henry Clarendale, it amounted to wonder. 
 The confused noises from the number of carriages, 
 and other vehicles, with the multitude of people pass- 
 ing and repassing in various directions, atlbrded him 
 a iund of amusement, and he could not avoid saying 
 to his fellow-traveller, — 
 
 '"What superb can-iages, elegant shops, spacious 
 streets, and what a concourse of people ! If this is 
 London, it is a most magnificent place.' 
 
 ' True,' said Trelawney, ' but it is also the abode 
 of great wretchedness, and misery.' 
 
 At this instant, a waggon, heavily laden, impeded 
 their progress, and a poor woman with an inf-mt in 
 her arras, approached and solicited their, charity. 
 'One halfpenny,' uttered she. in accents of bittvr 
 want, ' one halfpenny, to get this poor babe a morsel 
 of bread, and may God bless your honour.' 
 
 ' I did not expect to find a case so innuediatcly in 
 point,' said Trelawney, instantly throwing not a few 
 halfpence, but a few s'hillings i..,i) the poor woman's 
 basket. But Trelawney heard not the blessing of the 
 so greatly relieved mendicant. For his carriage was 
 6oon out of sight, and hearing of the grateful and a.s- 
 tonished mother, whose blessing, though it reached 
 not the ear of Trelawney, was not lost.
 
 76 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGB. 
 
 The travellers reached Piccadilly, and alighted at 
 the Pulteney Hotel, but as the arrival of Trelawnoy 
 had been expected by the Fitzosbourne family that 
 evening in London, his Lordship's carriage was wait- 
 ing, to convey him to Grosvenor Square, and a note 
 from the Earl, expressing his impatience to behold 
 him, was delivered by the Lordship's groom. Taking 
 a slight refreshment, and directing Mungo to follow 
 with the baggage, Trelawney, in agitation indescrib- 
 able, seated himself, with Henry, in Lord Fitzos- 
 bourne' s carriage, which conducted him to his sup- 
 erb mansion in Grosvenor Square, where the Earl 
 received him with feelings which nearly overpowered 
 him, for his voice was almost rendered inarticulate 
 by his emotions, as folding him to his heart he ex- 
 claimed, — 'Tanjore, my dear Tanjore, I am trans- 
 ported with joy at beholding you.' 
 
 He then tm-ned to Henry, of whose visit Trelaw- 
 ney had apprized him, and gave him a cordial wel- 
 come to Fitzosbourne House. A more intei'csting 
 scene took place above stairs, with the ladies, to 
 whom Trelawney was presented ; but Lady Glen- 
 thorpe, in the interview, was obliged to have recourse 
 to her sal volatile, and she met the scrutinizing glance 
 of Trelawney with tears and smiles, while she pre- 
 sented to him the beautiful Lady Alexina Fitzos- 
 bourne, who affecting the greatest modesty, extended 
 a hand, white as snow to the agitated Trelawney; 
 after which, curtseying with peculiar grace to Henry 
 Clarendale, she resumed her seat on an elegant otto- 
 man, placed near the fire. 
 
 Her Ladyship was much above the middle size, 
 and so elegantly proportioned, that she might have 
 sat for the Grecian statue of the most perfect Venus : 
 — her eyes were of the brightest blue, shaded with 
 dark eye-lashes, and full of brilliancy — her com- 
 
 Elexion exquisitely fair, — and her hair a luxuriant 
 lack, arranged in. the costume of art and fa&hion, in
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 77 
 
 the most graceful manner ; such was the destined 
 bride of Tanjore Trelawney, but on whose cold insen- 
 sate heart she made no more impression than if hia 
 eyes had gazed only at a beautiful statue. 
 ' When the embarrassment of his first meeting had 
 subsided, coflee was introduced, with the most de- 
 licious refreshments, served up in the most magnifi- 
 cent china, at which Lady Glenthorpe presided, with 
 the most polished grace and elegance. But it had 
 ever been the maxim of Lady Glenthorpe to appear 
 v.-hat she really was not ; and her ladyship efFtctu- 
 ally put this practice in force on this first meeting 
 with Trelawney, and never had she appeared with 
 greater advantage. 
 
 ' A Cleopatra, indeed !' thought Trelawney, recol- 
 lecting his father's words respecting the beauty of 
 Lady Glenthorpe, as he surveyed her elegant form, 
 which was set ofi'wiTh all that art could embellish or 
 magnificence adorn. In short. Lady Glenthorpe, 
 though so much the senior of Lady Alexina, looked 
 scra-cely less lovely than her beautiful *iece, whose 
 striking resemblance to her aunt, attracted his par- 
 ticular attention, and several times he found his eyes 
 rivetted on Lady Alexina, when he had not intended it, 
 which caused her to blush, and confused Trelawney. 
 
 The beautiful Ale;*na, as she hung do^vn her 
 head, affected, (for she did not feel it,) the most deli- 
 cate sensibility at the admiring gaze, as she fondly 
 imagined, of her deeply-struck lover, a conquest of 
 whose heart was a doubly rich prize ; for never had 
 Lady Alexina beheld a face so handsome or a figure 
 80 fiue as that of Trelawney' s. And Lady Glenthorpe 
 idolized at one glance the fine features of his in- 
 telligent young friend, and turning to Trelawney, she 
 whispered, ' Good heavens, Tanjore, where on earth 
 did you pick up that uncommon handsome young 
 man 'i I think he is an Adonis.' 
 
 • 1 picked him up ia the house of his father,' re-
 
 /» THE MYSTERIOUS MAKKIAGE. 
 
 f)]ied Trt'lawney, disgusted with aneulogium so free- 
 y expressed ; ' the rector of Kenilworth, the most 
 worthy of men, and a very old respected ft-iend of my 
 failier's, whom I have been the guest of since my ar- 
 rival from India, and in whose amiable family I re- 
 ceived the first impression of old English hospitality.' 
 
 * Old English hospitality,' said Lady Glenthorpe, 
 bursting into laughter, 'My dear Tan j ore, pray don't 
 mc ntion it ; for I cannot bear any thing that is old ; 
 be.->idos it is a term which is totally abolished. Old 
 English hospitality ! oh, it is horrible. — Where, 
 Tiii;jore, did you acquire such antediluvian notions?' 
 
 ' Certainly not before the flood,' answered Trelaw- 
 noy, now reddening like scarlet, ' but I acquired them 
 I hope, your Ladyship, in that school from where it 
 never can be abolished — the school of virtue.' 
 
 ' The school of virtue,' repeated Lady Glenthorpe, 
 wiih more gravity, 'well, ray dear Taujore, you are 
 an excellent moralist, and now I recollect, I have 
 htard of this Clarendale fiimily ; the parson has a nu- 
 merous progeny, has he not:' — as most parsons have; 
 and I dare say, the parson is very poor also, as most 
 parsons are, — is not that the case ''' 
 
 ' Then your Ladyship is decidedly WTong in your 
 suppositious, said Tanjore, with great warmth, the 
 parson has not a numerous progeny, nor is he poor, 
 though I never presumed to take a liberty so gross as 
 to inquire into the circumstances of Mr. Clarendale ; 
 but whether rich or poor, he was too generous a host 
 to demand payment for my board and lodging during 
 the time I was under his hospitable roof.' 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe was now imperiously silenced, and 
 she never after exercised her wit at the expense of 
 Trelawney's friends, which she perceived "produced a 
 singular effect on his feelings; for whenever the Clar- 
 endale family was mentioned, she observed the chang- 
 ing countenance of Trelawney, and that he always 
 grew pettibii or became pensively silent.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 79 
 
 It is most certain, that the unmerited sarcasm which 
 her Ladyship had so pointedly levelled at Mr. Claren- 
 dale's family, was not very likely to establish her in 
 the good graces of Trelawney ; Lady Glenthoi-pe 
 0. uid obtain no rest till in her conversations with the 
 unsur^pecting Henry, she had gleaned a circumstan- 
 tial account of his liamily. 
 
 That he had two sisters, unmarried, that they lived 
 in a domestic comfortable way, unmolested by the 
 c-avcs of the world, and very happily in the retired vil- 
 lage in which they were born, Kenilworth. about five 
 miles distant from the city of Coventry, of which his 
 father possessed the living, 
 
 ' And what are your prospects, dear Henry?' ut- 
 tered Lady Glenthorpe, with one of the softest smiles 
 that ever played round the lips of a beautiful woman; 
 but seeing a ciignified blush on the cheek of Henry, 
 her Lady^hip paused confusedly. 
 
 ' I am aware of the intrusive impertinence I am 
 guilty of, and implore j'oiu' pardon, Mr. Clarendale: 
 but 1 had no motive for my inquiry, but your person- 
 al wt-lfare: I am naturally solicitous where I behold 
 uncommon merit as you are gilted with. But I think 
 Mr. Trelawney mentioned to the Earl, my brother, 
 something about a University ; are you going to im- 
 mure yourself within the wails of a College ': — what 
 a shocking idea.' 
 
 •I believe that I am shortly going to one of the 
 L'nivt-rsities,' answered Henry, coldly, but respect- 
 fully. But though her ladyship had gained one point 
 — that Henry had two sisters, she was anxious to 
 know whether they possessed the attractions of their 
 brother. While Lady Glenthorpe was thus engaged, 
 Trelawney was using every exertion for the advance- 
 ment of Henry's fortune : he sedulously applied his in- 
 terest with the Earl, whose recommendation was of 
 no small advantage in placing Henry at one of the 
 1ii.5t Universities; nor was his Lordship's iniiuence
 
 80 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 lost, for in a very short time Henry had the satisfac- 
 tion of writin^c to his beloved father and mother, that 
 hu was admitted a member of the University at Cam- 
 bridge. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 LADY ALEXIN a' S CHARACTER PORTRAYED. 
 
 The reflection of having placed Henry Clarendale 
 in a situation which would raise him to a rank of the 
 h!g:hest respectability, — a dignified clergyman of the 
 church of England, was gratifying to the feelings of 
 Trclawney, and conveyed transport to the best of fa- 
 thers, and to the tenderest of mothers. Also that 
 Henry, whom he had so essentially served, was the 
 brother of Rosa was not lost in the calculations of 
 Trclawney, though he tried to persuade himself, 
 that his secret satisfaction was exclusively the result 
 of a benevolent action. 
 
 The Earl of Fitzosboume was perfectly satisfied, that 
 Henry Clarendale was worthy of becoming an object 
 of his furure patronage, for he knew the dignified 
 character of his father, whom he had often seen in the 
 house of Trclawney, and knew that he had ever sup- 
 ported that character with the highest respectability. 
 He was, therefore, happy in being serviceable to his 
 son, and often conversed with Trclawney on the sub- 
 ject, when the ladies were absent on pleasurable pur- 
 suits, from which the Earl generally absented him- 
 8(lf ; in short, the deep impression which the melan- 
 choly death of his adored wife produced on his mind, 
 h;id cast a gloom which was now almost become hab- 
 itual. The Earl of Fitzosbourne had always been a 
 grave man, and he was now a melancholy one ; he 
 could not endure to mix in the drawing-rooms of the 
 gay company with which Fitzosbourne House was al- 
 most constantly filled, and invited by Lady Glen-
 
 THE >n:STERIOUS MARRIAGE. 81 
 
 thorpe, under the pretence of introducing- Lady Alex- 
 inu to fashionable society, but which, in fact, was 
 more to gratify her Ladyship's own vanity and nat- 
 ural taste for extravagance and dissipation. By the 
 death of Lord Glenthorpe she inherited a very small 
 portion of that wealth which had been her only in- 
 du'-ement for bestowing her hand on him, and had the 
 infant child of so thoughtless a mother lived, it would 
 have been rendered destitute, by her abuse of the once 
 splendid fortune of its father; she was, therefore, very 
 glad of an asylum at Fitzosbourne House, on the 
 death of Lady Fitzosbourne, and secretly rejoiced in 
 an event which made every other heart lament. 
 
 If Lady Glenthorpe really loved any one object 
 besides herself, that object was Lady Alexina, whose 
 education she had completely perverted, and whose 
 disposition she had rendered odious by her excessive 
 indulgence, to which the fondness of the Earl so 
 greatly contributed. Trelawney had not been many 
 weeks an inmate of Fitzosbourne House before, to his 
 mortification and regret, he perceived that Lady Alex- 
 ina was nothing more nor less than a spoiled child. 
 
 Her governess had never presumed to correct her 
 foibles, well aware that, had she done so, instant dis- 
 missal from the Earl's service would have been the 
 consequence. Lady Glenthorpe expressly forbade 
 Lady Alexina's masters to contradict her ; if she did 
 not choose to attend to her lessons. Gentlemen of 
 the first eminence were daily accused by the imperious 
 Lady Glenthorpe of inability in their profession, and 
 discarded one after the other ; and so all cultivation 
 was lost on so insensate a being ; habitually indolent, 
 her lessons became odious to her, — music, in particu- 
 lar, washer aversion, and if ever the Earl solicited her 
 to play, a shower of tears was the consequence, and she 
 pouted and sulked all the evening, when Lady Glen- 
 thorpe would say, ' How, brother, can you be so 
 barbarous as thus to torment the dear child '( Why
 
 82 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 do you teaze her to play J' oan you assign any reason, 
 Lord Fitzosboume, for such conduct r' 
 
 To which the Earl, pained and disappointed, al- 
 ways replied, — ' A very natural one, Louisa, if you 
 ■will but recollect; you surely cjinnot have forjjotten, 
 tliat in this accomplishment her mother excelled, and 
 there is nothing: would more delight me than Alexina 
 to resemble Lady Fitzosbourne.' 
 
 ' How ridiculous,' exclaimed Lady Glenlhorpe, 
 * to expect every body to be like Lady Fitzosbourne,* 
 
 " I should expect to see some resoinblanco of her, 
 ■in her daughter, most assuredly,' answered the Earl. 
 
 ' I wont play at all now, I wont,' cried the sob- 
 bing' Lady Alexina, rising from the pip.no-forte, ' for 
 I'm sure if mamma was so fond of music, I don't 
 wish to be like her, for I cannot endure it : but don't 
 be angry, papa, for if you will buy me a harp, perhaps 
 I may try to learn it.' And Lady Alexina threw her 
 anus round the Earl's neck. 
 
 *■ Coaxing gipsy, but will j-ou promise me faithful- 
 ly, that you will attend to your lessons.' 
 
 'Oh, yes, papa,' answered Lady Alexina, 'if the 
 harp is a very handsome one, and has a great many 
 pretty ornaments round it, and all that,— but aunt 
 shall choose one for me, wont you, aunt r' 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe nodded her willing assent, and 
 the Earl again kissing his daughter's cheek, turned 
 towards her Ladyship, as he arose to quit the room, — 
 "Be ready Louisa, said he, 'to-morrow at twelve, 
 if you have no engagement, to accompany me to 
 Bond Street; my girl shall have her whim.' 
 
 * That's right,' cried the exulting Lady Glen- 
 thorpe, 'now, brother, you speak like a fiith-r.' 
 
 The harp was purchased at a very great price, and 
 admired greatly by Lady Alexina in the course of 
 tliot day, — looked at in the course of the next,— neg- 
 Itctcd the day after that, and on the succeeding one, 
 totaiiy forgotten.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 83 
 
 That Lady Alexina was to consider herself the 
 d( -iiued bride of Tanjore Trelawney, aud being satis- 
 fi( d that her cousin was not only prodijriously hand- 
 some, but prodigiously rich, Lady Gleuthorpe seldom 
 found it necessary to remind her niece of the family 
 contract, now viewed with sensations of horror by 
 Trelawney ; for what but misery could result from his 
 union with such a woman as Lady Alexina, with 
 whose person, he could find no objection, but whose 
 mind presented a blank to such a heart as Trelawney's, 
 and as he daily witnessed the folly of Lady Glenthorpe 
 and the Earl, as they continued to feed the vanity of 
 the weak-minded Lady Alexina, he turned with an 
 inditference, and aversion, from the beautiful statue, 
 which all other hearts worshipped. Among these 
 was the accomplished family of the Duke of Valencia ; 
 Consisting of Lady Honoria, the eldest daughter, of 
 Lady Frances, the second daughter, and Lady Cath- 
 erine, the youngest daughter, with their brother Lord 
 Sydney Belmont, surviving son of the present Duke, 
 and with this family Trelawney became intimate ; in 
 short, he soon found the Duke's hospitable mansion 
 a most seasonable relief from the vapid society of 
 Lady Glenthorpe, and Lady Alexina, who after a few 
 days only of acquaintance with her destined lord, 
 imagined that she had fully established her claim 
 ui'on his affections, and that it was only necessary to 
 Inuk beautiful, and dress magnificently, and one had 
 secured her empire over his heart, she therefore grew 
 indifferent as to the means of securing his esteem; 
 much less did she attempt to hide those glaring de- 
 ficiencies in her education, v.hich soon became the 
 object of his closer investigation, to the great mortiti- 
 ca! ion of the Earl, and Lady Glenthorpe; and both 
 Hi Av endeavoured to animate their statue, but in \-ain. 
 — Alas, it was too late. But no sooner did Lady 
 Alexina discover that Trela^vney was the source of 
 the lectures which she lately received, than bhe 
 treated him with the most haughty disdain.
 
 84 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 One day when her aunt was using her most earnest 
 eurrcaties, to devote a small portion of her time to 
 Biu.ly, which she so shamefully neglected, and in 
 which Trelawney wished her to excel, she haughtily 
 replied, — " Indefd. aunt, if you torment me any more 
 abnut that nasty harp, I Avill throw it out of the 
 window. I wont learn to play, for you know I hate it.' 
 
 • But, my darling, pray do,' said Lady Glenthorpe, 
 in the most supplicatiug accents, ' only consider, my 
 sweet love, how greatly you will delight Trelawney, 
 by your excelling in an accomplishment of which he 
 is fond.' 
 
 'Is he?' said she, 'then I shall always particu- 
 larly hate whatever Trelawney particularly likes.' 
 
 ' i am particularly obliged to you, my fair cousin,' 
 said Trelawney, just entering the room, ' but may I 
 take the liberty to inquire why I am so particularly 
 the object of your Ladyship's aversion ?* 
 
 ' The face of Lady Alexina was now crimsoned 
 over with blushes, not of confusion, but of resentment, 
 and she replied indignantly, — ' Listeners never hear 
 any good of themselves.' To which Trelawney, 
 after silently surveying the distortions of passion, on 
 one of the most beautiful faces in the world, coolly 
 answered, — ' I am sorry, my fair cousin, to perceive 
 that you now wear a mask so unbecoming to your 
 beautiful features, as that of ill-temper, which also 
 robs you of good manners ; however, I shall justify 
 myself from your accusation, of having been a listen- 
 er to your conversation, and bog in future, that you 
 will not tax me with a meanness which I think des- 
 picable, and which no one shall ever presume to do 
 with impunity.' 
 
 ' Bless me, how angry you are,' said Lady Glen- 
 th.ovpe, darting a look of displeasure on Trelawney; 
 '* Lady Alexina is not to be so severely reprimanded 
 by Mr. Tanjore Trelawney, she is authorised to say 
 what she pleuseo in the huuse of her father.'
 
 THE MYSTP-RIOUS MARRIAGE. 85 
 
 'In the house of her father!' exclaimed Trnlaw- 
 ney, smiling indignantly at Lady Glenthorpe; ' Lady 
 Glenthorpe, I do not hold myself responsible to you, 
 for any thing I choose to say to Lady Alexina Fitz- 
 osbourne, who when she departs from good manners 
 must expect to be told so, were she in the house of a 
 stranger, but being in the house of her father, she is 
 still more highly reprehensible, as she thereby in- 
 fringes on the rights of hospitality.' 
 
 ' ^Vhat a fuss here is about nothing,' now drawled 
 out Lady Alexina, looking at the watch suspended 
 from her bosom ; ' thank heaven, it is time to dress, 
 and so that puts a finish to your agreeable lecture, 
 Mr. Trelawney.' 
 
 ' "Which it is much better for you to receive before 
 matrimony, than to deserve after it.' said Trelawney, 
 with so dignified an air, as he quitted the room, that 
 even the offended Lady Alexina could not help 
 whispering to her aunt, ' The creature is prodigious- 
 ly handsome though, is he not, aunt r' 
 
 To which Lady Glenthorpe replied, ' Yes, but he 
 must be tamed, my dear, before you marry him, or 
 he will never be tamed afterwards; he has all the 
 pride of the Trelawneys in his veins, with the high 
 spirited blood of the Ea.st Indian.' 
 
 ' I wish I could lead him in chains, as I do my 
 little marmoset,' cried Lady Alexina, ' it would be 
 so charming to have one's husband under the same 
 command that one has one's monkey.' 
 
 When they met at dinner there was no pouting by 
 Lady Alexina, but a great deal of affectation, for Lord 
 Fitzosbourne sat at the head of the table, and liady 
 Glenthorpe was all smiles. Trelawney knew h jw to 
 respect the feelings of a father, and though he pitied 
 the fatal indulgence which had ruined Lady Alexina, 
 he was too generous a being to pain or wound the heart 
 of am affectionate parent ; whenever, therefore, Lady 
 Alexina was detected in any gross absiirdity, in the
 
 86 THE MTSTERTOrS MARRI VGE. 
 
 pre srnoc of her father, Trelawnf'y made it a point to 
 spare her from the slightest rccriniinati'jn or exposurs. 
 
 This, however, he could not al\vay> do, for whon in- 
 vited to any party, where Lady Alexina was present, 
 he was content to suffer in silence all the animadver- 
 sions made on her conduct, not choosing to render 
 himself the laujrhing: stock of her Ladyship's very 
 fashionable friends. In the gay lists of fashion, the 
 agreeable buzz of the following sentences, frequently 
 met his ear. ' For heaven's sake, why docs not Tre- 
 lawney improve his pretty idiot 'f And when Lady 
 Alexina appeared hanging on his arm, a similar re- 
 mark burst from the lips of a highly finished Duchess 
 on purpose to mortify him, because she could not ob- 
 tain his hand for one of her own daughters : — ' Oh, 
 here comes Trelawney and his beautiful statue.' ' I 
 •wonder whether it will speak this evening,' cried a 
 second. — ' I dare say the poor soul is heartily tired 
 of her already,' observed the third.' 
 
 But more frequently has he found it necessary to 
 al'sent himself from these crowded parties, and shut 
 himself in close retirement, in the contemplation of all 
 he held dear on earth ! 
 
 The gift of Mary Bradbury .so dear to the heart of 
 Trelawney, that as misers count their treasured gold, 
 impervious to the light of day. so feasted the eyes of 
 Trelawney on the picture of Rosa Clarendale. — And, 
 ah, how expressive was each lovely feature. Here 
 was the celestial sweetness of an angel ; the animated 
 blush, the rosy freshness of health, that breathed on 
 the lips of bloonaing youth ; here were eyes that shot 
 forth the intelligence which reigned within, beside of 
 which a thousand Alexinas would not have supplied 
 one look, one feal ure. 
 
 'Oh, Mary,' uttered Trela^vney, as he veiled hor 
 precious gift from his fond gaze, and depoNited it in the 
 case which enclosed it, — ' Oh, Mary, dear, amiable 
 Mury, never shall I forget that it was yoiu- hand that?
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 8? 
 
 procured me this source of inexhaustible pleasure ; — 
 sweet ,uirl, you shall not p:o unrewjirflcd, the fortune of 
 your Henrj- shall ever be my care, and may peace and 
 bliss gild the happy morning of your youthi'ul days.' 
 A thundering knock at the door ended the plcfisinj 
 meditations of Trelawney, and Mungo completely 
 roused him, by informing him, that Lord Sidney Bel- 
 mont had called to inquire after his health, and if his 
 visit was not unseasonable, wished to see him. ' By 
 all means admit Lord Sydney, and be sure, Mungo, 
 that I am denied to every body else.' Soon Lord Syd- 
 ney Belmont entered the apartment of Trelawney. 
 
 • How kind in your Lordship, thus to bestow a 
 thought on a poor invalid,' said Trelawney, extending 
 his hand towards Lord Sydney, as he seated himself, 
 without ceremony, by the fire-side. 
 
 'Not seriously ill, I hope,' said Lord Sydney, with 
 a smile, ' for were that the case I should not be so for- 
 tunate in finding you alone.' 
 
 * And why so !'' cried Trelawney. 
 
 ' "SVhy so ;' said Lord Sydney, would you not then 
 have a companion in the consoling attentions of Lauy 
 Alexina Fitzosbourne ? Could Lady Alexina be absent 
 if Trelawney were ill h' 
 
 ' I will not only admit the possibility,' said Trelaw- 
 ney, ' but believe the reality, for I am of opinion Lady 
 Alexina Fitzosbourne would not leave her present 
 company for all the Trelawneys in existence ; — but, 
 pray, how are your fair sisters 't Lady Honoria has, I 
 hope, recovered from her late indisposition 'i' 
 
 'Honoria is not w^ell,' said Lord Sydney, 'but 
 Frances and Catherine are as .saucy as ever; — by the 
 bye, Trelawney. I suppose you know what is in agita- 
 tion at Valencia Lodge, and that preparations are 
 making lor a splendid ball, in coumieiuoration of my 
 birth-day ; did not Hunoria tell you Y 
 
 'I have not heard of it,' said Trelawney. 
 
 'But thit is not all,' said Lord Syduty, 'lucidly I
 
 8<S THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 now find you alone, and inform you, that aftpr my 
 birth-day, I have obtained leave of absence from tlie 
 Duke, my father, for a period of two years, for mak- 
 ing a grand tour, to any part of the world I like best. 
 Now I am in want of a companion to accompany me 
 on my travels. ' I wish, dear Trelawnoy, that yuu 
 could be that companion, — I ask no other; and sin- 
 cerely make the proposal to you, — answer in one 
 word. 'Would your arrangements in the Earl of 
 Fitzo.sbourne's family prevent your leaving England? 
 Keport says you are on the point of matrimony wifh 
 Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne, if so I will not urge you; 
 but if report is false, I shall expect yDur conclusive re- 
 ply, certainly.' 
 
 'Your Lordship has taken me by surprise,' an- 
 swered Trelawney, 'yet without hesitation I will an- 
 swer, that whatever my arrangements are in Lord 
 Fitzosboume's family, they do not preclude the pos- 
 sibility of my going wherever I please, and that I 
 shall with pleasure accompany you on your travels, 
 for the term you mention. With respect to Lady Al- 
 exina Fitzosbourne, I am bound by a family contract, 
 to become the husband of that lady, when 1 have at- 
 tained the age of twenty-tive, report, therefore, has not 
 erred, except in respect to time, which is my own for 
 three years to come. 
 
 ' You have made me, Trelawney, very happy ; a 
 thousand thanks for your kind compliance; it will be 
 very gratifying to my father and my sisters ; under 
 the auspices of their favourite Trelawney, they will 
 trust their sometimes incautious Sidney, but, I'hope, 
 always their affect i(jnate brother.' 
 
 The three daughters of the Duke of Valencia were 
 most accomplished and anjiable young women, and 
 though not beautiful they were superior in their minis 
 and lovely in their dispositions; and Trelawney would 
 have taken either of them for a wife had his heart tcit 
 no other prepossession.
 
 TITE »nrSTERIOrS MARRIAGE. 89 
 
 Lady Honoria. however, would have had the pre- 
 ference, for she played and warbled so sweetly, that 
 Trelawney was often fascinated, while he admired 
 her highly accomplished mind, and he was often 
 drawn to Valencia Lodge for days td^rtther. by the ivt- 
 ti-action he found in the society of the charming sis- 
 ters of Lord Sydney. 
 
 The uncons(;ious tnaid loved, while yet she thou°:ht 
 that friendship only was the sentiment* she ever ouirht 
 to feel for the destined husband of another, suffering 
 
 ■"concealment like a worm i'th bud, 
 
 "To feed on her damask cheek." 
 
 Thus were the youthful days of this amiable and 
 accomplished young lady clouded by the chilling blast 
 of disappointment, and her fresh form withering in 
 decay, ere yet its blossoms were half disclosed. But 
 her passion was unknown to Trelawney, or he would 
 have desisted from any further visits to Valencia 
 Lodge, though he would have had most heartfelt con- 
 cern for the amiable being whose love he coidd nev^r 
 return. The altered looks and the visible change in 
 the health of Lady Honoria, soon became an object of 
 concern to her sisters. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 trelawney' S COXTF.MPLATED TOUR OX THE 
 
 CONTINENT— THE CHAGRIN OF LADY GLENTHOKPB 
 
 AND LADY ALEXINA, &C. 
 
 TRELA^VNEY had no reason to repent of the engnLre- 
 ment he had made with Lord Sydney, for the society at 
 ritzosbourne House had become intolerable, ft-um the 
 absolute sway of Lady Glenthorpe over the mind of 
 her brother, and her dangerous influence over La'iy 
 Alexina whose hours of dissipation were excessive — 
 was rai-ely at home,— where her employmeni3
 
 90 THE MYSTERIOUS MARHTAGE. 
 
 were of the most frivolous kind, or engaprpd with a 
 crowd of fashlonuble visitants, who came only to Hat- 
 ter and secretly despise her. • 
 
 Some made Fitzoshourne House a loung:e, whore 
 thoy wore always sure of a sumptuous dinner, at the 
 cosily board of its extra vajiant mistress, the Earl 
 having become so abstract* d in himself, that he was 
 scarcely ever visible, leaving to his sister all the man- 
 agement of his arl'airs. 
 
 One circumstance served to keep his mind from 
 sinking into insanity — the marriage of his daughter 
 with Trelawney, though he had a lurking apprehen- 
 sion, that Trelawney was not so ardent as might na- 
 turally be expected, considering the transcendant 
 charms of Lady Alexina. This rendered him fretful 
 and uncomfortable, and it was not long before he had 
 an opportunity of speaking to Trelawney on the im- 
 portant subject, by his openly declaring one morning 
 at breakfast, his intention of accompanying Lord 
 Sydney Belmont on his travels. 
 
 ' Going abroad, Tanjorc,* exclaimed the Earl. 
 
 ' Most decidedly, my Lord,' answered Trelawney, 
 with a calm and dignified composure. 
 
 'And for two years,' retorted the Earl; 'I must 
 confess you perfectly amaze me.' 
 
 ' And he absolutely horrifies me,' vociferated Lady 
 Glenthorpe, ' it is an act of the most shocking inde- 
 corum in regard to your engagements with Lady 
 Alexina, but whom it is presumed you intend hon- 
 ouring with your hand before such an arrangement 
 takes place. Were I the Duke, instead of permitting 
 Lord Sydney Belmont to travel, I should more pro- 
 perly put a rod in his hand ' 
 
 ' To exercise it on offenders, does your Ladyship 
 mean to insinuate i'' said Trelawney, ' because in that 
 case your Ladyship would not have the possibility to 
 ebcape whipping.' 
 
 'But pray, Mr. Trelawney,' said Lady Glenthorpe,
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 91 
 
 not rog^ardinf^ the merited retort she had recoivod, 
 'have you consulted with uiy niece on the propriety 
 of your proposed expedition Y 
 
 ' I have consulted on the propriety of being ray o\vn. 
 master m this instance, as I expect to be in oveiy 
 other that regards my personal happiness,' answered 
 Trelawney, ' which has received no small interuption 
 fiom your Ladyship's persecuting interference. It is 
 painful to me to say what I am now obliged to utter 
 in the presence of a father, but you have forced un- 
 pleasant ti'Uths from lips which otherwise would 
 have been silent. You cannot suppose that I am 
 blind to the faults of my beautiful cousin, or that I 
 shall ever permit her conduct to be such as it now is 
 when she is my wife ; were I to marry her in her 
 present state, she would compel me to adopt measures 
 that would occasion a perpetual war between us, and 
 were I to indulge all her propensities she would drive 
 me to desperation, under which circumstances I con- 
 ceive my absence to be necessary ; she will be two 
 years older when I return, and I trust many years 
 older in discretion.' 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe was now silent from compulsii^'n, 
 but her eyes expressed the most malignant fury. 
 Lord Fitzosboume, in a voice almost choked wiih 
 emotion, 'Had your father lived, Tanjore, you would 
 never have been permitted thus to goad my feelmgs.' 
 To which Trelawney, greatly affected , replied, — 
 
 ' Heaven forbid, my Lord, that I should be so un- 
 
 anly as to do either ; — but had my father lived, my 
 
 gagement had by his own consent now been dis- 
 Bolved.' 
 
 'And why so, Mr. Trelawney, inquiv 1 the Earl. 
 
 'Because,' answered Trelawney, 'that father was 
 too affectionate a parent'to compel his son to marry a 
 
 oman whoi^e conduct he could not himself approve. 
 
 Do you imagine, my Lord, that had my incouipar.v- 
 ble aunt been living, she would ever have permitted
 
 92 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 her daughter to have rioted thus early in dissipation? 
 Would she not have made her an amiable and donies- 
 tic companion ? It is not two hours since Lady Aiex- 
 ina returned from a midnight rout; — were she now 
 my wife, think you that I would tolerate such con- 
 duct, and permit her to destroy the beauties of her 
 lovely form, which otherwise might bless the domes- 
 tic circle, cheer an indulgent father, and give endear- 
 ing blessings to her husband. Then would Trelaw- 
 ney be proud to court her smiles, and claim her for 
 his bride; — but the bride of Trelawney must not, 
 shall not come to his arms the votary of dissipation.' 
 
 ' Then you renounce the will of your father,' utter- 
 ed Lady Glenthorpe, but to which he did not choose 
 to reply. 
 
 'Silence, I command you, Louisa,' cried the Earl, 
 to whose heart the words of Trelawney came with 
 conviction, and extending his hand towards him,, 
 added, — 
 
 ' Tanjore, dear Tanjore. forgive me ; I know it is 
 not in your nature willingly to otFend me, nor can I 
 disown the propriety of your arguments, yet, in pity, 
 spare the feelings of a too fond father, who, forgetful 
 of all but the tender pledge left in the only offsprin<? 
 of an adored woman, has permitted her an unlimited 
 indulgence, which has taught her to stray a little be- 
 yond the bounds of circumspection, which habit and 
 example have too fatally encouraged, but which I 
 will controvert as speedily as possible. 
 
 ' Louisa, I now charge you to be more careful of 
 your niece. I will, in future, positively prohibit the 
 dangerous society to which my thoughtless child has 
 been exposed; I will have no more midnight revels 
 at Fitzosbourne House, remember that. Alexina 
 shall in future be content to accompany me ; I will 
 have no parties made without my knowledge. 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe, neither able to suppress her rage 
 nor to vent it on the object she most wished, burst in-
 
 THE inrSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 93 
 
 to a flood of tears, while she arose in a theatrical atti- 
 tude, and waving her hand as she moved rapidly to- 
 waids the door, exclaimed, — 
 
 • Yes, brother, I will go and prepare the poor girl 
 for a nunnery, for that is the fittest place she can re- 
 sort to, in the absence of her most conscientious lord ; 
 tlu-re, you know, she can be permitted to ccrnnt her 
 beads, in 'holy silence seal'd,' till he returns to claim 
 her for his bride.' Then Lady Glenthorpe, casting 
 at Trela%vney a look of ineflfable disdain, quitted the 
 room. Her manner made even the Earl to smile, 
 and Trelawney laughed heartily, for which indulgence 
 he solicited the Earl's pardon. 
 
 ' Oh, I cannot expect you will pardon the absurdi- 
 ties of an old woman,' cried the Earl, 'if you cannot 
 forgive the follies of a young one.' 
 
 ' There are no follies but what time can cure, and 
 reason correct,' said Trelawney, ' and whatever may 
 be the follies of the one or the absurdities of the other, 
 my Lord, I shall never forget that Lady Alexina is 
 your daughter, and Lady Glenthorpe your sister.' 
 
 ' May I then fondly anticipate,' -said the Earl, now 
 calmed and cheered by the consoling conversation of 
 Trelawney, 'the long wished for period, when hearts 
 uniting with hands shall blend their destiny together ; 
 when my Alexina, safe in the arms of a protecting 
 husband, shall find a friend who can correct her 
 faults and guide her to happiness and peace. Oh, 
 Trelawney, were that hope once realized, this unquiet 
 heart would rest from all its doubts and fears ; then 
 should I steal to the grave without a murmur ; for, 
 oh, Tanjore, never shall this heart cease to mouni 
 for my Alexina, — in her all my hopes were concen- 
 trated, and wit'aout her nothing has a charm. Oh, 
 did you but know her matchless virtues, her endear- 
 ing disposition, her angel form, long would you not 
 delay the wished for union with her child ; she loved 
 you,' Tanjore, dearly loved you when a boy, hung en-
 
 94 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 raptured on your artless accents, caug-ht you to her 
 bosom with niatei-nal love, and wished that heaven 
 might give her such another." Trelawnoy was un- 
 able to speak, for the powerful emotions which wrung 
 his soul overpowered him. 
 
 A full length portrait of the beautiful Countess at 
 that moment glared full upon him, and as he gazed 
 on the sweet lineaments of his lovely aunt, he felt the 
 full force of that will which still remained unratified, 
 and bursting into tears, exclaimed, looking fondly on 
 the portrait of the Countess, — ' Oh, why does not 
 your daughter but resemble you 'f 
 
 ' I see, Tanjore,' cried the Earl, deeply affected at 
 the apostrophe made to his beloved wife, ' in vain you 
 attempt to hide it, but you do not love Alexina Fitz- 
 osbourne.' 
 
 ' Why, my Lord, do you probe me thus deeply ?' 
 fiaid Trelawney ; ' by that angel lip, there so sweetly 
 pourtrayed in native truth and innocence, I neither 
 can nor will dissemble. Better this moment I were 
 to die beneath your displeasure, than stand arraigned 
 in that court where hypocrisy is a crime, and decep- 
 tion sinful. I do not love Alexina Fitzosbourne,— 
 our affections are not in our power, and I cannot love 
 Alexina. — but, by that immortal and immaculate 
 power which now rules my destiny, I will obey the 
 will of my father, and ratify the wishes of my beloved 
 aunt. I will marry Lady Alexina, but not before the 
 pi-escribed period precisely expressed in the contract. 
 And though I do not love Lady Alexina, in all that 
 renders the performance of kind actions, honourable 
 conduct and just proceedings, I will endeavour to 
 make her happy, or stake the forfeit of myjife on my 
 allegiance. In the mean time I would persuade my 
 gentle cousin to adopt habits more congenial to my 
 own, and which will consequently be more subservient 
 tu her's. ' My Lord, I trust I have said all that is 
 sullicient for any honest and just man to believe, —
 
 THE MYSTERIOrS MARRIAGE. 95 
 
 my h"art is open to you. and I do not tremble at your 
 investigation.' 
 
 * I am satisfied,' cried the Earl: 'noble, excellent 
 boy, and though I lament your M-ant of atfection for 
 my daughter, I can never doubt your honour.' 
 
 Sometimes Trelawuey would lead Lady Alexina to 
 her mothers portrait, and say. — ' Surely, you cannot 
 look with insensibility on those features; you must 
 feel. Lady Alexina, that such a woman was your 
 mother.' 
 
 At which her Ladyship, hastily withdrawing her 
 eyes from the beautiful resemblance, would peevishly 
 reply, — ' How teazing you are, Trelawney, to be per- 
 prtually reminding me of my mother. I declare you 
 give me the vapours, just like papa; he is always 
 tidgetting me with something ab(jut mamma and her 
 picture, whom I never saw ; how then can I be al- 
 ways thinking of her ?' 
 
 bhe would then steal to some other part of the 
 ro(/m, leaving Trelawney with an impression far more 
 lilielj' to disunite hands than to blend hearts together. 
 
 Nor was the conduct of her Ladyship likely to un- 
 dergo a very sudden change. — less company were in- 
 vited to Fitzosb<jume House, but the hours of Lady 
 Alexina were stiil dissipated, and she was unmanage- 
 able by her fond father, at whom she laughed, and 
 Lad only to cry when he refused to comply with any 
 of her whims. 
 
 ■ I wont be mdrried at all. if I don't choose,' cried 
 she, one day when he positively rejected the idea of 
 her going in character to a masquerade ; ' you cannot 
 ni;ike me, and I don't care for Trelawney's lectures 
 one bit, — with his, How can you do this 'f and, ttow 
 c;;n you do that ? he is the most tormenting creature, 
 aiid if he was not so handsome and so rich I should 
 pti>itively hate him.' 
 
 Lord fcydney Belmont, when he quitted Trelawney, 
 no iouner rtachtd Valencia Lodge, than he comma-
 
 yb THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 rioatpd the pleasing intelHs:ence, at. which the coun- 
 ttuance of Lady Honuria expressed itself iu a variety 
 oi' emotions, which excited the observation of her 
 brother and sistca-s. 
 
 ' Surely Honoria, cried Lady Frances, ' you cannot 
 h:ive fear on Sydney's account, when he will have 
 such a companion as Trelawney — a perfect Mentor, 
 ill the seducing form of a Teleniachus.' 
 
 ' Oh, I was not thinking; of Sydney, jtist then,' 
 said Lady Pluuoria, blush ing deeper than the rose. 
 
 'Then pray, my dear sister, who was the subject of 
 your immediate meditations ?' asked Lord Sydney, 
 slyly glancing at Lady Frances. 
 
 ' Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne unquestionably,' an- 
 swered Lady Honoria. 
 
 ' Who is on the point ( f matrimony with Trelaw- 
 ney,' uttered Lord Sydney, pained at'her still deeper 
 blushes, ' so report says, but the rumour's false.' 
 
 'False!' said Lady Honoria, pulling a beautiful 
 rose to pieces, which hung at her bosom, " I thought 
 that the engagements of Trelawney with the Fitz- 
 osbourne family could not be set aside, and yet he is 
 going to leave this country for two years, — you have 
 indeed amazed me." 
 
 ' Two years is a long while to wait for a husband,' 
 said Lord Sydney, 'Wt amazement should cease, 
 when you reflect on the qualifications of Lady Alexina, 
 and tliat this marriage is a forced one on Trelawney, 
 in compliance to the will of his father; and surely 
 it is reasonable to suppose so, for who would ever 
 imagine Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne calculated to be 
 the bride of Trelawney.' 
 
 '' Did I not tell you so, Honoria P' said Lady 
 Frances, 'did I not always say, that the insipid 
 Alexina was unworthy of such a hand as Trelawney's, 
 and how utterly impossible it would be that she 
 should ever possess his affections!' — Poor Trelawney 
 how I pity him.'
 
 THE SrrSTEIlIOUS MARRIAGE. 9? 
 
 * And I. most sincerely,' said Lady Honoria. 
 
 Lady Honoria, to hide emotions she could not con- 
 ceal, now sat down to her harp, accompanying: her 
 melodious voice to the admired air of Eleanor's Song 
 in Glenarvon, 
 
 'And can'st thou bid my heart forget ;' 
 
 but she had scarcely finished the first stanza, before a 
 tap at the door announced the presence of Trelawney, 
 who stealing gently at the back of the fair songstress, 
 begged that he might not be any interruption to what 
 he considered the ' feast of i-eason and the flow of soul.' 
 
 ' You are particularly fond of music, I think, Mr. 
 Trelawney,' said Lady Frances, wishing to abstract 
 his attention from her agitated sister, for whom she 
 felt most sensibly, fearing, that she had cherished a 
 passion for Trelawney, which could only be produc- 
 tive of misery and disappointment. 
 
 ' How unnecessary. Lady Frances,' cried Trelaw- 
 ney, 'to ask that question of one so passionately fond 
 of the science, for it soothes me in my most melan- 
 choly hours. There is one song of Lady Honoria' s, 
 the most eftective I ever heard, it creates unbounded 
 pleasure in my breast.' 
 
 'Then let us have this highly favoured .song. — 
 Honoria, will you oblige us, that we may be honoured 
 with the peculiar taste of Mr. Trelawney? as you 
 talk of poets, was there ever such poetry as Lord 
 Byron's 'i and as to composers, give me Braham, in 
 preference to all the world,' said Lady Frances. 
 
 Oh, do not let me hear prejudice from lips so fair, 
 exclaimed Trelawney, ' but while I am an enthusias- 
 !c admirer of Lord Byron, I cannot blind my eyes to 
 the merits of those not equally furtunate, but equally 
 Favoured by the muses, who pining in obscurity, and 
 Derishing in neglected penury, are not noticed by the 
 iTorld. And as to your favourite Braham, he certainly 
 -S indebted to popularity for his brilliant success. --Can 
 G
 
 98 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE, 
 
 Lndy Francos forget Mozart, Mazzinsrhi, Storace, or 
 evtn a Bishop, to which last ^eiiflcmau we are in- 
 debted for some of the most beautiful productions of 
 the present day ?' 
 
 Lady Ilonoria was not one of those affected young 
 ladies who, conscious that they can sing-, require the 
 utmost persuasion. Producing the admired song, she 
 immediately sat down, and accompanied it in a voice 
 of the most enchanting sweetness, the words of which 
 vere the following : — 
 
 * Go, breeze that sweeps the orange grove, 
 'And breathe a sis,'h to him I love, 
 
 ' But whose, oh ! do not tell : 
 ' Limpid river, let hira know, 
 'Tears with your murmuring waters flow, 
 
 ' But not from whom they fell. 
 
 'For should you once my name repeat, 
 ' Say, would his heart responsive beat, 
 
 'And echo back to thine? 
 ' Ah ! no, some other fair, more blest, 
 'Lives in the mansion of that breast, 
 
 ' Which never can be mine.' 
 
 There was a peculiar softness in the voice of Lady 
 Honoria as she sung the concluding words of the last 
 stanza, too obvious not to be perceived, and which 
 rivetted the eyes of Trelawney on her blushing and 
 expressive countenance, but he as hastily withdrew 
 them, pained, and disconcerted ; he admired, and it 
 is certain, could have loved such a woman as Lady 
 Honoria, had there not existed one whom he loved 
 above all others. The possibility of having inspired 
 more than a sentiment of friendship in so amiable a 
 being, which would never meet with return, produc- 
 ed a sensation of the most poignant regret, and he 
 rejoiced in the resolution he had made, to be the com- 
 panion of Lord Sydney, — absence being imagined aS/ 
 the only cure for love. Lady Frances now taking her , 
 station at the piano-forte, soon dispelled the present j
 
 THE MTSTERIOtJS MARRIAGE. 99 
 
 sombre sensations, by introducing some of the most 
 lively airs that her good humour and vivacity could 
 suggest, in which she was joined by Lady Catherine, 
 and they sung duets for the remainder of "the evening, 
 concludiug it in social harmony and peace. 
 
 And so you are going to leave us, Mr. Trelaw- 
 npy,' said Lady Catherine; 'my brother has just been 
 tolling me, that you are actually going to tear your- 
 self a-A-ay from Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne.' 
 
 AVhen our inclination is voluntaiy, there can be 
 Ho Compulsion,' said Trelawnoy, • I, therefore, am not 
 going to tLar myself away, but by choice only.' 
 
 Oh, how I should like to wander through the sun- 
 ny sf^ones of Italy,' said Lady Catherine, 'and con- 
 template the mountains of science, where Horace 
 tuned his living lyre, and Tully charmed the listen- 
 ing throng ; where Ovid too, in lonely exile, soothed 
 the soiTows of his soul, and Petrach wooed his much 
 loved Laura.' 
 
 And where Tasso made history and Jerusalem 
 immortal,' said Lord Sydney, ' and philosophers shed 
 the splendour of their imaginations on the greatness 
 of their countiy. Oh, Trelawney, it is there that we 
 ust ^ving our flight.' 
 
 ' But, like birds of Paradise, you will soon return 
 id seek youi- native dwelling,' said Lady Frances, 
 laughing. 
 
 The attraction of such birds as Lady Frances,' 
 said Trela\\'ney, ' would certainly send a wanderer 
 dome, from all the scenes that Italy could ever in- 
 spire, or imagination ever paint.' 
 
 Hush, Mr. Trelawney, be ne>t so profuse of your 
 Mjmpliments, I pray,' said Lady Frances. 
 
 The Duke of Valencia now came in, and join 
 id the social party, which was so perfectiy do- 
 nestic, that there was only one object not present 
 <) remind Trela\vney, that he was not sitting by 
 he paotor's fiieside in the While Collage, at Ken-
 
 100 THE MYSTERIOUS MAUniAGE. 
 
 ilwnrlh,— thp (l.iufrhtrrs of the Duke were so sya- 
 t. MiiiticiiUy opposite to those ofnny great personages 
 h-' had seen since his arrival in town. For sometimes 
 when he had popt upon them unawares, he had ac- 
 tually eau^'ht Lady llonoriaand Lady Frances busi- 
 ly iiiipluyed with their needle, — Lady Catherine 
 r. adinj: to her father, and that father listening to her 
 with the most profound attention; and at another 
 time he would liud these very unfashionable j'oung 
 Women deeply engaged in the most elegant researches 
 of literature. 
 
 Trelawney partook of an early supper at the Duke's 
 hospitable mansion, after an evening spent in the 
 most delightful intercour.se with these amiable beings. 
 On his approach to the vicinity of Grosvenor Square, 
 his thoughts were dilFcrent, and when he came in 
 BJ^'ht of Fit/o.sbiiurno House, a sudden pang assailed 
 him, of a presentiment of his future destiny. 
 
 Here no congenial heart throbbed to meet his.— 
 Here was iin aciiing void, a cheerless solitary gloom, 
 and he entered the splendid mansion of Lord Fitzos- 
 Lourne with a pensive sigh. In the drawing-room, 
 t' I his surprise every chair was vacant; on inquiry, 
 Mun;:o inform* d him that the Earl, somewhat indis- 
 posed, h.id retired at an early hour to his chatnbcr ; 
 that L;uly Alexina was out to a late party, in which she 
 was not accompanied by Lady Glenthorpe, who had 
 b'-eu all the evening engaged with a strange person, 
 who had come to her on business. 
 
 Tre.'iiwney, in his way to his dressing-room, recol- 
 Ireted that he had to pass Lndy Glenthorpe's, in do- 
 iii;,' which he stepped so lightly that her Ladyship 
 iiii;.'ht not hear him. The door, however, was now 
 h ilf open, and the following singular sentence, utter- 
 ed in a voice of rage, arrested his attention: — 
 ♦ * Beware, l^dy Glenthorpe, lest you urge an un- 
 fortunate and de«|K;rat« man to revenge, — spare thia 
 iuvcciivcuiiii abu.sc,— bciit/oifjit i^youi best remedy.*
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 101 
 
 ' And p^ive you five hundred pounds for your pre- 
 sumptuous insolence,' vociftrated her Ladyship. 
 
 ' No, in justice to the outraged feelings of an un- 
 happy son, whom you have taught to curse the me- 
 mory uf his father,' said the stranger ; ' but the Earl 
 of Fitzosbourne shall no loiujer — I icill instanthj — ' 
 
 ' Oh, silence, I implore you,' exclaimed Lady Glen- 
 thorpe ; — ' take the sum, and be gone.' 
 
 ' I obey your bidding this once, — o)ily to return, if 
 you provoke me to further vengeance !' uttered the 
 stranger. 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe answered not a word,— but silent, 
 she followed the departing footsteps of her companion, 
 till Trelawney distinctly heard the door close on the 
 mysterious visitor. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 trelawmey's reflectioxs ox the mysterious 
 VISIT to lady glexthohpe, &c. 
 
 The sensations of Trelawney were those of abhor- 
 rence for the character of Lady Glenthorpe, and com- 
 miseration for the unknown stranger, whose lan- 
 guage implied that he was there bound unwillingly 
 in some aflair by Lady Glenthorpe, whom he had ac- 
 cused of being the author of ruin to himself and 
 father. 
 
 But, who they were who had puch influence over 
 her Ladyship, as to intimidate her haughty spirit, 
 caused Trelawney to experience the greatest astonish- 
 ment, that ^e was kept awake nearly the whole niirht 
 in vain conjectures, which only involved his mind iu 
 a labjTinth of perplexities. That there was a dread- 
 ful mystery interwoven with the destiny of the Fitz- 
 osbourne family, and, perhaps, with his own, he did 
 not doubt ;— or. why the name of the Earl so forcibly 
 mentioned by the stranger ?
 
 102 THE MYSTERIOUS MAHIUAGE. 
 
 Thouprh naturally mirthful and good temporod, 
 Treliiwufy was not in the most pleasant humour, 
 when in the momin,<r he entered the gay and splon- 
 diJ saloon of Lord Fitzosbourne, and fuund the Earl 
 and Lady Glenthorpe only at the breakfast table. 
 
 Iler Ladyship had no traces either of chagrin or 
 di '-pond'.'ncy, perceptible on a countenance over 
 which she had the self command beyond every other ; 
 and she saluted Trelawm^y with a complacency of ap- 
 parent kindness, which he never felt so little able to 
 return; good breeding, however, taught him to re- 
 spect the feelings of a woman, — though that woman 
 w as the object of his aversion ; and he politely but 
 coldly answered her Ladyship's inquiries after his 
 heah"h. He then conversed with the Earl, until the 
 entrance of Lady Alexina made her the exclusive ob- 
 ject of attention, for her Ladyship's beautiful com- 
 plexion was beginning to change from a healthy to 
 a sickly hue, in consequence of late and dissipaN-d 
 hours, and it now caught the eye of her fond father, 
 who gently reproving her, asked Trelawney if he ilid 
 not think Lady Alexina was losing her colour -^ To 
 which Trelawney replied — 'You cannot expect r^ss 
 to preserve their naturally blooming sweetness, when 
 they are long exposed to the contagion of foul air; 
 they will fade and perish under the baneful influence.' 
 
 'Are you serious, Tanjore!''' exclaimed the Earl, 
 with amazement, not unmixed with displeasure. 
 
 ' Perfectly, my Lord,' answered Trelawney, with 
 great con)posure, ' you cannot expect your daughter's 
 hoalth to be otherwise than declining, when in the 
 he.it of a perpetual hot-house, at midnig]|t hours, in 
 the intolerably crowded apartments. Besides, Lady 
 Alexina is also deprived of sleep, nature's grand re- 
 storative, — behold those languid eyes, which have 
 not been closed till long after midnight, for succes- 
 sive weeks. Tell me, fair cousin, is not this the 
 truth, which I am stating to your father h'
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 103 
 
 Lady Alexina felt this rebuke so much that she 
 could scarcely repress her tears, and casting her 
 beautiful eyes down, poutingly answered, while she 
 rediloned with vexation, — ' I don't choose to tell you 
 any thing at all about it.' 
 
 • I must beg an explanation from one of you,' said 
 the Earl, turning to Trelawney and Lady Glenthorpe 
 alternately, almost infuriate. 
 
 ' I positively am not in the cabinet secrets of Mr. 
 Trelawney,' said her Ladyship, with disdain. 
 
 ' 1 presume not.' retorted Trelawney, ' and perhaps 
 it were better if none were in those of her Ladyship's. 
 What I have uttered, my Lord, I maintain.— that 
 the health of Lady Alexina will not only suffer from 
 late hours, but her reputation be endangered, by the 
 unlimited indulgence which you give her.' 
 
 ' The reputation of my child suffer by my indul- 
 gence!' said the Earl, looking fiercely at Trelawney. 
 But Trelawney preserved a calm and dignified com- 
 posure, while he replied, — 
 
 'Yes, my Lord, Lady Alexina's reputation must 
 necessarily suffer, when she is permitted to go from 
 her father's house to a midnight rout, wholly unat- 
 tended by that father, or any female relation. O 
 Lord Fitzosbourne. if you are blind to your daugh- 
 ter's indiscretion, do you expect that the world will 
 long remain so ? Will not Lady Alexina be talked 
 of r "Will not you be censured 'r' 
 
 'Alexina,' sa'id the Earl, turning to the alarmed 
 and beautiful culprit, ' I cannot doubt the assertion 
 of Tanjore Trelawney ; you were really then guilty 
 of so much folly as to go last night, notwithstanding 
 I forbade you, "to the rout of Lady Renegarde's.' 
 
 ' Well, suppose I did, papa,' said Lady Alexina. ' I 
 cannot see any harm, — when all the world was there, 
 how could I stay away 'r And pray why did not Tre- 
 lawney himself accompany me ':' 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe almost biting her lips in two, with
 
 104 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 stifled rape, said ; — * A very just and seasonable ques- 
 tion for you to ask, my sweet love,' cried she ; ' pray 
 why WHS not Mr. Trela\vney your companion and 
 even your protector on such an occasion \' 
 
 'If,' said Trelawney, 'Lady Alexina had conde- 
 scended to apprize me of her intention, I should not 
 have permitted the impropriety of her goin^ alone, 
 though, I confess, Lady Renegardc is a woman to 
 whose society I have an utter repugnance, yet for 
 your sake, my gentle cousin, I could have entered her 
 profane court of licentiousness, wore it only to have 
 kept at a distance the presuming coxcombs and pup- 
 pics, by whom you were surrounded.' 
 
 Perhaps this was the most kind and gallant sen- 
 tence which had ever dropped from the lips of Trel- 
 awney to Lady Alexina, and, being unexpected it was 
 received with pleasure by hur, for itgratititd her van- 
 ity, while it was hailed with rapture by her father, and 
 even Lady Glenthorpe condescended to smile. 
 
 Lady Alexina declared she would not go out for a 
 month to come, — ' For it would be shocking, you 
 know, Trelawney,' said she. resuming her silly child- 
 ishness, 'to lose one's complexion.' 
 
 ' Better to lose that, my fair cousin,' said he, 'than 
 what is infinitely more necessary to your own happi- 
 ness, — your good name.' 
 
 At this precise moment. Lord Sydney Belmont 
 was announced, and Lady Frances and Lady Cather- 
 ine Belmont, and were immediately admitted. ' For 
 do you know,' said Lady Frances, ' that we are so 
 very unfashionable as always to invite our friends and 
 neijrhbours without a pack of cards : I always go 
 round myself, or one of my sisters, at the desire of my 
 fiither, from whom I now come, requesting that he 
 may be favoured, on the anniversary of my brother's 
 birth-day, which is this day week, with your com- 
 pany, Lord Fitzosbourne, and your family, at Val- 
 encia LoGge.*
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 105 
 
 ' "Why positively I cannot refuse so fair an ambas- 
 sador,' said the Earl, ' though I have long given up 
 all gay parties, my dear Lady Frances.'* 
 
 Lady Frances, with a smile of the most engaging 
 sweetness, thus replied, ' Come, I will not allow you 
 to be sombre in my presence; but I assure you, that 
 we shall not be intensely gay, — there is that foolish 
 brother of mine going to leave us, you know, and Mr. 
 Trelawney too, and I don't know what we shall do 
 without either of them; for the one torments us — 
 that's )^ou. Sydney, and the other amuses us — that's 
 you, Mr. Trela-^Tiey.' 
 
 ' I am very glad that your Ladyship does not find 
 me altogether an idler,' replied Trelawney. Lady 
 Frances and Lady Catherine now withdrew, and Mr. 
 Trelawney politely conducted them to their carriage. 
 
 * And so they are going to give us a treat at last,' 
 said Lady Glenthoi-pe, ' something quite in the cot- 
 tage style, I suppose ; well, you shall go, my love, in 
 your usual dashing manner, a perfect glitter of dia- 
 monds.' 
 
 ' So I wiU, aunt,' cried Lady Alexina, enchanted 
 with the suggestion, 'no cottage style for me ; let us 
 send for Madame Duplace to-morrow, and see what 
 sort of a dx-ess she will fancy for me.' The kind, ac- 
 commodating aunt promised that she would, and thus 
 ended the conversation of this amiable pair. 
 
 Lord Sydney Belmont stayed to dinner at Fitzos- 
 bourne House, at the pressing invitatii^n of the Earl, 
 who looked upon him as an ornament to his illu.stri- 
 ous family and a blessing to society; for Lord Sydney 
 ■was not only enriched by talents of the most promis- 
 ing order, but his disposition was excellent, and his 
 warm heart floated in the milk of human kindness. 
 
 A natural cord of sympathy bound him to Trclnw- 
 ney, whose unfortunate destiny with Lady Alexina 
 Fitzosbourne he heartily commiserated ; for what can 
 be more dreadful to human imagination than an un-
 
 106 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 equal marriapre, the miseries of which can never ter- 
 minate but with death. 
 
 Those wen; the reflections of Lord Sydney quitting 
 Fitzosboume House, for never had Lady Alexina be- 
 trayed a mind of such disgusting frivolity, or manners 
 soJhildish, as she did on this evening in the presence of 
 Lord Sydney. A silent observer only, however, he felt 
 most poignantly for the situation of his friend, hoping 
 that suiue unforeseen event might yet intervene to 
 render such a sacrifice unnecessary. 
 
 But as that was hopeless, Trelawney had resigned 
 himself to his fate, and prepared his mind to meet 
 the worst, in his marriage with Lady Alexina, and 
 he tried to chase from his mind the blissful hour he 
 had passed at the White Cottiige, at Kenilworth; 
 and honour now demanded, that Ilosa Clarendale 
 must only be remembered as the daughter of the re- 
 spected friend of his father. 
 
 Even that precious gift given by the hand of Mary 
 Bradbury, Trelawney was convinced must soon be 
 removed, yet still he loved, still he adored Ilosa. But 
 the letters of the excellent pastor, since his arrival in 
 tuwn, glanced but slightly at his daughters, they had 
 hitherto been tilled with grateful acknowledgments 
 for the service he had rendered to his son, but the 
 pastor had never once said in his letters, 'my daugh- 
 ters join me in love,' nor had the name of Ilosa ever 
 once been written. 
 
 This was prudent in the pastor, but Trelawney 
 thought it was not kind. Why should he not hear 
 of the happiness of Ilosa and llebecca, in whom he 
 was so deeply interested ? What would he not do 
 for the lovely sisters of Henry Clarendale ? But 
 Henry also never once mentioned his sisters, though 
 he constantly spoke of the Bradbury family, taking 
 care that Mary's name should be the last expressed 
 in his letters. 
 
 For this omission, Trelawney could not possibly
 
 THE MYSTERIOrS MARRIAGE. 107 
 
 account, and his own sensations would not permit 
 him tu make inquiries which uiigrht awaken any deli- 
 cate alarm in the mind of the worthy pastor. In the 
 course of a few days, however, he received the follow- 
 ing letter, communicating intelligence which rejoiced, 
 but did not surprise him ; — 
 
 'My father has doubtless, my dear Sir, acquainted 
 you with the summons I have received to repair to Ken- 
 ilworth, to be present at my sister Rebecca's marriage 
 with my friend thilp Bradbury, on the eleventh instant. 
 'Wish me joy, my ctear benefactor, for this is an event 
 which causes me to experience sensations of unbomided 
 happiness ; this marriage of my beloved sister will be 
 cue of the blessed uuious which love makes holy, 'be- 
 cause the consummation is divine.' Eebecca's choice 
 was made even in childhood, and Philip loved Eebecca 
 since his artless accents could stammer out her name. 
 
 ' Ah, this is love, Mr. Trelawney, they could never in 
 heart have been divided— the ocean might have rolled 
 between them— mountains, reared their lofty heads to 
 obstruct them — perils, have surrounded them — but death 
 ouly could have disimited them.' 
 
 Henry delicately hinted, that the presence of his 
 benefactor, on this important occasicm, would be no 
 small addition to the happiness of the bridal party, 
 but he did not once say, that his father expected or 
 even wished Trelawney to be there ; nor would Tre- 
 lawney himself have wished it. 
 
 Not for worlds could he have stood before the bri- 
 dal altar in the presence of Rosa, without a wish 
 springing spontaneously from his heart, — that Ro.^a 
 was the bride of Trelawney. With a pensive sigh, 
 therefore, he closed the kind letter of Henry Claren- 
 dale, breathing a fervent prayer for the permanent 
 felicity of the two amiable beings, about to enter into 
 that state which may be termed superior happiness, 
 ov if otherwise, must ultimately be productive of su- 
 perior misery.
 
 108 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A PEEP AT THE AMIABLE FAMILIES AT 
 
 KENILWORTH AND EI.M GROVE, AND IIENRY'S 
 
 VISIT TO HIS FATHER. 
 
 The well-tried fidolitj', and constant affection of 
 Philip Bradbury towards the object of his love, 
 awakened in the bosom of Rebecca Clarendale a re- 
 turn of mutual confidence and esteem, founded on the 
 exemplary virtues of her lover, and sanctioned with, 
 the approbation of her parents. There was no cause 
 ft»r words ever to whisper in her ear, — 'Rebecca I 
 love you ;' for long had Rebecca known that no other 
 object reigned in the heart of her faithful and devoted 
 lover, save herself alone. 
 
 Philip had never yet sought an opportunity of de- 
 claring his possessitm, though constantly urg'ed so to 
 d-. by his impatient father, who longed for the time 
 when he tshould witness the union of his son with the 
 only woman he thought could ever make him happy ; 
 and when another twelvemonth had passed, without 
 any step having been taken, the doctor was out of all 
 patience, and one morning when ahme with Philip, 
 he attacked him somewhat roughly on the subject, in 
 his usual whimsieal manner. 
 
 ' "Why do you stand shilly shallying with the girl 
 of your heart in this sort of a way r' cried the doctor, 
 thumping the pestle and mortar, into which he was 
 pouring some drugs; 'why don't you ask the girl to 
 marry you at once h I dare say she will have no ob- 
 jections; most girls at her time of life want a hus- 
 band, and you want a wife,— why then don't you 
 choose, put the question to her at once '^ as I did to 
 your mother, two and twenty years ago.— 'Kate,* 
 said I, ' I believe you have pretty strong reasons for 
 supposing that I love you as honestly as man can do, 
 so here is the ring, and to-morrow I will get a par- 
 son, as soon as you please;' this did the business.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 109 
 
 Zounds! a ■woman don't like to wait long, when her 
 mind is once made up on the score of matrimony; 
 you must take her just when she happens to be in the 
 humour, or not at all.' 
 
 'But, Sir,' cried Philip, 'will not Rebecca think 
 this extraordinary haste and premature, since I have 
 never once told her that I loved her r' 
 
 ' The deuce, you have not,' said the doctor ; ' by 
 Jove, this is worse and worse; why, what an idle 
 puppy she must take you for, — five years dangling 
 after the girl of your heart, and never popt the ques- 
 tion I — but have a care, Sir, or I shall be before hand 
 with, yon depend upon it; — I shall go and make love 
 to Beckey myself, in spite of your teeth; — she shall 
 be your wife to-morrow morning.' 
 
 ' Rebecca my wife to-morrow morning !' exclaimed 
 Philip, in the utmost agitation and alarm, lest the 
 d'jctor should put his resolution into force, by going 
 to the White Cottage, and making the family ac- 
 quainted with his intentions ; and laying his hand on 
 the doctor's shoulder, he said, — ' My dear Sir, for 
 heaven's sake, pray consider that Rebecca ' 
 
 ' Consider a tiddle-de-dee,' said the doctor, laughing 
 heartily at the now trembling and abashed Philip ; 
 'have you not been considering for five years r' — By 
 Jove, I will instantly go and pop the question my- 
 self, and you shall be married by proxy.' 
 
 Just then a customer fortunately dropped in, and 
 put an end to the debate, and he luckily escaped that 
 day and the day following, from further importuni- 
 ties; but the doctor, who delighted in a good joke, 
 and anxiously wishing to bring matters to a speedy 
 conclusion, took a sly opportunity of stealing a march 
 on Philip, presented himself in the little oak parlour 
 one morning when the family were assembled at 
 breakfast. ' Why, here is Doctor Bradbury,' said 
 Mrs. Clarendale. 
 
 'Only one half of me,' said the doctor, seating
 
 110 THE MYSTERIOUS MaKRIAOE. 
 
 hirnsplf uncoromoniously in a chair next to Rebecca, 
 ' for I have leit iny other half in bed, while I come 
 to apprize you of what is going on at Elm Grove ; I 
 dare saj' you will never guess which of uij' family is 
 going to enter into that happy state called matri- 
 mony ':" 
 
 * I am sure if it was Mary or Elizabeth, they would 
 have told us,' said Rosa, with an arch smile, but not 
 venturing a glance at Rebecca, whose blood had 
 mounted to her cheeks, and shone through her fair 
 skin, and whose mild blue eyes were cast down, in 
 the most timid confusion, at encountering the scru- 
 tinizing looks of the doctor, who ccmtinued to enjoy 
 his humour, by replying to Rosa; — 'And so, Miss 
 Rosa, you think that women cannot keep secrets ; 
 well, I believe you are pretty tolerably correct in that 
 respect, for I don't think they can. But what will 
 you say vi Mr. Philip Lradbuvy, cannot he keep a 
 secret too : — aye. Miss Rosa.' 
 
 ' Oh, yes, 1 am sure he can,' answered Rosa ; ' to 
 my knowledge he has kept one secret a long time, — 
 has not he Rebecca 't' 
 
 This was just what the doctor wanted, and he 
 laughed most immoderately, for poor Rebecca was 
 fairly caught, and she blushed deeply, while with 
 agitated voice she replied, — 'How can I tell, Rosa, 
 what secrets Mr. Philip Bradbury may choose to 
 keep ? — y(ju cannot suppose, that I would take the 
 liberty of inquiring into any.' And Rebecca, rising 
 from her chair, wouid gladly have escaped from the 
 doctor's raillery, had he not seriously requested her 
 company for a few moments on a very pressing busi- 
 ness. 
 
 ' My dear young lady, I am now an old fellow, 
 passed the age of paying compliments, though in the 
 picsence of so much youth and beauty ; whtin I was 
 young, I was the sari)e in candour and sincerity ; and 
 where is the use of coaiplimenls between you and
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE, 111 
 
 me? — You are the daughter of the best man and wo- 
 man living-, but if you were not, I don't know but 
 what I should like you much the same as I do now. 
 In one word, are you perfectly agreeable to this said 
 marriage of my son Philip "r if you will answer this 
 question to the point, I will say you are the most 
 sensible girl living : — Does this marriage meet your 
 wishes, as I am well assured it does his, at the pre- 
 sent moment h' 
 
 'Why really, Doctor Bradbury,' cried Rebecca, re- 
 covering her composure, and with a blush, 'this is a 
 most extraordinary question, but since I feel com- 
 pelled to answer it Avith sincerity, may I first inquire 
 to whom your son is going to be united ?' 
 
 ' Yourself, Madam,' answered the doctor, so sud- 
 denly, that Mr. and Mrs. Clarendale looked with 
 surprise. 
 
 ' You will say,' continued he, ' that I have chosen 
 a very singular method of addressing you on a sub- 
 ject which has for a length of time been nearest to 
 my heart ; my boy loves you most sincerely, and I 
 have a shrewd guess. Miss Rebecca Clarendale, that 
 you don't dislike him.' 
 
 'No, that .she don't, Doctor Bradbury,' cried the 
 delighted Rosa, ' I will be answerable for that ; — re- 
 member your carnations, Rebecca; that now Philip 
 Bradbury had taken them to nurse, that you fancied 
 they looked lovelier, and smclled a thousand times 
 sweeter than they did when old Potts the gardener 
 had them under his care.' 
 
 ' Oh, fie, Rosa, you little tell-tale !' said Mrs. Clar- 
 endale, 'I am positively quite ashamed of you.' 
 
 ' Not when she speaks the truth, my good Madam,' 
 cried the doctor ; ' and I dare say that old Potts was 
 very glad to give up his employment to one who was 
 so much happier to supply his place ; — what say you 
 Miss Rebecca r' 
 
 Rebecca was silent, but nut unmoved ; and as her
 
 112 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 father turned towards her with unutterable affection, 
 tears prlittered in her eyes, that now shone bright l 
 •with frcnuine sweetness and sensibility. 
 
 ' Come, my dear child,' said the pastor, ' let us not 
 keep the doctor in suspense, for well I know, that 
 atfcctation does not belong to your character, though 
 I confess he has taken us by surprise this morning ; ; 
 but ' 
 
 ' It is a way that I have,' said the doctor, laughing, 
 ♦ I like to take people by surprise ; that's what I do 
 with my patients, I ask them if they don't find them- 
 Bclves better, for fear they should tell me they find 
 themselves worse, and that's the way I get them 
 round again; and now Beckey, may Philip Brad- 
 bnry, the son of old Arthur Bradbury, the queer lit- 
 tle doctor, have the happiness of coming this even- 
 ing, to pop the question to you ? 
 
 It may naturally be imagined, that the answers 
 which Miss Clarendale now made to Doctor Brad- 
 bury, were not only satisfactory to her fond parents, 
 but so much so to him, that he rose from his chair, 
 
 f)ut on his hat, and snatching a kiss from the rosy 
 ips which had inspired him with such pleasure, 
 danocd every step of the way to Elm Grove, and 
 marching up to Mrs. Bradbury, with an air truly 
 theatrical, he sung aloud, — ' See the conquering hero 
 comes,' to her infinite amusement, and to the delight 
 of the animated and sprightly Mary. 
 
 He informed them of his success at the White Cot- 
 tage, after which he capered about the room, till a 
 summons in the shop required his attendance, Maiy 
 declaring, that whenever she wanted a husband, she 
 would send her father to pop the question for her. 
 Philip Bradbury was not long in declaring his pas- 
 sion to Rebecca, — nor Rebecca slow to confess the 
 same ; and their marriage was fixed at an early day 
 in the enswing week, the banns being publicly announ- 
 ced in the village church at Kenilwoith. Philip
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 113 
 
 pleaded that his friend Henry mip-ht be present at 
 his marriag'e, and he was accordingly written to by 
 the pastor, but Trelawney was not mentioned in it, 
 from prudential motives, on account of Rosa, in 
 whom the pastor, on the evening of Trelawney' s do- 
 parture, had discovered, what her artless bosom at- 
 tempted to hide, an ardent passion for the benefactor 
 of her father's family ; for unable to disguise her 
 feelings, the susceptible Rosa, for a long time after 
 he had quitted the "White Cottage, yielded herself up 
 to grief and despondency, and she became spiritless. 
 
 Mary Bradbury often stayed days together to try to 
 animate the dejected Rosa, but in vain. The beau- 
 ties of her lovely form drooped insensibly; the pastor 
 became i.Mnic-struck, and the fund mother was alarm- 
 ed for her darling child, who now delighted in noth- 
 ing but the letters of her brother Henry, in which the 
 name of Trelawney was ever mentioned with grateful 
 enthusiasm, and when the period arrived, that he was 
 to depart for college, Henry thu.s expressed himself: — 
 
 'I am much beholden in gratitude to the Earl of Fitz- 
 osbourne, and have experienced much kindness under his 
 hospitable roof ; but do not expect me to give you a very 
 adequate description of fashionable life or manners, to 
 which though in the splendid mansion of Lord Fitzos- 
 bourne, I am almost a stranger. 
 
 'Devoted to my studies, I do not accustom myself to 
 those pursuits which are not intimately connected with 
 my happiness, and with which I shall shortly have but lit- 
 tle concern. I pass mostof my time in the dressing-room of 
 my beueiactor, and, oh, how kind is his every word and 
 action ;— he anticipates my very thoughts and wislies. 
 
 'Let not my dear sisters imagine me blind to the la- 
 dles ;— Lady Glenthorpe, his sister, and Lady Alexiua, his 
 daughter. The fonner is a very beautiful woman, but there 
 is boldness in her language, and disgusting levity in her 
 manners, which, however fashion may sanction, is repel- 
 lant to the feelings of those who move in the quiet path of 
 humble life ; and of Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne it is un- 
 pleasant to write ; since, believe me, though lovely, she 
 strongly resembles her aunt ; except that her manners are 
 u
 
 114 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 more unformed, and even childish, for when she speaks, 
 there is sekioni any meaning in what she utteis ; ah ! how 
 very far inferior to the mental endowments of our dear and 
 amiable friend. She may be the destined bride of Trel- 
 awney, but that she ever was selected by him, as the part- 
 ner of his choice, I cannot believe. Kor do I hear that 
 the nuptials will speedily take place.' 
 
 From the moment of hearing the contents of this 
 letter, Rt)sa re(!overed her spirits, and her former vi- 
 vaeity. Her heaUh now returned to roseate hues on 
 hor fair cheek, to the joy of her fond father and mo- 
 ther. Doctor Bradbury recommended change of air 
 for a short time; when it was determined, on the mar- 
 riage of Rebecca, that she should accompany her sis- 
 ter and Philip to London, and pass a few weeks with 
 a relative of the doctor's, and then settle near Coventiy 
 where the doctor had purchased for his son a small de- 
 lightful residence, thiit he might assist him in h:s pro- 
 fcssifmal duties, to the whole of which young Brad- 
 bury would shortly succeed, the business having be- 
 come too extensive for the doctor's advanced years. 
 
 But the eccentric doctor had never hinted this to his 
 son, on the contrary, he declared that his hook of bad 
 debts was greater than ever, and that if things did not 
 mend, Mrs. Bradbury must shortly cry matches, and 
 Mary and Betty sing ballads, to get an honest liveli- 
 hood. But Mrs. Bradbury had told another tale to 
 her daughters and to Philip, assuring them that am- 
 ple provision was made for them, and they only 
 langhed at the doctor, whenever he was in one of his 
 jesting humours; Mary would generally chaunt forth, 
 in true gipsy style, one of the doctor's favourite bal- 
 lads, while she uttered in a voice of the most natural 
 sweetness, — ' There, father, give me a penny, one pen- 
 ny for your poor little ballad singer.' At which the 
 old doctor, laughing all the while, would search his 
 pockets, and at length exclaim, — ' Give you a penny, 
 — I shall not do any such thing ; pennies are not .so 
 phutilul ; Phil and I work very hard for a penny,
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 115 
 
 don't WG, Phil? But I'll tell you what I will do, I 
 will give something out of my sly purse, you slut you, 
 because the song pleases me.' This something, 
 which the doctor produced from the sly purse, was not 
 infrequently a guinea, to purchase a new dress or new 
 bonnet for Miss Mary. And Elizabath too did not go 
 without her penny ; she had her good qualities, and 
 had many admirers. 
 
 A young ni;in of the name of Mildmay, the son of 
 an opulent miller, who resided in Warwick, had al- 
 ready declared himself her lover, and the doctor had 
 given a promise to the love-stricken swain, that he 
 should not be rejected, always observing to Elizabeth, 
 when he conversed on the subject; ' have the miller, 
 Betty, — the miller by all means,' cried he, 'here is my 
 consent, and here is your mother's, and now yuu have 
 only to get your own. — Zounds, if you marry the mil- 
 ler you will never want bread.' 
 
 ' liut if you knew, papa, what the gipsy told me ;' 
 
 ' The gipsy told you a iiddle-de-dee.' said the doc- 
 tor;' I'll have her soused in the fish-pond, whenever 
 she conies again.' 
 
 'And she told Mary the first letter of ' Eli- 
 zabeth, ' of ' 
 
 ' I wish, Elizabeth, you would amuse my father 
 with something e^e,' said Mary, blusliing deeply. 
 At which the doctor only laughed, and left the room, 
 humming to himself, — ' There was a jolly miller.' &c. 
 Tiiary gently chided Elizabeth, fur having told her 
 father that they had admitted the gipsy to teU their 
 fortunes. 
 
 ' How absurd of you, Elizabeth,' said Mary, 'and 
 you were actually going to tell him, that ' 
 
 ' Henry was the prettiest name in the world,' .said 
 Elizabeth, laughing. But what were the emotions 
 of both sisters when a well-known voice saluted their 
 ears, at the door, which the doctor had lett half un- 
 clobcd, with, — 'I am very glad you like my name so
 
 116 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 woll, Miss Bradbury:' — and Henry Clarendalo stood 
 before them. Neither of them knew that he had 
 been invited down ; and Mary shrieked with joyful 
 surprise, while Elizabeth was motionless with as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 ' Henry !' exclaimed Mary, extending her hand, 
 which was presently devoured with kisses. ' Mary,' 
 answered Henry, ' dear Mary, forgive my sudden 
 surprise, and you too, Elizabeth ; it is scarcely an 
 hour since I arrived at my father's, but I could not 
 rest till I had journeyed to Elm Grove, I flew, like 
 lightning, over the fields, and never stopped till I 
 came to the style where we parted, Mary.' 
 
 ' But I presume you did not stay long there,' said 
 Mary, laughing, and sitting by the side of Henry; 
 ' well, Henry, you are much grown, and I am so glad 
 to see you ; — but I have such news to tell you : — 
 Betty's going to be married, as well as Bcckey, — you 
 remember the miller's son, Henry':'' Elizabeth, at 
 these words ran out of the room, and Henry, turn- 
 ing towards Mary, with a look of impassionate ten- 
 derness, fondly uttered, — 
 
 ' You bid me remember every thing that is past, 
 but I furget every thing when you are present. Oh, 
 Mary, how I have panted to behold you again, to see 
 yt)u smile, and to hear your voice ; and let me hope 
 that Henry has not been absent from your thoughts.' 
 
 * Oh, Henry, could you think that you could be 
 forgotten, while memory is mine ?' saiil Mary, in a 
 voice of such sweetness, and with a look so eloquent- 
 ly feeling, that Henry felt himself the most trans- 
 ported of human beings, and Mary was the happiest : 
 when in a few moments they were joined by the < 
 doctor and Mrs. Bradbury. 
 
 ' Henry,- my dear boy, a thousand welcomes to Elm 
 Grove again,' said Mrs. Bradbury, returning Henry's 
 respectful salute. 
 
 'No, he is not welcome,' said the doctor, the dog :
 
 THE MYSTET^IOUS MAREIAGE. 117 
 
 is not welcome, till he has paid his respects to me, 
 the master of the family. Well, but how are you, 
 Harry, after all l' — Come let me hear how they be- 
 have to you at college, — and above all, what you 
 think of a Lord P' 
 
 When Henry departed the doctor posted away with 
 him to the White Cottage, determined, he said, to 
 have a comfortable chat over a bottle of the pastor's 
 brown stout. 
 
 'For you know, Harry,' said he, 'that all next 
 week there will be no time for anything. — Gad zooks ! 
 I don't think I shall make up a single pill, lotion, 
 potion, or bolus. I'll send to all my patients to tell 
 them, that matrimony requires all my attendance, 
 and that it is much better to take a draught of that 
 pleasant mixture, than all the medicines in a doctor's 
 laboratory. ' 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Marriage of Philip Bradbury axd Rebecca 
 
 ClaRENDALE;— THE VISIT TO LONDON. 
 
 The Pastor discovered that Henry's mind had ex- 
 panded with the ripening manliness of his person, 
 and a profundity of knowledge far beyond his years, 
 which promised a rich harvest, when he should be 
 called to the exercise of those sacred duties, on which 
 depended his own happiness, and the happine.'s of his 
 fellow-creatures ; that this was in part the work of 
 the excellent Trelawney, awakened the most lively 
 gratitude in the breast of the pastor, and as Mrs, 
 Clarendale rested her eyes with inexpressible delight 
 on the graceful form of Henry, she silently offered a 
 prayer for the happiness of Mr. Trelawney. 
 
 Henry was not blind to the altered looks of Rosa, 
 and the deep blush which alternately crimsoned and 
 faded on her complexion, at the mentiou of Trelawney ;
 
 118 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE, 
 
 it f aused him to rend tho toll-tale passion in his sistor, 
 with sensations most painful and poignant, since 
 hopeless indeed must be her passion for Trolawnoy ; 
 and Henry ug:ain thought of the secret entrusted by 
 Trelawney to his beloved Mary, for that Trelawnay 
 loved most powerfully he saw, and also that Lady 
 Alexina was not the object of that passion. Whom 
 then could it bo ? surely not his sister Rosa ! Mary 
 Bradbury could easily resolve this question, but on 
 this subject he dared not importune her again. 
 
 At length the happy day arrived, which was 
 ushered in by a bright morning, — the bridal morning 
 of the lovely and virtuous Kebecca Clarendale ; at a 
 season when all nature opens upon us, and leaving 
 winter's dreary confines behind, gives to our delight- 
 ed eyes the tender lirstlings of the blooming spring 
 — the beauteous primrose, and the purple scented 
 violet, all in retiring sweetness dressed, and peeping 
 forth their modest heads under the white blossomed 
 thorn. And never was a season more congenial to 
 the minds of the t\,-o happy beings, who on this 
 morning were to resign the felicity of their whole 
 lives into each other's hands ; as that sublime poet, 
 Thompson said; — 
 
 *But happy they ! the happiest of their kind ! 
 
 * Wliom gentler stars unite, and in one fate 
 
 ' Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend P 
 
 And it was expressly so with Philip Bradbury and 
 Rebecca Clarendale. The gentle bosom of Rebecca 
 could scarce sustain a parting with her mother, from 
 whose tender care she had never been separated since 
 the hour of her birth, and though happy, she was 
 not mirthful, when Rosa tript into her chamber, with 
 the lightness of a sylph, to inform her, that the 
 Bradburys were all come, and sitting round the 
 breakfast table in the oak parlour, 
 
 'And there is poor Philip,' said Rosa, laughing
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 119 
 
 archly, * cooling his heels at the bottom of the stnirs, 
 and waitinir most impatiently for the bride ; and here 
 arc you, Rebecca, without so much as having un- 
 papered your hair. — And, my gracious ! there's a face, 
 —why, you have been crying I — What nonsense, 
 Beckey, when you are going to be married to one who 
 loves you so dearly, and whom you love dearly too ! 
 
 — ah, if it was poor E-osa •' Here Rosa made 
 
 a full stop at certain reflections in which she dared 
 not permit herself a momentary indulgence. 
 
 The delicate fairness of Rebecca's complexion, al- 
 most naturally ti;ansparent, had on this morning not 
 the slightest tinge of the rose; but when arrayed in 
 her bridal dress, a plain robe of white muslin, fasten- 
 ed round her slender waist with a simple bow of white 
 ribbons, never looked a being more perfectly the em- 
 blem of innocence and chaste beauty than Rebecca 
 Clarendale. 
 
 ' There, Rosa, I am now quite ready,' said she, in 
 a faltering voice, as she leaned on the arm of her 
 sister, who almost carried her down stairs to Philip. 
 
 ' Here she is, Phil,' .cried Rosa, 'but, I do believe, 
 if I had not told her you were at the bottom of them, 
 you would have waited another day for a wife.' 
 
 Rebecca, leaning on the arm of Philip, and with a 
 modest courtesy, entered the presence of the wedding 
 guests, and not daring to glance her eyes towards her 
 dear mother, she paid her respects to the doctor and 
 Mrs. Bradbury. 
 
 ' \yhat, my lily of the valley, and my mountain 
 rose,' said the doctor, and without further ceremony 
 lie imprinted a kiss on the lips of each lovely sister. 
 
 Rosa had a fine roseate bloom, which was increased 
 by the doctor's observing, that her turn would come 
 next, 'and Betty's and Molly's too, I suppose,' said 
 he, glancing a sly look at the blushing Mary, to whom 
 Henry had just presented a nosegay of fresh violets, 
 Elizabeth too came in for her share of her father's
 
 120 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 raillery, as yonn^ Mildmay was? coming the ensuing 
 week to Elm Grove, at the express commands of his 
 falher, to offer proposals to the doctor for the fair 
 hand of Elizabeth. 
 
 * Come, girls,' said the doctor, where are your bon- 
 nets and your fal-lals, get ready, for Mr. Etheridge, I 
 dare say, is now waiting at the church gate.' 
 
 ' Dear me. Doctor Bradbury, what a hurry you are 
 always in,' cried Rosa assisting the trembling Rebec- 
 ca to tie on her bonnet ; and in a few moments two 
 post chaises, with white ribbons, knots tied on the 
 horses heads, and white cockades in the hats of the 
 postillions, drove up to the door, to convey the bridal 
 party to the church, amidst crowds of the happy vil- 
 lagers, who surrounded the carriages with loud huzzas, 
 and other demonstrations of joy, in compliment of their 
 excellent pastor and the worthy doctor. — Twelve girls 
 and boys, dressed in their holiday clothes, preceded 
 the carriages to the church gate, carrying bouquets of 
 choice flowers of the spring, and these were followed 
 by both old and young, to otfer their congratulations 
 and heartfelt prayers for the happiness of a young 
 couple, so deservedly beloved and respected. The 
 Rev. Mr. Etheridge was already waiting to receive 
 them, at the particular request of the pastor, he wish- 
 ed him to perform the marriage ceremony. 
 
 Rebecca firmly and audibly pronounced the respon- 
 ses, while her father presented her hand to the future 
 guardian of her happiness, and Mr. Etheridge, hav- 
 ing discharged his duty, saluted the fair bride as Mrs. 
 Fhilip Bradbury. The church bells sent forth their 
 merry peals, and the church gates were thronged with 
 spectators ; — the boys and girls were then permitted 
 to approach the bride and bridegroom, and throw at 
 their feet their humble, but welcome, oflferings of 
 gratitude. 
 
 A dinner was provided at the charity school, of 
 roast beef, plum pudding, and a barrel of strong beer,
 
 THE AnrSTERIOUS MARHTAGB. 121 
 
 for the poor in the village of Kenilwortli, and a sura 
 ot money given to the sick, and the aged, and the in- 
 firm, out of the private purse of the pastor and Doc- 
 tor Bradbury. 
 
 The bridal party partook of an elegant repast, at 
 Elm Grove, where a few select friends were invited by 
 the doctor, and the next morning Mrs. Clarendale and 
 Rosa accompanied the happy pair to their new resi- 
 dence, (called Woodlands,) purchased by the doctor, 
 and furnished with every necessary appendage by the 
 pastor. It was within five miles' distance of the White 
 Cottage at Kenilworth near Coventry, a circumstance 
 which created great happiness to Ptcbecca, who in a 
 short time could behold her dear father and mother, 
 to whom she might still be useful, and from whose en- 
 dearing society she should not be separated ; while on 
 the other hand, Mrs. Clarendale felt gratified at the 
 prospects of permanent felicity now dawning on her 
 beloved child, whose filial aff'ection so justly entitled 
 her to the blessings which surrounded her. 
 
 Mrs. Bradbury was delighted with the taste dis- 
 played in the furniture of Rebecca's house, and she 
 also presented some mementoes of her regard; and 
 Henry Clarendale, having several times visited his 
 sister at the Woodlands, was unwillingly compelled to 
 leave the happy group, and return to college, and take 
 a tender farewell of his beloved Mary, from whom he 
 solicited a regular correspondence ; — he bade an afiec- 
 tionate adieu to his dear mother and Rosa, whom he 
 called to take leave of at his sister's house, and set off 
 early the ensuing morning in the mail from Coventry. 
 A fortnight after Rosa Clarendale and Mary Brad- 
 bury accompanied the newly married pair to London; 
 both young ladies were to stay a fortnight, when they 
 were to return to Woodlands with Rebecca. 
 
 Philip Bradbury had received instructions from the 
 pastor, who had charged him with a letter to Trelaw- 
 ney, never to allow Rosa to be alone with him, if he
 
 122 THE MYSTERIOUS MARTIIAGE. 
 
 should call on him at his relation's, and that no mes- 
 saf^ea might be carried on his account to the Earl of 
 Fitzosbourne's. Not that Rosa had ever mentioned 
 the name of Trelawney, perfectly aware that her sis- 
 ter, now a wife, would be more circumspect over her 
 conduct with respect to Trelawney. But Mary Brad- 
 bury did not see the necessity of burying his name in 
 silence, and during the journey to town, she sudden- 
 ly exclaimed, — 'How I should like to see our gener- 
 ous friend Trelawney, and who knows but we may ; 
 Phil, you are going to Lord Fitzosbourne's, how per- 
 fectly "droll it would be if you were to take me with you. 
 
 ' I think it would be perfectly ridiculous, Mary,' 
 said Philip. 
 
 ' And I think it would be very natural,' retorted 
 Mary: would not it, Rosa'r' 
 
 ' I do not think any thing at all about it, Mary/ 
 replied Rosa, her face denying the assertion. 
 
 ' I dare say that we all may have the pleasure of 
 seeing Mr. Trelawney,' said Rebecca, 'and I am cer- 
 tain that it will atiurd me great pleasure, for he is 
 one of the most amiable of beings.' 
 
 ' Yet, poor fellow, I fear he will be one of the most 
 miserable,' cried Mary ; ' Henry says, that Lady Al- 
 exina Fitzosbourne, though very handsome, is half an 
 idiot; — I would not marry her Ladyship for all the 
 fathers in Christendom. — If I were Trelawney, she 
 might cry whoop for a husband, for me.' 
 
 'Nonsen.se, Mary,' said Rebecca, 'you know he 
 must marry her. But pray let us drop the subject, 
 and talk of something else.' 
 
 The eyes of poor Rosa shed tears, but the lively 
 Mary soon diverted her from melancholy reflections, 
 by whispering, unheard by Philip or Rebecca, that 
 there was no doubt but they should see their old 
 friend Trelawney, at some of the public places to 
 vhich they were to go before they returned to Kenil- 
 worth.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 123 
 
 At Ipn^h the travellers alip^lited at the Sprearl 
 Eag-le in Gracechurch Stvoet, where Dr. Stanton and 
 his son were awaiting: their aiTival to conduct them 
 to his residence in Pull Mall. During their ride, the " 
 old f>entleman, who was much such another as Doc- 
 tor Bradbury, noticed the uncommon beauty of the 
 pastor's daughters, and equally charmed with the fas- 
 cinating Mary Bi-adbury, he exclaimed aloud to his 
 son, — 
 
 ' Why, Theodore, gad zooks I we need not go as 
 far as Covent Garden for lilies and roses, when we shall 
 have so beautiful a collection from the garden of Ken- 
 ilworth in our own drawing-room.' The doctor then 
 turned towards the blushing Rosa, on whom his son 
 was also gazing with admiration, — ' Upon my word, 
 Miss Clarendale, the air of your native village has 
 given additional lustre to your charms.' 
 
 The coach arrived at Pall Mall, and the travellers 
 alighted at the house of Doctor Stanton, who imme- 
 diately conducted them to his sister, (for the doctor 
 was a widower.)and this lady, his only and unmarried 
 sister, had resided with him since the death of his 
 wife, and was the manager of his domestic concerns. 
 
 Miss Sranton received her guests with a most wel- 
 come smile, and after saluting the bride and bride- 
 groom, presented her hand to Rosa and Mary, with 
 great cordiality, entreating them to consider themselves 
 at home during their stay in town : ' we shall find suf- 
 ficient amusements for you, young ladies, ' said she, 
 ' my brother, you must not mind him, for he will be 
 running after his patients ; and I am obliged to stay 
 at home to make puddings and pies; but here is my 
 nephew quite at your service ; are you not, Theodore 't' 
 said Miss Stanton, turning to young Stanton, one of 
 the finest young men that'could be seen at the age of 
 nineteen, and well educated, — he was an only child, 
 and the property of Dr. Stanton was great, arising 
 from his professional practice, and fi'um the circiim-
 
 124 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 stance of Dr. Stanton's father havinfr made hi.s for- 
 tune before he was born. To the remark of Miss 
 Stanton, Theodore bowed gracefully, declaring, that 
 he should feel proud to attend the ladies whenever 
 they should honour him with their commands. 
 
 ' Upon my word, sister Arabella, you have settled 
 this business pleasantly for Master Theodore,' said 
 Doctor Stanton, 'but don't imagine, because I am an 
 eld man, that I am to be excluded from attending 
 these lovely girls, — no indeed, 1 shall be a downright 
 rebel all the time they grace with their presence my 
 house :— I will attend them one night to the theati-e, 
 the next night to the opera, and the next to a ball, — 
 do you think I will be an idler, when beauty leads 
 the way ?' Miss Stanton replied. — ' And if you at- 
 tend the ladies to a ball, brother, I hope you will pro- 
 vide yourself with a partner, for dance you must of 
 cour.se ; — who ever goes to a ball to sit still ?' 
 
 ' Why, nobody in their senses,' said the doctor, 
 * dancing creates a fine circulation of the blood, and 
 keeps it from torpor ; but as to i)roviding a partner, 
 here is one already, whom I should select from a 
 million ;' (and the gallant doctor tapped the blooming 
 cheek of Rosa,) 'will you, fair Miss Clarendale, con- 
 descend to honour with your hand a veteran, with- 
 out betraying a blush in an assembly room F' 
 
 To which Rosa modestly replied, ' The condescen- 
 sion, Sir, would be on your part, and gratitude on 
 mine, were you to honour me so highly.' 
 
 Tea and coffee were now served up, and the re- , 
 mainder of the evening spent in agreeable and social 
 intercourse, with beings to whom nature had been 
 bountifully kind, and fortune by no means niggardly. 
 
 Philip Bradbury found in Theodore Stanton a 
 substitute for Henry Clarendale, and Doctor Stanton 
 was almost the counterpart of his father, nor was his 
 gentle Rebecca, less pleased with the amiable Miss
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 125 
 
 Stanton, who gave proofs of being a highly accom- 
 plished lady. 
 
 jNlary and Rosa were delighted ^eyond expression, 
 and when they retired to their chamber, on the first 
 ni«^ht of their arrival in town, Rosa said to Mary : — 
 
 'Well, I protest, Mary, that Doctor Stanton is, 
 with the exception of your father, the most agreeable 
 oid man I ever beheld.' To which Mary instantly 
 replied, — ' And I protest, Rosa, that Mr. Theodore 
 is, with the exception of your brother, the most agree- 
 able young man I ever beheld.' 
 
 ' But he is so very young,' said Rosa. 
 
 * Well that is a fault he will soon get rid of,' an- 
 swered Mary ; and she archly added, — 
 
 ' To be sure, Mr. Theodore Stanton is not quite so 
 old as Mr. Tanjore Trelawney.' 
 
 'Oh, fie, Mary Bradbury,' cried Rosa, 'how could 
 you think of — -' 
 
 ' How could you think of what ?' cried Mary ; 
 'really, Rosa, both you and Beckey are perfectly ri- 
 diculous ; — poor Trelawney ; — it is then a crime even 
 to mention his name ; but I cannot endure such 
 affectation ; I mention Trelawney, because I ever 
 think of his kindness to my father, and you, Rosa, 
 ought to remember him for the same reason.' 
 
 ' I have not forgotten Mr. Trelawney, Miss Brad- 
 bury,' answered Rosa, betraying the warmth of hor 
 temper, and a sentiment which she had once cherish- 
 ed against Mary. Mary Bradbury had too superior a 
 mind to be petulent for trifles, with those whom she 
 really loved, and she really loved Rosa Clarendale. 
 
 Instead of retorting on the petulant Rosa, Mary 
 burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, and said, 
 ' AVell, Miss Clarendale, I am glad you have not for- 
 gotten the excellent Trelawney, because I am certain 
 that he has not forgotten you.' 
 
 Ro.sa, ashamed of her petulance, and convinced 
 how groundless were her suspicions against her ami-
 
 126 THE MYSTEraOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 able friend, threw her arras round the neck of Mary 
 Bradbury, and burstinp: into lears exclaimed, ' Oh, 
 Mary Bradbury, dear oNIary, can you for<?ivc me r" 
 
 * I don't know whether I shall or no,' said Mary, 
 but returning Rosa's salute most affectionately, 'you 
 are a very nauyiity girl. — There is one thing I have 
 to tell you, that Trelawney does not love Lady Alex- 
 ina Filzosbourne.' 
 
 ' Oh, Mary, then whom does he love ?' eagerly de- 
 manded Rosa. 
 
 ' Not me,' answered Mary. * No, Rosa, /am not 
 the object of Trelawney' s affections, but I know who 
 is, though I am forbidden any further disclosure on 
 the subject ; remember that your dear brother, once 
 entertained suspicions against me and Trelawney, 
 which were as unfounded as they were ridiculous, in 
 which he was encouraged by you and Rebecca ; you 
 cannot conceive how it grieved me. Trelawney 
 honoured me with his confidence, and even repeated 
 to me the name of his soul's idol, and I have never 
 betrayed it — no not even to Henry ; and I will never 
 reveal it, till by his own consent I am released from 
 the neees.sity of concealing it from his fair mistress.' 
 
 Rosa now, in an ecstasy exclaimed, — ' Oh, heavens, 
 Mary Bradbury, you are then acquainted with her, 
 — she is no stranger to you.' 
 
 ' She certainly is not a stranger,' cried Mary ; 'and 
 now, if you please, here let the subject rest ; ask no 
 more questions, as I will not answer them.' 
 
 Rosa became silent, but not so her fluttering heart. 
 From the statements of Mary she inferred that the 
 object of Trelawney's love was herself ; his looks and 
 Words appeared to confirm this mental impression; 
 but why he should entrust Mary with the secret, she 
 could not understand. Perplexed, yet pleased, she 
 yielded herself to the influence of balmy sleep.
 
 THE MYSTEEIOUS MARRIAGE. 127 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF THE BALL AT VALENCIA LODGE; 
 — TRELAWXEl'S REFLECTIONS THERE; — 
 A TALE OF SCANDAL. 
 
 While the nuptial festivities had been enjoyed in 
 the village of Kenihvorth, by the Clarendales and 
 Bradburys, a very difi'erent scene was taking place in 
 the splendid mansion of Lord Fitzosboume, and 
 •while the pastor and the doctor were dispensing 
 blessings to the poor, Lady Alexina and Lady Glen- 
 thorpe were squandering large sums of money for the 
 ball-night at the Duke of Valencia's, which took 
 jjlace on the very day of Rebecca's marriage. Trel- 
 awney was equally disgusted at the manners of Lady 
 Glenthorpe, and Lady Alexina, who had selected a 
 dress much fitter to display the figure of a highly- 
 finished courtezan, than for a young lady of rank and 
 fashion, being composed of one entire piece of trans- 
 parent lace drapery, festooned with full blowing roses, 
 so short as to display somewhat higher than her 
 Ladyship's ankles, and an equal proportion of herbo- 
 sorai^ on which glittered a necklace of diamonds, of 
 immense value, the bracelets on her arms correspond- 
 ing, and her dark luxuriant hair sparkled with orna- 
 ments of the most dazzling description. No art, no 
 decoration had been spared to set oif her beautiful 
 person, intending to rival all others at the Duke'a 
 part}', composed of three hundred personages of il- 
 lustrious rank. Nor was Lady Glenthorpe less mag- 
 nificently adorned : — she wore a dress similar to that 
 of her niece, except that it was of satin instead of 
 lace, and equally lavish of ornaments, she shone in a 
 profusion of diamonds, presented to her as gift oflfer- 
 ings from the extravagant bounty of Lady Alexina 
 Fitzn ^bourne. 
 
 "\Vh(>n both ladies were attired, Lady Glenthorpe, 
 first taking a paiticoiur survey of her own person, 
 
 A
 
 128 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 with which she had always been on the most excel- 
 lent terms, glanced at Lady Alexina, and exultingly 
 exclaimed, — ' My dearest creature, you are a perfect 
 divinity, — never did I see my Alexina look so trans- 
 cendcntly lovely ! — how beautifully those full-blown 
 roses correspond with the delicacy of your complexion, 
 my love.' 
 
 ' But will not that precise lover of mine think my 
 petticoats too short ? I am almost afraid to encoun- 
 ter his observation.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, child,' cried Lady Glenthorpe, a Lady 
 of fashion is privileged to dress as she likes.' 
 
 With this consoling assurance from her aunt, Lady 
 Alexina, in the full blaze of all her charms, and con- 
 fident that she should strike her insensate lover dumb 
 with admiration, she suddenly burst into the room 
 where he was sitting with her father, who had been 
 waiting nearly two hours for the ladies. 
 
 Trolawney, in a plain, neat, and elegant attire, 
 looked the perfect gentleman, without one atom of 
 the puppy about him. His fine, animated, clear and 
 healthy complexion, and his beautifully proportioned 
 and manly figure, required no addition of art to em- 
 belish it, and even if it had, he would have disdained 
 its assistance. 
 
 He was more observant, however, of the ladies, 
 and the very moment he cast his eyes on Lady Alex- 
 ina, he withdrew them again in silence, for he was 
 disgusted with the indelicacy of her appearance ; but 
 to find fault with a lady's dress on going into a ball- 
 room, he conceived to be unseasonable; but he de- 
 termined to acquaint her with his sentiments at a 
 convenient opportunity. To have ofFei-ed any re- 
 mark then on Lady Alexina, would have pained the 
 admiring, and the too indulging parent, and the 
 Earl's carriage being now ready, Trelawney, with a 
 pensive sigh, took her passive hand held out to him
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 129 
 
 w Ml an inviting smile, and conducted her Ladyship 
 iitM the carrriiige. 
 
 The insensible beauty attributed the silent and 
 p< 1 i'lus looks of Trelawnoy to extreme and sudden in- 
 V I autary admiration of her charms. But Lady Alex- 
 in I Fitzu.sbourne was unconscious that those charms 
 L i lost their beauty in the eyes of Trelawnoy. 
 
 ihit Lady Glenthorpe determined that Trelawney 
 p\L'uld not preserve his provoking taciturnity long, 
 f y >he suddenly turned round to Trelawney, and iu 
 a wlieedling tone, demanded to know what he was 
 a jjiiring most, her dress or Lady Alexina's. 
 
 Trelawney not relaxing from his gravity, coldly 
 r i/Iied", — 'Indeed; then I am very sorry to disap- 
 ] iut your Ladyship of any expectation you have 
 fi lined of my taste, which they say is a bad one, for 
 I have only one opinion, and it is a decided one, re- 
 s, cting the costume of an English gentlewoman's 
 d: ss. 
 
 'Oh. pray let us be favoured with it,' said her 
 L idyship, ' before we get to the Duke's, that's a good 
 creature ; probably we may have hit precisely on 
 your taste, which I suspect is in the Elizabeth style ; 
 — the Queen was partial to ruffs.' 
 
 * Because she was crooked, and had high shoulders, 
 I suppose,' said Lady Alexina, delighted at the op- 
 portunity which Lady Glenthorpe had now afforded 
 her of offering some ill-natured remark. 
 
 ' I beg leave to differ with your Ladyship's charit- 
 able inference,' said Trelawney, ' for I think that 
 guch regard to decency proceeded from that innate 
 iiiodcsty which every modest female naturally con- 
 sults, and without which all loveliness must appear 
 only as deformity; and ifhistory has represented Queen 
 Elizabeth as a vain woman, it has never informed us 
 that .--he was an indelicate one.' 
 
 'Was her m je.^ty's passion for the Earl of Essex 
 60 extremely delicate F asked Lady Glenthorpe.
 
 130 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ' That,' said Trelawney, ' is another affair, we were 
 talking of her majesty's dress, and not of the private 
 virtues or failings of her character.' 
 
 Just then the carriage stopped at Valencia Lodge, 
 to the relief of all parties, and none more so than to 
 the Earl, who perceived the drift of Lady Glenthorpe's 
 address to Trelawney, and now, for the first time, 
 cast his eyes on the dress of Lady Alexina, and soon 
 guessed at what the allusions of Trelawney had aim- 
 ed ; for never had he beheld his daughter in a dress 
 so grossly indelicate; to Lady Glenthorpe, however, 
 he attributed the improprietj'-, for which there was no 
 remedy but to bear in silence the remarks which 
 would be made on it. 
 
 With the most dissatisfied air, the Earl entered 
 the drawing-room of the duke, where he was greeted 
 •with the most flattering attentions, by the host, and 
 by the numerous families of the exalted rank and 
 fashion ; being so seldom seen, the Earl was the more 
 eagerly sought after. 
 
 The three daughters of the Duke were not very 
 handsome, but had Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne pos- 
 sessed but one half of their attraction, as seen in the 
 amiability of their temper, the elegance of their man- 
 ners, and the accomplishments of their minds, her 
 personal loveliness might then have shone with re- 
 splendent lustre. But, ah ! how little did she appear 
 in the polished circle assembled at the Duke of Val- 
 encia's. 
 
 And how did Trelawney blush as he led her into 
 the room, the singularity of whose dress attracted 
 every eye. It was a striking contrast with the neat 
 simplicity of those which veiled the modest forms of 
 Lady Honoria, Lady Frances and Lady Catherine ; 
 in whose light auburn tresses, a simple wreath of 
 white roses was the only ornament. Every person 
 present was acquainted with the amiable character of 
 I'lelawney, — but it was impossible to place a bandage
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 131 
 
 over the eyes of people, or to silence the tongues of 
 those to whom scandal was a continual feast. 
 
 But Lady Renegarde contrived to make her obser- 
 vations so loud that every body could hear her, and 
 by fixing her eyes exclusively on the object of her 
 raillery, Lady Alexina, as she swam through the 
 sportive dance a second time, attracted the attention 
 of all present. 
 
 Lady Renegarde had two motives for her malicious 
 conduct, for being a young widow with a pretty face, 
 and a dashing figure, she detested Trelawney because 
 he was insensible to her charms ; and secondly it 
 was owing to his influence that the Fitzosbourne 
 family did not attend her gay parties, and that she 
 was excluded in the list of visitants at Fitzosbourne 
 House. She therefore determined to wreak her ven- 
 geance on Lady Alexina ; for which purpose she 
 thrust herself an unhivited guest at Valencia Lodge, 
 for she was assured that such was the hospitality of 
 this amiable family that no one would presume to say 
 that she was not welcome. There she sat like a 
 greedy hawk, ready to dart her talcms on her helpless 
 prey, for whom she watched with great anxiety. 
 
 At length the appearance of Lady Alexina, almost 
 in a state of nudity, delighted her rarely. Swifter 
 than the herald Mercury she flew to all corners of the 
 room, demanding to know what they now thought of 
 Trelawney's beautiful statue, in the opera girl's dress i 
 •Or more properly speaking,' added her Ladyship, 
 * what do you think of the brazen Venus, for of no 
 other possible composition can she be made who could 
 come into such an assemblage as the present respect- 
 able company in .such a dress.' 
 
 'And is that young lady with the exposed neck 
 and shoulders, the daughter of Lord Fitzosbourne ?' 
 
 asked the venerable Dowager Duchess of L , in a 
 
 tone of concern rather than severity ; for the Duchess 
 was a woman of the most mild and engaging man-
 
 132 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ners. and was aunt to the present Duke of Valencia, 
 
 'Most assuredly she is,' said Lady Renegarde; 
 ' yes. your Grace, that young lady, with the short 
 petticoats and the naked bosom, is the daughter of 
 Lor.i Fitzosbourue, and the chosen bride of the pru- 
 dent, delicate, conscientious Tanjore Trelawney.' 
 
 These words were uttered in so loud a key as to 
 reach the ear of Lord Sydney Belmont, who, hearing 
 the name of his friend, turned to see from whose lips 
 it had proceeded, and was surprised to hud the amia- 
 ble Duchess in conversation with such a person as 
 Lady Ilencgarde. 
 
 ' i have no doubt of your Ladyship's veracity,' said 
 the Duchess, ' but I am astonished both at the im- 
 prudence of the one and the indiscretion of the other. 
 Good heavens! if the silly girl did not know better, 
 her father, the Earl, and Lady Glenthorpe, ought 
 not to encourage such folly.' 
 
 ' But is not your Grace of opinion that her prudent 
 loverisequally blaineable Y said the artful Lady Ilene- 
 garde. ' How shockingly indecorous would it be to 
 see a newly married wife setting forth in her attire 
 jsucU vile examples to the young and unmarried ones 
 in the numerous circles of her accjuaintance. It 
 ■Would be perfect charity if Lady Honoria was, out of 
 regard to the feelings of her youngest sisters, to tell 
 the vain creature, who is so prodigal of her charms, 
 to put a handkerchief on her bosom.' 
 
 *As your Ladyship is so complete a pattern of 
 charity yourself, why do you not spare Lady Hono- 
 ria that trouble r" cried a voice behind her Ladyship, 
 and instantly turning round, she beheld the fine, 
 manly features of Trelawney, to her great c(mfusion ; 
 for Trelawney having heard every syllable of her dis- 
 course, regarded her with an expression of such con- 
 tempt, that she shrunk abashed, and even trembled 
 beneath his firm and collected gaze; after which, 
 Trelawney in a low voice, thus addresbed her :—
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 133 
 
 • Woman, do not attempt to conceal your own rle- 
 fects, which your malevolent intention has too frlar- 
 in^rly exposed — by portraying the faults of anothi-r, 
 who is like yourself, a female, — who, however ridicu- 
 lous she may appear, is, at this moment the object of 
 your envy I who should be the object of your compas- 
 sion : and if Lady Alexina is reprehensible, in bein^f 
 guilty of such folly you are a thousand times more 
 blamable. Look at your own uncovered bosom, and 
 your bare neck and shoulders. Lady Kenegarde, 
 and when you recollect the many years you are older 
 than Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne, try to find a blush 
 for yourself.' 
 
 On saying these words, Trelawney quitted th% 
 ball-room for a few moments, to overcome the per- 
 turbed state of his mind, which had been shocked by 
 her malicious observations on the conduct of one from 
 whom he was now determined to Hy immediately ; 
 and in order to hasten the departure of Lord Sidney 
 Behnont, he proposed calling at an early hour the 
 ensuing morning at Valencia Lodge, to make arrange- 
 ments for their speedy departui-e. 
 
 These were his silent meditations on retiring to one of 
 the smaller rooms set apart for refreshments, and with 
 his arm leaning on one of the marble slabs, he reclined 
 in pensive and thoughtful attitude, till a voice full of 
 melodious sweetness, and tender solicitude, saluted his 
 ear,—* I hope, Trelawney, you have not retired from 
 the gay and festive scenes because you are disgusted 
 with their vanity ?' 
 
 ' Would not fatigued have been a more appropriate 
 term, my dear Lady Honoria ':'' said Trelawney, 'for 
 disgusted I could never be while the presence of such 
 beings as you inhabited it.' 
 
 ' Oh, from compliments spare me, I beseech you,* 
 said Lady Honoria, deeply hlu.shing, ' I cannot listen 
 to such as yours, without suspecting that there ia 
 liiure Uiilteiy than sinceiity attached to them."
 
 134 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ' Then wduld you, Lady Honoria, do me injustice,* 
 answered Trelawney, remarking with the most poig- 
 nant concern the deep blush which crimsoned the 
 cheek of the too sensitive maid ; * I never had a 
 thought towards you that was not only dictated by the 
 purest sincerity, but the most sacred esteem ; believe 
 me, amiable Honoria, I must ever respect those vir- 
 tues so dear to the heart of man ; — such virtues as I 
 behold in Lady Honoria Belmont, who could not ad- 
 mire '^ But while I do this, may I not be permitted 
 to tell you so without being' taxed with flattery, and 
 secretly wish, that, out of charity, you would trans- 
 plant some of those virtues to the bosom that is des- 
 titute even of one ? Oh, did Lady Alexina Fitzos- 
 bourne but resemble you, from what tortures would 
 the wretched Trelawney have this evening been 
 spared! as the heartrending reflection of being bound 
 in ties at which we feel compelled to shrink with ab- 
 horrence r' 
 
 ' Oh, Trelawney, do not ask me !' said Lady Hon- 
 oria, whose soft blue eyes now swam in tears, ' I dare 
 not answer such a question, lest I might forget ' 
 
 'What, amiable Honoria!-^' cried Trelawney. 
 
 * The ties which bind j-ou in the most solenm en- 
 gagements to Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne,' x^tti-rcd 
 Lady Honoria, in such confusion, and with so falt^n-- 
 ing a voice, that Trelawney perceived the passion he 
 had so unfortunately inspired in the breast of this 
 amiable lady, and deeply concerned for her happiness, 
 he held her passive hand to his lips, and said with 
 deep emotion, — 
 
 ' Dear Lady Honoria, I consider myself most unfor- 
 tunate in having called forth a trial of such delicate 
 sensibility as yours ; but this is the last time I will 
 ever put it to so severe a test. Permit me, Lady Ho- 
 noria, to thank you for the kind interest you have ta- 
 ken in my fate, and to assure you, that I shnll, 
 whether married or single, ever regard you as a duii:
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 135 
 
 and tender sister, for whose repose I shall feel as so- 
 licitous as if I were your brother.' 
 
 At this raoment a hoarse voice, calling loudly for 
 her carriage, which was followed by Lady Renegarde, 
 who popped her head suddenly into the room where 
 Lady Honoria and Trelawney were sitting, put 
 an end to a conversation, which was beginning to 
 produce embarrassment and agitation. 
 
 For such was the candour, the sincerity and the 
 honour of Trelawney, he would not have deceived 
 Lady Honoria in a supposition that had he been re- 
 leased from Lady Alexina, he would have offered her 
 a suitable return of the regard with which she so 
 greatly honoured him. Xot for created worlds would 
 Trelawney have done this ; — to have inflicted still 
 sharper pangs than those of hopeless love in the bosom 
 of this inestimable young creature would have beea 
 the conduct only of a base and unprincipled seducer, 
 and Trelawney was none. 
 
 Lady Renegarde just saw that the fair hand which 
 Trelawney carried to his lips was the hand of Lady 
 Honoria Belmont, and that was sufficient ; no news- 
 paper report was needed to convey the false and scan- 
 dalous rumour, that an apostate to the vows he had 
 made to one lady, he was now offering worship at the 
 shrine of a second. 
 
 Lady Renegarde had circulated the fiibulous tale at 
 half a dozen different houses, till in a few days it 
 became a town's talk, — that the delicacy of the uhite 
 rose had superseded the charms of the red rose. 
 AVhich in consequence of her Ladyship's innocent 
 prattle, the two young ladies afterwards received the 
 titles of the white rose and the red rose. But as these 
 roses were planted by the hand of Lady Renegarde, 
 it is no wonder that the blossoms perished.
 
 136 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 PHILIP Bradbury's visit to trelawxey at lord 
 fitzosbourne's— Rosa's generosity. 
 
 Lord Fitz(.>sbourne remained but a short time in 
 those crowded rooms, for dreading the appearance of 
 his daughter, and the eftects it would produce on the 
 mind of Trelawuey, the Earl entered one of the card- 
 rooms, where with a party of noblemen, who had lost 
 all relish for the ' light fantastic toe,' he sat himself 
 down to a snup: party at whist, and remained thus en- 
 gaged during the whole of the evening, much to his 
 own satisfaction. 
 
 Meanwhile Lady Glenthorpe was playing her cards 
 •with her usual dexterity, and attended by smiles of 
 good fortune, she had never left the card-table since 
 her entrance, and it was nearly half-past four, and 
 the carriages of the numerous nobility were thronging 
 already around the gates of Valencia Lodge. Lady 
 Alexina having passed, as she called it, a complete 
 rantipoly night of it, not confining herself to the ex- 
 clusive attentions of her lover, for there was scarcely 
 a young man of foshion whom she had not honoured 
 with her hand ; but now being fatigued, she ran in 
 search of Lady Glenthorpe, who, just having conclu- 
 ded a successful rubber, arose from her seat, and the 
 Earl making his appearance, the carriage was ordei'cd 
 to convey them to Grosvenor Square, Lady Alexina 
 being now wrapped in furs and large warm cloaks, as 
 she was before imprudently exposed, without any cov- 
 ering but the thin texture of a lace veil. After Lord 
 Sydney Belmont had pressed the hand of Trelawney, 
 at the door of the carriage, in a low voice he said soma 
 few words, to which Trelawney replied, — ' Rely on 
 my punctuality in calling precisely at the hour you 
 mention, for though fatigued, believe me. Lord Syd- 
 ney, I am by no means inclined to sleep.' 
 
 Lord Sydney then respectfully bidding the Earl
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 137 
 
 groo'l night, or rather good morning', and bowing to 
 the ladies, the carriage proceeded in unbroken silence, 
 except Lady Alexina complaining that she was mon- 
 8trou>ly tired. 
 
 ' We must nurse you for a day or two, my love,* 
 cried Lady Glenthorpe, 'positively I will not hear of 
 your going out these two days.' 
 
 ' Oh, yes, to-morrow evening ; you forget that we 
 have an engagement, aunt, with the Belmonts, and 
 they are so particular.' 
 
 ' Oh, to the theatre, now I recollect,' answered 
 Lady Glenthorpe ; ' true, I had forgot that the charm- 
 ing O'Xeil is to play Evadne, in the Statue.' 
 
 ' Then who would stay away Y cried Trelawney, 
 with a sarcastic smile, which was not much relis^hed 
 by her Ladyship; but the carriage stopped at Fitzos- 
 bourne House, and fortunately put an end to any fur- 
 ther discussion. 
 
 Mr. Trelawney found no opportunity of speaking 
 to Lady Alexina on the impropriety of her dress, for 
 her Ladyship was not visible for several days ; she 
 was afraid to encounter the lectures of Trelawney, 
 which had been very liberally bestowed upon the 
 Earl, and Lady Glenthorpe, who was now suffuring 
 severe penance from her brother's displeasure, which 
 so incensed her Ladyship against Trelawney, that .she 
 panted for the hour of his departure from Fitzus- 
 bourne House, where his influence over the mind ot 
 the Earl was so dangerous to her own interests. Not 
 that she had the slighte.st apprehension that he would 
 ever possess any power over the disposition of Lady 
 Alexina ; but his princely dowry was too alluring to 
 her ambitious views and mercenary plans, to breathe 
 a wish that Alexina shuuld not be his wife, for this 
 had been her aim lung before Lady Alexina was bom. 
 
 The fair invalid soon recovered sutTiciently to at- 
 tend the Belmont fiimily to several places of public re- 
 sort, previous to the departure of Lord S\dnty, and
 
 138 THE MYSTERIOtJS MAIIIIIA.GE. 
 
 as a visible alteration had taken place in her Lady- 
 ship's dress, which, by the commands of the Eurl, 
 now had a delicate appearance. Trelawney did not 
 object to attend the ladies, either in evening parties 
 to Valencia Lodge, or to the Earl's private box at the 
 theatres ; and the favourite play of Evadne being re- 
 peated at Covent Garden Theatre, he consented to ac- 
 company the Belmont family, with Lady Alexina and 
 Lady Glcnthorpe, on the very evening of that day 
 which was to surprise him with a visit from Mr. Phil- 
 ip Bradbury. Trelawney was sitting alone when 
 Mungo burst into the presence of his master and joy- 
 fully said : — * Mungo quite happy tell massa who 
 wait for see him below, — young Massa Bradbury, 
 him say him want see massa.' 
 
 'Mr. Philip Bradbury!' exclaimed Trela%vney, joy 
 instantly ovei'spreading his features; 'fly, Mungo, and 
 bring him up.' In a few minutes Philip Bradbury 
 appeared before the agitated Trelawney. 
 
 'Dear Mr. Trelawnoy !' said Philip; * Ten thou- 
 sand welcomes, dear Philip !' said Trelawnoy ; but it 
 was some moments before Trelawney could utter an- 
 other sentence. At length he inquired after his old 
 friends, sincerely congratulating him on his marriage. 
 
 Philip gave him the pastor's letter, apologizing for 
 not delivering it on the evening they arrived in town ; 
 — 'Which I should have done, Mr. Trelawney, but 
 for the ladies, whom I had to accompany to the house 
 of Doctor Stanton, of whom we are the guests. — Mary 
 would not let me rest.' 
 
 'Mary!' exclaimed Trelawney, 'have you then 
 brought INLary Bradbury up to town with you r" 
 
 ' Yes, and Rosa too !' uttered Philip, which so 
 agitated Trelawney that he could not conceal it; 
 ' Yes, I assure you, Mr. Trelawney, that Rebecca 
 and I have a great charge, for both these saucy girls 
 are under our immediate protection during our visit 
 to Loudon, for a fortnight.'
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 139 
 
 * Rosa in town !' said Trelawney, rising and pacing 
 the room, in an agitation which astonished Philip 
 Bradbury, 'Rosa in town fur a fortnight.' 
 
 ' Is there any thing extraordinary, my dear Sir, for 
 Rosa, the sister of my wife, to be the companion of 
 our journey to London ?' inquired Philip, in alarm at 
 the pale countenance of Trelawney, who now tried to 
 cahn his feelings, while he added, — 
 
 ' Xo, my dear fellow, not very extraordinary-, — did 
 I say extraordinary r well, no matter, I intended to 
 say that I was surprised, that my friend Mr. Claren- 
 dale did not apprize me of this.' 
 
 ' Well,' I am glad to see you my dear fellow, and I 
 shall rejoice to see your wife, and the amiable Mary, 
 I shall rejoice to see her too — ' 
 
 Here Trelawney made a long pause, which caused 
 Philip Bradbury to laugh heartily, while he archly 
 replied, — ' Then poor Rosa I find will be the only 
 unpleasing companion we have brought with us, — 
 you will not rejoice in seeing her ?' 
 
 ' No, on my soul, the sight of Rosa Clarendale will 
 be more than I shall be able to endure,' said Trelaw- 
 ney ; 'it will drive me to madness.' 
 
 'You are not compelled to see her,' answered 
 Philip ; and recollecting the injunctions of the pastor, 
 he added, 'and permit me to say, that I think it i3 
 much better to be avoided.' 
 
 'You speak like one,' said Trelawney,' in full 
 possession of all you love, and fear not a separation ; 
 but there was a time when I offered you such counsel, 
 and you proudly rejected it : — ' Not see Rebecca,' 
 you cried, ' Oh, Mr. Trelawney, if you loved Rebec- 
 ca like me, not all the world would keep you from 
 Rebecca!' — were not these your words, Mr. Brad- 
 bury, when we were last at Elm Grove, in your fa- 
 ther's plantations?' 
 
 ' Yes,' answered Philip, 'and I should despise my- 
 self could I utter one sentence either to pain or offend
 
 140 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 you. But I must confess to you what, perhaps, I 
 should not otherwise do were I not the husband of 
 Rebecca, well assured that you have too much honour 
 to take advantage of my communication respecting 
 Rosa Clarendale.' 
 
 ' All that respects her is sacred as my honour and 
 life,' cried Trelawney. 
 
 ' In that supput-ition, then,' answered Philip, * I 
 will now venture to disclose to you the tender ap- 
 
 Erehensions of her father : — ' !Mr. Clarendale fears fur 
 is child,— and greatly fears, that her heart has too 
 long cherished a regard for you, Trelawney, nay, he 
 is convinced that Rosa's long illness, soon after your 
 departure from Kenilworth, arose from her unhappy 
 attachment for one who could never return that af- 
 fection. 
 
 'Oh, heavens! and was the dear Rosa suffering 
 illness on my account, without my knowledge of it,* 
 fidid Trelawney. 
 
 'And to what purpose, my dear Sir,' said Philip, 
 but to render you miserable, were you to have been 
 informed of a circumstance so painful 'f 
 
 'I can now account for the silence of Henry, in all 
 his letters,' said Trelawney, ' who like his father, has 
 never once mentioned the name of Rosa. And does 
 !M r. Clarendale suppose, that I would take advantage 
 of this weakness in his daughter, — that I would ever 
 betray the knowledge of this dearly bought secret, 
 purchased at the risk of the dear angel's health. No, 
 Philip, sooner would I part with the vital stream 
 from this beating heart, on which her sweet image is 
 engraven unalterably : yes, Philip Bradbury, I doat 
 on Rosa Clarendale ! — 1 loved her the first moment I 
 saw her ; terrified at the discovery of my too conscious 
 heart, I sedulously avoided those attentions that could 
 be converted into any sentiment but respect ; I strug- 
 gled with the sweet infant passion, — struggled and con- 
 quered the weakness of revealing it to tlie maid I
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 141 
 
 adored ; never has Rosa heard from my lips one vow 
 — never from my heart one sigh — which could tell 
 her auirht of love; and she never shall. I shall 
 Bhurtly be far distant from the shores of England, 
 to which the heart-broken Trelawney is destined to 
 return only to become the husband of Lady Alrxina 
 Fit/.i)sbourne, by the will of that father so revered, 
 thai his unhappy son is ready to make a sacrifice of 
 all he holds dear in life, sooner than renounce the 
 sacir'd promise given to his father,' 
 
 ' Oh, Trelawney, best and most amiable of human 
 briua-s, how does every fibre of my hoart bleed for 
 you;' said Philip, greatly affected ; 'surely you are 
 ni)t going to leave England thus suddenly ; — and for 
 what length of time i'' 
 
 ' Precisely for two years,' answered Trelawney, 
 *my resolution has been made for some time; Lord 
 Sydney Belmont, a particular friend of mine, will be 
 tile companion of my travels. But while I thus 
 compel myself to a voluntary exile, do not imagine, 
 that Trelawney can ever forget his friends ; nor that 
 Honry Clarendale will be neglected ; I have aided 
 him to the utmost limits of my power, and the period 
 will come, when I shall see him possess a comfortable 
 living, adequate to his merits ; with what delight 
 shall I then lead him to his happy home. How will 
 a certain little heart, that I know of, beat to the 
 sound of the merry bells that will proclaim her the 
 wife of her dearest Henry. These are pleasures 
 ■which, in solitary exile, I must brood over with de- 
 lightful retrospection, and though wretched myself, 
 my heart will still bound with transport, when re- 
 turning once more to England, I shall behold my 
 dear friends at the White Cottage and Elm Grove 
 completely happy.' 
 
 Trelawney read over the contents of the pastor's 
 letter, which now for the hist time made a slight
 
 142 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE, 
 
 niontion of his daughter Rosa being the companion 
 of her sister and Mary Bradbury, in their visit to 
 London. The rest of the letter contained the most 
 grateful acknowledgments of the kindness bestowed 
 on Henry, &c. Trelawney now prevailed on Philip 
 to take some refreshments, which being brought in 
 by Mungo, a very kind inquiry was made for his old 
 friends Nanny Jones and honest Peter. 
 
 'Both hearty and well, thank you, Mungo,' cried 
 Philip ; ' and low do you like London, Mungo 'f 
 
 To which Mungo replied, — ' Massa no here Mun- 
 go no likee Lunnun,— no sleep, Massa Bradbury, 
 like me did at White Cottage — noise, noise, all night 
 long. Mungo wish Massa no stay one day in Lun- 
 nun— no worth one yam, no worth one plantain.' 
 
 ' This is no flattery,' cried Philip Bradbury, and 
 smiled as he now arose to depart, with a promise from 
 Trelawney, that he would call and see the ladies the 
 ensuing morning at Doctor Stanton's. As the lips of 
 Trelawney pronounced Miss Clarendale they falter- 
 ed and trembled, but he swallowed it down, and 
 Philip left for the residence of Doctor Stanton, where 
 ho found the ladies just returned from shopping; 
 Kebecca having made many handsome purchases 
 ^vith money given to her by her father on her wed- 
 ding-day. 
 
 Among which was a new dress for Nanny Jones, 
 and a silver watch for Peter; for Rebecca had too 
 good a heart to forget the faithful servants who had 
 been kind to her in her infancy. Mary Bradbury 
 had so won the affections of her father, that on the 
 morning she came away, a ten pound note was pro- 
 duced out of his sly purse, to be laid out in finery 
 when she went to London, on condition that she was 
 to bring Betty a new dress, and her mother whatever 
 she liked : and Rosa too, had not gone without her 
 present, for the same purpose, from the pastor. 
 
 Never had Mrs. Clarendale allowed her daughters
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 143 
 
 to dress in that ridiculous style, for which some 
 young ladies in the village were remarkable ; what 
 they wore was very simple, plain, neat and good, and 
 the' taste of the Miss Clarendales was always con- 
 sidered superior to any other ; they exemplified 
 Thompson's beautiful ideas of female attire, that 
 
 'Loveliness 
 
 • Xeeils not the foreign aid of ornament, 
 'But is when unadorn'd adorned the most. 
 But Rebecca expressed her surprise, that Rosa, when 
 she came from her shopping, had purchased scarcely 
 an article for herself, while at the same time her 
 purse was empty. 
 
 'Mary,' said Rebecca, 'can you tell what Rosa 
 has done with all the money she had in her purse ; 
 she has scarce a shilling left, and I see no purcha.ses 
 but the white muslin dress and the wi-eath of flowers 
 she is going to wear at the play to-night Y 
 
 ' If I tell you, Beokey. you will tell again,' answer- 
 ed Mary, archly, 'therefore you may guess.' 
 
 ' It was not "curiosity, that prompted me to ask/ 
 said Rebecca, gravely, ' but as neither Rosa nor you 
 esteem me worthy of your confidence, you will be 
 spared any further inquiries.' 
 
 ' "NVhy, my dear Beckey, I never saw you angry 
 before; it is quite an improvement to your com- 
 
 Elexion ; look, my love, what a charming colour you 
 ave got — the perfect bloom of I'oses.' 
 
 ' Indeed, Mary, I am not angry ; I am only hurt 
 at your accusing me of impertinent curiosity.' 
 
 ''"Well, the fact is this; did you not hear of the 
 misfortune which has happened 'to Jessy Brown, her 
 lover, you know, has deserted her.' 
 
 ' Poor Jessy !' cried Rebecca, ' she was one of the 
 most virtuous, lovely maidens in our village, before 
 that base young man made her the most unfortunate. 
 Mary, go on, I am anxious to hear.' 
 
 ' btill worse,' said Mary ; ' he has deserted his
 
 144 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 child too ! and left it to perish with its unhappy 
 mother ;— he quitted poor Jessy at the time she most 
 wanted assistance. — You know what a warm-hearted 
 little soul Ilosa is.' 
 
 'Oh yes,' said Rebeoca, with tears, 'I am fully 
 sensible of my dear sister's excellent heart.' 
 
 ' What do you think the little thing has been do- 
 int? y 
 
 ' I cannot precisely say,' answered Rebecca, ' though 
 I have a pretty near guess.' 
 
 ' She has laid out all her money in purchasing 
 cl'ithes for Jessy's little brat ; besides tea, sugar, and 
 other necessaries, to give her, on her return to Ken- 
 il worth.' 
 
 ']My kind, my dear, my amiable sister!' cried Re- 
 becca, bursting into tears. 
 
 'In tears, my Rebecca.' said Philip, just entering; 
 * my dearest love, what causes them 'i' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Rebecca, throwing herself into the arms 
 of her husband, * Unless Mary permits, I must re- 
 main silent, though I long to tell you.' 
 
 ' There, I knew how it would be,' said Mary, ' when 
 you came in ; tell a married woman a seci'et, and pop 
 it goes to her lord and master, the very moment she 
 can find an opportunity.' 
 
 ' And pray, Miss Mary, will not you, when mar- 
 ried, tell Harry all your secrets ?' 
 
 ' Harry,' repeated Mary, ' Harry who ?' 
 
 ' Now don't be so affected, Mary Bradbury, I beg 
 of you,' said her brother ; and they at last prevailed 
 on Mary to repeat telling of Rosa ; and it was finally 
 settled that Mary should contrive to steal Rosa's 
 empty purse, wliich they would replenish, at the 
 risk even of the sweet girl's displeasure. 
 
 For the first time, Rosa, Rebecca, and Mary sub- 
 mitted their beautiful tresses to a London hair-dresser, 
 Miss Stanton declaring that though the young ladies 
 cuiicd their hair very neatly, yet it wanted bkilfol
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 145 
 
 arrangement, from the poli-^'hed elegance of Mr. True- 
 tit who. when he had finished dressing Mrs. Philip 
 L. tibury, never produced a head of superior beauty ; 
 f : iLtbecca's hair was of a brijrht flaxen, and in such 
 I Tusion. that the ringlets and bands were disposed 
 o: in the most beautiful and fanciful manner, so as to 
 render them becoming to her fair and delicate com- 
 
 {)lexion. A simple wreath of white roses was the on- 
 y ornament worn by Mrs. Philip Bradbury, a white 
 sarsnet dress, trimmed with an edging of lace, with 
 white kid gloves and shoes. 
 
 Rosa wore a dress more suited to her youthful 
 character, for it displayed the beauty and delicacy of 
 a sylph-like form ; her wreath was composed of rose- 
 buds, half blown, which sweetly contrasted with her 
 glossy dark brown hair and fresh blooming cheeks ; 
 and never was there a lovelier creature, for nature 
 had given to Rosa Clarendale, what it often denies 
 to more perfect beauty, an expression ever varying, 
 and ever fascinating. 
 
 Though Mary Bradbury could not boast of so much 
 beauty as cither of the pastor's daughters, yet Mary 
 was very attractive, avch. and pretty, and never look- 
 ed to greater advantage than she did on this evening, 
 when she entered Doctor Stanton's drawing-room, 
 having on a very becoming dress of pink, with appro- 
 priate ornaments. 'Gad zooks I' cried the facetious 
 doctor, bowing to the three ladies, ' I vow and protest, 
 hud I that famed apple in my hand, which Paris had 
 to give to the three goddesses who cintend'.^d for the 
 palm of undivided beauty, I do not know which of 
 yuu ladies should have the prize.' 
 
 ' Oh, doctor, you forget that I am by,' said Philip 
 Bradbury, taking Rebecca's hand to lead her to the 
 coach.
 
 146 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 VISIT TO COVENT GARDEN THEATRE. ' 
 
 To a most crowded house, was added one of the 
 most Ifrilliant assemblages of company that ever 
 graced a London theatre. Every private box of the 
 nobility was at an early hour nearly filled, so that 
 wh(>n Doctor Stanton's places were called for, the box- 
 lobbies were so crowded, that Rebecca, Rosa, and 
 !Mary Bradbury clung to the arms of their protec- 
 tors with the most timid apprehensions, nor were 
 they easy till they were seated in the box which 
 the doctor had engaged two days before, in order that 
 no disappointment might attend the expectations of 
 his lovely guests, in witnessing for the first time in 
 their lives, the exhibition of a new play, the charac- 
 ters in which were to call forth the inimitable powers 
 of Miss O'Neil, Mr. Young, and Mr. Macready. 
 
 In the front seats the doctor placed Mrs. Philip 
 Bradbury, Mary, and Rosa, The second row was 
 occupied by his sister, Philip Bradbury and himself, 
 leaving Theodore a great distance from an object 
 whose charms had impressed his youthful heart ; for 
 he could not resist the fascinations of Rosa Claren- 
 dale, whom he already considered — 
 
 'More fair than paintin? can express. 
 
 •Or youthful poets fancy when they love.' 
 
 After a beautiful overture, from the finished com- 
 position of Mozart, the curtain drew up to the first 
 scene of Evadne, and every one was deeply interested. 
 
 At the conclusion of the first act, the beauty of Re- 
 becca and Rosa became the object of universal admi- 
 ration, and was loudly talked of by the fashionable 
 bpaux, who attended theatres for no other purpose 
 thiin to stare 'humble modesty out of countenance.' 
 
 One of these impudent loungers, actually stepped
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 147 
 
 out of his box, opposite to that occupied by Doctor 
 Stiinton, and thrust his nose into one next to that of 
 the doctor, in order to have a good squint at the g-irls. 
 But he could not obtain it so easily as he imagined, for 
 the doctor darted on him a look the meaning of which 
 the votary seemed to understand, as he instantly 
 •withdrew his eyes from the blushing Rosa, and re- 
 moved to a greater distance. 
 
 Between the first and second acts, some little bustle 
 ensued, and all eyes were directed to the opening of 
 a door of the private boxes, which had not hitherto 
 be( n occupied, the box-keeper vociferating, ' Lord 
 Fitzosboume's box ;' when a brilliant party entered 
 it, consisting of the three daughters of the Duke of 
 Valencia. Lady Alexina Fitzusboume, Lady Glen- 
 thorpe. Lord Sydney Belmont, and Tanjore Trelaw- 
 ney. The appearance of Lady Alexina was very 
 dashing to the very height of fashion, but not resem- 
 bling her dress at the Duke's, and as she sat in front 
 of the box, she was easily distinguished from the mo- 
 dest, yet superior elegance of the Duke's family. 
 
 Lady Honoria Belmont sat on the second seat, with 
 her young sister and Trelawney, pensive and abstract- 
 ed ; though his eyes were fixed on the stage, he was 
 insensible to its attraction, till roused by Lord Syd- 
 ney suddenly turning to him, said, 'Heavens! Trel- 
 awney, did you observe that girl opposite, what an 
 exquisite lovely creature ! Some of the party are 
 strangers in town, I am certain, by their appearance,' 
 
 ' She is very lovely I' uttered La'dy Honoria, direct- 
 ing the attention of Trelawney to Doctor Stanton's 
 box, who in one glance rivetted his eyes on his soul's 
 id<jl, became pale and motionless as a statue. His 
 agitation was perceived by Lady Honoria and Lord Syd- 
 ney, though he made every attempt to recover him.^^elf. 
 Yet he felt his situation to be one of indescribable tor- 
 ture : — seated beside a woman to whose delicate at- 
 tachment he was no stranger, and near another to
 
 148 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 whfuii hp was shortly to be bound for life, he yet be- 
 held, ojipo.site t(j him, the only one on earth who had 
 awakened in his bosom that first love, which he felt 
 it impossible to feci for any other woman. 
 
 "What was to be done ? — He was overlooked by 
 Lady Alexina, watched by Lady Honoria, and seen 
 by Kosa, for that she saw him was evident, from her 
 a<:itation when Lord Fitzosbourne's name was an- 
 nounced ; she trembled and turned so pale, that had 
 not Rebecca and Mary Bradbury used every precau- 
 tien. she would have fainted at the entrance of Lady 
 Alexina Fitzosbourne. But pride is always the greatest 
 restorative in that bosom where wounded love smarts 
 under the pangs of disappointment, and pride now 
 supported Rosa. 
 
 ' I would lay a wager, that Trela\vney will come 
 over to us presently,' cried Mary Bradbury. ' That 
 is not likely,' said Rebecca, ' but, Mary, keep your 
 eyes on Rosa ; if she should betray any weakness be- 
 fore Trelawney, I shall faint.' 
 
 To which Mary, laughing, replied — * Then pray, 
 Mrs. Philip Bradbury, take my bottle of salts, for here 
 comes Trelawney, and little Rosa is as pale as ashes.* 
 Trelawney had quitted Lord Fitzosbourne's box, but 
 he was only missed by Lord Sydney aud Lady Hon- 
 oria. 
 
 ' The party at whom you are looking,' said he, 'are 
 friends of mine, — country friends ; the family of Mr. 
 Clarendale, the rector of Kcnilworth ; and the lady is 
 his daughter, lately married to the young gentleman 
 sitting behind her.' 
 
 He soon obtained a seat in Doctor Stanton's box, 
 where he sat by the side of his old friend Mary Brad- 
 bury, who, with her artless and undisguised frank- 
 ness, declared how happy she was to see him ; and 
 Trelawney assured her, that he was rejoiced in seeing 
 her. Meanwhile though trembling with agitation, 
 visible on his tine ingenious couutenauce, he entered
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 1 19 
 
 into conversation with Rebecca, mnkinGr many fpcfler 
 and respectful inquiries after her dear father and mo- 
 ther, and other friends at Kenihvorth, at the same 
 moment sincerely congratulatiu^ her on the happy 
 change which had so recently taken place in her eit- 
 uaiion. 
 
 Never had Rebecca appeared so beautiful ; no lon- 
 ger pale, her cheek was suffused with a glow of ani- 
 mation, the effect of dress, and appearing for the lirst 
 time in public as a married lady, had produced. 
 
 But Rosa was the exclusive object of his tender re- 
 gard: — Rosa, more beautiful than ever, than even his 
 imagination had painted in absence from him, now irre- 
 sistibly shone in all her native charms of youthful 
 simplicity ; and as he falteringly addressed her with 
 a tender inquiry after her health, a melancholy im- 
 pressiun stole over his mind, that on his return to 
 England, she too might be a married woman, gave his 
 heart such a pang of utter despondency, and was so 
 powerfully expressed on his countenance, that Ro>a 
 could no longer hide her emotions produced by his 
 agitated feeling ; and had not a timely look from her 
 sister prevented her, she would have forgot where she 
 was, and as tenderly answered all his inquiries. 
 Hastily averting her deeply blushing countenance 
 from his keenly impressive glance, she contented Lur- 
 self with only heaving, and not looking at Trelawuey, 
 during the short time he continued in their box. 
 
 Philip Bradbury introduced Trelawney to Doctor 
 Stanton and his son. The former was never insf n>i- 
 blc to the attractions of superior rank, nor indifferent 
 to the liberal gifts of fortune; and no sooner bad 
 Philip Bradbury made the doctor acquainted with lue 
 name, of the East Indian, than he exclaimed,— 
 
 ' What, the Mr. Taujure Trelawney lately returned 
 from the East ; so rich that, report say.s one of the 
 estates is alone sufficient to pay the national debt ; 
 bless me how very proud I shall be to receive a visit
 
 150 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 from him, and be honoured with his acquaintance ; 
 introduce me, my dear boy, immediately to him I he^ 
 of you.' This was done by Philip Bradbury ; and 
 Trelavvney, as he quitted the box, received a pressing 
 invitation from the- doctor, to honour him with his 
 company at Pall Mall. — 
 
 This invitation was politely accepted by Trelawney. 
 But the eyes of Theodore Stanton had not been blind 
 either to the agitation of Trelawney, or the emotion 
 of Rosa Clarendale, on beholding each other. And 
 though aware that Trelawney was engaged in an- 
 other quarter, yet he readily perceived that Miss 
 Clarendale alone had the possession of his atiections. 
 He therefore, was annoyed by the invitation, during 
 the visit of the Bradburys, and he remained sullen and 
 silent all the evening. 
 
 But Trelawney had conceived no warmer predi- 
 lection for him. He had seen him cast looks of ad- 
 miration at Rosa, and he could have hurled him 
 headlong into the pit for this unpardonable crime. 
 
 It was said of the celebrated Petrarch, that he could 
 not bear any eye to gaze on the beauty of his favour- 
 ite Laura but his own. But where the sun is, all eyes 
 must be attracted by its powerful influence, and thus 
 he received the reprimand of his best and earliest 
 friend : — ' Will you bid us shut our eyes to the glo- 
 rious sun ? Shall we not gaze on the silver orbed 
 moon r' So might Theodore Stanton have reasonably 
 asked Trelawney this question. 
 
 Trelawney never lost sight of propriety, and as he 
 had been a considerable time absent from his party, 
 he was anxious that no intrusive remarks might be 
 made by the Fitzosbourne family, well assured in 
 that of the Duke of Valencia's he was secure from all 
 impertinent inquiry. 
 
 Taking leave of his amiable friends, with a promise 
 that he should avail himself of the pleasure of calling 
 the ensuing morning in Pall Mall, he entered Lord
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 151 
 
 rit/.osboume's box, just in time to hear Lady Glen- 
 tiinrpe say, — 'I am astonislied, my Lord Sydney 
 E- Imont, in the present instance at your want of taste.* 
 
 To which Lord Sydney replied, just as Trelawney, 
 w;is resuming his place, — ' I think I have given the 
 must unequivocal proof of it. — But here is Trelawney, 
 he will decide the matter, perhaps, more to your 
 Ladyship's satisfaction.' 
 
 ' Oh, they are friends of Trelawney's — very partic- 
 ular friends,' said Lady Glenthorpe, with a sarcastic 
 smile; 'it would, therefore, be impertinent in me, 
 Lord Sydney, to offer any remarks, while he is pre- 
 sent, on such dearly valued objects of esteem.' 
 
 * You cannot make your remarks at a more season- 
 able opportunity then,' said Trelawney, disregarding 
 her sneers. * The ladies with whom I have been in 
 conversation, are not my very intimate friends, but 
 they are equally the objects of esteem, as they are of 
 real and unaffected admiration to all who enjoy their 
 society. They are the branches of a most respectable 
 family, all united together in virtuous afi'ection. 
 They are beautiful without art. and have no need of 
 disguise to hide the deformity of vice, from which 
 they are free. This is the character of my friends 
 opposite. 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe bit her lips in proud, sullen and 
 disdainful silence till the curtain dropped, finding she 
 ■would obtain no quarter from Trelawney, and that 
 her intended aim to render the family of the pastor 
 contemptible in the eyes of the Duke's amiable 
 daughters, was totally frustrated. Her Ladyship's 
 malicious disposition manifested itself as soon as she 
 had been apprised by Lord Sydney that they were 
 the family of Mr. Clarendale ; but the uncommon and 
 superior loveliness of the pastor's daughters bruke so 
 suddenly and unexpectedly on her, that like a venom- 
 ous toad, she swelled and was nearly ready to burst 
 with uuvy.
 
 152 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ' And do you subscribe to your brother's opinion, 
 Lady Honoria ; can you possibly think those vulgar 
 little country rustics have any claim to beauty r" in- 
 quired her Ladyship, turning to Lady Honoria, who 
 replied with modest sweetness, — 
 
 ' I should be very deficient in judgment if I did not, 
 your Lndyship; for I think they are altogether three 
 of the most lovely young women I ever recollect to 
 have seen, either in town or country.' 
 
 ' The youngest is extremely beautiful,' said Lady 
 Frances r* exactly what Hebe is always represented 
 to be. The freshness of youth on her blooming 
 complexion, is not at all tinctured with vulgarity.' 
 
 ' And her form is that of a perfect ariel,' cried Lady 
 Catherine Belmont, ' so light and so graceful.' 
 
 'Here's rue for you!' says Ophelia, in the play of 
 Hamlet ; and if ever Lady Glenthorpe had rue pre- 
 sented to her, it was this warm eulogium on the 
 beauty of the pastor's daughters. 
 
 ' I wish you would order our carriage, my Lord 
 Sydney, when you are inquiring for your own, as I 
 shall not stay the entertainment,' said Lady Glen- 
 thorpe. 
 
 But the carriage was not ordered till the conclusion 
 of the pieces, and Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne, as 
 much out of humour with Trelawney as her aunt, 
 suffered him to lead her to the carriage without one 
 word, and they proceeded to Grosvenor Square in 
 silence ; not even honouring him with a ffood night 
 as they went to their respective chambers. Trelaw- 
 ney could not sleep— he thought of Rosa — he was 
 annoyed by Theodore Stanton — though he could not 
 think that Theodore Stanton would be received by 
 Rosa as an accepted lover. But what are suppositions 
 when jealousy tortures the mind, with the probability, 
 that we can never possess the object whom we adore ? 
 Theodore Stanton, was very handsome and pleasi7.^g, 
 and what changes might not time produce, during
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 1j3 
 
 Ou' two years he should be absent from Eu^'land ? 
 And even were he present, what could it avail him, 
 that the hand of Rosa was disengaged, or her heart 
 Nvholly free ? His wife she could never be, why then 
 WHS liP tortured at the suggestion which his fancy 
 created, of her being the wife of another ? 
 
 ' Rosa Clarendiile another's!' he exclaimed, as he 
 closed the case in which her portrait (the gift of Zvlary 
 Bradbury,) was enclosed, as if trembling at the fea- 
 tures of another man's wife. ' If you should be falsn, 
 Rosa, as you are lovely,' exclaimed he, ' thf re will 
 bo no voucher for the truth of women ! If you love 
 me, you will never be another's; never give a hand 
 where you cannot give a heart ; unless like me you 
 are bound to do so, by the will of your father.' 
 
 Trela\vney comforted himself at last by recollecting 
 the conversation to which he had listened, when .-he 
 half revealed her regard for him to Rebecca in the 
 shrubbery. 
 
 But peaceful serenity had not been the inmate i>f 
 the bosoms of the doctor's amiable guests, Mary 
 Bradbury excepted ; for Mary was never disposfd to 
 part with her enlivening spirits, unless some extraor- 
 dinary occasion demanded her sympathy ; then Mary 
 could feel like others, and perhaps more than many. 
 
 ' So the secret is out, my love,' said Philip, to his 
 wife, when they were alone ; * I always told you I 
 thought so, my Rebecca, though you wmld not con- 
 fess that I was right ; the East Indian has exp -rion- 
 ced the elFects of amuch warmer climate in the Whiie 
 Cottage, than he did in the African soil. The truth 
 is out ; — the noble and generous Trelawney, is sulftr- 
 ing the sharpest pangs from the powerful attachment 
 which is now struggling in his breast for Rosa.' 
 
 'For Rosa! heaven forbid!' answered Rebecca, 
 ' I trust and hope, my dear Philip, that you are for 
 this once widely out in your conjecture.' 
 
 ' I wonder, my darling, you um say any such thing,'
 
 1-54 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 said Philip, laughing. ' Trelawney is over head and 
 ears in love with ilosa, he told me so himself, so 
 there is an end of the matter.' 
 
 'Trelawney told you so! how very imprudent!' 
 said Rebecca, angrily. 
 
 ' My dear Rtbecca, when a man is in love he does 
 not always consult prudence,' said Philip. 
 
 ' Pray, my dear, how came you to be in the secrets 
 of Trelawney r T thought your sister Mary was the 
 only being selected on those occasions ; remember the 
 blue scarf, Trelawney gave her!' 
 
 ' Yes, I believe, he then entrusted Mary with the 
 secret,' said Philip, ' and how angry you were, 
 Rebecea, that Mary would not tell you what had 
 passed between her and Trelawney. I could have 
 punished the little gipsy for her silence.' 
 
 ' There is a secret betweem them still,' said Re- 
 becca, ' not that I suspect Mary of deception, but I 
 am convinced, that Trelawney has entrusted Mary 
 
 with his secret thoughts.' Philip now imparted 
 
 to Rebecca his conversation with Trelawney, respect- 
 ing his attachment for Rosa, and all the generous 
 sentiments he had expressed, during his visit at Fitz- 
 osbourne House ; which could not but awaken in 
 the heart of Rebecca fresh esteem and veneration for 
 his character, and compassion for his destiny. 
 
 But, while Rebecca felt for Trelawney, she had 
 alarming fears for her tenderly beloved sister, whose 
 affectionate bosom was now to endure perpetual 
 banishment from the man she loved, and who equally 
 loved her, yet they were to be divided, and for ever. 
 
 Strange to say, Rosa returned from the theatre in 
 high spirits, and when she retired with Mary to their 
 chamber, they were at no loss for subjects to converse 
 upon. Rosa said, * Well, Mary Bradbury, I am glad 
 it's over; I have seen Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne.' 
 
 ' Well, and I don't see much in her after all,' said 
 Mary ; ' she is a tolerable good figure.'
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MABKIAGE. 155 
 
 'Tolerable! oh Mary, she is a very fine woman; 
 but there is something in that lusty lady who sat 
 nfxt to her, shockingly disagreeable ; how she stared 
 at us with that glass, but I suppose it is the London 
 t;i>hion. 
 
 • You mistake, you little simpleton,' said Mary, 'it 
 was London impudence, for that fashion can never 
 prevail which puts modesty to the blush, and stares 
 it out of countenance.' 
 
 ' I cannot account for the repugnance I felt towards 
 this woman,' observed Rosa ; ' but every time her 
 countenance was fixed on mine, she made me trem- 
 ble ; surely it must be the Lady Glenthorpe, that 
 Henry mentioned in his letters, as being so forbid- 
 ding to his feelings.' 
 
 ' Not a doubt of it,' replied Mary ; ' and I think 
 Lady Alexina Fitzosboume differs so little from her, 
 that if the one was not stout, and the other not very 
 lean, I should take them for mother and daughter.' 
 
 ' I did not see Trelawney once look at Lady Alex- 
 ina, nor address a sentence to her during all the per- 
 formance,' said Rosa. Rosa in uttering this had not 
 disguised her feelings, but spoke in that artless, un- 
 affected manner which engaged all hearts towards 
 her, and Mary burst into laughter, exclaiming. — 
 * And you would make me believe. Miss Rosa, that 
 you are very sorry because he did not.' 
 
 ' Not 1 indeed, Mar}', how can you suppose so, but 
 I was rather surprised.' 
 
 'It is not at all surprising to avoid speaking as 
 much as possible, to those we dislike,' answered 
 Mary. 
 
 ' I protest. Miss Clarendale,' said the doctor, next 
 morning, at breakfast, ' those blooming cheeks of 
 yours would shame all the lilies and roses in Covcnt 
 Garden.' 
 
 This increased the bloom of Rosa; and the eyes of 
 Theodore Stanton wore lixed in earnest contempU-
 
 1.56 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 tion of lier lovely face, when Miss Stanton suddenly 
 exclaimed, turnincr to Rebecca, 
 
 ' Oh Mrs. Bradbury, were I twenty years younger, 
 I should fall in love with Mr. Trelawney, whom you 
 last night introduced to us ; he is the most elegant 
 creature I ever conversed with, and so handsome, and 
 perfectly unconscious of it.' 
 
 ' You surely would not fall in love with a married 
 man, aunt,' said Theodore, blushing scarlet, and 
 biting his lips with vexation, for Rosa's bloom had 
 now changed to the seinblance of the palest lily. 
 
 ' Married, child,' cried Miss Stanton, 'you are un- 
 der a mistake, surely. Mrs. Philip Bradbury, is Mr. 
 Tr'elawney a married man ?' 
 
 ' Not that I know of. Madam, unless the ceremony 
 took place this morning,' answered Rebecca, shocked 
 at the confusion and uneasiness which her sister now 
 betrayed. 
 
 ' Then Mr. Trelawney is not married, he is only 
 going to be married I suppose, Mrs. Philip Brad- 
 bury ; probably to one of the young ladies who sat 
 in Lord Fitzo.sbourne"s box.' 
 
 'I really am wholly ignorant of Mr. Trelawney' s 
 intentions, Madam,' coolly answered Rebecca, now 
 more pained and hurt than she could express, yet 
 feeling embarrassed at being thus personally applied 
 to, on a subject she wished to avoid. 
 
 Theodore Stanton, gratified at the opportunity 
 which his aunt had given him, of speaking of his 
 most formidable rival, would not suffer the subject to 
 drop, but said, 
 
 ' What is the use, aunt, of asking Mr.s. Philip 
 Bradbury a question that everybody knows !'' 
 
 ' How so, child !-' cried llie curious Miss Stanton. 
 
 MVby there is scarcely a newspaper that does n^it 
 furnish a report of Mr. Trelawney's intended nup- 
 tials with the daughter of L')rd Fitzosbourne,' said 
 Theodore, enjoying the Cyuiusion of poor Roda„
 
 THE MYSTF-1?I0U8 MARRIAGE. 1/37 
 
 Vrifh fhe beautiful Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne,' 
 ex'.Iaimed Miss Stanton ; ' well, it is the first time I 
 have heard of it. — Brother, have you heard 't' 
 
 ' I nevfir hear any thing that dues not iuimediately 
 oncem me, and I wish, Arabella, that you could in 
 this in^■t.•^nee prout by my example,' answered the 
 di'Ctdr, with a l^X)k of displeasure on perceiving the 
 situation of Rosa, and the evidently wounded feelings 
 of Rebecca. Just then a knock at the door announ- 
 ced the visit, of Trelawney. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 trelawney's generous presents. 
 
 Rosa still betrayed a perturbation difiScult to con- 
 ceal; Rebecca had not recovered from the uncomfort- 
 able sensations she had experienced ; and Miss Stan- 
 ton was pained to find taut she had unconsciously 
 and unintentionally wounded the feelings of a lovely 
 givl, whom she admired and loved. She had also in- 
 curred the displeasure of her brother, and at ; he en- 
 trance of Trelawney, was just beginning to frame 
 excuses for her indiscretion. 
 
 Mary Bradbury and the doctor were the only two 
 persons on whose faces there was no confusion, for 
 which Trelawney could detine no cause ; but that 
 something had displeased Rosa, and Rebecca, he 
 suspected from the expression of their countenance. 
 
 Surely Theodore Stanton had not dared to breathe 
 vows of love to Rosa !' — But would either his father 
 or Rebecca have permitted it r — Would Rosa herself 
 have listeuod to it ? Trelawney could nut entertain 
 a thought so injurious to the delicate mind of Rosa, 
 in whom he had never yet perceived the slightest 
 sj^ecies of coquetry, and ho dismibsed this last conjee-
 
 158 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ture from his mind, determined at some future op- 
 portunity to inquire of Mary Bradbury the cause of 
 
 their anxiety. 
 
 The obsequious manner in which Doctor Stanton 
 rose to receive Trelawney, proved that to him he was 
 no unwelcome guest, for he overwhelmed him with 
 his warm eulogiums on East Indian manner, cus- 
 toms, and the well-known generosity of the country. 
 Surely there is nothing so disgusting as this species 
 of abuse of good breeding and hospitality, ever paid 
 at the shrine of Plutus. A poor man is seldom cram- 
 med with this sort of compliments, though gifted 
 with talents of the finest order, and a good education. 
 
 Trelawney, however, was one of those beings on 
 whom flattery leaves but small impression. He had 
 a mind too noble, a heart too generous to receive in- 
 cense oiFered to his pocket and not to his understand- 
 ing, and he pitied the folly of those who could not 
 exist without these vain and ' unsubstantial honours.' 
 
 ' I beg to apologize for my early visit to you, 
 ladies,' said Trelawney, 'but my motive in so doing, 
 will I hope readily excuse me.' 
 
 ' Oh Mr. Trelawney, we are proud of your com- 
 pany,' said Miss Stanton. * I beg you will make no 
 apology, for it is quite fortunate ; had you been an 
 hour later, it is probable, my guests would have been 
 out.' ' We are going to the Exhibition,' said Mary 
 Bradbury. 
 
 * And to-night you must go to the Opera, if you 
 please,' said Trelawney, taking from his pocket tick- 
 ets of admission, which he presented to Rebecca. ' I 
 had this morning an opportunity of procuring admis- 
 sion at an early hour, and I hastened to Pall Mall, to 
 prevent your making other engagements for the 
 evening.' 
 
 The admissions included the doctor's family, and 
 the doctor was highly gratified at receiving so flatter- 
 ing a compliment from the rich East Indian.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. lo9 
 
 ' Eut,' said Trelawney, turning to Rosa, with a 
 look of inexpressible kindness, ' if you wish to see 
 the exhibition, I beg I may not intrude on your time.' 
 
 ' Mary Bradbury is anxious to see it.' said Rosa; 
 'but for my part,' and Rosa blushed deeply, 'I do 
 not feel any particular inclination this morning.' 
 Rosa blushed deeper still, for the eyes of Trelawney 
 were rivetted on her artless and ingenuous counte- 
 nance. 
 
 ' Certainly to-morrow will do quite as well,' said Re- 
 becca, ' unless Mary Bradbury ■' 
 
 ' Are you very impatient, Miss Mary ?' said Trel- 
 awney. 
 
 ' If I must speak plainly,' said Mary, ' I would 
 much rather be favoured with the company of Trel- 
 awney this morning, and go to the exhibition some 
 other day.' 
 
 ' A fair challenge,' exclaimed the doctor ; Mr. Tre- 
 lawney, can you withstand such an invitation ?' 
 
 ' I am not used to withstand any invitation of that 
 young lady's, I assure you, Sir,' uttered Trelawney, 
 but with such a look of gratitude to Mary Bradbury, 
 ' she generally succeeds whenever she likes, with all 
 who have the pleasure of her acquaintance.' 
 
 '"NVhy, I think she does myself,' said the doctor, 
 ' I feel the etiect of her witcheries already who am an 
 old man, what then will she do with the young Y I 
 told her last night, that her vivacity and good tem- 
 per made her handsome, and she denied the fact; did 
 not you, dear Mary ?' 
 
 ' I see, Sir, that you are determined to finish my 
 education, while I remain in London,' answered 
 Mary ; ' I was a tolerably vain creature when I left 
 my father's house, but I shall now return to the 
 Countrj' a prodigiously conceited one.' 
 
 ' We shall try that, Miss Mary,' said Theodore, 'as 
 you know I am to have the pleasm-e of being a com- 
 pauiou ou your joumty thither.*
 
 160 THE MYSTERlOUfl MARRIAGE. 
 
 But wlaatever was the motive of Theodore Stantott 
 iu speaking of himself, it produced an instant chau^-e 
 in the before animated countenance of Trelawncy, 
 and depressed his spirits during the remainder of his 
 visit, and had not Rosa several times cast looks of 
 di.-pleasure at young Stanton, with whom she felt dis- 
 gusted, he would not have left the house of Doctor 
 Stanton in a pleasing frame of mind ; for the idea of 
 yiiung Stanton being the guest of Doctor Bradbury, 
 where he would sometimes behold Rosa, was to Tre- 
 lawney insupportable. 
 
 But ashamed of indulging in sentiments of so illib- 
 eral a nature, he made an effort to address some con- 
 versation to Theodore, which was returned with affect- 
 ed cordiality, but in which young Stanton acquitted 
 himself with grace and an understanding of no mean 
 order, which, with a pleasing exterior, and heir to the 
 large property of his father, rendered him in the eyes 
 of Trelawney a dangerous object to offer his hand to 
 Rosa, whom, he had no doubt, he was passionately 
 fond of; however that time had not yet arrived, and 
 never might arrive, and so Trelawney treated Theo- 
 dore with attention, which gratified the doctor much, 
 and on Trelawney' s rising to depart, he solicited him 
 to partake of dinner, which was politely declined by 
 Trelawney, but he promised shortly to avail himself 
 01 the doctor's invitation. 
 
 ' Shall we not see you again, Mr. Trelawney P' in- 
 quired Rebecca. 
 
 ' Probably I shall this evening take a peep of you 
 at the Opera,' answered Trelawney, as he turned to 
 the blushing Rosa, with an air of tenderness, ' you 
 must tell me how you like the Opera ; I know you 
 admire Mozart, and you will to-night be gratified 
 with some of his favourite pieces.' 
 
 Trelawney was no sooner gone, than a pensive ex- 
 
 Eression stole over the features of Rosa, which Re- 
 ecca perceiving, she proposed a short walk before
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 161 
 
 dinner, to purchase a few articles which were requi- 
 site to be worn at the Opera. 
 
 Rosa recollecting that she had almost an empty 
 purse, would have declined accompanying her sister 
 and Mary Bradbury to Bund Street, had not Rebecca 
 positively insisted on her going-. 
 
 ' I do not want any change of dress, Rebecca said ;' 
 ' Mary, do you think it is necessary "r' 
 
 ' Necessary, certainly; it is necessary for Miss Clar- 
 endale to look as well dressed as her neighbours ; un- 
 less she thinks her pretty face a sufficient apology.' 
 
 ' Mary Bradbury, how can you be so intolerably 
 provoking,' said Rosa; ' what is the matter with the 
 dress I wore at the play last night 'r' 
 
 'You have worn it once, and nobody in London 
 wears a dress a second time in public places.' 
 
 ' But I shall wear it twice twenty times when I re- 
 turn to Kenilworth ; my dear mother has never 
 taught me to be extravagant,' replied Rosa, 'audit is 
 very foolish of you to talk in this manner, Mary Brad- 
 bury, when you know I cannot afford it.' 
 
 ' You can afford it as much as I can.' uttered Mary, 
 ' cannot she, Beckey r' The tormenting Mary then 
 drew out her purse, and pretending to count her mon- 
 ey, asked Rebecca if she could lend her some silver, 
 to which Rebecca made some slight excuse. 
 
 ' But you can, Rosa, there is your purse full of sil- 
 ver, come, lend me a few shillings, that's a dear, to 
 go a shopping with. 
 
 'I have not any silver, Mary,' now answered Rosa, 
 in evident uneasiness, 'if I had you should be wel- 
 come to it, but I really have not a shilling.' 
 
 ' Well, then if you cannot lend me a shilling. Miss 
 Clarendale, you must needs extend your generosity to 
 a pound ; — I must borrow a pound of you.' 
 
 ' Lend you a pound, Mary ; what can you want 
 with so much money ;■' 
 
 ' It mailers little what I want it for,' said Maiy, 
 
 K
 
 162 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 * siiflice it to say, that I want it, come, Miss Stauf on 
 is waiting for ns, and I am waiting for the money, for 
 which I have a pressing occasion.' 
 
 Rosa, after a short pause, and with a most ingen- 
 uous blush, at length replied, — 
 
 ' If you have so much need of the money, Mary, I 
 am pained, when I declare to you, that it is utterly 
 out of my power to render you any assistance.' 
 
 ' Not lend me a pound out of all your money that 
 you brought to London with you ? — Unkind Rosa!' 
 
 'No, Mary,' Rosa said, weeping, 'it is you who are 
 unkind and unjust to your friend, for you well know 
 if I had the sum yen require, I could not give you a 
 denial. I have not a pound in the world.' 
 
 ' Not a pound in the world, Rosa ?' said Rebecca, 
 though pained to behold the tears of her beloved Rosa. 
 
 ' No, I have not a pound, that I know of at the pre- 
 sent moment,' resumed Rosa, ' but I v/ill convince 
 you by ocular demonstration ; on which the sweet girl 
 drew her purse out of her pocket, but no words could 
 describe her sensations of surprise when, instead of 
 finding her purse empty, it was tilled with a number 
 of small bank notes, one pound each. 
 
 Mary Bi'adbury burst into a violent fit of laughing, 
 and said, ' here is ocular demonstration with a wit- 
 ness ; what have you to say now. Miss Clarendale ?' 
 
 ' That I am utterly ignorant of the manner in which 
 this money has been conveyed to my purse, which I 
 do not recollect ever to have had out of my pocket,' 
 answered the astonished Rosa ; ' and that I think 
 some one has been playing me this trick ; and that I 
 suspect you, Miss ]Mary Bradbury, to be the princi- 
 pal actress in the whole affair, and the generous do- 
 nor of this money to be no other than Rebecca.' 
 
 ' You never guessed better in your life, my d;i 'ing,' 
 cried Mary, still laughing, ' and y(ju cannot say but 
 that I played my part admirably, and deserve a pound 
 at least, for my trouble.'
 
 f 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 1G3 
 
 Rosa now looked at Rebecca, and Rebecca at Rosa, 
 and both hearts felt the full glow of tender and mu- 
 tual affection, — both were animated by the same feel- 
 ing-*, the same gentle and atlectionate sympathy for 
 each other — there needed no interpreter to inform us, 
 that Rosa and Rebecca were sisters of one dear molh'.r, 
 the sacred name of which had been alone sufficient to 
 bind them by ties the most lasting and congenial, had 
 there been no other. 
 
 Rebecca now threw her arms round the neck of 
 Rosa, and alfeetionately clasping her to her bosom, 
 tenderly uttered. — 'My dear, amiable, compassionate 
 sister, you must forgive us for the trial we have made 
 of your generous feelings, but in no other way could 
 I present a gift to my Rosa. Mary told me that your 
 purse was empty, and it was kind of her, for if she 
 had not I should not have had the exquisite pleasure 
 of replenishing it, and in knowing that my dear sister 
 has enriched herself with more than twenty times the 
 value of my gift, in the exercise of humanity to one 
 of her own sex, who needed her assistance.' 
 
 ' So, Mary has *old you all, I find,' cried Rosa, look- 
 ing with pretended anger at Mary. 
 
 ^ Well,' answered Mary, ' suppose I did say, that 
 instead of expending your money to purchase dresses, 
 &:c., you had bought some clothes to wrap poor Jessy's 
 baby in; do you think. Miss Clarendale, that I was 
 applauding you for this act of charity 'r — No, I say it 
 is a great shame that you should be such an eccon- 
 tric young woman, and I do not know any one who at 
 all resembles you, but that very eccentric young man, 
 Trelawney.' 
 
 ' Me like Trelawney ? oh, heavens !' cried Rosa, 
 hiding her blushing face on the bosom of her sister, 
 * there is not a human being like Trelawney I' 
 
 ' 'I'hen, my dear, if he has no resemblance to a hu- 
 man being, we must suppose him a beast,' said Mary. 
 
 But Rebecca, ever thoughtful, had no wish to in-
 
 164 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 dulge in conversation relative to the merits of Trel- 
 awney, and reminding them that what with walking 
 and shopping, they should have little time to spare 
 before dinner, after dinner not much more to prepare 
 for the Opera, when Miss Stanton tapped at the dour, 
 intimating that she had a parcel for Mrs. Philip 
 Bradbury. 
 
 ' A parcel for me, ]!>Iladam.' said Rebecca. 
 
 'Yes, ray dear,' answered Miss Stanton, 'a man 
 just now left this box, he inquired for you, and it is 
 directed for Mrs. Philip Bradbury.' 
 
 ' I cannot guess who has sent it, but probably it is 
 something that Mr. Bradbury has sent here ; he went 
 out for a walk with Mr. Theodore Stanton,' said Re- 
 becca, carefully examining the box. 
 
 ' Open it, Rebecca, and let us see what it contains,* 
 said Mary, who knows but Phil has been drawing his 
 purse strings this morning. I told him last night I 
 should torment him till he bought me a handsome 
 present while we are in town.' 
 
 The box was accordingly opened in the presence of 
 Miss Stanton : at the top was a slip of paper, on which . 
 was written, 'for Mrs. Philip Bradbury,' and the 
 handwriting was Trelawney's. The contents of the 
 box were carefully examined, and there were in three 
 separate papers, a beautiful set of pearl necklaces, 
 bracelets and ear-rings, of the most finished work- 
 manship, elegantly simple and neat, that the real 
 value of the pearls could not be estimated without the 
 closest inspection. The three sets were of the same 
 pattern, and were exquisitely beautiful. A letter at 
 the bottom of the box was addressed to Mrs. Philip 
 Bradbury, and contained the following delicate and 
 respectful testimony of his regard and respect for the 
 pastor's family : — 
 
 * My dear Mrs. Philip Bradbury,' 
 
 ' It has been often said that; gifts are not always 
 made without motives of self-interest, and the observation
 
 THE MYSTERnUS MARTIIAGE. 165 
 
 Is strictly true with regard to the trifling presents which 
 I here beg the acceptance of, by yourself, Miss Claren- 
 dale, and my little tormenting friend, Mai'y Bradbury. 
 
 ' I do not present you these gifts without motives of in- 
 terest, believe me ; for I expect when I am in a far dis- 
 tant country, that they wUl remind you of your father's 
 friend, Tan j ore Trelawney ; and in the next place, they 
 afford me the superior gratification of bestowing gifts 
 where I know they will not be appreciated according to 
 their value, but in proportion to the esteem in which the 
 donor is considered in the pure bosom of disinterested 
 friendship. With which sentiment I close my letter, ami- 
 able Rebecca, which is accompanied by the most ardent 
 and unaffected wishes for your future happiness and con- 
 tinued prosperity, which is extended to that also of your 
 amiable relatives, and every branch of your respected 
 family. Tmijore Edicard Trelawtiey. 
 
 The variety of emotions of each lovely bosom, on 
 receiving such gifts from Trelawney, may better be 
 imagined than described ; and as soon as Miss Stan- 
 ton had finished reading Trelawney' s letter, which 
 Rebecca had placed in her hands, she exclaimed, — 
 * Oh, what a sweet, dear, delightful fellow is this Tre- 
 lawney ; oh I Mrs. Bradbury, what a happy woman is 
 this Lady he is going to be married to.' 
 
 But Miss Stanton now perceived the agitation of 
 Rosa, and surprised, instantly suspended all further 
 conversation on Trelawney, an idea for the first time 
 crossing her mind, that this amiable girl cherished an 
 unfortunate passion for the generous East Indian. 
 
 Changing her discourse, therefore, she reminded 
 Rebecca, that on account of their evening engage- 
 ment, the dinner had been ordered an hour earlier, 
 and that it was nearly ready. ' In which case, my 
 sweet girls, you must postpone your walk, unless it is 
 necessary.' 
 
 ' "We were thinking, Madam, of making some ad- 
 dition to our dress, but in consequence of Mr. Trelaw- 
 ney's presents, we shall require no other ornaments,' 
 observed Rebecca : ' we cannot pay our generoua
 
 -166 THE MYSTERIOUS MARPJAGE. 
 
 friend a better compliment than by wearing them on 
 the occasion. 
 
 ' I perfectly agree with you, my sweet love,' said 
 Miss Stanton, nut choosing to pass any further com- 
 ments on the merits of her favourite. Her nephew 
 and Philip Bradbury now returned from their walk, 
 and meeting Rebecca with the box, the contents were 
 spread upon the table, and the letter placed in his hand. 
 
 * Are they not very beautiful, Mr. Theodore Stan- 
 ton P' asked Rebecca. 
 
 To which young Stanton, never at a loss for a 
 compliment, answered, — ' Why, yes, Madam, but I 
 do not consider them half so beautiful as their wearers.' 
 
 ' But what do j'ou think of Trelawney,' said Philip, 
 having read his letter in raptures, '■ by heavens, he 
 is the most noble, disinterested fellow living.' 
 
 To this warm eulogium on his friend, Theodore was 
 for a moment silent, but there was a sort of sneer, 
 indicative of envy; at length he exclaimed, — 'Oh, it 
 is easy to be generous where fortune has so liberally 
 bestowed her gifts ; were I as rich as Mr. Trelawney, 
 I should delight in making presents to the ladies, es- 
 pecially where such lovely objects demand attentions.* 
 
 Philip made no reply to this double insinuation ; 
 Rebecca answered with becoming spirit, — 
 
 ' Mr. Trelawney, Sir. does not appear generous, he 
 is really so, from principles of unerring fidelity towards 
 the objects of his beneficence, nor did I imagine that 
 personal advantages have any bias over his generous 
 mind: I have known him extend it to those who 
 possessed no other claim than a consideration of their 
 helpless age, infirmity and misfortunate.' 
 
 ' And does not misfortune give a sufficient claim to 
 a generous consideration. Madam r" uttered Stanton ; 
 'but, Mrs. Philip Bradbury, while I offer this ob- 
 servation, I have the highest respect for the charac- 
 ter of Mr. Trelawney, and have no wish of detracting 
 fjom his merits.'
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 167 
 
 When Rosa and Mary wore now left alone, Rosa 
 imparted all her sensations to the confiding bopom of 
 her friend, and burstin.2.- into tears, exclaimed, — ' Oh 
 Nary ! can it be true that Trelawney is going to a 
 far distant country r' 
 
 ' "Well, suppose he is,' said Mary, * woxfld you 
 have the poor man always tied to the elbow of Lady 
 Alexina Fitzosbourne ; 1 dare say he is glad enough 
 to get out of her sight,' 
 
 ' But when he is married to her, Mary J" said the 
 trembling Rosa. 
 
 ' He need not be always plagued with her company, 
 thars all I can say,' answered Mary, laughing. 
 
 ' Weil, but when one is married, Mary.' 
 
 ' One inust make the best of a bad bargain,' replied 
 Mary, who perceiving the depressed spirits of Rosa, 
 alternately endeavoured to laugh her into a more 
 cheerful mood, by treating lighlty the burden that 
 tended to remind her of the destiny of Trelawney ; 
 and Rosa if she was not happy, looked so, when both 
 were summoned to dinner. 
 
 When Trelawney quitted the house of Doctor 
 Stanton, he went to Valencia Lodge, to have some 
 Conversation with Lord Sydney Belmont, on the sub- 
 ject of their intended tour ; he just made his appear- 
 ance when the Duke's carriage drew up to the gates 
 of the Lodge, from whence alighted Lady Frances and 
 Lady Catherine Belmont, who had been on a secret 
 expedition of private benevolence. 
 
 Trelawney was not one of those light fantastic 
 characters who form violent friendships and take 
 violent antipathies all in one breath, he was no eveiy 
 day acquaintance, to be borne away by a gust of wind', 
 — he was not to be led by the stream of fashion, nor 
 swayed by the adversity or the prosperity of his 
 friends. 
 
 In love firm and unshaken, Trelawney could never 
 desert the woman he had adored: the alternative
 
 168 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 would have been to perish first. Nor was his ficlelity 
 in friendship less constant and sincere ; hence did he 
 form that strong attachment to the Clarendale and 
 Bradbury family, which time coxild never perish or 
 fade ; and he had also added that of the Duke of 
 Valencia's. 
 
 Lord Sydney was endeared to him by the most 
 social ties of friendly intercourse, and his lovely sis- 
 ters, by all those elegant combinations of mind and 
 manners, which render women dear to the heart of 
 man. 
 
 Lady Honoria was seated at work, when Trelawney 
 and her sisiers entered at the same moment, and she 
 received him with her usual sweet and placid smile ; 
 though, with much regret, Trolawuey perceived a 
 pensive languor in her countenance. 
 
 ' Where is Sydney F' inquired Lady Frances, ' I 
 have such a pressing occasion for his services this 
 morning you cannot possibly suppose, Honoria.' 
 
 ' My brother is a truant when he is most wanted,' 
 said Lady Catherine ; how provoking, to be absent, 
 when we require his assistance so greatly.' 
 
 ' Have you been where you intended to go this 
 morning ?' said Lady Honoria. 
 
 ' That is what we want Sydney for,' answered Lady 
 Frances, ' we dare not venture there alone.' 
 
 ' Yet in a cause of such humanity, I do not see why 
 we should hesitate,' observed Lady Catherine. 
 
 'My sweet friends,' cried Trelawney, 'without 
 impertinent curiosity, may I venture to inquire if, in 
 the absence of your brother, my services will render 
 the assistance you mention, if so, command me, I 
 beg of you.' 
 
 'Ask my sister,' cried Lady Frances, looking at 
 Lady Honoria. 
 
 ' I perceive then. Lady Honoria, that it remains 
 with you,' cried Trelawney, ' to decide the matter.' 
 
 To which Lady Honoria, blushing, said, — ' Why
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 169 
 
 hive you, Fanny and Catherine, devolved on me the 
 t;i>k of telling Mr. Trelawney, that his services on 
 this occasion ought to bo dispensed with ; it is giving 
 him so much trouble, and will be putting his feelings 
 to a painful trial.' 
 
 ' I am satisfied,' said Trelawney, * Lady Honoria 
 can never vspeak without meaning, and I attend to the 
 propriety which she urges with due submission. 
 Lady Frances and Lady Catherine, I decline my 
 services, as they are improper.' 
 
 ' Why really, Mr. Trelawney,' said Lady Frances, 
 * I cannot see any impropriety in the case. It is only 
 to visit a poor man in the Fleet prison, who has a 
 wife and six children. He has applied for a little 
 relief; — his children are perishing, and the sooner 
 their wants are supplied the better.' 
 
 ' That is all. Mr. Trelawney,' said Lady Catherine, 
 'but Honoria feared to tell you, because it is ungen- 
 erous to trespass on the kindness of those whose 
 hearts are open to relieve the wants of others, and 
 whose bounty has flowed so freely.' 
 
 'But whose purse will never be shut to the miser- 
 ies of a poor debtor,' said Trelawney, and taking from 
 his pocket a ten pound note, gave it to Lady Frances, 
 and accompanied her and Lady Catherine in their 
 visit to the unfortunate man. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 jealousy of lady alexina ;— chagrix of l.\dy 
 
 glenthorpe; — the visit to the opera 
 
 house; — AN insult. 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe had not failed to make the most 
 
 aifavourable reports to the Earl of Fitzosboume, of 
 s neglect towards his daughter on the night they 
 had visited Covent Garden Theatre, on which she
 
 170 THE MYSTERIOUS MAKRIAGE. 
 
 expatiated so largely, that it in part succeeded so well 
 as to raise a commotion in the mind of the Earl, es- 
 pecially as Lady Alexina subscribed to every sylla- 
 ble that her aunt had been advancing, to which both 
 ladies added embellishments, of every thing but truth, 
 to support their arguments. 
 
 ' Indeed, papa, it is a fact,' said Lady Alexina, 
 pretending to pout and to appear mortified at the in- 
 difference of her lover, ' he left our box the moment 
 he discovered, from an opposite one, a parcel of low- 
 bred country girls, whom he called his particular 
 friends, and during the whole of the performance, 
 talked to those mop- squeezers.^ 
 
 ^ Mo2)- squeezers, my dear child!' said the Earl, 'for 
 heaven's sake, beware how you apply such an irapx'o- 
 per term in the presence of Trelawney.' 
 
 ' Who cares a fig for his presence ? I don't, the 
 good-for-nothing creature,' said Lady Alexina. 
 
 ' That's right, my love,' retorted Lady Glenthorpe, 
 •call him what you please, for he never considered 
 your presence the least drawback, when he left you 
 to go in search of the parson's daughters.' 
 
 ' No that's what he did not, aunt, and I am deter- 
 mined to let him see that I can show a pi'oper spirit,' 
 cried the pouting and offended beauty, 'he shan't 
 treat me like a fool, for parson's daughters.' 
 
 'Parson's daughters!' exclaimed Lord Fitzos- 
 bouine, as he cast a look of displeasure at his sister; 
 ' j'ou surely cannot be alluding to the daughters of 
 Mr. Clarendale, who Trelawney informed me this 
 morning, are in town, and on a visit to Doctor Stan- 
 ton, in consequence of the elder Miss Clarendale be- 
 ing married ; if so, I am ashamed of you, Louisa, as 
 Trelawney has apprised me of the ladies being at the 
 theatre. Alexina, I am very angry with you, and 
 let me never again hear the term you have just ap- 
 plied to the daughters of the worthy Mr. Clarendale, 
 who they say, are most amiable and praiseworthy
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 171 
 
 youBs: wompn ; you, Louisa, ou^ht. to have recollect- 
 ed that Henry Clarendale is thoir brother.' 
 
 ' And so you would have me put up with an insult 
 offered to my niece, merely on that consideration,' 
 said the enraged Lftdy Glenthorpe ; ' the young fol- 
 low is himself tolerable enough, but as foi- his sisters, 
 the gothic rustics, what have I to do with them r* Is 
 Lady Alexina Fitzoabourne to be thrown in the back 
 ground for the sisters of Mr. Henry Clarendale '1' 
 
 ' I cannot admit the probability that Tanjore Trel- 
 awney could intentionally have offered any insult to 
 my child,' said the Earl, very calmly. 
 
 ' No, truly ; Tanjore Trelawney is a paragon of 
 perfection,' said Lady Glenthorpe, more enraged, 'he 
 can do nothing wrong in your Lordship's estimation.' 
 
 ' No. papa is always excusing him, if he is ever so 
 much to blame,' said Lady Alexina, still pouting. 
 
 ' I confess that my confidence in Tanjore Trelaw- 
 ney is not easily to be shaken,' said the Earl warmly, 
 ' and that I would rather hear an explanatiun from 
 himself on this subject, than from any other quarter.' 
 
 Tielawney just then made his appearance in the 
 hearing of the last sentence of the Earl, and with an 
 air of good humour, he said to Lord Fitzosbourne. — 
 
 ' And I hope, my Lord, you have ever found Tre- 
 lawney ready to answer for himself.' 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe would have preferred a seat in 
 her dressing-room, than have encountered the pene- 
 trating glance of Trelawney, and was about to leave 
 the room, but this her brother would not permit, and 
 turning towards her, he exclaimed, — 
 
 ' No, Louisa, you shall not depart quite so easily. 
 Alexina and you have preferred a complaint against 
 Trelawney, and have made me very uncomfortable, 
 and I insist upon having an explanation made in his 
 presence. Tanjore, Lady Glenthorpe tolls me of 
 some supposed neglect offered to my dauj^hler, at 
 Cuvent Gardeu Theatre.'
 
 172 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ' But of which, as I am yet an utter stranger,' 
 said Trelawney, 'I must beg to be favoured with an 
 explanation from her Ladyship.' 
 
 ' Why, Mr. Trelawney,' said Lady Glenthorpe, 
 colouring deeply, ' in consequence of the mortiiica- 
 tion which Lady Alexina received from your inatten- 
 tion to her the other evening, and my own wounded 
 feelings, in seeing the dear girl so excessively pained, 
 I did just now, rather warmly hint to my brother, 
 that I felt surprised at your extraordinary conduct.' 
 
 Trelawney answered her with an air of conscious 
 dignity, yet perfectly consistant with good breeding. 
 ' My conduct, Lady Glenthorpe,' said Trelawney, 
 * will I hope stand the test of not only your Lady- 
 ship's minutest investigation, but of that also of the 
 most impartial observer ; at the same moment, I beg 
 to say, it is not to be dictated to by Lady Glenthorpe, 
 or any other person; nor can I at present guess to 
 what your Ladyship alludes ; I must, therefore, ap- 
 ply to Lady Alexina, having received extraordinary 
 neglect on my part, she is the properest person to re- 
 sent it.' 
 
 ' And I shall resent it if I please,' said Lady Al- 
 exina, busily combing the ears of a favourite pug 
 dog, with a gold ornament she had taken fi'om her 
 own hair. ' You had no business to talk to any body 
 when I was by ; and as I am to be married to you iu 
 spite of all you can say or do, though I don't much 
 like it for all that, it was a very great shame to leave 
 our box to go to those young women, one of whom may 
 be a sweetheart of your's, for any thing I can tell. 
 There now I have spoken my mind, and I don't care 
 a fig for you.' 
 
 It was now impossible to preserve his gravity, and 
 Trelawney, first looking at the Earl with sensations 
 of pity, glanced one of disdain at Lady Glenthorpe, 
 as much as to say, — Have you inspired this beautiful 
 idiot only to render her more contemptible, by allow-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 173 
 
 ice: her to display more folly?— At length he turned 
 to Lord Fitzosbourne, and said, — 
 
 ' I believe, my Lord, there is little for me to say on 
 the present subject, as I am greatly indebted to Lady 
 Glenthorpe's malicious report to your Lordship ; it 
 appears, that I have been guilty of a most unpardon- 
 able offence, in presuming to quit your Lordship's 
 box only for a few moments, to speak to the family 
 of Mr. Clarendale, whom I informed you were in 
 town ; and that in doing this I did not think any 
 apology necessary to Lady Alexina, or any other per- 
 son ; or that in paying a tribute to friendship, I 
 could possibly offer any insult to your daughter.' 
 
 ' By no means, Tanjore,' exclaimed the Earl ; by 
 no means, — you cannot suppose that I should credit 
 any such thing. My daughter is a .simpleton, and 
 my sister no better to encourage any supposition of 
 the kind. Clarendale was your father's intimate 
 friend, and I have heard him declare, that he was one 
 of the worthiest fellows in existence : — apropos, have 
 you heard from the young man lately, the young 
 Henry ?' 
 
 Trelawney having replied in the affirmative, the 
 Earl continued. — ' Then I can inform you, that I 
 have, through the medium of Clarges. the" chaplain of 
 , he has lately visited the University, and con- 
 versed with young Clarendale, of whom his report is 
 so favourable, that I shall shortly undertake some- 
 thing serious to serve him, in doing which I shall 
 feel great pleasure, I assure you, Tanjore ; he is the 
 most promising young candidate I have ever seen.' 
 
 ' How kind and noble in you, my Lord,' said Tre- 
 lawney, ' thus to exercise your power in bestowing it 
 on praiseworthy objects I And I feel sensibly grate- 
 ful for any favours which your Lordship may confer 
 on Henry Clarendale." 
 
 ' Lord Sydney Belmont, who was here this morn- 
 ing,' said the Earl, 'has been telling me, that the
 
 174 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 daug'hters of Mr. Clarendale are excessively hand- 
 some — one of whom you say is married, Tanjorej'^' 
 
 ' Yes, my lord,' answered Trelawney ; ' Miss'Re- 
 bccca Clarendale is now the wife of Mr. Philip Brad- 
 bury, the only son of the worthy Doctor Bradbury, of 
 Kenilworth ; and the young couple are now paying a 
 bridal visit to their relation, Doctor Stanton.' 
 
 ' What, Stanton ? he is the cleverest fellow in Lon- 
 don,' said the Earl. ' "Well, I believe I shall now 
 take a stroll before dinner. Tanjore, I would have 
 you make your peace with Alcxina.' 
 
 ' I hope that is ah-eady made, my Lord,' said Tre- 
 lawney, and advancing towards the indignant beauty 
 — ' What say you, my fair cousin, when I toll you 
 without disguise, that I may perhaps trespass again 
 in the same way, and that I expect we shall be friends 
 
 still r 
 
 ' There I have broken my little beautiful repeater,' 
 (holding out her snowy hand,) exclaimed Lady AI- 
 exina, but without betraying one spark of tenderness 
 at the pressure he gave it. 
 
 ' I will repair the accident with a new one, if your 
 Ladyship will permit me,' uttered Trelawney. 
 
 Lord Fitzosbourne was now in ecstasies ; Trelaw- 
 ney had never before made a pi'osentto his daughter; 
 and both laboured under ditferent conjectures with 
 respect to the generosity of Trelawney" s gift. Lord 
 Fitzosbourne vainly cherished the fond idea, that the 
 charms of Lady Alexina had, at last, softened the 
 heart of Trelawney ; and Lady Alexina received the 
 gift as she would have done from any other person, 
 conceiving it only as a just homage paid to her beau- 
 tiful person. But Trelawnej' could not bear that any 
 one should be mortified on his account ; and he pitied, 
 more than he condemned, the character of Lady Al- 
 exina, whose faults were more those of a spoiled 
 child, than a mind naturally or intentionally de- 
 praved.
 
 THE MYSTEKlOUS MARRIAGE. 175 
 
 Trelawney often shuddorcd, when examining the 
 countenance of Lady Glcnthorpe, for which he conld 
 not account, unless when his ideas associated with 
 the mysterious stranger, who had visited her at Fitz- 
 osbourne house. That this personage had not only a 
 great connection with her Ladyship, but was also 
 well acquainted with her character, he had not the 
 smallest doubt ; but of the apparent mystery which 
 existed between them, he was left in total darkness. 
 
 As Trelawney arose to leave the room, her Lady- 
 ship, in some degree of embarrassment, said, ' Yv^'e do 
 not part as enemies, I hope, Tanjore Trelawney.' 
 
 ' Lady Glcnthorpe is the sister of Lord Fitzos- 
 bourne,' answered Trelawney; 'such a questiou from 
 your Ladyship is therefore unnecessary.' 
 
 He then retired to dress, being thoroughly persua- 
 ded, that in his union with Lady Alexina Fitzos- 
 bourne, he should be the most miserable of men ; her 
 follies increasing as she advanced more intimately on 
 his acquaintance, while his aversion to Lady Glen 
 thorpe was too strong ever to be eradicated ; but for 
 which there was no possible alternative, unless by his 
 renouncing the will of his father. And this Trelaw- 
 ney felt he could not do. 
 
 Reconciled, therefore, in part, to the painful con- 
 flict of his feelings, and not daring to glance a thought 
 towards Rosa, he submitted himself to the hands of 
 his faithful Mungo, who ccmsolingly said, — 
 
 ' Massa no well,' cried Mungo, • me sure ^Lassa no 
 well, cause he no happy ; and when massa no well 
 and no happy, Mungo no happy ! Mungo no eat, no 
 drink all day long, for think of massa ; big tear him 
 come in Mungo eye, when Massa no happy.' 
 
 Trelawney felt himself sensibly alfocted at this 
 grateful attachment of his faithful* black ; and he de- 
 termined more than ever, to render his life comforta- 
 ble in his service. 'Poor fellow!' thought Trelaw- 
 ney, as he watched the big tear fast rolling down his
 
 176 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 cheek, ' Poor fellow ! thou too hast thy sensibililips 
 and thy feelings ; thou hast a heart, Mungo, beneath 
 thy dusky skin that pants as nobly in the cause of 
 virtue as any of thy fellow-creatures. The God of 
 nature and benevolence has not made thee in vain.' 
 
 Mungo was honoured with many kind words from 
 his master, during dressing, with the further assur- 
 ance of his being both well and happy. But Mungo 
 was not satisfied with this assurance ; he had watch- 
 ed too attentively the countenance of his beloved 
 master, and for many a day had seen it. clouded by 
 sorrow; all which Mungo attributed to leaving the 
 White Cottage, and pretty Miss Rosy, in which sup- 
 position Mungo was not mistaken. So difterent were 
 the inhabitants of Fitzosbourne House to those of the 
 White Cottage, that Mungo, during his residence in 
 town, had not failed to draw comparisons not much 
 in favour of Mrs. Flounce (Lady Alexina's woman) 
 and Mr. Frill, (the Earl's gentleman) both of whom 
 attempted to be what they really were not. 
 
 One day these ladies and gentlemen of the second 
 table, after regaling themselves after dinner with a 
 bottle of the best wine in the Earl's cellar, (furnish- 
 ed by Mr. Brag, the butler,) a little difference arose. 
 
 'I dare say, Mr. Mungo,' said Mrs. Flounce, as 
 she peeled a delicate apple with a silver knife, as if 
 she had been peeling a potatoe, ' I dare say you will 
 be very proud when your master is married to my 
 mistress. Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne.' 
 
 To which Mungo quaintly replied, — ' Why me 
 proud when massa marry :■ — me no want massa 
 marry — why me proud ?' 
 
 'You slon't want your master to marry!' retorted 
 Mrs. Flounce, with an air of curious inquiry, ' that 
 is very strange, Mr. Mungo ; for you will agree with 
 me in saying, that you never saw a lady so hand- 
 some ; she is reckoned the greatest beauty in the 
 World.'
 
 THE MYSTERIOrS MARRIAGE. 177 
 
 But Mungo was determined to maintain his own 
 opinion, thoug-h in opposition to a lady's, and an- 
 swered, ' Me see young lady, great, great deal more 
 handsome den you misse : me no tink you misse 
 handsome one bit I' 
 
 ' Not think Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne handsome,' 
 echoed Mrs. Flounce; 'I protest, Mr. Mungo, you 
 quite amaze me.' 
 
 ' But. perhaps, Mr. Mungo is partial to the ladies 
 in the Indies,' observed Mrs. Flounce. 
 
 ' At all events, we cannot say much of the fairness 
 of their complexions, answered Mr. Frill ; ' but 
 every one to his liking. I, for ray part, admire black 
 ladies extremely,' winking at Mrs. Flounce, with 
 whom, as well as with himself, he was on very excel- 
 lent terms. 
 
 'What for you speak of my country ladies,' cried 
 Mungo, bluntly : ' me no speak of my country ladies, 
 me speak of yours.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' said Mr. Frill, 'and will you pretend to 
 say you have seen a lady much handsomer than our 
 Lady Alexina r' 
 
 ' Me say for true, true,' cried Mungo, maintaining 
 his point with spirit ; ' me see one young lady, great, 
 great deal more pretty den you missee.' 
 
 ' And I should not in the least wonder if your 
 master has not,' uttered Mr. Frill, with more mean- 
 ing in his looks than he dare to express by words : 
 ' I begin to smell a rat, don't you, Mrs. Flounce r' 
 
 ' Oh yes, Mr. Frill, I begin to comprehend,' an- 
 swered Mrs. Flounce. 
 
 ' "What for you smell rat ?' vociferated Mungo, 
 * why you speak of my massa, and shake your head ? 
 Mungo good servant ; know him duty better to massa 
 den ask questions of massa. Massa no ttU Mungo 
 him secret — Mungo no ask massa him business.* 
 This was an extinguisher to silence impertinence 
 I and idle curiosity. 
 
 L
 
 178 THE MTSTERIOTJS MARRIAGE. 
 
 A plain fcmily dinner was, for the first time, ex- 
 hibited at the table of Lord Fitzosbourne. to the great 
 Burprise of Trelawney; — Lady Glenthorpe having 
 received a hint from her brother, that his income, 
 considerable as it was, could no loug-or keep pace with 
 the demands on his pui-se, for housekeeping. He in- 
 sisted, that immediate retrenchment should take place, 
 to the great mortification of the haughty Lady Glen- 
 thorpe, who had appropriated large sums of money 
 to very difierent purposes. 
 
 With great pleasure Lady Alexina and Lady 
 Glenthorpe perceived that they should not long be 
 favoured with the company of the gentlemen, for the 
 Earl retired at an early hour to his own dressing- 
 room, and Trelawney had an engagement which would 
 prevent his having the pleasure of attending the la- 
 dies at tea-time, having promised Lord Sydney Bel- 
 mont to meet him in the evening. 
 
 Nothing could happen more apropos to the ladies, 
 ■who were that night going incog, to visit their dear 
 old friend, Lady Renegarde, to a select party at cards, 
 the delight of Alexina ; she doated on this species of 
 amusement to such an excess, that she was greatly 
 in debt with some of her female associates. Happily, 
 however, this circumstance had not yet reached the 
 ear of her agonised father ; nor was it yet known to 
 Trelawney. 
 
 We will now return to the quiet residence of Dr. 
 Stanton, where beauty and simplicity, and peace and 
 harmony resided with the graces, in the combined 
 forms of Rebecca, Rosa, and Mary Bradbury. It was 
 impossible to say, whether the pure and lovely bosoms, 
 on which the gifts of Trelawney were placed, graced 
 the beautiful ornaments, or the ornaments the lovely 
 wearers, — the delicacy and whiteness of their com- 
 plexions far exceeding that of the pearls. 
 
 Theodore Stanton looked a very handsome young 
 man, and Miss Stanton, as she always did, the perfect
 
 THE MYSTESIOrS MARRIAGE. 179 
 
 lady ; nor did the doctor disgrace the ladies by his 
 appearance, he was dre.«sed iu a rich suit of black, 
 and wore a brooch set with diamonds, of great value. 
 Philip Bradbury was plain and neat, and not a little 
 proud of his lovely wife ; as he led her into the druw- 
 ing-roora, he acknov/ledged, as he gazed with deli.Lrht 
 on her beautiful features, that her charms could only 
 be equalled, but not rivalled by her lovely sister. 
 
 Theodore Stanton had the hai^piness of being next to 
 Kosa, on whom his eyes were rivetted in a very im- 
 passioned manner, much to her secret dissatisfaction ; 
 but he was the son of Doctor Stanton, whose guest 
 she now was, and she was obliged to treat him with 
 politeness, though she avoided the compliments he so 
 lavishly bestowed, and which when they were seated 
 in the carriage to convey them to the Opera House, 
 became very unpleasant to her feelings, particularly 
 as the love-struck hero had taken an opportunity uf 
 pressing her hand, with a warmth which his short 
 acquaintance wiih her had not warranted, and which 
 Ptusa was so far from relishing, that she suddenly 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 ' I wish, Mary Bradbury, you would change places 
 with me ; it is so excessively warm.' 
 
 To which the doctor, who had perceived Theodore's 
 attentions said, as he smiled and gently forced Ko.-a 
 into his own seat, — ' Come here, my divine creature, 
 from that troublesome lelhnv, who has been torment- 
 ing you this half-hour. Theodore, what have you 
 been saj'ing to Miss Clarendale." 
 
 ' Nothing that could possibly oflfend her. Sir,' an- 
 swered young Stanton, haughtily, for the repulse 
 Diortificd and wounded his vanity most sensibly. 
 
 ' But she looks oifended ; are not you, my lovely 
 Bosa j'' said the doctor. 
 
 To which Rosa modestly replied, with embarrass- 
 ment,— 'Xo, indeed, Sir, Mr. Theodore Stantonis per- 
 fectly rijjht, he could not address any couversaiion
 
 186 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 to me that he thought would be oflfensive to my feel- ■ 
 lag's, if he was aware of it. I complain of the heat, , 
 and not of Mr. Theodore Stanton. 
 
 Tho doctor now laughed ; — 'So you did, my dear 
 girl,' cried he ; ' but don't complain of the heat, pray 
 don't, for it has given you a colour in your cheek like 
 an angel.' And the carriage now stopped at the door 
 of the Opera house which astonished the country vis- 
 itors. 
 
 The house was almost filled, and the overture just 
 commencing, when the doctor and Theodore handed 
 the ladies into a box, which, by order of Trelawney 
 had been kept fur their reception. 
 
 There is in all compositions of the great Mozart a . 
 something that vibrates on the heart, leaving an im- 
 pi-ession not easily to be eradicated. And Rosa, un- 
 conscious of the admiration she was exciting in aU 
 around her, was entranced with the enchanting 
 sounds, which had not only come over her ear 
 'Like the sweet south, breathing from a bank of violets.' 
 
 but had absorbed every faculty of her soul, when a 
 voice behind her, exclaimed to his companion, a young 
 gentleman of fashionable and elegant appearance; 
 ' By heavens, Lavensforth, there is the same sweet 
 creature that last night graced the boxes of Covent 
 Garden Theatre ; did you ever behold such a sylph ? 
 — I will speak to her.' .; 
 
 To which his companion replied, in a dry tone, — 
 * You had better let it alone ; for she is guarded like 
 the Hesperian fruit, and is not to be approached 
 without danger.' 
 
 ' The more desirable,' and without further ceremony 
 he intruded himself into Doctur Stanton's box, just 
 as the piece was about to begin, and continued for some 
 moments without interruption, till his uncommon 
 bold look towards Rosa, at whom he had never ceased 
 to gaze, roused the indignation of Theodore Stanton,
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARKIAGE. 181 
 
 who cooly informed him. the box was private, and not 
 subject to intrusive interruptions. 
 
 To which the stranger, boldly advancing-, fiercely 
 answered, ' Private, Sir !' 
 
 'Yes, Sir, I repeat, it is private,' said Theodore, 
 with great spirit, 'and being so will suggest to you the 
 propriety of lea\ang it quietly.' 
 
 'I beg you will do so without further interruption, 
 Sir,' said Doctor Stanton, rising from his scat. 
 
 ' By Jupiter, but I will not do any such thing,' ut- 
 tered he : ' What ! I suppose you would let nobody 
 look at that angel but yourself ; but it won't do, my 
 old boy I I am the Marquis of Montrevoirs, and I will 
 look wherever I please with impunity.' 
 
 ' But you shall not stay here with impunity, 'Mar- 
 quis or no Marquis, said Theodore. 
 
 On this the contention became more violent, and 
 ' Turn him out,' came from all parts of the house. 
 The Marquis in a state of inebriety, and partly from 
 a naturally quarrelsome disposition, was determined 
 on opposition, and the noise became so loud as to ar- 
 rest the attention of the whole house, and then arose 
 to such a pitch as to require the aid of police officers ; 
 but this was of little avail to the enraged Marquis, 
 who contended that he had a right to look at the lady 
 in Doctor Slantons box, and that he would knock 
 any man down who dared to prevent him ; he was an- 
 swered in a voice like thunder, and seized by the arm, 
 with too firm a grasp to escape, from the lips and 
 strong hold of Trelawney, who having just entered 
 the house, and learning the cause of contention, made 
 his way instantly to hand the Marquis out of the doc- 
 tor's box, and to close the door after him ; he then re- 
 turned to the trembling Rosa, and unconscious of 
 what he uttered, turned towards her most tenderly, 
 exclaiming, — ' Who has dared to insult you 'r' caught 
 the terrified and fainting girl in his protecting arms.
 
 182 THE MYSTERIOrS MAKRIAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MONTREVOIIl'fi CHALLENGE TO TRELAWNEY, &C. 
 
 In the perilous hour, in the day of calamity, in 
 sickness and in sorrow true love is most discoverable; 
 like a beautiful gem whose brilliance cannot be con- 
 cealed, it then shines brightest on the object it illu- 
 mines. 
 
 When Trelawney gathered from the account of the 
 box-keeper, that the disturbance was caused by some 
 personal insult to a lady in Doctor Stanton's box, the 
 idea that it might be Rosa suggested itself to his im- 
 agination, and he hurried thither determined that he 
 would chastise the scoundrel who had dared to insult 
 her ; he passed Lavensforth, who informing him that 
 interference was not necessary, his friend having done 
 no more than what any man would do at a public 
 theatre ; namely, looking at a pretty woman ; he 
 could not see wherein the Marquis had been so much 
 to blame, as to cause such resentful reproaches from 
 the young spark, (meaning Theodore) whom he im- 
 agined was the lover of the lady. 
 
 These words, like electric fire, shot through the 
 frame of Trelawney, and rushing into the doctor's 
 box, prevented any further insult from the imperti- 
 nent intruder, and became himself the jjrotector of his 
 beloved Rosa. 
 
 The marquis declared with vengeance, that a chal- 
 lenge should be the consequence of Mr. Trelawney's 
 interference ; it was then, that the timid Rosa, now 
 trembling for the safety of Trelawney, and forgetting 
 all but the danger to which he might be exposed on 
 her account, uttered a piercing shriek, as she fell, in 
 a state of insensibility, into the arms of her adorable 
 lover. 
 
 Rebecca also was nearly fainting ; and Mary Brad- 
 bury and ISIiss Stanton trembled with apprehension. 
 The doctor, therefore, made a sudden retreat from
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 183 
 
 the poene of action, as soon as a carriage could be 
 procui'ed, recommeuding Trelawney to remove Miss 
 Clarendale into the air, as quickly as possible. 
 
 But poor Rosa, ever the child of feeling- and simpli- 
 city, and quite unfamiliar with such accidents as just 
 encountered, could not get the better of her fears for 
 the kind, the noble, the generous Trelawney, and she 
 would have fainted again, had he not assured her, 
 that there was no danger to be feared on his account. 
 
 ' But are you quite safe now, Trelawney,' asked 
 Rosa, looking round with fearful inquiry, as he con- 
 ducted her trembling steps to the carriage. 
 
 ' Fear not for me, thou dearest, loveliest creature,' 
 uttered Trelawney, who in this transporting moment 
 forgot Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne. The eloquent 
 look of Rosa, full of tender anxiety for his safety, yet 
 now blushing that she had not the power of conceal- 
 ing it from his observation at this moment, would 
 have repaid Trelawney for whole ages of torture as it 
 completely set all rivalship at a distance. Rosa 
 loved him, — Rosa, from whom he was now to be sepa- 
 rated for ever, loved him. — and that she would ever 
 love him, Trelawney felt a strong presentiment would 
 be the case. 
 
 But short were the transports of this reflection ; for 
 Ti'elawney was the most honourable of men, and it 
 was not honourable for Rosa to cherish an unfortun- 
 ate attachment for him. as he could not conscientious- 
 ly return the slightest testimony of her regard. 
 
 It was very fortunate for Trelawney that the con- 
 fusion caused by the Marquis, prevented the observa- 
 tion of some parties. 
 
 Philip Bradbury was too much alarmed for his Re- 
 becca, to think of any body else. The doctor and 
 Miss Stanton frightened out of their wits, for the 
 safety of Theodore, &c. 
 
 But Theodore had not been quite so indifferent an 
 observer of the passing scene; he had beheld the
 
 184 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE, 
 
 fainting Rosa in the arms of Trelawney, whose deep 
 anxiety was too strongly portrayed in his countenance, 
 to be mistaken by one enamoured of the same object; 
 the anxiety of Trelawney was that of a lover, — and 
 the quivering lip that murmured, in soft, tender, ac- 
 cents, her beloved name, could only be pronounced 
 by one who regarded her as the dearest idol of his 
 affections ; and this produced in young Stanton the 
 maddening jealousy of Trelawney, which also exten- 
 ded towards Rosa, from a conviction, that she would 
 never receive any attentions from him, and with little 
 short of fury, he observed the deep crimsoned blush 
 and the tearful eye of Rosa, who on her recovery be- 
 held herself encircled by the arms of Trelawney ; 
 much less could he endure the enchanting accents of 
 tenderness with which she assured him of the fears 
 she entertained of his safety ; it was plain then that 
 Trelawney loved Rosa, and that Rosa loved Trelaw- 
 ney, who was the affianced husband of Lady Alex- 
 ina Fitzosbourne, — yet the delicate, modest, conscien- 
 tious Miss Clarendale usurped the affections of an- 
 other woman's husband ! 
 
 Violent passions cannot be lasting, — they must as 
 quickly end where they had as quickly begun. True 
 love builds its faithful nest on a surer foundation, — 
 summer suns will neither render its habitation too 
 warm, nor will winter snows be too cold for its seren- 
 ity. And such was the love which so brightly glow- 
 ed, both in the hearts of Rosa Clarendale and of Tan- 
 jore Trelawney. 
 
 'Though there is scarcely room to admit of you 
 here,' said Doctor Stanton, putting his head out of 
 the coach door, *as Trelawney handed Rosa into it, 
 * yet I hope, Mr. Trelawney, there is no objection to 
 your joining us, at my house in Pall Mall ; do me the 
 favour to take supper with us, without ceremony, I 
 beg of you.' 
 
 * I am not fond of ceremony, Doctor Stanton, at
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 185 
 
 any time.' answered Trelawney, * and there was never 
 less cause for it than at the present moment.' 
 
 So saying' Trehiwney jumped into another coach, 
 which following the doctor's, they all met together 
 at the door, where they soon alighted. Trelawney 
 exerted every nerve to raise the spirits of the droop- 
 ing Rosa, and to quiet the fears of Rebecca, alarmed 
 fur more reasons than one. 
 
 That any quarrel should have taken place between 
 gentlemen on Rosa's account, and that one of these 
 should be Trelawney, shocked her delicacy, as should 
 any danger be incurred, it would reach the ears of her 
 father, and render them unhappy for the safety of 
 their generous friend, and cause' them to endure a 
 thousand fears for Rosa ; so far did Rebecca suffer 
 these fears to operate on her gentle and affectionate 
 nature, that she determined to urge her husband to 
 quit London, and restore their precious charge to the 
 paternal roof, as her best protection. 
 
 When Trelawney parted from his fair friends, he 
 assured Rebecca, that she should either hear from 
 him or see him at an early hour the ensuing morn- 
 ing, and respectfully pressing her hand to his hps, as 
 he arose to depart, he added, — 
 
 ' Do not, dear Rebecca, indulge in these useless 
 fears • I am well aware of the character I have to en- 
 counter in the person of the Marquis of Montrevoirs, 
 and am not alarmed at his suggestion ; he has no 
 such intention, for I know him to be a coward ; and 
 •were he not so, can you suppose I would permit 
 either the Marquis of Montrevoirs or any other man 
 existing to insult any part of your respected family 
 with impunity ; has the daughter of Mr. Clarendale, 
 in the absence of her father and brother, no defender 
 to shield her from the impertinent advances of a li- 
 centious character ? Assuredly she has, Mrs. Philip 
 Bradbury ; and such a one as would not easily desert 
 her, while there is a di'op of blood left in his veins ;
 
 186 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 I will protect the children of luy father's old friend ; 
 therefore, be comforted, sweet Eebecca, you know 
 Trelawney is a stran<i:er to fear, when the feelings of 
 his friends call upon him for support and protection.' 
 
 In the dignified sentiments which Trelawney had 
 just expressed, Theodore could see nothing- but in- 
 creased and violent attachment towards Rosa, and at- 
 tributed many parts of Trelawney's character toaifec- 
 tation, and pvide of his personal attractions, and his 
 unbounded wealth. 
 
 But so little did Trelawney value himself on either 
 of these qualities, that it never occurred to him that 
 his person was more pleasing than any other man's, 
 and when he reflected that he was rich, it arose from 
 the gratification of knowing that he could bestow his 
 bounty where he pleased, and exercise his charity on 
 objects who, though in penury, were at the same 
 moment meritorious and praiseworthy. 
 
 No sooner was Rebecca alone with her husband, 
 than she earnestly entreated him to shorten their 
 visit to Doctor Stanton, as she longed again to behold 
 her dear father and mother, and return to her dear na- 
 tive village, in peace and quietness. 
 
 'What, my Rebecca,' said Philip, 'weary of the 
 pleasures of the great and smiling metropolis F' 
 
 'Indeed, my love, I have little relish for such 
 pleasures,' said Rebecca, 'and if I was to remain long 
 in London, you would have much ditficulty in per- 
 suading me to like it.' 
 
 ' Why, I cannot say but when we are all sitting in 
 your father's oak parlour, with my old dad in the 
 midst, recounting some of his merry tales, that some 
 how or other I feel more comfortable than I did to- 
 night in the Opera House,' said Philip. 
 
 ' Opera House,' cried Rebecca, ' oh may I never 
 again behold it with the sensations I experienced this 
 evening. If this is a specimen of the gentlemen of 
 high fashion, defend me fiom such marks of their
 
 I 
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 187 
 
 grallnntry as we saw in the ?^Iarquis of Mnntrftvoirs.* 
 
 ' 1 think the conduct of Theodore Stanton whs ex- 
 tremely spirited, my love, did not you "r' inquired Re- 
 becca, avoiding the subject of Trelawney ; but Philip 
 Bradbury gloried in his character, and loved to speak 
 of him as he thought he merited : — 
 
 ' But you are silent on Trelawney,' answered 
 Philip, a little pained and hurt, ' surely I must not 
 tax my Rebecca with any thing like caprice towards 
 the character of that noble, excellent young man.' 
 
 'I fear he was a little too impetuous,' said Fcebec- 
 ca, ' and when Rosa fainted in his arms ' 
 
 ' You thought he expressed bimself too warmly,' 
 paid Philip, smiling ; ' ah ! my dear Rebecca, true 
 love, as it glows in the bosom of Trelawney. cannot 
 always be prescribed by the dictates of frigid cere- 
 mony. — The woman he loved was insulted, what man 
 could avenge her cause so nobly as Trelawney ?' 
 
 ' The woman he loves should not be my sister,' 
 said Rebecca, coldly. 
 
 ' We are not talking of what should be, my dear,' 
 answered her husband ; your sister he does love ; and 
 it is impossible for us to prevent it.' 
 
 ' But it would be wrong for us to encourage it,' said 
 Rebecca, with hesitation, as she saw the eye of Philip 
 fixed on her. 'My dearest love, I could not bear 
 vuur reproaches, if I thought I merited them,' con- 
 tinued Rebecca, ' but when I have explained my sen- 
 timents, perhaps you will think better of me.' 
 
 ' Think better of you, my angel,' said Philip, * it is 
 impossible for me to think otherwise than well of my 
 K'-becca ; I am only inclined to suppose that you are 
 angry with our Trelawney.' 
 
 ' ^V'ell. then. I will candidly own to you, that con- 
 sidering him as the affianced husband of Lady Alex- 
 i:ia Pitzosbourne, I utterly disapprove of those atten- 
 tions he is now ottering to my poor sister, whose 
 young and inexperienced heart has already fallen a
 
 188 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 victim to his attractions. Rosa has too much sensi- 
 bility, and I tremble for her future happiness ; poor 
 girl ! what will become of her when Trelawney, agree- 
 able to the will of his father, is the husband of Lady 
 Alexina ? Surely as an honourable man he ought to 
 fly the presence of Rosa, instead of which he inflicts 
 new pangs, which he can never heal. Did I not love 
 my sister so tenderly as I do, the voice that would 
 caution her of this fatal attachment, might in con- 
 templating the uncommon perfection of the object she 
 adures, be hushed, but she is my sister.' 
 
 Never looked Rebecca, not even on her bridal 
 morn, more lovely in the eyes of her adoring husband, 
 than she now did ; and not to have subscribed to the 
 propriety of these sentiments, would have been doubt- 
 ing the existence of virtue altogether ; and clasping 
 her to his fond bosom, he acknowledged the superi- 
 ority of her judgment. 
 
 * "Will you then, my dear husband, ha.sten our re- 
 turn home,' said Rebecca ; ' let me again put my dear 
 Rosa beyond the power of contemplation, — let us re- 
 move the sweet creature out of the sight of Trelaw- 
 ney, and I shall feel my mind more comfortable. 
 
 ' Assuredly, if you wish it,' answered Philip, ' I can 
 have no will but your's in this respect; — but I can- 
 not but pity that noble-hearted fellow, Trelawney, 
 and Rosa, the dear, tender-hearted little soul ; — but of 
 all the arbitrary wills, this of Trelawney's father is 
 the most extraordinary. That any man in his sen- 
 ses should sacrifice the affections of his only (;hild to 
 a woman whom he never beheld, is the strangest 
 proof of fatherly love that has ever come within my 
 knowledge.' 
 
 ' But you do not consider the motives which actu- 
 ated his father,' said Rebecca; 'it was the appeal 
 made to his heart by a beloved sister, fi'om whom he 
 was about to be separated, that (moved by her tears
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 189 
 
 an'l supplications) induced her to comply with her 
 parting request. 
 
 ' To love a sister, it is by no means a necesswiry 
 duty to sacrifice a child,' said Philip ; but perceiving 
 that Rebecca was unwilling to resume so painful a 
 subject the conversation ended. 
 
 The infuriated Marquis of Montrevoirs would not 
 permit the morning to cool on his resentment, but 
 when he retired from the Opera with Lavensforth, 
 they adjourned to a Coffee house, and in the heat of 
 passion, dispatched the following note to Trelawney, 
 which Mungo receiving placed on the table : — 
 
 Sir, 
 
 'You have personally insulted a gentle- 
 man of rank and fashion, in a manner which his honour 
 and injured feelings will not permit him patiently to en- 
 dure, and for which he either insists on your makin? an 
 apology, or expects you will tender him the satisfaction 
 of a gentleman, in Hyde Park, by the hour of six to-mor- 
 row morning,— choose your owti weapons, swords or 
 pistols. 
 
 ' C. Montrevoirs.' 
 'To Tanjore Trelawney, Esq.' 
 
 As the contents of this note were what Trelawney 
 expected, he was not surprised at its purusal, and an- 
 swered it, thus : — 
 
 ' My Lord, 
 
 'No man is more opposed to wounding 
 another's feelings than myself; was I conscious of having 
 done so, the apology you demand would have been freely 
 ottered without any compulsion in the case. 
 
 'But, though I am no duellist, nor bear the slightest 
 animosity towards you ; nor am I otherwise disposed to 
 blow any man's brains out in cool blood, at which my na- 
 ture revolts with abhorrence, yet I must assure you, that 
 I am no coward ; nor do I consider any man's rank or 
 station, however exalted, when I think he forgets it him- 
 self, by presuming to distress the feelings of a respecta- 
 ble, modest and virtuous female. 
 
 ' You will, therefore, find me true to your appointment,
 
 190 THE MYSTTilRrOUS MAKRIAGE. 
 
 which must depend exclusively on your own feelings 
 finally to determine. 
 
 * Tavjore Trelaioney.' 
 * To the Most Noble the IMarquis of Montrevoirs.' 
 
 Trelawney sat down to reflect on rhe consequences 
 this note might produce, and of the situation in which 
 lie would be placed, should a duel actually take place. 
 Trelawney a duellist, — he revolted at such a vile 
 mode of settling a quarrel ; honour, much talked of 
 on these occasions, being totally out of the question ; 
 but to tender a man an apology for an insult to the 
 woman he adored, he could not think of, — while on 
 the other hand, to have declined the challenge would 
 have been cowardice. But to have his life made the 
 sacrifice of a madman, was not a very pleasing re- 
 flection ; therefore he determined on instantly dis- 
 closing his situation to Lord Fitzosbourne. and then 
 to request Lord Sydney Belmont to be present at his 
 meeting with the Marquis. 
 
 Trelawney then wrote a letter to his friend, and by 
 Mungo, dispatched a short note to the dressing-room 
 of the Earl, which soon brought his Lordship, in his 
 dressing-gown, to the presence of Trelawney ; in the 
 utmost alarm, the Earl inquired what had happened 
 to cause his summons at so late an hour. Trelaw- 
 ney now dismissed Mungo, and drawing a chair for 
 his Lordship, smiled while he placed the note of the 
 Marquis in his hands, carelessly adding, — 
 
 ' It is nothing very extraordinary, my Lord, to 
 meet with men who first expose themselves to folly, 
 and would betray the life of that man who has the 
 courage to tell them of it, — behold the challenge I 
 have received from the most noble the Marquis of 
 Montrevoirs.' 
 
 ' Challenge,' repeated the Earl, alarmed beyond 
 conception, as trembling he glanced over the contents 
 of the note, — ' my dear Tanjore. yuu agitate me be- 
 yond measure, — challenge, Tanjore, did you say i:*'
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 191 
 
 'Do not alarm yourself, my dear Lord,' said Trel- 
 awney, for the Earl tell back in his chair, almost con- 
 vulsed with indigrnant passion : — ' Whi^,' uttered he, 
 and shall I suffer uiy dear boy to perish by the steel 
 of an assassin ? — You shall not meet him, Tanjore, 
 by ' 
 
 This oath actually escaped the lips of the agitated 
 Earl ; but as it was not his habit, let us hope with 
 Sterxe. — that the recording angel, not only dropped 
 a tear upon the word, but blotted it out for ever. 
 
 ' But my word is already given,' said Trelawney ; 
 ' and were' it not so, would you, my dear Lord, could 
 you bear that Trelawney should be stigmatized as a 
 coward r put your hand' on your heart, my Lord, and 
 tell me, if I should then be worthy of your esttem, or 
 any man's in existence ^ 
 
 'Tanjore Trelawney,' uttered the Earl, with in- 
 creasing perturbation of spirits, ' Tanjore Trelawney, 
 this affi\ir is of more serious consequence than you 
 may imagine; hear me, dear, rash boy, I implore 
 you, and remember the life of Fitzosboume hangs 
 upon the destiny of yours.' 
 
 'Heaven forbid, my dear Lord ;' said Trelawney, 
 mu'^h affected by the emotion of the Earl. 
 
 * It IS wound "up in you and my daughter, you are 
 all th at is left of my wrecked happiness, all that sur- 
 vives of my lost Alexina ; should I lose you, Tanjore, 
 or my child, I feel that ' The Earl could pro- 
 ceed no further,— he burst into tears, which surprised 
 and softened the heart of Trelawney so powerfully, 
 that he waited till the Earl had recovered his compo- 
 sure. Trelawney then tried to tranquillize the alarm his 
 Lordship laboured under, saying — ' By every tie that 
 is sacred and dear to the heart of man, I would not 
 distress your Lordship's feelings more than I cuuld 
 possibly help.' 
 
 ' Why then persist in meeting this madman r' said 
 the Earl; 'dear Tanjore, you soo beioro you a bro-
 
 192 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 kon-hearted man, whose hope and comfort rest on 
 you ; alas ! it is not sufficient to bear separation from 
 you by your cruel mandate of absence, for two years, 
 and will you now again lacerate my heart by en- 
 dangering your life ?' 
 
 'Your Lordship's fears are unreasanable,' said 
 Trelawney, 'my life is under the protection of Al- 
 mighty Providence, who does not permit a sparrow 
 to lall without his sanction, why then should I, who 
 am created after his own image, doubt his unerring 
 goodness ; be comforted, my Lord, for were you my 
 father, I could not now more poignantly feel for you.' 
 
 Trelawney now respectfully held the Earl's hand 
 to his lips to confirm his profession of affection ; just 
 then Lord Sydney Belmont arrived, and was instant- 
 ly admitted, by Mungo, to the apartment of his mas- 
 ter ; where a conversation of the most deeply affect- 
 ing nature ensued. 
 
 Lord Sydney made light of the matter, and partly 
 by argument and partly by rhetoric, persuaded the 
 Earl, that his friend could not with any degree of 
 propriety decline the challenge, without forfeiting 
 that character which it would ever be the pride of a 
 man of honour to support! 
 
 But whatever Lord Sydney uttered, to animate the 
 drooping spirits of the desponding Earl, he was 
 not himself without alarm for the safety of his noble 
 friend, to lose whom by such an occurrence, agonized 
 his inmost feelings. And it was with difficulty, that 
 Lord Sydney suppressed the anguish of his heart, as 
 he received the instructions which Trelawney, in a 
 low but firm voice, at intervals, delivered to him. — 
 
 ' Remember, Belmont, in this cabinet you will find 
 all my papers ; here you will i-eceive the more partic- 
 ular statement of my wishes ; thank heaven, I have 
 never been unmindful of mortality, though blessed 
 with health and affluence, I have never forgot from 
 whom these blessings flow, and that he who gives can
 
 THE MYSTEIUOUS MARRIAGE. 193 
 
 take away, even in the very momont of our full en- 
 joyment of all earthly things. Should I fall, Bel- 
 mont,' continued Trelawney, pressing the now cold 
 hiind of his aj^itated friend, ' should I perish, the 
 p I'.ket addressed to Mr. Clarendale, must be convey- 
 ed to him immediately ; it contains — what does it not 
 contain'.' — The picture of Rosa, Trelawney wuuld 
 Jiave uttered, but he dared not ; he made a short 
 pause, and finished his sentence with, — 'yes. Belmont, - 
 it must be immediatply conveyed to Clarendale.' 
 
 ' Cease, oh, cease, dear Trelawney,' cried his now 
 greatly agitated friend, 'cease to torture me with this 
 heart wounding reflectirjn, I beseech you. Doubt not 
 the fidelity of friendship, nor the exertion of th© 
 great regard I must ever bear towards any of your re- 
 quests, but for heaven's sake, do not talk thus ; by my 
 soul, Trelawney, I am unable to support an idea so 
 dreadfully painful.' 
 
 Trelawney, with a calm, composed and benignant 
 emile. now returned the warm and ardent pressure of 
 his friend's hand, consoling him, that should such be 
 his fate, that there was yet another and a better worlds 
 where it was probable, by divine permission, they 
 should meet again. 
 
 The tears of Lord Sydney now bedewed his youth- 
 ful cheek, and as the Earl, whose fatigued spirits had 
 been greatly exhausted, had fallen into a gentle slum- 
 ber, the two friends continued to converse for succes- 
 sive hours on subjects nearest their hearts, in which 
 the name of Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne was never 
 once repeated, and never once thought of by Trelaw- 
 ney ; nor was that of Rosa, but that she occupied the 
 inmost recesses of his heart, there was not a doubt- 
 
 At four in the morning, Trelawney called Mungo, 
 and bid him prepare some coffee, and bring it into his 
 dressing-room, such refreshment being mo.^t salutary 
 to the waking and agitated Lord Fit/.osboume. 
 
 But the fond solicitude, fud inquiring looks of the 
 u
 
 194 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 faithful Mungo, who, on his entrance to the room, 
 fixed his eye on his master, evidently pained and af- 
 fected Trelawney ; yet, in case of accident, that he 
 had made an ample provision for this poor creature for 
 life, tranquilized the fluttered spirits of Trelawney. 
 
 But Mungo could not account for the extraordinary 
 proceedings in Trelawney' s apartment, and the cause 
 of the Earl and Lord Sydney Belmont's sitting up all 
 the night with his master. 
 
 But accident soon revealed the secret to Mungo; 
 lor while Lord Sydney Belmont closely engaged the 
 Earl in conversation, Trelawney searched for his case 
 of pistols, and not finding them felt himself compel- 
 led to ask Mungo, which he did in a way the least 
 likely to hurt the poor fellow's feelings. 
 
 No sooner, however, had Trelawney intimated that 
 he had occasion for his pistols, than a thunderbolt 
 seemed to strike at the heart of Mungo, and he trem- 
 bled so excessively that he could scarcely stand in the 
 presence of his master. 
 
 ' Do you understand me, Mungo ?' said Trelawney, 
 in a low voice; — 'Bring me my pistols, ^ose not a 
 moment.' 
 
 To which Mungo, looking, with painful hesitation, 
 in the face of his master, affectionately replied, with 
 a mournful shake of his head, — ' Me understand mas- 
 sa, too well! massa fight wid white man, — white man 
 shoot massa ! Mungo no live see massa dead,— Mun- 
 go die, if white man shoot massa I — Shoot black, no 
 matter, — save massa, Mungo him die content.' 
 
 ' Give me the pistols, said Trelawney, in a resolute 
 tone, and affecting to disregard the emotion of Mungo, 
 while it penetrated his heart ; ' give me the pistols, 
 Mungo, and ask no questions, I command you. I have 
 to go out on business with Lord Sydney Belmont ; in 
 tbe meanwhile remain in my apartments till either 
 you see me or his Lornship return ; — do you hear me, 
 Muugo t"
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 195 
 
 'Mas?a word go through Mungo very heart;' said 
 Mungo, bursting into a flood of tears, — purer there 
 could not be, though shed from eyes of azure beauty, 
 with skin of snow, while he placed the pistol case, 
 with a trembling hand, on the tabic. He then hur- 
 ried from the presence of his master, to give vent to 
 the anguish of the feelings he could not control ; and 
 at a quarter past five, Trelawney, dispatched Mungo 
 for a coach, and acc(;mpanied by Lord Sydney Bel- 
 mont, Trelawney, proceeded to Ilyde Park, just ten 
 minutes before the clock of St. James's told the hour 
 of six. 
 
 There they waited nearly half an hour, but not a 
 vestige was to be seen of the Marquis, or Lavens- 
 forth, at which Trelawney, after a full hour had 
 elapsed, could not help expressing surprise to Lord 
 Sydney, who began to suspect that the Marquis 
 Would not come, and with a countenance in which 
 hope, joy, and animation were beautifully blended, 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 By my soul, Trelawney, the Marquis is hoaxing us 
 in the most agreeable manner I ever wish to be hoax- 
 ed in my life ; an hour and nearly a quarter has 
 elapsed from the time he appointed.' Lord Sydney 
 reminded Trela^vney, that no gentlemen ever kept one 
 another waiting at such a particular crisis, as an aflfair 
 of honour, and that it would be ridiculous to wait any 
 longer, * Let us, therefore, instantly return, my dear 
 Trelawney, to Fitzosbourne House, where the Earl 
 is so anxiously expecting us,' said Lord Sydney, 'I 
 confess, as the Marquis is not here, I would much 
 rather be taking my dish of tea with the ladies.' 
 
 ' But are you certain that our departure will not 
 caiise some impertinent reflections,' asked Trelawney, 
 * is it quite consistent with the etiquette of the busi- 
 ness ?' 
 
 ' What, when we have waited an hour and a half 
 for the Marquis, and he comes not,' said Lord Syd-
 
 196 niE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ney ; ' surely, Trelawney, this is being too punctil- 
 ious, but if you have a mind to stay here cooling your 
 heels ranch l(jnger, I must depart without you; I want 
 my breakfast, and shall eat most voraciously, for my 
 appetite is excellent.' 
 
 Trelawney followed the footsteps of his now lively 
 friend, and they were on the eve of leaving the park, 
 when a person much disguised stepped up to Trelaw- 
 ney, and presenting a letter to him, asked if his name 
 was Trelawney, and being answered in the aflBrma- 
 tive, he said he had then no further business, the let- 
 ter being from the Marquis of Montrevoirs, and that 
 there required no answer. 
 
 *It requires your leisure for a moment, at all 
 events,' said Trelawney, in accents of dignified 
 courage and resentment ; ' before you depart, I must 
 insist on being informed of the contents you bring 
 me.' 
 
 'That you may inform yourself of,' uttered the 
 stranger in a surly and imperious tone ; * I am not 
 in the cabinet secrets of the Marquis of Montrevoirs.' 
 And with these words, he abruptly darted through 
 th • park. Trelawney read aloud the following words, 
 di lated from the pen of the Marquis, to himself, 
 ■which was written in a hand hardly legible: — 
 
 ' Mr. Trelawney, 
 
 'When this reaches you I shall be making 
 rapid strides towards Paris, Instead of meeting you at 
 Hj tie Park, and as it is pleasanter by far to shake a man by 
 the hand than to blow his brains out, I shall be happy to 
 tell you so when I again have the pleasure of seeing you 
 in iingland, and to assure you, that I am of opinion, you 
 are one of the finest spirited young fellows in existence ; 
 for it is plain you had no hostile intention towards me. 
 
 'I will candidly own, therefore, I was wi-ong to stare 
 the lovely girl out of countenance ; but beauty, Trelaw- 
 ney, beauty leads the oldest and the wisest of us in a 
 wiluernesd, till we are lost in its bewitching maze.
 
 THE MYSTT-RIOTJS MARKIAGE. 107 
 
 'Accept this as the best apology I am able to give you, 
 and receive the sincere wishes of 
 
 ' Montrevoirs.' 
 
 *How inconsistent and capricious is the mind of 
 man,' uttered Trelawney, not insensible to the plea- 
 sure arisincj from the reflection, that this silly busi- 
 ness, was •imicably settled, without any fatal conse- 
 quences ; and g:rateful to Providence, he lean"d on 
 the arm of his friend, as they bent their course towarJs 
 Grosvenor Square. 
 
 Lord Sydney was in raptures ; but what was the 
 sensation of honest Mungo, when TrelaM'uey sudd- n- 
 ly opening the door of his apartment where the poor 
 fellow was sitting, in the most despondin<r attitude r — 
 who can utter the eloquence of this pure child of na- 
 ture, when Trelawney, again delivering the pistols 
 to his care, uttered, — 'Here, Mungo. take back the 
 pistols, I have had no use for them, thank heaven! — 
 Mungo, poor fellow what ails you h' said Trelawney, 
 as he gazed on the tears which gushed in torrents 
 from the eyes of Mungo ; ' why are you so affected 'f 
 
 'Mungo cry, make heart easy,' answered he, 
 •Mungo no ail nothing now massa safe : Mungo go 
 eat him breakfast, — him dance all day long, — make 
 merry.' 
 
 'And you shall smoke a cigar, if you please, with- 
 out interruption,' exclaimed Trelawney, 'there is 
 money to get one ; go and enjoy yourself all the day.' 
 The joy which Mungo now felt was indescribable ; 
 he capered about the room, as soon as Trelawney had 
 quitted it, testifying the most lively joy for the safety 
 of his beloved master. 
 
 Oh gratitude, sweet, throbbing and celestial mnni- 
 tor of the human bosom, if thou art not ever presi nt, 
 where are all the boasted virtues of mankind r" Can 
 beauty, can wealth, can power supply thy los.s ? 
 
 Blight gem, that in the dusky hue of the poor 
 Al'rican, slliues with such ethereal lustre, as tu make
 
 198 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 whiter men, wanting thee, the poorest and the mean- 
 est vassals ; sacred be thy fount, oh balmy gratitude, 
 — for ever pure thy stream, thou source of every 
 gentle virtue. 
 
 Much as Trelawney wished this aflfair to be as pri- 
 vate as possible, Lord Fitzosbourne, had already ren- 
 dered that impracticable, by the emotion he had be- 
 trayed. When he retired to his apartment, his 
 perturbed imagination represented Tanjore Trelawney 
 mortally wounded, and unable to endure the soul- 
 harrowing reflection, he started from his bed, threw 
 on his dressing-gown, and rushed into the saloon, 
 just as Lady Glenthorpe had preceded him, wildly 
 exclaiming, — 
 
 ' Where is Trelawney ? where is the dear boy Tan- 
 jore r* where has he received the fatal wound; tell me 
 Louisa, for I will know the truth r' 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe, greatly alarmed, rang the bell 
 for assistance, imagining that her brother was attack- 
 ed with delirium, and imploring him to be comix)sed 
 she ordered a servant to go for Mr. Trelawney ; but 
 what was her Ladyship's surprise when the servant 
 returned and informed her, that Mr. Trelawney' s 
 black servant said that his master was gone out with 
 Lord Sydney Belmont. 
 
 Her Ladyship's curiosity now got the better of her 
 feeling for "her brother, who had now reclined on one 
 of the sofas, with his hands covering his face, and she 
 abruptly inquired of the Earl, if Tanjore Trelawney 
 was concerned in any affair of honour, and his Loi'd- 
 ship, now more collected, revealed the name of the 
 Marquis, but not the cause of the quarrel between 
 him and Trelawney, and this was precisely what her 
 Ladyship wanted to know ; she prevailed on the Earl 
 to take a dish of coffee, observing with someasperity, — 
 
 ' Well, let the headstrong boy fight if he is so fond 
 of fighting ;— yet, the Marquis is accustomed to 
 duelling, therefore, I am imder alarm for Taniore
 
 THE MYSTERIOrS MARRIAGE. 199 
 
 Tvelawney, and should not be surprised if the ^I.irquis 
 was to effect his business at once; — I have heard 
 that he is an excellent marksman.' 
 
 ' Inhuman and unfeeling Louisa,* exclaimed the 
 Earl, now darting a look of severe reproach towards 
 his sister, ' and is it thus you converse on the proba- 
 bility of an event the certainty of which would de- 
 prive your brother of existence ? 
 
 ' And how could you possibly help it,' said Lady 
 Glenthorpe, I protest you could not say more if Tan- 
 jore were your own son ; it is well that your daugli- 
 ter is not present to hear you.' 
 
 ' If all the world were present,' said the Earl, now 
 growing more alarmed for the fate of Trela\\Tiey, ' I 
 would exult in acknowledging my regard for my dear 
 Tanjore ; there is not a finer young fellow now in ex- 
 istence. Send, Louisa, instantly, to Valencia Lodge, 
 and inquire if Lord Sydney Belmont is returned.' A 
 messenger was dispatched to the Duke of Valencia's, 
 bui no tidings had arrived of Lord Sydney. Lady 
 Glenthorpe soon communicated the affair to Lady Al- 
 exina Fitzosbourne : — 
 
 ' Oh, my love, I have been dying to tell you this 
 half hour of what has happened ; you will be so 
 alarmed,— but don't faint, — Tanjore Trelawney is ac- 
 tually engaged in a duel.' 
 
 If sensibility is amiable in woman, how must we 
 deplore the loss of it in Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne, 
 who on receiving the intelligence, was dancing abi»ut 
 the room with her little marniozet, and did not discun- 
 tinue her employment for some time, till it occurred 
 to her, that Trelawney might be killed in a duel, ehe 
 exclaimed, — ' Well, I love a duel of all things ; es- 
 pecially when a gentleman or two happen to be 
 wounded; it is delightful to see one's name in the 
 newspapers, it gets one so stared at, — does not it, 
 aunt 'r' 
 
 ' But if Trelawney should be killed in this duel f
 
 200 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 * And leave all his fortune to papa,' nttered Lady 
 Alexina, insensible to all but the playful tricks of 
 that which her Ladyship estimated of much greater 
 value than the life of Trelawney — her monkey. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 REFLECTIONS— UNEASINESS AT VALENCIA LODGE, 
 &C. 
 
 Lord Fitzosbourne beheld the calm features of 
 Lady Alexina, as she entered the saloon, dragprin^ 
 her marmozet after her by a silver chain, which 
 phocked and surprised him ; and not believing that 
 Lady Glenthorpe could have apprised her of the 
 danger of Trelawney, he observed with a melancholy 
 smile, — ' How comes it, my dear girl, that you are 
 this morning so disposed to be mirthful ; alas, I fear 
 the intelligence I am about to relate will, in a great, 
 measure, damp the ardour of your youthful spirits.' 
 The Earl now hesitated, as if fearing to alarm hi.s 
 daughter. 
 
 ' I know what you are going to say, papa ; aunt has 
 already told me all about it.' Just then Lady Glen- 
 thorpe came into the saloon, and Lady Alexina, run- 
 ning up to her, said, — ' Have not you, aunt, told me 
 every word of the whole affair of Trelawney ?' 
 
 Her Ladyship, however, soon perceived the effect 
 which the cold indifference of her niece would pro- 
 duce on the mind of her brother, and promptly re- 
 plied, — 'Not exactly the whole affair, my dear, only 
 
 part, — to spare your own feelings ' But Lady 
 
 Alexina insensible to all but the animal with which she 
 was playing, contradicted her aunt, by thus abruptly 
 exclaiming, — 
 
 ' How can you say that you did not tell nie every 
 thing, when you know you did, aunt ; did you not
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 201 
 
 ,8f\y. that Trelawney was gone to fight a duel, and did 
 not 1 say, that I ' 
 
 The Earl, now greatly incensed, both with his 
 daughter and the unfeeling Lady Glenthorpe, repli- 
 ed, — ' That you were extremely rejoiced to hear that 
 Trelawney's life was in any danger, I have not the 
 smallest doubt of it, — insensible, unfeeling girl.' 
 
 ' Me, papa, I did not say any such thing ; — did I, 
 aunt r' 
 
 ' Lady Glenthorpe, mortified and abashed, hun^ 
 down her head and was silent ; while the Ear], ca.-t- 
 ing at his daughter a look of extreme displeasure, 
 said, — ' It is of little consequence what either of you 
 say ; — of your Ladyship's feelings I have had through 
 my life incontestible proofs — that it extends only to 
 yourself: of yours, Alexina, the want of it you have 
 just discovered, shocks me more than I can express.* 
 
 Her Ladyship, who had wound herself up to a vio- 
 lent passion, now indigiiantiy said, — 
 
 ' I dare say, love, when you are married to your 
 father's idol, that you will have occasion to shed tears 
 abundantly ; I think there is a fair prospect for it ; 
 I don't wonder, therefore, at your reserving them for 
 that happy period.' 
 
 ' I won't cry now then, that's what I wont,' said 
 Lady Alexina, with her accustomed childish manner, 
 'not if Trelawney was to be killed on the very spot, 
 because papa has scolded me for it.' 
 
 • AVhy really, child, I cannot blame you,' said Lady 
 Glenthorpe. 
 
 But Lady Alexina knew her power over her father, 
 and she had that power always in force ; holding her 
 beautiful snowy arms, wide open, at a little distance 
 to him, she exclaimed in coaxing accents, — "Now 
 papa, give me a kiss, and I will cry about Tnnjore 
 directly.' 
 
 * I would give you a good whipping, if you were a 
 child,' said the Earl in a less angry tone.
 
 202 THE MYSTERIOIJS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ' But now I am a woman you dare not,' said Lady 
 Alexina, going a little nearer to the Earl, till bj' de- 
 grees she entwined her arms about his neck, and not 
 another angry sentence was pronounced by the too 
 fund father. 
 
 Meanwhile, Trelawney, and Lord Sydney Belmont 
 arrived at Fitzosbourne House, and from thence he 
 addressed a note to Doctor Stanton's, informing his 
 friends, that the atfair had terminated between him- 
 self and the Marquis, not mentioning the challenge 
 he had sent him ; both gentlemen then entered the 
 saloon, and stood in the presence of the transported 
 Lord Fitzosbourne. 
 
 ' Dear boj', my dear Tanjore, thank heaven that 
 you are safe,' cried the Earl, folding him to his heart 
 in a transport of joy. 
 
 ' I am so glad you are not killed, you cannot con- 
 ceive. I thought papa would have fainted,' said 
 Lady Alexina ; at which it was impossible for Tre- 
 lawney or Lord Sydney to resist smiling, her Lady- 
 ship having uttered this so like a child. 
 
 They then sat down to breakfixst, to which Lord 
 Sydney Belmont did ample justice, as he had previ- 
 ously declared he would do, and Lady Glenthorpe 
 acquitted herself with a tolerable good grace. 
 
 When the breakfast things were removed, Lady 
 Alexina and Lady Glenthorpe, under pretence of hav- 
 ing important business to arrange in their domestic 
 concerns, retired, but it was only to Lady Alexin a' s 
 dressing-room, to try to find the most likely place 
 where they could pick up any thing relative to the 
 afi'air between Trelawney and the Marquis of Mon- 
 trevoirs. 
 
 ' I shall die if I don't know what it was all about,' 
 said Lady Alexina. * Let us ride over to Lady 
 Renegarde's, aunt; Lady Renegarde knows every 
 thing.' And the carriage was oi'dered, and the.se 
 atiectionate inseparables, niece and aunt, set oif, with-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 203 
 
 out even thinking it necessary to cbansre thrir dresa. 
 
 While the Earl retired for "the remainder of the day 
 to his own apartment ; Trelawney and Lord Sydney 
 Belmont went to Valencia Lodge, where they tbuud 
 his amiable sisters suffering great uneasiness at the 
 long absence of their brother, which had received no 
 small addition by the mysterious message sent from 
 the Earl of Fitzosboume's, to know if Lord Sydney 
 Belmont had arrived at Valencia Lodge ; nor could 
 they help disclosing their fears to the Duke when they 
 were at breakfast with Lord Sydney. 
 
 'Did you know that your brother had any business 
 to transact at Fitzosbourne house, my love,' inquired 
 the Duke, of Lady Honoria. 
 
 'No, indeed, papa,' said she; 'and what is still 
 more alarming, that Le Sage, his valet, tells me that 
 his master has not been in bed all night.' All the 
 father rose in the Duke's expressive countenance, nor 
 could he conceal his agitation from the observation of 
 his daughters, and the bell was instantly rang for Le 
 Sage, to see how he could account for the absence of 
 his master. Le Sage said that L(;rd Sydney having 
 received a note, at a late hour, from Mr. Trelawney, 
 immediately set off for Fitzosbourne House, without 
 stating when he should return. 
 
 'It is most extraordinary,' said the Duke; 'Wa.s 
 my son agitated when he read the contents of Mr. 
 Trelawney's note; did he appear as if some accident 
 had taken place in the Earl's family r' 
 
 ' Most certainly, your Grace,' answered Le Sage. 
 * It affected his Lordship extremely; for on reading 
 the note a second time, he turned pale, and nearly 
 shed tears ; he then hurried out of the house. 
 
 ' Order the carriage immediately, Le Sage, I will 
 go to Lord Fitzosbourne's ; surely my dear boy has 
 not been imprudent enough to quarrel with Trelaw- 
 ney, and yet I think ' 
 
 which Lady Houoria, whose cheeks reddening 
 
 '^o
 
 204 THE jrrsTERiors marriage, 
 
 like scai'let, answered, — ' Think,— oh papa, is it pos- 
 sible you can think ill of Trelawnev i"' 
 
 ' The carriage is waiting for your grace,' said Le 
 Sage. 
 
 ' I am coming directly,' said the Duke ; — * Girls, if 
 your brother returns in my absence, I beg you not to 
 say that I am gone in search of him.' But the Duke 
 had scarcely pronounced these words before the object 
 of their anxiety appeared before them, with Trelawncy. 
 
 * I have brought back a truant,' said Trelawnny, 
 saluting the Duke, * one who has not willingly stray- 
 ed from his habitation by choice, but to aid the neces- 
 sities of his friend, who was about to enter the lists of 
 a duellist. Here, my Lord Duke, is a curious epistle 
 from the Marquis of Montrevoirs, which I received so 
 late last night, as only to give me time to apprize my 
 friend, that I had a chance of having my brains 
 blown out by the hot-headed Marquis, at six in I he 
 moi'ning ; his Lordship was so kind as to obey my 
 summons, and when he arrived at Fitzosbourne 
 House, you see he was not permitted to depart ; we 
 had full occasion for his friendly services, in calming 
 the distressed Earl, who was alarming himself with 
 most unnecessary apprehensions on my account.' 
 
 * By my soul, Trelawney,' said the Duke, after hav- 
 ing perused the IMarquis's letter ; ' but I do not think 
 those fears were unnecessary ; and I heartily con- 
 gratulate you on e^caping from that bravado, whose 
 exploits are as much known, in this respect, as any 
 high mettled racer on the turf.' 
 
 But if saucy Eve had not longed to taste of the ap- 
 ple, woman had never been curious : — the ladies were 
 all anxious to learn the cause of this quarrel between 
 Trelawney and the Marquis, and whether a woman 
 was at the bottom of it. 
 
 Curiosity, however predominant, would not allow 
 d'-licHcy or good sense to be superseded in the bosoms 
 01 the three amiable sisters i — they cuuld uot ask thtir
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 205 
 
 brother such a question, or make inquiries of Trelaw- 
 ney. This secret, therefore, remained in duriiness. 
 Trelawney, at the pressing solicitation of the iJuke, 
 dined at Valencia Lodg-e, where his attractive soci- 
 ety, and the peculiar charms of his manners soon 
 restored the absent rose to the complexion of Lady 
 Houoria, and for a moment banished all unquiet from 
 the breast. While to Lady Catherine and Lady 
 Frances his conversation aifurded real and unfeigned 
 pleasure. 
 
 CHAPTER XXn. 
 
 SUDnr> DEPARTURE OF THE RRADBURYS AND ROSA 
 . FOR KENILWORTH, — IXDISPOSITIOX OF 
 MRS. CLARENDALE. 
 
 Trela-v\'xey could not resist the temptation of 
 calling the following day at an early hour at Doctor 
 Stanton's, where he found, to his great surprise, Mrs. 
 Philip Bradbury busily employed in packing and pre- 
 paring for their departure from London, while an air 
 Oi r^orrow prevaded her lovely countenance ; she was 
 alna^^ when he entered; and he anxiously inquired 
 the cause of her apparent uneasiness. 
 
 ' Ou, Trelawney,' said Rebecca, bursting into 
 tears, ' all other griefs I could have supported with 
 Cliristian furtitude,— but this, this bears heavy at my 
 heart,' and she put the following letter into the hamU 
 of Trelawney : — 
 
 'My dear children,' 
 
 ' Heaven knows how unwilling I should be 
 unnecessarily to alarm you on the present occasion, which 
 of all others would pierce your afiectiouate hearts ; for 
 well I know, precious is the life and health of your mo- 
 ther, — who, I grieve to tell you, is now oontiued to her bed, 
 by an inflammatory fever. It came on so suddenly, that; 
 I who am accustomed to behold the rapid stages of this
 
 206 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 disorder, have great reason to feel alarmed for its ap- 
 proacliing crisis, thougli my wortliy friend. Doctor Brad- 
 bury, who attends her night and day, says little, yet his 
 looks mean nmch ;— come, therefore, my children, hasten 
 to your afflicted and affectionate father. Remember, my 
 Rebecca and my Rosa, that while our friends are immor- 
 tal, their bodies are subject to death, and while we hold 
 them to our hearts, we are only embracing the property 
 of death, who Avill sooner Or later assert his claim, and 
 our resignation ought to be confirmed by reflecting on the 
 universal agency of Providence. Return as speedily as 
 you can to your afflicted father, 
 
 ' William Henry Clarendale.' 
 
 "With a trembling hand Trelawney returned the 
 pastor's letter to Rebecca, while he attempted to im- 
 part comfort to her agonized feelings, by assuring her 
 that it was possible, that her father's fears might be 
 greatly augmented, and that he earnestly hoped on 
 her arrival at Kenil worth, things would be in a more 
 favourable way than she imagined. 
 
 ' Oh, no, dear Trelawney,' said Rebecca, 'my father 
 ■would not write thus, — he would not reason thus, 
 "Was not my mother ill indeed. Poor Rosa, I wish you 
 could talk to her, — I wish you would comfort her, 
 Trelawney ; you know her sensibility, and it is now 
 severely tried.' 
 
 ' Where is your sister ?' said Trelawney, now trem- 
 bling so that he could scarcely support himself. 
 
 • She is with Mary Bradbury,' answered Rebecca, 
 • and perhaps will see you, though she will not suflfer 
 any one else to talk to her. Come, I will lead you to 
 her ; we have a great deal to do, as we leave town at 
 four in the moraing. — Philip has ordered the chaise to 
 be here at half past three.' 
 
 Trelawney followed Rebecca into the next apart- 
 ment, where Rosa with her hand reclining on the 
 shoulder of Mary Bradbury, was weeping bitterly : — 
 
 ' Oh, that I had never left my dear mamma! Oh, 
 Mury, was it not cruel for us to leave her ; one of us
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 207 
 
 shonH have remained to comfort her, and as my sis- 
 ter is married, that one should have been myself.' 
 
 ' Let not my dear friend thus accuse herself,' said 
 Trelawney, in a kind voice, which, for a moment, 
 called a flush of crimson into her pale cheeks ; ' had 
 you remained at Kenilworth this illness might still 
 have attended your dear mother; therefore, grieve 
 not thus, I beseech, you, sweetest Rosa, nor appre- 
 hend consequences which may never happen.' 
 
 'Oh, can I cease to weep for my mother,' said the 
 agitated Rosa ; ' know you how dear my mother is to 
 me, — oh, Trelawney, you do, you must know, there i8 
 not such another mother in the world.' 
 
 ' I am fully aware of the virtues of Mrs. Claren- 
 dale,' replied Trelawney, but though the voice of na- 
 ture will be heard, and our tears will flow, when our 
 dearest connections are broken, yet when sorrow is 
 long indulged, it becomes criminal, for by yielding to 
 those passions which it is our duty to restrain, and act 
 in opposition to the decrees of Providence. The duty 
 of re.-^ignation, therefore, is calculated to promote our 
 happiness.' 
 
 ' Am I to blame to regard my mother ?' said Rosa, 
 *and does Trelawney condemn me? — Ought these 
 emotions to be excluded from the heart, when they are 
 evidently the effect of nature.' 
 
 ' By no means, my sweet friend,' answered Trelaw- 
 ney, ' I cannot suppose, that the God of Nature would 
 plant affections in his creatures, which to stifie would 
 be a virtue ; but human life must have many avenues 
 to sorrow, while we are concerned for the welfare of 
 those objects who have engaged our affections; let us 
 not therefore, repine at the dispensations of Him who 
 is the best judge of all human affairs.' 
 
 ' Would you listen to Trelawney you would be 
 comforted,' said Mary Bradbury ; we must, nay we 
 ought to submit to an ever ruling Providence.' 
 
 'And am I not ready to listen to himir' said Rosa,
 
 208 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 raising her blushing: countenance towards the only 
 being who possessed the power of tranquillizing her 
 harrassed feelings. ' Heaven knows I am, now that 
 I am destined never to behold him more ; yet you 
 will sometimes think of me, won't you, Trelawney, 
 when you go abroad ; — yes, you will think of poor 
 motherless Rosa, and wish ' 
 
 ' That I could protect her from every ill, and shield 
 her from every sorrow,' uttered Trelawney, in so great 
 an agitation, that Mary in a whisper, advised him 
 to leave immediately, under present circumstances.' 
 
 ' I feel, Mary, the absolute necessity of taking your 
 advice,' answered Trelawney, ; ' if I stay a moment 
 longer in the presence of that dear girl, I am lost for 
 ever, and Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne ' 
 
 ' May whistle long enough before her lad comes to 
 her,' cried Mary, in her usual sportive way ; — 'well 
 I think so myself, so heaven be with you, Trelawney, 
 till we meet under kinder stars.' 
 
 * God bless you, Mary Bradbury,' uttered Trelaw- 
 ney, in a stifled and almost inarticulate voice. 
 
 ' Not one adieu for E-osa,' said the agitated girl, 
 and in the assured conviction that she should never 
 bchcild him more, she sobbed almost convulsively. 
 
 ' Oh, Mary, if you are my better angel, prove it but 
 now,' said Trelawney, and clasping for one instant 
 the almost fainting form of Rosa to his agonized and 
 tortured breast, he invoked on her beauteous head a 
 thousand blessings, and rushed out of the room, en- 
 countering only Philip and Rebecca in the adjoining 
 apartment, to whom he bade an affectionate farewell, 
 and he repaired like a captive to Fitzosbourne House, 
 verifying the words, in the beautiful allusion made 
 by Dr. Wordsworth to Captive Love, — 
 
 ' The captive who in exile wears 
 
 ' The lonely hours away, 
 'Makes hope the soother of his fears, 
 
 * Compauiou of his way.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 209 
 
 'For while he drags the lengthening chain, 
 
 ' Or tugs the labouring oar, 
 ' Still hope will bid him not complain, 
 
 'Nor distant joys deplore. 
 
 ♦ But captive love is doom'd to feel 
 
 ' An exile more severe ; 
 
 * No hope can soothe, nor time can heal, 
 
 ' The bosom of despair. 
 
 *By chance the captive may return 
 
 'To happiness again ; 
 ■•But captive love is doom'd to mourn, 
 
 'And still must hug the chain.' 
 
 Rosa was now lost to him for ever ; — when he 
 again beheld her she would be another's ; or he him- 
 self would be the husband of Lady Alexina Fitzos- 
 boume, from the reflection of which he shuddered. 
 And well he might, had he but kno%vn, that this 
 young and thoughtless victim of dissipation was, at 
 that moment, squandering away hundreds of pounds, 
 in the gay vortex of Lady Renegarde's private rooms, 
 set apart for wretches who met there for the purpose 
 of filling their empty coffers at the expense of inex- 
 perienced female gamesters. 
 
 Trelawney, under the impression of a thousand 
 corroding thoughts, found it impossible to close his 
 eyes, and he was saluted with a sound which had 
 often met his ear in disgust. The carriage of Lord 
 Fitzosbourne rattled along at half-past three in the 
 morning, and though a gentle knock only, was given 
 by the foot-man. it reached the ears of Trelawney. 
 Her Ladyship was only just returned from one of her 
 midnight revels. 
 
 ' Shameless, thoughtless and imprudent Alexina,' 
 said Trelawney, with a desponding sigh, 'will noth- 
 ing avail to cure such folly, will nothing shame thee 
 from these midnight riots ;' and thinking on the words 
 of Hamlet, he wished, that his 'father's spirit was 
 but to earth returned,' to witness his sad late, and
 
 210 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 remove the inhuman sacrifice by his marriage with 
 fiUfh a woman. 
 
 Trelawney arose at an early hour, and ti'ied to 
 chnse away despondency, by charging the nobler 
 faculties of his mind, to assert their empire over the 
 wayward passions. He then went to the Duke of 
 Valencia's, where he had appointed to breakfast, at 
 the request of his friend Lord Sydney Belmont, for the 
 purpose of making arrangements for their tour, now 
 so long delayed, that Lord Sydney could ill brook the 
 excuses which Trelawney had lately made to evade it. 
 But Rosa was now removed from his sight, and he 
 cared not how soon the journey was made on the con- 
 tinent, all other earthly objects being indifferent ; nor 
 was he insensible to the growing partiality of Lady 
 Honoria Belmont, — and he longed impatiently for the 
 hour which would bear him from the shores of Albion. 
 
 ' You are just in time, Mr. Trelawney,' said Lady 
 Catherine, as he entered the room, *to be favoured 
 with a dry discussion on solitude, from Chandois 
 Queensbury ; for do you know, the strange incompre- 
 hensible creature has done nothing but perpetually 
 haunt me of late.' 
 
 'Because he wishes Lady Catherine to become a 
 convert to his opinions,' said Trelawney. 
 
 'And because,' archly observed Lady Frances, 
 ' there is another because, more natural, Trelawney, 
 though Catherine would positively deny the assei-tion, 
 — the young philosopher is caught again.' 
 
 ' In the trammels of relentless Cupid,— I thought 
 as much,' said Trelawney. 
 
 ' If you run on in this manner I shall leave you, 
 good folks, to yourselves,' said Lady Catherine, 
 blushing deeply, 
 
 'Behold those blushing cheeks, Trelawney,' said 
 Lady Frances, ' and tell me if you do not perceive the 
 must convincing proofs of what I have asserted.' 
 
 Bt-fore they hud quite breakfasted Chandois made
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 211 
 
 hi? appearance, with a manuscript, which he said, 
 when he vi.siled the banks uf the Rhine, he hud got 
 fi'Dia his sister Auielrosa, — who instead of ft life of 
 seclusion, in a dull cloister, as she intended, was now 
 the mother of five beautiful children, and the happy 
 bride of the Duke de Molina ; that their chateau was 
 a paradise of sweets, — and when his sister Amdrosa 
 now talked of the charms of solitude, it was to prove 
 that those charms were nothinji- without intercouise 
 with some dear friend and companion. 
 
 ' But, pray how did your sister so suddenly become 
 a coiivfrt, so opposite to those principles which bhe 
 had embraced 'f' inquired Lady Catherine. 
 
 ' By falling in love, your Ladyship,' said Chandois 
 Queensbury, ' with the man who equally adored her ; 
 and instead of going into a nunnery, she more wisely 
 preferred his arms to those cloistered saints, who, to 
 avoid temptation, fly from the practice of virttie, and 
 think themselves secure from every danger within the 
 wails of a convent. 
 
 ' I long to hear her history,' said Lady Catherine, 
 * so begin if you please, Mr. Queensbury. 
 
 ' The temper and genius of Amelrosa,' said Chan- 
 dois, ' were naturally warm and susceptible ; religion 
 had habitually inspired her with fervent devotion, , 
 and she had no happiness that did not flow from re- ' 
 ligious exercises. Her knowledge of books was lit- 
 tle, of human nature less ; she had conceived con- 
 tempt for the world to which she was a stranger, and 
 concluded, that to enter into the engagements of so- 
 ci(.:ty would be a voluntary sacrifice to vice and folly ; 
 still Amelrosa was possessed of natural good sense, 
 beauty, and a sweet disposition equalled by few wo- 
 men of her time ; these qualities engaged the affec- 
 tions of the Duke de Molina, before she was seven- 
 teen years of age. He concluded that every attempt 
 to introduce Amelrosa to the world, or to establi-h 
 social life in her good opinion, would bo vain ; that it
 
 212 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 would be fruitless to ar^ue with her on the pleasure 
 she had never known, and the miseries she had never 
 experienced ; he did not expatiate on the advantages 
 of society, or the inconvenience of solitude, for my 
 sister was in great measure a stranger to both. At 
 length, my father died, bequeathing his large estates 
 to the sole disposal of Amelrosa and myself, and she 
 now determined to retire from the world in perfect 
 Solitude; she was now possessed of an estate where 
 she determined to live sequestered, with only an aged 
 Confessor, and a few necessary domestics. 
 
 ' It might have been expected, that the Duke de 
 INIolina would have tried to dissuade her from her 
 purpose ; but he did not ; on the contrary he applaud- 
 ed the piety of her purpose, and expatiated on the 
 happiness of solitary sanctity; he assumed not the 
 least of the lover's character, but that of the friend. 
 By this means he gained one point — he had Amel- 
 rosa' s permission to visit her, three months after her 
 retirement from the world, a favour which was allow- 
 ed to none beside. 
 
 ' Amelrosa retired, she approached her solitude 
 with raptures, for there she imagined that happiness 
 would be without alloy. 'With enthusiastic plea- 
 sure, she walked through the several apartments of 
 her house, consecrating each with a petitioning ejac- 
 ulation. ' For the first week she found employment 
 in the economy of her family, and the distribution of 
 their several offices to her domestics ; the second, she 
 devoted wholly to religious exercises and the raptures 
 of her devotion. 
 
 ' But whatever is rapturous cannot last long ; those 
 exercises that lift the mind above its usual pitch, if 
 too frequently or too long indulged, will at length 
 totally destroy it, or leave it in a state of inanity ; na- 
 ture, therefore, has kindly guarded us against those 
 inconveniences by shortening the influence of joy 
 which might otherwise intoxicate us.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 213 
 
 * That little society was a necessary relief from the 
 assiduities of reli°:ious exercises, and was favourable 
 to the interests of religion. It is certain, however, 
 that my sister formed a different opinion upon her 
 first seclusion from the world, for she felt the incon- 
 veniences of her mistake, even if she w<is unwilling 
 to perceive the mistake. * Her mind sunk under the 
 weight of its own sentiments, and every day came 
 less welcome and more feared than the former.* 
 Should she return to that world she de-^pire i r — 
 No ; a sense of pride rose in ( pposition to that thou^^-ht, 
 and strangled it in its birth ; in this dejected state of 
 mind, she recollected the appointment of the Dukf^"3 
 visit, and remembered, with a blush, the difficultips 
 she had started against it ; the time appointed for his 
 visit was at hand; but the Duke did not appear; — 
 master of every key to the human heart, he knew, 
 that his delaying would give it the appearance of un- 
 certainty, and that uncertainty would create an anxi- 
 ety. 
 
 ' Day after day passed in the same solitary manner, 
 and Amelrosa concluded that her former objections 
 had determined the Duke to see her no more. This 
 reflection made her miserable, and she now ardently 
 wished for the presence of the Duke to prove her 
 fears vain. ' At length he came,— a tear fell fmm 
 the eye of Amelrosa, when she received him. — Tlio 
 Duke" observed it. and knew that he had now nothing 
 more to do than to reconcile her to herself again, and 
 to enable her to acknowledge her mistake without 
 shame or confusion. "I hope, Amelrosa.' said he, 
 ' that a life of solitude has been more comfortable to 
 yuu than it has been to me.' 
 
 'What,' said the astonished and enraptured Amel- 
 rosa. ' have yuu too, like myself,Jbeen a solitaire r"' 
 
 ' The Duke acknowledged that he had. 
 
 * Cannot, you guess at the sequel of their coaversa- 
 
 * An autUeutic Story.
 
 214 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 tion, Lady Catherine Belmont,' said Queensbury. 
 ' Amelrosa was, from this period, cured of her pro- 
 pensity for a life of solitude, and at the expiration of 
 three weeks .she became the bride of Molina.' 
 
 * Well, but it was provoking- that the Duke did not 
 suffer your sister to wear the cap of triumjih,' said 
 Lady Catherine, ' I would not have acknowledged that 
 I was weary of the life I had adopted.' 
 
 ' If you had loved like Amelrosa you would have 
 done the same as she did, there is no doubt",' observed 
 Lady Honoria, with a pensive sigh ; it reached the 
 ear and penetrated the heart of Trelawney, and still 
 more demanded his immediate absence from an object 
 to whose happiness his presence must only be des- 
 tructive. 
 
 Chandois Queensbury was now thanked for his in- 
 teresting narrative. 
 
 What impression the story of Amelrosa had made 
 on lovely Catherine could not be determined, except 
 when her downcast eyes were raised, and met those 
 of the young philosopher, in which there was an ex- 
 pression easily attributed to a devoted passion for 
 Lady Catherine Belmont, which was seen by the 
 Duke himself, with whom Chandois Queensbury was 
 a great favourite, and he would have been gratified 
 to have received him as a son-in-law. Chandois 
 Queensbury inherited a very extensive property in 
 Germany, and was endowed with every requisite to 
 form a noble honest man, and an accomplished gen- 
 tleman. His eccentricities were more pleasing than 
 otherwise to the Duke ; and though he had never de- 
 clared himself the lover of Lady Catherine, yet the 
 Duke surmised, that the period was not far distant 
 when he would, and he had a presentiment, that if 
 he did so, Lady Catherine would not let him wear the 
 willow for her sake. 
 
 Trelawney and Lord Sydney were closetted for some 
 time, to make arrangements for their intended tour,
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 215 
 
 which was to take place at the expiration of a fort- 
 night. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 LADY ALEXIXA A GAMBLER. — VISIT OF HENRY 
 CLARENDALE AT FITZO.SROURNE HOUSE. 
 
 As it was a late hour when Trelawney quitted Val- 
 encia Lodge, he would have retired to his chamhcr 
 had not the voice of Lord Fitzosbourne arrested his 
 attention, and he heard him call in the most anx- 
 ious manner. He therefore, instantly entered the 
 saloon, where his Lordship was pacing the rnum in an 
 agitation not to be described ; at a little distance sat the 
 now crest-fallen Lady Glenthorpe, holding a bottle of 
 salts to the fainting Lady Alcxina, who on perceiving 
 the entrance of Trelawney, started from her chair, 
 and running up to him with a wild hysteric shriek, 
 said, 
 
 Mr. Trelawney, papa is going to turn me out of 
 doors, and says I am no longer worthy to be hi.s 
 child ; but I told him that you would marry me di- 
 rectly, to save him the trouble; and won't you, Tre- 
 lawney r" — now won't you, dear Trelawney ? — marry 
 me, that's a good soul, it will save so much trouble. 
 
 She burst into a fresh torrent of tears, and Trelaw- 
 ney ever kind in his nature, could not .see a woman iu 
 tears with cold inditfcrence ; with a gentle voice, 
 therefore, he gently led the weeping Aloxina to a seat, 
 entreating her to compose herself, assuring her that 
 she should ever have that protection from him which 
 a sense of propriety, consistent wiih her situation ami 
 his own, might authorize him to give. Ho then 
 turned, with a re.spectful air of inquiry towards the 
 Earl, who was not insensible to the attention lie had 
 been ohowing to his iutally indulged child, which was
 
 216 THE JffYSTEBIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 the best restorative for consoling the Earl's agitated 
 spirits and recalling him to good humour, which had 
 been greatly agonized on the discovery of his daugh- 
 ter being plunged into debt, at the gaming-table, and 
 which she was now unable to pay to her associates 
 who had won them of her, and who were clamorous 
 for the sums she was in arrears. Lady Glenthorpe 
 was also implicated in these debts of honour, (so call- 
 ed,) of which that detestable harpy, Lady Renegarde 
 now demanded payment, in a note which lay open on 
 the table of Lady Alexina's dressing-room, and which 
 her Ladyship had forgot to put out of sight. 
 
 The Earl had that morning to settle some accounts 
 brought in by his steward, previous to which he found 
 it necessary to refer to those delivered by Lady Glen- 
 thorpe, and with this intention his Lordship, without 
 ceremony, went to the door of her Ladyship's dress- 
 ing-room, and not finding his sister there, stepped in- 
 to that of his daughter s. — There too, the bird was 
 flown; but O! the outraged feelings of the fond af- 
 fectionate father, when reading the open note of Lady 
 Renegarde, addressed to Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne :— 
 
 'Lady Eenegarde's compliments to Lady Alexina Fitz- 
 osbourne, and is .sorry she should put her to the pain of 
 again pressing for payment of some of the large sums of 
 money which Lady Alexina is indebted to Lady Renegarde. 
 
 'Surely Latly Alexina cannot be so ignorant, trained up 
 as she is under the auspices of Lady Glenthorpe, that 
 debts of honour must be paid whether it is convenient or 
 not ; and that Lady Renegarde can no longer be trifled 
 with. She begs, therefore, an immediate remittance, or 
 must necessarily acquaint the Earl of Fitzosbourne with 
 proceedings so unfashionable and inconsistent with the 
 rules -which good breeding so naturally prescribes.' 
 
 Having read the note. Lord Fitzosbourne felt hor- 
 ror-struck at the reflection, that his sistt r's hand had 
 conducted his infatuated child to the paths of destruc- 
 tion; so deep was the poignancy of his sufferings, 
 that had not tears come to his relief, his rage on be-
 
 TiiK jn'STT:Riors marriaob. 217 
 
 hoMinp' her would have been ungovernable ; and it 
 was now that the presence of Trelawney, on whom he 
 passionately called, would have been an iinni-jdiare 
 consolation. In a state of mind which be^^'-an-d all 
 description, he entered the saloon, with the open note 
 in his hand, just when the carriage drove to the door 
 with the two culprits. 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe was the first to encounter the en- 
 raged presence of her almost infuriated brother, wlio 
 grasped the arm of her Ladyship, and demanded wliat 
 she had done with his ruined child ? — ' Answer nie in- 
 stantly, thou viper of vice and folly,' uttered the Earl, 
 gasping for breath, • where is your victim ? — Summon 
 her hither, that she may hear the last and peremptory 
 commands of her injured father. Where is the lost, 
 shameless and infatuated girl? led by thee, thou 
 sorceress, step by step, into the abyss of guilt and 
 destruction, — let me see her.' 
 
 Lady Alexina now made her appearance, pale and 
 motionless as a spectre ; — never had she seen her fa- 
 ther in such a passion, and she sank into a chair, un- 
 able to rise when he commanded her ; every limb shoi >k 
 with terror, and when she beheld the fatal note in the 
 Earl's hand, she screamed, and threw herself on the 
 bosom of her aunt ; while the Earl, unmoved by her 
 situation, in vain demanded an explanation of Lady 
 Eenegarde's note. 
 
 But this explanation he could not obtain till the 
 arrival of Trelawney. Meanwhile the Earl was b.>s- 
 towiug invectives on Lady Glenthorpe, which, con- 
 scious she had merited, she dared not reply to, and lie 
 solemnly protested, that neither .she nor his daughter 
 should inhabit Fitzosbousne House a day longi-r. 
 
 •Trelawney marry you,' exclaimed the Earl, "thou 
 shameless girl ; — think you that Tanjore Trolawn«y 3 
 bound to marry your vices too? Will that noble 
 young man unite himself with a woman lost to all 
 sense of decency, — loot to her&elf, — her family— a fo-
 
 218 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 male gamester? No, Trelawney will utterly renounce 
 you, as I will, till you are cured of follies ; — yes, Al- 
 exina, I will utterly renounce you.' 
 
 ' You are a barbarian!' cried Lady Glenthorpe. 
 
 * You are a barbarous papa!' sobbed Lady Alexina: 
 and at this juncture Trelawney came tO witness this 
 most shocking family quarrel, when he was saluted 
 by Lady Alexina, as before mentioned. 
 
 ' Tanjore Trelawney,' said the Earl, holding out 
 Lady lienegarde's note which he presented to Tre- 
 lawney, • when you have read this detestable scroll, 
 3'ou will no longer wonder at the outraged feelings of 
 a father. Look at that deluded girl, — the child of that 
 departed angel whose image lies buried in my heart, 
 and who, were she living, would sink with shame and 
 grief to view her daughter as a female gamester, for 
 such I blush to say she is , there behold my sister, 
 her preceptress, and the author of her ruin and my 
 wretchedness.' 
 
 The Earl overpowered by his emotions, sat down, 
 and covered his face with his handkerchief; while 
 Trelawney beheld the guilt of Lady Alexina, in con- 
 junction with her more guilty relative ; and shocked 
 at the imprudent conduct of Lady Alexina, he ftlt 
 himself for a moment at a loss in what way he could 
 offer consolation and advice to the afflicted Eaii on so 
 distressing a subject. 
 
 However he tried to appease the displeasixre of the 
 incensed Earl, and to subdue his anger so strongly 
 expressed towards his offending chilil, pleading h-.-r 
 extreme youth and inexperience of the world, which 
 had led her into errors, to which might be added, the 
 force of example ; and Trelawney looked at Lady 
 Glenthorpe, but it was not with an air of triumph ; — 
 he possessed too much of the sweet milk of human 
 kindness, even for an enemy, — and the generous 
 Trelawney had a drop of pity even for Lady Glen- 
 thorpe. There appeared but one remedy in the mind
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS marhiage. 219 
 
 of Trolawney to wipe fi'om the recollection of the E.trl 
 his daughter's indiscretion, and that was precisely 
 such as remained amply in his power to olfect,— to 
 pay, himself, every debt which Lady Alexina had so 
 imprudently contracted with her infanu^us associates 
 at Lady Rencgarde's, on condition that she should give 
 up such discreditable connexions, and reform her con- 
 duct altogether. Trelawney, therefore, instantly 
 made the generous proposal to the astonished Lord 
 Fitzusbourne, and the transported Lady Ale.xina. 
 
 * Oh you angelic creature,' said Lady Alexina, ' I 
 never liked you before, but now I shall love you dear- 
 ly. Papa, you may turn me out of doors if you please, 
 for Trelawney will pay my debts, and I shan't be ob- 
 liged to any body, but to my intended husband.' 
 
 At that word Trelawney felt a pang he could not 
 get the better of; but feeling compassion for the 
 thoughtless child of dissipation, more than he had 
 ever done, he tried to stifle a sensation which at the 
 present moment could only prove unavailing. 
 
 'Surely, Tanjore Trelawney, you were bom to be 
 a blessing to all who know you,' said the enraptured 
 Earl ; and longing to be reconciled to his fiiulty child, 
 he desired her to come to him. 
 
 'Indeed but I wont thougli,' said the pouting 
 beauty, without betraying one spark of sensibility at 
 the situation she had reduced her father to. or the 
 slightest contrition for wounding his feelings, ' I 
 "Wont come ; you have been so cross to me, unl ss 
 Trelawney bids me. and then I may, just to plea.se 
 him.' On perceiving that she h;ul resumed her em- 
 pire over the heart of her indulgent parent, she stood 
 at a tantalizing di.stance, insensible to the tears which 
 flowed copiously over his grief-worn ch(>ek ; and Tre- 
 lawney himself was greatly moved, and gently draw- 
 ing his arm through Lady Alcxina's, he led hi-r to tlie 
 Earl's chair, and those lovely arms which bad st> oft. a 
 been entwined round his ut.ik, were ^pleu.d opiu to
 
 220 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 rrreive his paternal embrace, and the doating father 
 almost devoured her with kisses. 
 
 ' Alexina,' said the Earl, when he had a little re- 
 covered himself, ' y(m have to thank Tanjore Trelaw- 
 ney for this ; you have been a naughty girl, but 
 Trelawney pleads for you, and you are forgiven.' 
 
 'Well, I know that,' said Lady Alexina; 'you 
 need not be at so much pains to tell me who it was 
 that took my part.' 
 
 ' There yet remains another to whom I hope your 
 Lordship will be reconciled,' said Trelawney, bestow- 
 ing a look of compassion on Lady Glenthorpe ; ' you 
 must not, my Loi'd, cherish resentment against your 
 sister, who, I dare be sworn, is heartily sorry to have 
 incurred your displeasure.' 
 
 ' My affection for my sister can only be guided by 
 her conduct in future, by preserving the morals of 
 my child,' uttered the Earl, with great emotion, at 
 the same time that he held out his hand to Lady 
 Glenthorpe, ' Louisa, this once I forgive you.' 
 
 Trelawney now demanded of Lady Alexina the pre- 
 cise sums which she was indebted to Lady Renegarde. 
 * Wont to-morrow do Y said Lady Alexina, ' I am so 
 tired to-night.' 
 
 ' No, my fair cousin,' answered Trelawney, ' there 
 is no time like the present for discharging from our 
 Recollection all obligations that are burdensome to our 
 memory; to-morrow may never come.' 
 
 With embarrassment not inseparable from shame, 
 Lady Alexina acknowledged, that the sums alluded to 
 by Lady Renegarde did not exceed three hundred 
 pounds ; and notwithstanding the largeness of the 
 sum, (which caused the Earl to shudder,) Trelawney 
 inquired, if her Ladyshiy was certain that was the 
 whole of her debts. 
 
 'Indeed it is no more,' said Lady Alexina, 'and I 
 think it is a great deal to lose in thres night's sitting, 
 don't yuu, Trelawney?'
 
 THE MYSTE-RIOUS MARRIAGE. 221 
 
 * I will speak more fully on this subjoct at some 
 future opportunity,' answered Trelawniy, who actu- 
 ally could not resist smilinf;: at her childish simplicity. 
 'The pomt is, my fair cousin, whether this is all you 
 owe on the score of g-ambling; — perhaps Lady Glen- 
 thurpe, you may probably recollect something? more.' 
 
 ' Indeed, Mr. Trelawney, I was not present when 
 my niece expended this sum.' 
 
 ' Oh aunt, how can you tell such a monstrous fib,' 
 said Lady Alexina, ' when you sat close to my elbow 
 all the time ; and don't you know what the old 
 gentleman said, in the green stockings, that was peep- 
 ing at me through his eye-glass, did he not say, I 
 should soon lose my feathers, and called me the pretty 
 pigeon ; and Lady Renegarde laughed heartily ; — 
 
 'Detestable woman!' uttered Trelawney, cease to 
 mention her, I implore you, she is a disgrace to her 
 own sex, and the scandal of ours. 
 
 ' I am satisfied,' said Trelawney, and eagerly wish- 
 ing to put an end to this disagreeable atiair, he im- 
 mediately drew a check upon his banker for the sum 
 required, and placing it in the hands of the Earl, 
 begged that it might be conveyed to her Ladyship 
 the ensuing morning. ' From your Lordship's hands,' 
 said Trelawney, 'you understand me. "Your Lord- 
 ship must be aware of the pi-opriety of such a precau- 
 tion.' • 
 
 ' I do understand you, most generous and noble of 
 human beings,' said-the Earl, in an ecstasy, ' Alexina. 
 thank your benefactor, your ' 
 
 From some painful emotion the Earl here paused, 
 and deeply sighed, which Trelawney knew how to 
 interpret, and a sigh escaped his own bosom, of a 
 more melancholy nature, for it was sacred to one be- 
 ing alone, dearest, best, one never to be forgotten ob- 
 ject ; not Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne, who breathing' 
 in luxuriant beauty by his side, might have made any 
 heart but his tremble with inconstancy, but nut such
 
 222 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 a man as Trelawney; — no beauty could make Tre- 
 lawney a chanp:eling to love's saored «hrme, which he 
 could not abandon but with life itself. 
 
 It was in vain that the blue eyes of Lady Alexina 
 were turned upon him with a lanf^uihhin^- expression, 
 or that her rosy lips pronounced his naMo with a ten- 
 di'rness they had not d(jne before ; and it was equally 
 vain that the Earl fondly flattered himself that a sen- 
 timent of a warmer nature than usual had sprung- up 
 in the breast of Trelawney for his aflfianced wife, con- 
 firmed by his generous conduct to Lady Alexina, that 
 his Lordship retired to his chamber a transported 
 and a happy man. 
 
 What then was Trelawney ? — AVas he happy in the 
 conviction that Lady A lexina Fitzosbourne would be 
 his wife ? — No ; but he was resigned, — resigned to 
 the will of Providence, and conscious that he had not 
 militated against it ; the reflection was consolatory to 
 his feelings, nor were his slumbers embittered that he 
 had added by unkindness and cold neglect to thorns 
 already planted by sorrow in the hearts of his fellow 
 creatures. 
 
 After a comfortable night's repose, Trelawnej' arose 
 in cheerful spirits, and ever mindful of the Claren- 
 dalo family, wrote the following letter to the pastor, 
 requesting to be favoured with an answer : — 
 
 'My dear honoured Mr. Clarendale, 
 
 Can you for a moment suppose that 
 I can be hisensible to the heavy atflictiou which is now in 
 your family, or that I am not most anxious to be inform- 
 ed of the present state of health of your dear and amiable 
 wi;ev No, my worthy friend, I trust you know the heart 
 ot Tanjore Trehiwney too well to doubt its sincerity, a 
 heart which must ever beat warm and true to your in- 
 terest while it beats at all. 
 
 ' I, therefore, implore you not to be tardy in your re- 
 ply to this anxious solicitation, as the time is approat-h- 
 Uvj: when I shall be far distant from this country, not 
 findiny it practicable auylouiierto delay my accompanying
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 223 
 
 I/)rd Sydney Belmont on his tour to the continental 
 parts of Europe. 
 
 ' You will naturally ask, whether absenting myself for 
 a period of two years, from much valued friends, be a 
 matter of necessity or pleasure ' on which subject I be- 
 seech you to spare me a confession. 
 
 ' With respect to our dear Henry, you are no doubt 
 satisfied that his fortunes rest witli me, and your most 
 flattering hopes will in a short time be accomplished, 
 with his being qualified to fill that dignified station in life 
 for which you have ever been so solicitous. I must see 
 Henry before I leave England, and mu^t either take a 
 journey down to Cambridge, or summon my young friend 
 to town ; when we shall make funher arrangements, I 
 hope, to your entire satisfaction. 
 
 ' Shall I not confess to you, that I have , frequently 
 panted tobehold the sweet, calm and domestic retirement 
 of your happy village,— and wherefore should I not con- 
 fess it to you? since you have often heard me declare that 
 neither my disposition or habits ever formed me to move 
 in 'he hemisphere of fashionable life, and I am of further 
 opinion, that liappiness is more than ever a strangai" to 
 its abodes. 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Clarendale, you ever knew me for a strange 
 eccentric sort of a fellow, ani 1 youhave been pleased to beat 
 "With ray oddities, and indulge me in my whimsicalities, 
 — I cry your mercy then on the present occasion, — accept 
 the enclosed draft on my banker, and ask me not why or 
 wherefore : Mi-s. Clarendale is ill, though I hope now 
 better, but all indisposition is attended with considerable 
 expense : and your daughter, the amiable Eebecca, ia, 
 married, — these uniting circumstances, may it be pre- 
 sumed, serve rather to lighten your purse than strength- 
 en it. 'Now what should I, a bachelor, want with so 
 much money as I am posessed of, without I obtain the 
 secret satisfaction 1 always enjoy in sharing it with my 
 fi'iends. 
 
 ' Shall I say more to induce you to accept of my part- 
 ing gift of friendship ? — Yes, one word more, remember 
 my father, you would not have refused any request of his, 
 IfcL then your charity extend to his son, while with unaf- 
 fected stncoriiy he svibsi ribes himself, 
 * Yoius truly, 
 
 ' Tcuijorc Edicard Trelawney.'
 
 '224 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 The draft which he enclosed was for the sum of 
 five hundred pouuds, payable on demand ; and as the 
 generous donor sealed his letter, his heart bounded 
 with rapture. Ah! why did it bound with rapture? 
 is thpre ought so blissful, as when we bestow bene- 
 fits on the object whom we love r* Trelawney felt the 
 full enjoyment of this consoling' thought, that though 
 absent, Rosa would not be destitute of those comforts 
 v;hich his gift to her father had prepared for her. 
 
 The Earl of Fitzosbourne wrote to Lady Renegarde, 
 enclosing the sum of three hundred pounds : — 
 
 ' Tae Earl of Fitzosbourne has enclosed the sum of 
 three hundred pounds, alleged to be a debt of gambling, 
 incurred by Lady Alexlna Fitzosbourne to Lady Rene- 
 garde, with this expressive hint to her Ladyship, — that 
 no future notes may be addressed to Lady Alexina of the 
 same description. Lady Renegarde, to use her own ex- 
 pression, ' cannot be ignorant' that Lady Alexina has a 
 father, who will not suffer her to be insulted wiih impu- 
 nity. ' Lady R. is requested to send a receipt in full of all 
 demands, to the Earl of Fitzosbourne for the enclosed 
 simi.' 
 
 The Earl's gentleman soon returned with the re- 
 ceipt, and a letter full of the most disgusting profes- 
 siiius of friendship for Lady Alexina, pleading extreme 
 poverty as the only reason why she had been so press- 
 ing in her application. 
 
 The period was now fast approaching for "the de- 
 parture of Lord Sydney on his intended tour, and his 
 amiable sisters felt, for the first time, a separation 
 from their brother almost insupportable ; — Lady Ho- 
 noria, in particular, drooped under the idea of part- 
 ing with her beloved Sydney, for a tedious length of 
 years: — 'It is an age to those who truly love,' said 
 she with a pensive sigh, to Lady Frances, who the 
 -liveliest of the three, could not hide her regret at the 
 departure of her brother ; ' Valencia Lodge will be 
 a desert without Sj'dney,' said Lady Honoria. 
 
 ' Thanks, my dear sister, for so flattering a compli-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 22o 
 
 mcnt,' said Lady Frances, with a smile, 'Catherine 
 and I must confess ourselves obliged to you.' 
 
 ' Oh believe me, I have never been insensible to the 
 charms of your society,' answered Ladj' Honoria, 
 ' without which, what would become of Honoria .-' — 
 but actually, Fanny, I am ill prepared to part with 
 Sydney, who is at all times so necessary to our little 
 dmnestic circle round our fireside;' and another pen- 
 sive sig-h heaved in the fair bosom of Lady Honoria. 
 
 ' And I feel almost equally sorry to bid adieu to our 
 kind friend Trelawney,' said Lady Frances, ' how we 
 shall miss him at our concerts, Honoria, and in our 
 little shrubbery of roses, where we have passed so 
 many pleasant hours.' Though this was innocently 
 uttered by Lady Frances, the effect it produced on 
 her sister, was such as to awaken in her the most 
 lively sympathy for Lady Honoria, who, bursting in- 
 to tears, sobbed convulsively, and was near fainting. 
 
 'You must not be surprised to find Honoria in 
 tears,' said Lady Frances, ' she has been reading the 
 play of Evadne, and imagined that the sorrows of 
 Evadne were her own.' 
 
 But the suffering Honoria was not easily to be ef- 
 faced from his recollection, nor the tears of a lovely 
 and virtuous female, shed exclusively for his sake, to 
 be considered lightly ; and more than ever did he 
 repent, that his visits to Valencia Lodge had not been 
 less frequent,' or that his respectful attentions, which 
 were no more than those of a brother, had not been 
 received in a colder manner. 
 
 He could honourably acquit himself of having in 
 the slightest degree, awakened a passion of more than 
 respectful confidence and esteem in the breast of Lady 
 Honoria, — never had he in thought, word or deed 
 been guilty of so base an action. 
 
 When summoned to the drawing-room, he was 
 glad to perceive that Lady Honoria had greatly re- 
 covered her spirits : to which he endeavoured to con- 
 

 
 228 THE MYSTERrOT58 MARRIAGE. 
 
 tribute as much as possible, and the evening glided 
 on in) perceptibly, with social harmony. 
 
 The addition* of the society of Chandois Queens- 
 bury proved a salutary relief, and the lively sallies 
 which passed between him and Lady Catherine were 
 highly diverting to the old Duke, for it was a com- 
 plete struggle for victory on both sides. Chandois 
 was a philosopher, and would not own himself to be 
 in love, though he felt the sly attacks of the winged 
 boy in all their force ; and Lady Catherine was not 
 conscious, that while she was trying to keep little 
 cupid at arm's length, that he had already stole in- 
 sidiously into her bosom. 
 
 When Mungo opened the door to his mastei', at 
 Fitzosbourne House, there was an unusual expression 
 of gladness in his dusky countenance, and he seemed 
 burdened with something he was very anxious to get 
 rid of; at length he suddenly exclaimed,— 'Mungo 
 no so happy great, great long while. — Mungo no rest 
 till him tell massa who wait for see him in drawing- 
 room, with old missey and young missey, — young 
 Massa Clarendale him come see massa.' 
 
 ' Henry Clarendale come to town!' said Trelawney, 
 • was ever accident so lucky ;— just as 1 had premedi- 
 tated to invite him hither.' And away posted Tre- 
 lawney into the saloon, where his young friend re- 
 spectfully rose to salute him. 
 
 'You are doubtless surprised, my dear Sir,* said 
 Henry, 'to behold me here, but I must plead the in- 
 disposition of my dear mother, to whose bedside I was 
 summoned by ray father, as an excuse for not appri- 
 sing you of my arrival here. I am only just return- 
 ed from my father's, and I could not resist the plea- 
 sure which this journey afforded me, of paying my 
 respectful duty at Fitzosbourne House.' 
 
 ' Was ever tale so modestly rehearsed,' said Lady 
 Glenthorpe, with great affectation, as she handed a 
 dit»h of cotlee to the handsome young student.
 
 tHE MYSTERIOUS MARHIAOE. 227 
 
 Tou arp amazmgly improved, Mr. Henry Clarcn- 
 dale,' said the Earl; 'and it is with no small satis- 
 faction that I add. I shall shortly have it in my 
 power essentially to serve you.— There is a vacancy 
 in the city of Coventry, by the death of the Rev. 
 Mr. Ethcridg:e; I am empowered to bestow the liv- 
 ing, and I mean to bestow it where the gift will not 
 be disgraced — Henry Clarendale must supply the 
 place of Mr. Etheridge.' 
 
 ' Henry Clarendale be presented with the living of 
 the church of Coventry !' uttered Trelawuey ; start- 
 ing from his seat, and running up to the Earl, he 
 seized his hand, and bur.--t into a flood of tears. 
 
 * My Lord,' said Trelawuey, recovering himself, 
 and brushing away his tears, * you have indeed over- 
 powered me with gratitude. I cannot speak my 
 thanks — oh Henry! bless your benefactor.' But 
 Henry sat motionless with surprise, and could not 
 utter a word. 
 
 ' This is one of the best scenes I ever saw, for an 
 artist, in all my days,' said Lady Glenthorpe. 
 
 'And yet it is perfectly natural.' uttered the Earl, 
 wiping a tear from his furrowed cheek. 
 
 ]3ut Lady Alexina, who had no soul to enter into 
 ihe passing scene, did not much relish it, and titter- 
 ing behind the chair of her aunt, and when the gen- 
 tlemen found their tongues again, she set her's in 
 motion, and a general conversation took place, in 
 which Henry Clarendale bore so principal a part, that 
 the Earl passionately declared, that he would one day 
 be the brightest ornament to the church of England ; 
 and Lady Alexina whispered to Lady Glenthorpe, 
 loud enough for all to hear; — ' Oh dear, aunt, I know 
 now that they are going to make a parson of that 
 handsome young man ; what a pity. I hate parsons, 
 and when I go to church I always fall fast asleep ; — 
 don't you,^unt?'
 
 228 THE MYSTERIOUS MARIIIAGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 T11ELA.WNEY AND HENRY ;— LEVITY OP 
 LADY GLENTHORPE. 
 
 The sensations which Mr. Trelawney experienced 
 on the approaching^ happy fortunes, to this amiable 
 young: man, were rapturous beyond description; for 
 it would create happiness to other objects most dear 
 to his soul— it was not only the father and the mo- 
 ther, but the sister, that would be g-ratified by Hr»nry's 
 hopes being now realized, — it was Rosa whose heart 
 would now flutter with delight, and remember the 
 hand which, though far distant, had raised her bro- 
 ther to this exaltation ; while Henry himself, on 
 finding he was alone with Trelawney, expressed with- 
 out disguise his sentiments of gratitude to his bene- 
 factor. Henry looked so like his sister Rosa, and so 
 strongly had nature stamped the resemblance, that 
 there needed no other tie to bind him to the heart of 
 Trelawney, had not the amiable character of Henry 
 won on his affections. 
 
 The two friends continued in such interesting con- 
 versation, that half the night was gone before Henry 
 could be persuaded to retire to rest. They had so 
 much to execute as well as to design, that Trelawney 
 determined to remain in England till all the views of 
 Henry were established, and saw him in possession of 
 the living presented to him by Lord Fitzosbourne. 
 Notwithstanding the youthful appearance of Henry 
 Clarendale, his countenance expressed the maturity 
 of a more ripened age. His voice was harmonious, 
 clear, and powerful, and his figure and deportment 
 such as admirably qualified him for the station he 
 was selected to fill. The Rev. Mr. Etheridge, al- 
 though a very praiseworthy man, had never been a 
 favourite, for he was considerably advanced in life, 
 and had a weak voice, and an imperfect delivery. His 
 sermons were g'ood, but could not be heard, by one
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 229 
 
 half of the congregation; consequently, whenever 
 Mr. Clarendale was called to perfurm his duty, owing 
 to the frequent indisposition of Mr. Etheridge, the 
 church of Coventry was filled to suffocation, and they 
 wished, as they departed, their preacher was such a 
 man ; the impression which Mr. Clarendale left on 
 the minds of his hearers was lasting, for it penetra- 
 ted the recesses of the soul. 
 
 Henry in the first communication with Trelawney, 
 had informed him that on arriving at his paternal 
 home, he had the inexpressible joy to find his beloved 
 parent pronounced out of danger; — and that his mo- 
 ther was, on the evening he liad left Konihvorth, sit- 
 ting up for the first time to take a dish of tea with 
 his father, who returned hearty thanks to the Sover- 
 eign Disposer of all events for her recovery. 
 
 ' I wish I had been there, Henry, to have shared in 
 your transports,' said Trelawney: 'how delightful to 
 nave witnessed the transition from hopeless grief to 
 lively joy on such a change in your happy family; 
 methinks I already see your excellent father watching 
 the pallid countenance of your sick mother, — and 
 your dear sisters hanging over her languid form, so 
 dear, so venerated, as angels over departing saints.' 
 
 ' That angel then was my sister Rosa,' exclaimed 
 Henry ; ' she was the principal nurse of my dear mo- 
 ther, for poor Rebecca had given way to despondency 
 in such a degree, that she had in part become an in- 
 valid herself; but had you seen Rosa,— alternately 
 smiling and shedding tears in the same moment, ki.-^s- 
 ing her father's cheek, and running to wipe the dcw3 
 of anguish from her mother's, while her voice in me- 
 lodious sweetness, assured them, that heaven would 
 kindly listen to their prayers, you never would have 
 forgotten it, Trelawney.' 
 
 'No, Henry,' said Trelawney, with considerable 
 emotion, 'and though I did not see your sister Rusa, 
 yet time must moulder to its lust earthly shades, and
 
 230 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 rocollectit)n be ao more, when Trelawuey shall have 
 forfiultcu Rosa,' 
 
 Henry had unconsciously said more than he in- 
 tended ronpocliiis llo8a, bul ho cuuld not recall his 
 \V(nds; — he, therefore, only pressed his hand in si- 
 lence, as he now bade him gt)od nijj^ht, or rather good 
 niorninji;. Henry could not sleep: — a thousand sen- 
 sations of the most pleasinji: kind, took possession of 
 his ilutterinp: heart, in which the form of Mary Bnxd- 
 bury was not very far distant. 
 
 liis happiness depended on Mary herself, whose 
 pure, chaste and delicate aflections he knew that he 
 had long possessed; yet Henry was too happy 
 to close his eyes in gentle sleep. The sacred 
 functions he had to fuIHl, the dignified character ho 
 had to support, and the sudden exaltation to which he 
 was called, all arose in rapid succession in his ima- 
 gination, and created a pleasing agitation, wliich was 
 very perceptible in his countenance when he appear- 
 ed at table the ensuing morning, at which for a few 
 moments he only encountered Lady Glenthorpe, 
 which added to his confusion, when her Ladyship, 
 presenting her fair hand, hoped that he had passed a 
 good night. 'For know, thou dear and fas- 
 cinating youth,' said the unblushing woman of fa.sh- 
 ion, 'I have been thinking of you all night long.* 
 To which Henry, confounded and abashed, could only 
 reply, ' 1 am sorry your Ladyship's thoughts were so 
 ill employed.' 
 
 ' And why should you wish me not to think of you, 
 unkind Henry r' said she in a voice of insidious suft- 
 ness. * Alas, you must only blame nature, for having 
 given you perfections which, once beheld by weak 
 woman's eyes, cannot be lorgotten.' 
 
 To describe the sensations of the virtuous Henry 
 Clarendale, at such a speech, and from such a person- 
 age, is impossible. Yet he looked again, and it was 
 Ludy Gkuthurpe who had thus addressed him, but
 
 THE MYSTKiaors MAHUIAGB. 231 
 
 to whose flattery and (to him') disgusting compliment, 
 he- felt himself unable to reply. 
 
 With great einbarrassTiieut he beheld the entninoe 
 of Trelawney, as Lady Glenthorpe had only jus.t gli- 
 ded from his side, — with an air of the most perfect 
 notichahvicc she saluted Trelawuey. who at a loss in 
 what manner to account for the embarrassment of his 
 j'oung friend, sat a few moments a silent spectator of 
 his blushing countenance, nor was that silence bro- 
 ken till the entrance of the Earl and Lady Alexina. 
 
 When the salutations were over, the Earl turned to 
 Henry, and inquired alter his sisters, hoping that 
 their visit to the metropolis had afforded them all the 
 pleasure they had previously anticipated. 
 
 ' Surely, my dear brother, you cannot expect that 
 the IMiss Clareudales could be communicative on such 
 a subject,' said Lady Glouthorpe; *you forgot that 
 the illness of their mother must have suspended all 
 conversation on trifles. 
 
 ' Your Ladyship is right,' answered Henry; 'I had 
 but little conversation with my sisters. From Miss 
 Bradburj^ indeed,' and Henry coloured deeply, ' who 
 was their companion. I learned, that they had been 
 gratified beyond expression.' 
 
 ' ^liss Bradbury,' exclaimed Lady Glenthorpe, in- 
 stantly remarking the deep red which had mounted to 
 the cheeks of Henry, 'and pray who is sher' 
 
 ' A uiost amiable young woman,' answered Trelaw- 
 ney. perceiving the embarrassment of Henry increase; 
 ' tile youngest daughter of Doctor Bnulbury, of Elm 
 Grove, in tlx; county of Warwick; but surely your 
 Ladyship observed Miss Bradbury, who sat next to 
 Mrs*. Philip Bradbury, in Doctor Stanton's box, at 
 Covent Garden Theatre.' 
 
 ' I really did not observe any one in particular, Mr. 
 Trelawney,' said Lady Glenthorpe, reddening like 
 scarlet, well knowing she was uttering a fHlsehoi)d. 
 'There wcie certainly ihico youu^j women, besudefl
 
 232 THE MYSTERIOUS MAKRIAGE. 
 
 that formal trump, Miss Stanton, one of which was 
 considered very handsome by the Belmonts; — the 
 youngest of the three I am alluding to, Mr. Trelaw- 
 ney, and that, I suppose, was the Miss Bradbury, 
 whom you have been extolling so highly ; — am I 
 right, Mr. Clarendale F' 
 
 ' I cannot answer your Ladyship's inquiries,' said 
 Henry, disgusted at the want of good manners which 
 her Ladyship had manifested. ' I can only speak 
 plainly as to the real truth of the case, — the youngest 
 of the three being my youngest sister, Rosa Claren- 
 dale.' 
 
 ' Lord Sydney's rustic beauty, I protest,' said Lady 
 Alexina Fitzosbourne; well I must own she has some 
 claim to beauty,— she has an extremely pretty mouth, 
 and very tine dark hazel eyes, but then she is very 
 little. I cannot say much of her figure, but she is 
 quite to the taste of Lord Sydney Belmont, — he ad- 
 mires fairies and little elfs. and had the insolence to 
 tell me he never could admire what they call a fine 
 woman in all his life; what a shocking bad taste, — 
 don't you think so, Trelawney "r"' 
 
 The effects of this conversation produced on the feel- 
 ings of Trelawney, were — incx'eased antipathy towards 
 Lady Glenthorpe, with almost aversion at the shame- 
 ful manner in which Lady Alexina had expressed 
 herself; and he said, 'whatever are my thoughts. 
 Lady Alexina, on the present subject, I decidedly 
 shall not answer your Ladyship's question, since you 
 entirely forget that the Lady whose person you have 
 been so lavishly describing, is the sister of that gen- 
 tleman who sits beside you, and also the daughter of 
 my father's respected and intimate friend. This cir- 
 cumstance will naturally suggest to Lady Alexina 
 Fitzosbourne the propriety of my being silent on the 
 merits or demerits of Miss Rosa Clarendale.' 
 
 ' La, Trelawney, how grave and serious ; — well, 
 who could ever suppose you could be otiended at the
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 233 
 
 remarks I made just in fun,' said she in her usual 
 childish manner. 
 
 ' I am never inclined to be funny at the expense 
 of my most intimate friends,' said Trelawney. 
 
 ' Have I offended you too, Mr. Henry,' Siiid Lady 
 Alexina, a little abashed as she addressed the con- 
 fused Henry : ' I am sure I said no harm about your 
 pretty little .sister ; — did I now, papa r' 
 
 Here the Earl in good humour, exclaimed,—' I wish, 
 Alexina, you could contrive to talk of something more 
 agreeable to the feelings of your friends; I don't like 
 to be amused with personal remarks on any one. 
 Respecting Miss Clarendale, there is but one to make, 
 — and that happens to be so decidedly in her favour, 
 that, though I never saw her, I believe that .she is 
 uncommonly lovely, from the assertion of Lady Ho- 
 noria Belmont ; and as the Lady is not present, we 
 will change the subject. — Mr. Henry Clarendale, you 
 are no stranger in Fitzosbourne House, and therefore 
 need not be told that you are welcome, while you re- 
 main under its roof, to the best it can afl'-ad.' 
 
 * My, Lord, you honour me most highly,' said 
 Henry, rising from his chair, and bowing most res- 
 pectfully. 
 
 ' Nonsense,' said the Earl, waving his hand to avoid 
 Henry's grateful effusions, ' there may be hospitality, 
 but there is no honour in the case, — and' I am convinced, 
 that you are worthy of all the kindness I can show 
 you : we shall meet at dinner, and shall have further 
 conversation on the subject of your advancement. 
 So saying, the Earl quitted the room ; — while Ladv 
 Glenthorpe, occupying his place, next to Henry, with 
 the same insinuating manner as in the morning, 
 whispered she did not wish for any other company 
 than the present. 
 
 But Lady Alexina could not bear anything in the 
 shape of rationality, nor a plain fireside dotnostio 
 party; she, therefore, longed for Trelawney and Heury
 
 234 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 to make their exit, that she might take her delightful 
 rounds before the hour of dinner. 
 
 As they did not make their exit, her impatience grew 
 beyond all bounds, and at length starting up, she de- 
 clared she had an urgent appointment. Scarcely had 
 ehe said so, however, when a carriage drew up to the 
 door, — and Lady Alexina, in the expectation of seeing 
 somebody to relieve her ennui, calmly sat down again, 
 forgetful that she had any appointment at all. 
 
 Gracious heaven ! thought Henry Clarendale, as he 
 surveyed her Ladyship's inanimate beautiful counten- 
 ance, how insupportable must be the life of the peo- 
 ple of fashion ! — Alas, and was such a woman the 
 destined bride of the noble Trelawney Y — he whose 
 ■whole soul was sensibility, with a disposition formed 
 by nature for rational delights, and peaceful virtue. 
 And then the form of his sister Rosa floated across his 
 imagination, as he made these observations. Yet he 
 taxed himself with impiety, — had Rosa been destined 
 for the wife of Trelawney, she would have been such 
 in spite of all earthly obstacles, and all human ties ; 
 but what tie could dissolve the union of Lady Alexina 
 Fitzosbourne with his generous benefactor — none but 
 death ; and that though not impossible, did not appear, 
 at present likely to happen. For Trelawney, there- 
 fore, the heart of Henry bled, now fully convinced 
 that his sister Rosa was the object of Trelawney" s 
 tenderest affections. 
 
 Alas, why then had destiny been so cruelly unkind ? 
 why was all-faithiul love so ill I'equited ':* Poor Rosa 
 and poor Trelawney! — that question could not bft 
 answered, — that mystery could not be unravelled. 
 
 Lady Catherine Belmont and her t;ister Frances, 
 with her eccentric lover Mr. Chandois Queensbury, 
 soon made their appearance, and were introduced to 
 Henry, by Lady Glentliorpe, who whispered in the 
 ear of Lady Frances, the following words; — 'Dear 
 Lady Frances, take care uf your heart, for there in
 
 THE MYSTEKIOUS MARRIAGE. 235 
 
 beauty enough in that young man to steal a second 
 
 Helen, to the destruction of Troy ;— look at him, and 
 confess that you never beheld such a perfect Adonis.' 
 
 Lady Frances blushed at this indelicate mode of 
 expressing her admiration, as she listened to the ful- 
 some compliment bestowed on Henry, by the im- 
 blushing Lady Gleuthorpe. 
 
 But when the Ladies made known the design of 
 their visit, her Ladyship lost all spirit. Lady Glen- 
 thorpe had engaged to subscribe for G copies of 
 Madame de Valmont's Poems, and Lady Alexina for 
 1 copy. The Ladies now called lor payment. 
 
 ' They are now published, and I have very great 
 pleasure in presenting you the books ; they are neat- 
 ly bound, and I hope they will be approved of by 
 your Ladyship. 
 
 At which Lady Glenthorpe, said, ' Not now, my 
 dear, I cannot attend to them now. if you would give 
 me the universe ; I have more delightful engagements 
 on my hands,' (and she had the audacity to cast a 
 languishing look at Henry,) ' than to read stale poetry, 
 written, perhaps, by a poor creature living in a garret. 
 Some other time. Lady Catherine, I implore you. 
 
 ' Surely your Ladyship will not object to what you 
 generously subscribed to,' said. Lady Catherine, de- 
 termined that she should not be spared hrom an ex- 
 position which she so truly merited. 
 
 The countenance of Lady Glenthorpe, now exhibit- 
 ed an expression which nearly provoked the risibility 
 of all present ; and Lady Catherine would have ceased 
 her application, had not a look from Trelawney en- 
 couraged her to proceed. 
 
 'I must assure your Ladyship thousrh.' 'that 
 Madame de Yalmont, does not breathe ihe air of a 
 garret, nor does she write stale poetry,— her .poetry is 
 the genuine oft'sjning of the muses, the spontaneous 
 elTusions of a lively imagiuatian and a kind and sus- 
 ceptible heart, — &he is also the mother of foUi" lovely
 
 236 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 innocents, whom she supports in this respectable way, 
 by her pen.' 
 
 * * And do you call begging a respectable calling,' 
 said Lady Glenthorpe, with bitter sarcasm : ' I begin 
 to think all authors are beggars.' 
 
 *And they are rendered so,' retorted Chandois 
 Queensbury, ' by the witless brains of those who have 
 neither taste nor judgment to understand them, or 
 sense to read their compositions, and who in calling 
 themselves their superiors, prove their inferiority by 
 every syllable which they utter ; and by the want of 
 liberality on the part of the booksellers. Oh I blush 
 for a vitiated world in permitting it; had I the 
 power ' 
 
 ' Oh no one doubts your power, Mr. Chandois,' 
 said Lady Glenthorpe, glad to enter into argument, 
 in hopes that by amusing her auditors the subscrip- 
 tion money would be forgotten. ' All the world 
 knows you to be a very singular young man, and that 
 you are very rich : if tlierefore you feel for the miser- 
 ies of poor authors, why do you not set an example of 
 generosity by large contributions ?' 
 
 ' If your Ladyship will condescend to become a pre- 
 cedent, I have no objection to contribute any sum 
 necessary to put so kind an institution in force,' re- 
 torted Chandois Queensbury, to the no small morti- 
 fication of Lady Glenthorpe. 
 
 Lady Catherine then addressed the other Lady ; — 
 'Lady Alexina, I have also a slight claim on your 
 Ladyship's purse, — you are indebted to Madame de 
 Valmont, one guinea, for a copy of the work ; and I 
 must collect all my subscriptions this morning with- 
 out fail. 
 
 Lady Alexina' s face crimsoned with blushes; she 
 never had a shilling to spare for the wants of others, 
 she was always penny less, from her extravagance; 
 but her parsimony now did not resemble Lady 
 Glenthorpe' 8, it was not premeditated, and she would
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MAIIIIIAGE, 237 
 
 freely have given her guinea sooner than have been 
 asked for it, had a guinea remained in her possession. 
 
 'I will go and" ask papa,' said the blushing Lady 
 Alexina, ' for I never keep money longer than I can 
 spend it.' Trelawney had no doubt of the truth of 
 her assertion, and drawing out his purse, protested 
 that she should not trouble the Earl, when she had a 
 banker so near at hand, and the guinea was im- 
 mediately paid to the fair claimant for Madame de 
 Valniont. 
 
 Never had Chandois Queensbury been so highly 
 amused, — for he beheld avarice in want, ill nature 
 delected, pride humbled, and vanity mortitiod. punish 
 ments that very rarely fall to the lot of a woman of 
 fashion. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 GENEROSITY OF TRELAWXEY TOWARDS 
 LADY GLENTHOKPE. 
 
 It is amiable to lessen the miseries of our fellow- 
 creatures, and to administer a healing balm to the 
 distressed. It is kind to lend a helping hand to 
 soothe distress, even though the object may scarcely 
 be worthy of the pains ; or be sometime the object of 
 our aversion. But the world calls this weakness; and 
 if it is so, the weakness that leans to humanity can 
 never be unwelcome in the eyes of that Being who in 
 all his dispensations, had set us so glorious an exam- 
 ple of Christianity. 
 
 And this was the case with the generous Trelaw- 
 ney towards Lady Glenthorpe, who had but little 
 claim to his kind consideration of the predicament in 
 which she was placed. There never was a woman 
 whom he liked less; she had ctmtributed greatly to 
 auijment the anguish of many unhappy hours which
 
 23S THE m'STERTOUS MARHTAGE. 
 
 he had passed at Fitzosboume House: ^yhy then 
 should he b.-friond her on the present occasion!'' 
 
 She who had neither sensibility n^r gratitude toac- 
 kncnvledge an obligation even when conferred ; she 
 who had so fatally led the youthful Lady Alexina into 
 so many errors and follies, why then should he relieve 
 her embarrassment ? Trelawney of all earthly crea- 
 tures was the most kind, the most forgiving of "human 
 beings ; and he stole behind Lady Glenthorpe's chair, 
 when the attention of the ladies was drawn to an- 
 other quarter, and slipped into the hands of Lady 
 Glenthorpe a ten-pound note, and whispered, — ' Pay 
 Lady Catherine the sum she requires, and do not sup- 
 pose that my gift is because I have enjoyed your 
 being mortified this morning.' 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe, overpowered by a sensation she 
 had never before experienced, would have loudly 
 thanked her benefactor, but for a sense of shame. 
 Kever had she felt so inclined to admire virtuous 
 propensities ; and with a trembling hand and a blush- 
 ing countenance, she presented to Lady Catherine 
 Belmont, Trelawney's note, which seemed as if it 
 had sprung by magic into her hand. 
 
 Lady Alexina, well aware of the poverty of her 
 aunt's finances, and that she had not a farthing be- 
 fore breakfast, was in the greatest surprise, and now 
 panted for the departure of her guests, in order to 
 learn from whence her aunt's resources had been so 
 suddenly supplied. 
 
 * Thank you, ray sweet love,' said Lady Glen- 
 thorpe, taking the books, ' I have no doubt that in 
 perusing this charming volume, I shall be much 
 gratified. Support her children by the laborious oc- 
 cupation of an authoress, meritorious creature! Alex- 
 ina. remember that to-morrow we pay a visit to 
 INIadarae de Valmont. Is she of a French family, 
 dear Lady Catherine '^ Is she young and bandsome'P 
 
 A ji\ neral laugh now took place, iu spite of all hu-
 
 TFTE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE, 239 
 
 man fo-wer to prevent it. The sudden transition 
 which the sentiments of Lady Glenthorpe had under- 
 gone in the space of a few mfinipnts. amused the ec- 
 centric humour of Queensbuiy to such a decree, that 
 he resolved to give her Ladyship every poesible means 
 of exercising her whimsicallity. 
 
 ' Young and handsome,' uttered he, 'Heavens, Lady 
 Glenthorpe. what has a visit of charity to do with 
 the object being either yuung or handsome 'i To me 
 indeed it might be of some import if I visited a Lady, 
 but to you, of what consequence can it possibly be, if 
 Madame de Yalmont is as old as a Sibyl, or as ugly 
 as .Sycorax. she is one of your own sex, is she not r' 
 
 ' Mr. Chandois Queensbuiy, 1 did not apply to 
 you,' retorted Lady Gltnthovpe, with a face crimson- 
 ed ; ' my inquiry was addressed to Lady Catherine 
 Belmont.' 
 
 ' Worse and worse,' said he ; ' ask a lady her opinion 
 of another lady's beauty, and expect to be favoured 
 with an accurate description! I thought your Lady- 
 ship had known your sex too well ; but 1 have seen 
 Madame de Vahnont, who is a most lovely and inter- 
 esting woman. Is your Ladyship satisfied, or shall 
 1 draw her portrait imder her own sweet poetry 'r' 
 
 At the request of the ladies, he read the following ; — 
 
 JULIA, LOVE, AND POVERTY. 
 
 Julia was young, beyond expression fair, 
 And like a sylph, she mov"d as light as air. 
 With rosy wreaths, her golden tresses bound, 
 Her silken robes, they scarcely touch d tlie ground. 
 Hope shed it's blossoms on her lovely face. 
 Anil laughing cuplds gave her ev'ry grace. 
 One morn, reclin'd upon her snowy breast, 
 Love op'd his eyes, and Julia thus additss'd : — 
 ' Oh ! Julia ! would for ever I had slept,' 
 Then shook his wings, and on her hosnni wept : 
 'Oh ! .)uJia !' still he cried, and droop d his head, 
 And Julia thought the beauteous boy was dead I
 
 240 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Eeviving odours from fresh flowers she drew. 
 
 And on his face she sprinkled gather'd dew I 
 
 While balmy kisses on his lips she prest, 
 
 And clasp'd him closer to her lovely breast. 
 
 Although 'tis said that woman loves to teaze. 
 
 Yet Julia strove by thousand arts to please. 
 
 She brought him nectar from the clustering vine, 
 
 And fed him with a hand that was divine. 
 
 Was there a charm that Julia could not give? 
 
 Was it not transport in her charms to live? 
 
 Fantastic boy ! what would'st thou more ? oh speak ! 
 
 For see, the colour flies from Julia's cheek. 
 
 "Tis Poverty,' cried Love, 'that would invade 
 
 The blest abode of Julia, lovely maid ; 
 
 For as I slept, the pale and haggard queen 
 
 Approach'd with rude attire, unhallow'd mien ; 
 
 The op'ning flowers withered at her touch, 
 
 And trust me, Julia, she will change thee much ; 
 
 Her power, 'tis not in mortals to oppose, 
 
 And where she comes, for ever herce repose I 
 
 To me, relentless, she has proved a foe, 
 
 She frown'd before my infant steps could go. 
 
 I'm told the very day that I was born 
 
 She planted in my breast a deadly thorn. 
 
 Oh ! Julia, what I feel I scarce can tell, 
 
 For Love with Poverty can never dwell. 
 
 Her very name strikes terror to my heart ; 
 
 Like arrows, piercing is her venom' d dart, 
 
 SM-eet Julia, then from Poverty be free, 
 
 Or, Julia,— never hope to live with me.' 
 
 Thus said, the boy in bashful silence stood, 
 A little sullen, and in pensive mood ; 
 The glittering gems on Julia's breast survey' d. 
 For pearls and diamonds did adorn the maid. 
 Her snowy arms were claspt with sapphires blue. 
 With coral beads and brightest jewels too I 
 The jessamine sweet, and musky rose, 
 And every shrub that in a garden grows, 
 Their balmy incense breatli'd on all around, 
 And naught but Love with Julia could be found. 
 Mighty powers ! can Julia then be poor, 
 Can lovely Julia beg from door to door I 
 Alas ! by mystic fate it was decreed
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARUIAOE. 241 
 
 That Julia, once so loVd, was poor indeed ! 
 
 M'ith sportive smiles slie niock'd the tlireaten'd woes 
 
 That Love had drawn, and Love with pity glows I 
 
 To see a maid from whom he now must fly, 
 
 Or brave the pangs of Poverty, and die ! 
 
 ' I've heard indeed,' cries Julia with a smile, 
 
 'Of Poverty ! but cannot Love beguile ; 
 
 The fnghtful witch perhaps a little kind may be ; 
 
 All treasures I'll resign— all wealth, for thee ! 
 
 "What's Poverty? Oh let me think her but a name. 
 
 She cannot quench Love's pure and ardent flame ; 
 
 Not Winter's snows, nor Smnmer's fervid heat 
 
 Can Julia change, nor Love less fondly beat : 
 
 Come to my bosom then, rest ever there, 
 
 All ills, with Love, must Julia learn to bear.' 
 
 She ceas'd — her bloomin? lips confess'd the truth 
 For Julia never lov'd another youth ! 
 Her costly gems, that were a nation's pride, 
 "With unaffected joy she laid aside ; 
 Untwin'd the ro-es from her gomen hair, 
 And fracrrant lilies that perfum'd the air ; 
 Then call'd on Poverty to come and take 
 Her silken robes, for treasurd Love's dear sake. 
 Thus unadorn'd, more lovely she appear d. 
 But not to Love was Julia more endear' d, 
 Ungrateful boy, he wing'd his ariel flight, 
 For Poverty, she came that very night 
 To visit Julia, — ' I am come,' cried she, 
 ' Julia, I come thy constant guest to be. 
 'But where is Love,' said Julia with a tear, 
 ' Why Love is flown, for Poverty is here.'* 
 
 'I am charmed with Madame de Valmont's poetry.* 
 said Trelawney, ' There is a great deal of taste dis- 
 pliiyed in this little beautiful composition.' 
 
 ' It is more tolerable than one half of the common- 
 place poetry, I confess, ' said Lady Gleuthorpe ; ' well, 
 to-morrow I shall see your admired liivourite, Lady 
 Catherine; and shall judge for myself.' 'I will do 
 
 * The above poetic tale w.-is written by the author at 
 the early period of fifteen years. 
 P
 
 242 THE MYSTERIOUS MAERIAGE. 
 
 myself the hononr of accompanymg your Ladyship,' 
 paid Lady Catherine. 
 
 ' Do so, my love, and come early,' answered Lady 
 Glenthorpe. 
 
 Lady Catherine and Lady Frances now arose to de- 
 part, giving a seat in their carriage to Chandois 
 Queensbury, who, it was very plainly to be seen, was 
 making considerable progress in her good opinion. 
 
 Lady Catherine was not insensible to the good qual- 
 ities of her eccenti-ic lover; while Chandois Queensbury 
 bowed in secret to the shrine he adored. — They were 
 formed for each other: they both loved intellectual 
 acquirements, and could have lived as happy in the 
 humble cot, as they would under the roof of gild- 
 ed palaces. They delighted in the exercises of ben- 
 evolence, and delighted most when unseen. They 
 •were attracted to each other by the similarity of their 
 dispositions. Chandois Queensbury thought Lady 
 Catherine Belmont a ministering angel, and she 
 thought the young philosopher greatly superior to 
 the rest of mankind ; unconsciously therefore, the.se 
 two eccentric beings became deeply enamoured, before 
 they were sensible of the impression that love had 
 made on their hearts. 
 
 "When Lady Glenthorpe and Lady Alexina had re- 
 tired, the latter throwing her arms in the most coax- 
 ing manner round her neck, exclaimed, — ' Only think 
 of those creatures coming to dun us for money, aunty; 
 1 had much difficulty to keep from laughing, when I 
 heard Lady Catherine ask you for six guineas for the 
 subscription, it was so funny, — was it not aunt":' And 
 I knew you could not muster one shilling;— how 
 comical.' 
 
 ' It was provokingly malicious of the pert creature. 
 I assure you, my dear, I thought I should have ex- 
 pired with confusion,' answered Lady Glenthorpe, 
 glancing towards the mirror with dismay, which re- 
 tiected her Ladyship's complexion quite pule, iu con-
 
 THE MTSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 243 
 
 6«»qupnce of the conflict which her feelings had that 
 nviming sustained. ' Heavens, Alexina. do I not 
 look perfectly ugiy,' said Lady GUnthorpe, surveying 
 herself a second time in the jrlass. 
 
 ' No, as handsome as ever,' said the flattering girl, 
 with an additional kiss. 
 
 ' Do I, my angel Y said the now gratified, vain, and 
 ridiculous old beauty ; and this was exactly the point 
 that Lady Alexina wished to bring her to. She 
 therefore exclaimed, — ' Aunty, where did you get the 
 six guineas you paid to Lady Catherine Belmont for 
 your subscription this morning \ I never was so as- 
 tonished in my life, as when I saw so much money in 
 your hands ; for you may remember we had to bor- 
 row some silver of Flounce yesterday to pay the per- 
 fumer.' 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe felt mortified in being obliged to 
 acknowledge her obligations to Trelawney, yet lor the 
 first time in her life, she did him justice. 
 
 ' And did Trelawney really give you all that mo- 
 ney 'r My heavens how generous, — because, aunt, 
 yi>u know he cannot endure you.— How comical!' 
 said she, by no means sensible of the indelicate at- 
 t lok she was making on the feelings of her relative; 
 but feeling, with Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne, was en- 
 tirely out of the question. And her aunt did not 
 seem much pained by the observation. 
 
 The assistance of Mrs. Flounce was now called in, 
 to repair the faded roses on her lady's complexion, 
 and white-wash the drooping lilies ; after which a 
 light fantastic dress, more appropriate to sixteen 
 than becoming to fif^ y, was the costume of the evt n- 
 ing. Thus, with the external appearance of the 
 youthful Hebe, exc' pt that here and there a tell-tale 
 wrinkle contradicted the flattering tale, her Ladyship 
 descended from her dressing-room to the sakniu. 
 Henr>- Clarendale. deeply engaged in reading, did m>t 
 peiceive Lady Glenthorpe, and conceiving thai he
 
 244 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 was unheard by any one, repeated aloud, with grreat 
 pathos, the following beautiful lines, from the pen of 
 Cowley,— 
 
 * Her name has magic ; tell me why? 
 ' Or, why I breathe the pensive sifth ? 
 'Alas ! I know the cause too well, — 
 
 * Her name I love, and dare not tell 1' 
 
 * And whose name, dear enchanting Henry, dare 
 you not reveal K' exclaimed a voice close by ; ' what 
 woman is so blest as to be the object of your secret 
 meditations r" said Lady Glenthorpe, laying her beau- 
 tiful arm softly on his shoulder. 
 
 Henry Clarendale was spell-bound ; the dazzling 
 appearance of Lady Glenthorpe, which every art had 
 beautified, and the uncommon loveliness of her per- 
 son, like the rosy freshness of youth, with the sen- 
 tence which had escaped his lips, rendered him silent, 
 and confused, and stammering out a awkward apolo- 
 gy, that he had been so engaged with reading as not 
 sooner to have perceived her Ladyship. He bowed 
 respectfully, closed the book, and retired to a greater 
 distance from her Ladyship than was pleasant to her 
 feelings. The deep blushes of Henry, however, gave 
 her some hopes, that she was, at that moment, the 
 object of his admiration, as he was now most passion- 
 ately the object of hers. To awaken a warmer senti- 
 ment in his youthful bosom was now her Ladyship's 
 serious contemplation. 
 
 The conduct of Lady Glenthorpe created disgust on 
 the mind of Henry ; he was not without suspicion of 
 what kind of prepossession he had inspired in her 
 Ladyship, from which he revolted with such feelings 
 of abhorrence as to cause him to address her no longer 
 with embarrassment, but with a conscious dignity, 
 which for awhile repressed the bold licentious lan- 
 guage she had so often addressed to him ; at the same 
 time but showing the respect due to her exalted rank,
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MAURIAOE. 24-5 
 
 a>= the sister of the Earl of Fitzosboume. Wh.?n at 
 dinner the Earl infurmed him, that he had written 
 
 to the Bishop of L , by whom he would be hi)U- 
 
 ouredwith an interview, and receive his instructions. 
 ' I have also done myself the pleasure,' j-aid he, ' of 
 writing to your father, and C(jmmunicatinj^ to him 
 the pleasing intelligence of your advancement.' 
 
 'Oh, my Lord,' said the tran>ported Iltnry, 'I 
 cannot in words express to you my grateful acknow- 
 ledgements for your Lordship's unexampled goodness. 
 Oh, may I ever prove worthy of your distinguished 
 favour.' 
 
 The eyes of Henry were more eloquent than the 
 words he had uttered, for they were tilled with tcara. 
 Trelawney partook of his sensations, the P^arl was in 
 excellent spirits, and the bottle circulated freely, after 
 the ladies had retired to the drawing-room. 
 
 ' I purpose being present when you preach your 
 first sermon,' exclaimed the Earl; 'and if you pos- 
 sess one half the talent of your excellent father, you 
 will never fail of a full congregation.' Hem-y agaia 
 bowed his thanks. 
 
 Lady Aloxina persuaded the Earl to accompany 
 them to the Duke of Valencia's. Lady Ale.xina, to 
 do her justice, was on this evening modestly attired, 
 and looked extremely beautiful, as hanging on the 
 arm of Trelawney she entered the concert-room at the 
 Duke of Valencia's. 
 
 Henry unaccustomed to so brilliant an assemblnge 
 felt a timidity he could not c<mquer, particularly a-s 
 Lady Glenthorpe made him the exclusive objvct of 
 her attention. Trelawney, however, never long had 
 his eyes otf his young friend, — nor had he for the last 
 few days been blind to the bold and indelicate advan- 
 ces of Lady Glenthorpe towards Henry. 
 
 But he did not fear that she could obtain any influ- 
 ence over the uncontaminated principles of Henry 
 Clarendiile ; she had selected the last object in the
 
 246 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGB. 
 
 world likely to be attracted by her seductive power. 
 
 ' Come,' said Trelawney, taking the arm of his 
 young friend, and leading him to the part appropri- 
 ated to the performance of the evening, at which was 
 seated, as mistress uf the ceremonies, the accomplish- 
 ed Lady Honoria Belmont; — 'I must introduce you 
 to our charming hostess.' Lady Honoria gracefully 
 cui-tseying to Henry, soon made him reconciled to his 
 situation, and desired Trelawney to place his young 
 friend in a station near the orchestra. Henry was 
 delighted beyond expression at the performance, 
 which consisted of the most admired selections from 
 Handel, Mozart, Mazzinghi, Storace, Kelly and 
 Bishop. Several performers of the highest celebrity 
 attended, and charmed the listening throng. ' What 
 is love like,' was given in the most chaste and ele- 
 gant style, by a young performer, which was encored 
 with the most rapturous enthusiasm. 
 
 Lady Honoria. at the request of her friends, took 
 her station at the piano-forte, and the moment her 
 melodious voice was heard, it was felt, and vibrated 
 on every heart, and on none more so than on the 
 heart of Trelawney, and acknowledged to himself that 
 however beautiful Kosa Clarendale was, the charms 
 of an accomplished woman, gifted with the amiable 
 qualities of a Lady Honoria Belmont, was an object 
 equally worthy of his admiration, though fate had 
 destined that she never could be that of his love, un- 
 less Rosa Clarendale was no longer in existence. 
 
 Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne and Lady Glenthorpe, 
 longed for cards, and in the absence of the Earl, who 
 had retired with the Duke to an adjoining apartment 
 they sat down to a rubber at whi.-t, at a guinea a rub- 
 ber ; not before Lady Alexina, however, slightly 
 asked Trelawney if he had any objection, to which he 
 coldly answered, — ' Had my inclinations been con- 
 sulted. Lady Alexina would'not now have thought it 
 necessary to ask my opinion.'
 
 THE MYSTKT?IOUS MARRIAGE. 247 
 
 •Nonsense,' t^aid I/ady Alexina, ' you don't n>k iny 
 opinion abuut music, and all that.' 
 
 ' The reasun is obxioua,' said Trelawney, with a 
 forced smile, ' because if I did, you v^uuld probably 
 nut understand it.' 
 
 ' Thank you for your coinplimont, Mr. Graveair.s,' 
 replied Lady Alexiua, with all the silly child in her 
 manner, and which was so habitual to her that hhe 
 could not shake it off; ' but may I play cross-patch r' 
 
 ' Certainly, if you cannut exist without cards,' sfiid 
 Trelawney, ' you niu^t have them. But Lady Alex- 
 ina, I caution you against debts, — debts of honour, 
 which I will never again discharge. Therefore go, 
 tritler,— but be cautious.' 
 
 It is no wonder that Trelawney turned in dl^jrust 
 from the volatile Alexina, to gaze on the placid 
 countenance of the acconjplishtd Lady lionoria, 
 whom taste, judgment, feeling and polished elegance, 
 combined to render fascinating beyond description. 
 
 '"Well, Henry,' said Trelawney, 'how have you 
 been entertained with the amusements of the even- 
 ing;— and what is your opinion of the Duke's amia- 
 ble family ':'' 
 
 ' Charming beyond expression ; but that sweet 
 young Lady, to whom you introduced me, is an an- 
 gel. Oh Trelawney, how unlike a personage who 
 sits nor far fiom us ; pardon me, but I could not help 
 thinking, as I gazed on her mild and inlelligenl bluo 
 eyes, so full of engaging sweetness, that had fate aa- 
 signed such a wt»man to you ' 
 
 'I should not be insensible of her value,' said Ti-e- 
 lawney, wishing to waive the subject. 
 
 The hour now growing late, Lady Alexina sudden- 
 ly quitted the card table, having won considtnibly, 
 which put her into the most lively spirits, and i un- 
 ning up to Lady Honoria and Trelawney, who wt-re 
 engaged in most interesting conversation, she de- 
 manded wh;it they had uoue with the haiiLiSums 
 young parson.
 
 218 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ' If your Ladyship means Mr. Henry Clarendale, 
 he is close beside you,' said Trelawney, and fearing 
 that Lady Alexina would further expose herself, he 
 took her arm, and led her to the Earl, who was in- 
 . quiring for her and Lady Glenthorpe; and as he 
 conducted her to the carriage, she made him promise 
 secresy about the rubber at whist. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 LETTER FROM LADY GLENTHORPE TO HENRY 
 
 CLARENDALE — TRELAWNEY'S VISIT TO 
 
 ELM GROVE. 
 
 The Earl of Fitzosbourne was favoured in a few 
 days with the most satisfactory letter from the Bishop 
 of L , respecting the presentation of Henry Clar- 
 endale ; and honoured with a visit from the Bishop 
 himself. In six weeks the most rapid progress had 
 been made towards his advancement, and such testi- 
 monials obtained from the college, and laid before the 
 Bishop, that the ordinance was expected daily ; when 
 he would enter into holy orders. A letter also had 
 arrived from the pastor to Lord Fitzosbourne con- 
 taining sentiments of the most grateful and devoted 
 acknowledgments for the distinguished favour, and 
 the flattering patronage, which his Lordship had so 
 liberally and condescendingly bestowed on his son. 
 
 By the same post Trelawney also was favoured 
 with his correspondence, and received the following 
 very kind letter from the pastor, in answer to his 
 own : — 
 
 'I do not reject your kind gift, my generous 
 young friend, because I am well aware it would pain your 
 affectionate heart by my so doing ; but your unbounded 
 liljerality both distresses and, shall I own it, displeases 
 me, Trelawney.— It is a strange term to one whom I love 
 and venerate so highly,— yet, Trelawney displeases me by
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 249 
 
 d'splaying a munificence which too frequently exercised 
 may prove injurious to himself. » I do not say, that your 
 gift is not -welcoine, or that I have no uses or preseut 
 vants for appropriating the money your generosity has 
 bestowed. 
 
 ' No, T^eIa^vney, I have ever been averse to that ridi- 
 culous pride which would not honestly confess, to a real 
 and warm-hearted friend, the poverty of my fortunes,— 
 to which honest confession, perhaps, I have been prompt- 
 ed when I looked at my wife and chiltlren, and beheld 
 how inadequate were my means of coutributing to their 
 comfort and support. 
 
 •But shall I, therefore, be ungrateful to Providence, 
 because riches have not fallen to'my lot. No, my dear 
 Trelawney, I have abundant riches in the happiness of 
 my children. 
 
 ' I behold my Henry like a tree rich in luxuriant blos- 
 som ; have I any right to despair that the fruits will not 
 arrive at perfection, have I not every reason to hope for 
 it, and to rely on the further blessings of Providence? 
 No, Trelawney, I will not yield to despondency, -which 
 at my age would be highly censurable,— for my mortal 
 pilgrimage will soon be over, and I am silently, though 
 progressively, stealing on my journey to 'that bourne 
 from whence no traveller returns, ' leaving far behind 
 that state of mortal suffering, to that which endureth for 
 ever, and is everlasting felicity. 
 
 ' tut do not imagine, my dear friend, that this thought 
 is accompanied with melancholy reflections, or that I am 
 desirous of imparting to your susceptible bosom any in- 
 quietude, so as to make you out of humour with worldly 
 destiny ; I would rather inspire you to hope that if at 
 any period you should not fidly be in possession of this 
 world's peace, to look for that 'which this world cannot, 
 give, and therefore cannot deprive you of. 
 
 ' My wishes have met their accomplishment in behold- 
 ing my Henry all I would fondly have anticipated ; and 
 I also behold my Rebecca happy; like a sweet blushing 
 rose, has she not flourished on her parent tree, till gather- 
 ed by the hand which will not fail to cherish her virtues, 
 and nourish her like a tender plant beneath the genial 
 sun of fostering care and atiection. 
 
 'If my heart contains an uneasy sensation, also accom- 
 panied by pleasure, it is when that heait throbs for uiy
 
 250 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Rosa,— iny tender nestling, who doubly claims a father'^ 
 c^i e, becaii&e she is of that age, temperature, and tiispo- 
 bition, most likely to be fettered by thorns ; and shall I 
 confess my weakness to you, a father's weakness? Over 
 this child have I watched with peculiar tenderness, and 
 fancied, (but perhaps it was an improper thought,) that 
 owing to her extreme sensibility, of which she early be- 
 trayed an abundant share, that she would be visited Ijy 
 more misfortune than the rest of my children. She was 
 an infant of uncommon beauty, I do not rememlier ever 
 to have seen a child so sweetly engaging as my E,osa ; but 
 she could not bear severity like other children, an angry 
 look or an unkind word would break her little heart ; but 
 if forgiven, smiles of transcendant beauty would instantly 
 overspread her lovely countenance, and with the teuis 
 hardly yet dry upon her cheek, she would eagerly fly to 
 the maternal bosom, and almost dissolve in kisses. 
 
 'Oh Trelawncy, this sensibility has continued in my 
 child, and I fear will never leave her; when she forms 
 attachments they will be lasting, nor quit her till the last 
 sigh parts frojn her languid frame. 
 
 ' L cannot add another word on this subject, therefore, 
 spare me,— and if you can find any mearang to what my 
 Avords allude, when I speak of Rosa, let honour urge you 
 to be silent, and prudence diictate how necessary that a 
 separation should eternally take place between Tanjore 
 Trelawney and Rosa Clarendale. 
 
 ' My dear Fanny is again restored to the blessings of 
 health, her heart is with you, Trelawney, she is not in- 
 sensible to the kindness you have loaded us with, she es- 
 teems and honours her benefactor, and the friend of her 
 children. 
 
 * I have written to the Earl of Fitzosbourne, and while 
 my heart swells with the most lively gratitude "towards 
 him, for the great service he has conierred upon my son ; 
 ] cannot avoid a sigh, sacred to the memory of my ile- 
 parted friend Mr. Etheridge,— he was a good man,— what 
 more shall I say to illustrate his character?— He possessed 
 not shining talent, but his virtues shone brightly on the 
 face of humanity, — peace to his manes. 
 
 'Your intended departure from England, my beloved 
 young friend, grieves me most sensibly. To offer yoa 
 counsel on this matter, would in me be both impertinent 
 aiid absurd,— as it would seciu to doubt your understand-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 2;>1 
 
 Inc and your feeling. Whatever may be your aim or your 
 views In this expectation, I can only say, that you poj^doss 
 my sincere wishes for their fv.ll accomplishment, ami that 
 peace wJiich 'passeth all unuerstandinj:' may eventually 
 preserve and keep yon safely, is ami ever will be the 
 prayer of ' Yours most faithfully, 
 
 Williaiu Henry Clarendule. 
 To Tan j ore Trelawney. 
 
 The sensations which Trelawney experienced in 
 reading- this letter were a mixture of painful and }ilea- 
 gurable feelinj^s ; but when he came to that part where 
 Rosa was mentioned, it staggered his fortitude and 
 philosophy. 
 
 The affecting manner in which her father had des- 
 crilied the darling- of his heart, and the delicacy with, 
 which he had touched on their mutual attachnu nt, 
 which was now no matter of surprise to the pastor, 
 all operated so powerfully on his feelings, that Tre- 
 lawney burst into tears. 
 
 'And can Rosa Clarendale be destitute while Tre- 
 lawney lives 1^' said Trelawney, as he folded up the 
 pastor's letter, after having perused it a second tiiiie ; 
 — ' Can that angel want, while this fund and faithlul 
 heart pulsates with the warm breath of lifer'— Can 
 Rosa feel the withering blast of poverty, while.' — 
 Trelawney sighed, and paused at the insupportable 
 reflection, that from him Rosa though destitute, her 
 necessities cimld not be supplied, with that stri(.-t 
 propriety which both his own and her situation de- 
 manded. 
 
 There was such a thing as conferring benefits to a 
 dear fi-iend in need without making known from whom 
 such benefits came ; and on this plan Trelawney re- 
 solved, should Rosa ever want relief; — when Iut 
 parents should be no more, then, like a f.uardiau 
 angel, would he hover over hir destiny, as the foud 
 niotlier watches sleeping innocence, with piu-e and 
 hallowed thought.
 
 252 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Lost in meditations, Trelawney heard not the tap 
 of Henry Clarendale at his door, which being repeat- 
 ed, he admitted his amiable young friend, on whose 
 countenance he discovered great agitation ; pale and 
 trembling he presented the following letter to Tre- 
 lawney; — 
 
 * Beware, thou too cold and insensate youth, 
 — beware, proud Henry, how you presume a second time 
 to slight the passion you have inspired in the bosom of the 
 fond Louisa. 
 
 ' Did you think me in jest when I last night confessed, 
 there was but one object in existence whom I would ever 
 again in marriage make the master of my destiny? 
 
 ' Were you blind, betwitching Henry, to your own per- 
 fections, that yoiu- heart could not once whisper it was 
 yourself? ' My hand, my fortune, my exalted rank, and 
 my person, all are yours ; accept them, lovely Henry, and 
 fear not that my brother will disapprove of our union. 
 
 ' No,— the Earl will then raise you to an eminence be- 
 5'ond your most sanguine expectations ; reflect on this 
 and be wise,— I have still youth, and am considered to 
 possess beauty. 
 
 ' Reject me. and you render me your most determined 
 enemy— marry me, aud I will be your slave. 
 
 ' Louisa' 
 
 When Trelawney finished reading this extraordin- 
 ary epistle, he indulged in a fit of laughter; when he 
 recovered his gravity, he passionately exclaimed, 'de- 
 fend me, kind cupid, from all arrows like these; — 
 here is love with a witness ; — why, Henry, I always 
 thought this woman vicious, but I never conceived 
 her to be a fool, which I now see her to be. What 
 would I give to conjure this tender billet-doux into 
 the hands of Mary Bradbury, and all the while she 
 was devouring the contents, for you and me, Henry, 
 to be stationed close at the dear girl's elbow.' 
 
 This observation crimsoned the face of Henry in a 
 moment, and Trelawney exclaimed. — * Why, Henry, 
 why so serious, — surely you can have nothing to fear 
 fi'om Muiy I-"
 
 THE MYSTERlOrS MARHIAGE. 2)3 
 
 ' I was not thinkin? of Mary. Mr. Trelawney,' re- 
 turned Henry, but with some embarrassment. 
 
 To which Trelawney. laug-hing, replied, — ' Oh, fie, 
 Henry, you are now telling: a tib ; and expect me to 
 believe you. Not think of Mary ? You could not 
 help thinking: of her for your existence.' 
 
 ' Indeed, at the present moment, my thoughts are 
 dilfortntly employed,' said Henry, 'on a much more 
 disagreeable subject. I beseech you, good Sir, to 
 favour me with your advice, respecting this fo'dish 
 letter; she is the Earl's sister, and were she not so, 
 I should be very sorry to offer any personal reflections 
 to a Lady, yet I feel compelled to reply to her letter 
 in that way that will not subject me to receive anoth- 
 er of the same description ; instruct me how I am to 
 proceed, for I feel shocked at her want of delicacy.' 
 
 'Delicacy!' echoed Trelawney, 'delicacy in Lady 
 Glenthorpe, you might as well expect to tind honesty 
 in thieves ;— but, Henrj-, I will be serious, while I 
 offer you my instructions ; she is a dangerous, artful, 
 and vile example to her own sex, while to ours she is 
 any thing but what she ought to be. But virtue will 
 make her a coward at any time ; — fear not her dis4\p- 
 pointed passion, her malevolence or her artifice, but 
 answer her epistle without delay, lest she think yuu 
 undecided, and entertain hope where there is none.' 
 
 Henry having taken the pen, in embarrassment, 
 said, ' I should be very surry to offend her Ladyship, 
 — the obligations I am under to the Earl, her bruthrr, 
 renders my task very painful ; — Lord Fitzosbourne 
 has been so very kind, so condescending, that ' 
 
 Poor Henry's eyes were now tilled with tears, and 
 Trelawney felt for his situation. 
 
 ' But, admitting that his Lordship has been so kind 
 to you, Henry,' observed Trelawney, 'it is not noc^^s- 
 sary that you are to be forced into a marriage with 
 his sister, 'who is old enough to be your mother, and 
 who would render you miserable to the end of life.'
 
 254 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 'I marry Lady Glenthorpe ? surely, my dear Sir, 
 you cannot be serious, I have never entertained the 
 slif^'-htest thought on such a subject.' 
 
 ' Not in your dreams, Henry 'i when the form of 
 Mary has floated across your imagination r* — Well, I 
 confess that you have been a philosopher, indeed.' 
 
 Henry was hardly proof against the raillery of his 
 benefactor; but with a trembling hand he dictated 
 the following letter to her Ladyship : — 
 
 ' I beg leave to acknowledge the receipt of your 
 Ladyship's most condescending favour, beseeching you to 
 accept an humble offer of my gratitude, for the sentiment 
 with which your Ladyship so greatly honours me. 'Your 
 Ladyship's proposals are most highly flattering to me, 
 who never had the vanity to consider myself worthy of 
 BO distinguished a preference. 
 
 'Your Ladyship's merits,— your Ladyship's beauty, can 
 scarcely be doubted, and I hope I have ever paid that due 
 respect to your exalted rank, which the sister to Lord 
 Ktzosbourne must ever claim from Henry Clarendale. 
 'TJiere are some circumstances which render an union 
 with your Ladyship impossible, unless I could revoke my 
 plighted faith, already given to another, who has long 
 been in possession of my tenderest affections. 
 
 'And this not being consistent either with my princi- 
 ples as a man of Integrity, or with my inclinations to- 
 wards the woman whom I love, your Ladyship will not 
 surely condemn that being to unmerited severity, whom 
 you acknowledge to be the object of your regard. 
 
 'Love and hatred ought never to inhabit the same fair 
 bosom ; and may it never reign in yours. 
 
 ' With the most devoted gratitude and respect, I have 
 the honour of subscribing myself, 
 
 • Your Ladyship's most humble servant, 
 
 ' Henry Clarendale.^ 
 
 'To the Right Honourable 
 
 ' Lady Glenthorpe.' 
 
 'Bravo, Henry,' said Trelawney, in raptures; 'I 
 have never heard a better apology for refusing fortune 
 to be buckled on your back. A little flattery some 
 times dues wonders, and you have given her Ladyship 
 
 H
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 2o.5 
 
 as nnioh a? she conM rea«oiiably expect. But I fo.ir 
 you will have a hard matter to e?c;ipe from her Lady- 
 ship's spirited attack; she will bcsie^'e you in every 
 quarter, nor do I see any remedy against the evil 
 save only one.' 
 
 ' May I be permitted to inquire what that is "r' said 
 Henry, with some anxiety. 
 
 To which Trelawney replied. — ' That when you 
 enter into holy orders, you will find it expedient to 
 enter at the same time into the holy state of matri- 
 mony, with the woman of your heart's choice, 
 Mary Bradbury. There is no other way of curing 
 the love-sick fancy of Lady Glenthorpe, who. were 
 you to continue single, will think herself at liberty 
 perpetually to haunt you with her odious letters,— am 
 I right or wrong, Henry ?' 
 
 Henry continued silent, a thousand delightful 
 ideas, connected with Mary, took possession of his im- 
 aginati(m, for he saw that his benefactor was serious; 
 when Trelawney, smilingly uttered. 'Is it very polite, 
 Henry, to keep me waiting for an answer to my ques- 
 tion r' 
 
 'Ah, Sir, what .should I reply.' said Henry, seizing 
 the hand of Trelawney. and pressing it to his lips, 
 'when your kindness anticipates all my wishes; all I 
 can say is, do with me what you please, dispose of me 
 as you think proper.' 
 
 ' Then you consent to my arrangement with Mary 
 Bradbury,' inquired Trelawney. '1 must positively 
 see you married before I leave England, out of cm- 
 pa.ssion to my dear little lively friend ; a very pretty 
 thing truly, if this Lady Glenthorpe were to rob tho 
 dear little girl of her Htnry ; why Miuy would break 
 her heart.' 
 
 ' "When Mary's heart is breaking, I wonder where 
 mine will be,' said Henry, with a pensive sigh. 
 
 ' Tiiat's very true.' ;iiis\verrd Trelawney; 'to pre- 
 vent which, "my dear fellow, 1 am resolved ujon
 
 256 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 imrnediately joining' your hands; I shall apply at 
 once to Doctor Bradbury ; I am a tolerable favourite 
 with the facetious old doctor.' 
 
 ' Oh, Sir, with whom is it that you are not a favour- 
 ite ?' exclaimed Henry, in rapturous enthusiasm. 
 
 ' I shall, secondly, apply to the rector of Kenil- 
 worth, with whom I possess some influence, and, 
 thirdly, to Mary herself, and if the damsal grant not 
 the suit I ask, I'll never trust to woman's heart again. 
 
 ' But are you really serious, my dear Sir,' inquired 
 Henry, hai-dly able to credit the evidence of his sen- 
 ses, that Trelawney would actually put into execution 
 what he had designed. 
 
 ' As much so as any man can possibly be in his so- 
 ber senses,' said Trelawney, 'and yon will say so 
 when you see the chaise which will speedily convey 
 me and Mungo to your father's White Cottage, and a 
 certain little spot of ground not very far distant, call- 
 ed Elm Grove ; with which I suppose, Henry, you 
 are tolerably well acquainted.' 
 
 And the following morning the chaise was at the 
 door of Fitzosbourne House, Trelawney having pre- 
 viously informed the Earl, that some matter of urgent 
 business required his immediate presence at the house 
 of his friend Mr. Clarendale, who wished to consult 
 him on an affair of great importance to himself and 
 family. 
 
 'And what security do you give me, Tanjore, for 
 your speedy return to Fitzosbourne House J" 
 
 ' Henry Clarendale, my Lord,' said Trelawney, re- 
 turning the pressure of his Lordship's hand ; and the 
 chaise instantly drove off. 
 
 ' Mr. Clarendale, can you tell where Trelawney is 
 gone r" said Lady Alexina, as Henry entered the 
 room, followed by the Earl ; ' but here comes papa. — 
 Papa, Where's Tanny gone ? how provoking not to 
 tell me before he jumped into the chaise.' — 
 
 'And not very consistent with good manners,' said
 
 THE MYSTKRIOUS MARKIAGB. 2o7 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe, * propriety ought to have suggested 
 the necessity of informing Lady Alexina with all his 
 plans.' 
 
 ' But if the father of Lady Alexina is already ap- 
 prised of Mr. Trelawncy's intentions, I presume it is 
 sufficient,' said the Earl, darting at his sister a look 
 of extreme displeasure. 
 
 ' "Well, but I think it very ill-natured not to tell us; 
 SL'.id Lady Alexina, ' I should not wonder if he is gone 
 to those foreign parts, for he has taken that odious 
 black creature along with him.' 
 
 ' What, Mungo 'r that is not surprising, my dear,' 
 resumed Lady Glenthorpe, ' for I believe Trelawney 
 could not exist without him.' 
 
 ' "Well, but I am sure he shall exist without hira,* 
 said Lady Alexina, ' for, when I am married to Tre- 
 lawney I will not suffer that horrid creature to come 
 into my sight; I cannot endure blacks.' 
 
 ' I wish, Alexina, you would have a little common. 
 sense,' said the Earl, 'I am a.^hamed of your folly, 
 and I beg, in the absence of Trelawney, you would not 
 reflect on any part of his conduct, which is at all 
 times praiseworthy ! If, however, you are so desirous 
 of knowing where he is gone, his visit is to Mr. Clar- 
 endale, with whom he has some particular business, 
 v.-bich requires his immediate attendance ! 
 
 The cheeks of Lady Glenthorpe were now tinged 
 with a colour of the deepest dye, and turning to 
 Henry, she stammered out, — 'I know not how to 
 api3logize to you, Mr. Clarendale, for the rudeness I 
 have been guilty of; had I kno%vn sooner where Tre- 
 lawney was going, you cannot suppose that I should 
 have made any remarks on it.' 
 
 'An apology to me, Lady Glenthorpe,' answered 
 the blushing Henry, 'is wholly unnecessary,' and 
 bowed respectfully as he arose to quit the room. 
 
 It is no wonder the little sylph like Rosa, whose 
 form resembled that of Ariel in tlie Tempest, and 
 Q
 
 258 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 whose step, light as the gossomer, should so strongly 
 have called forth Trelawney's admiration, or bound 
 his senses in fascination; when it is recollected that 
 Rosa, with such a form, possessed a face of the most 
 expressive beauty ! The rosy blush, the love-beam- 
 ing eye, the dimpled mouth, all moved in perfect 
 combination, and rendered her most fascinating. 
 
 Trelawney, however much he loved her, perceived ' 
 that Rosa Clarendalc wanted acquirements, which in 
 her humble retirement it was impossible for her easily 
 to gain; he longed to behold her the accomplished 
 being that Lady Honoria Belmont was ; and he de- 
 termined that she should be so, if money could pur- 
 chase the means to render her so ; while he was ab- 
 sent from England, he resolved to furnish Mr. Clar- 
 endale with such supplies, that Rosa's education 
 should want no polish to render it complete, and du- 
 ring his journey to Kenilworth, Trelawney pondered 
 over this plan; he was interrupted in one of his 
 pleasing reveries by the sudden appearance of Mungo, 
 who opening the chaise door, while the postillion 
 stopped his horses, exclaimed, * massa, massa, dere be 
 Turnpike-house, me so glad see it, massa, Mungo no 
 hardly able to speak!' 
 
 ' So it appears,' said Trela^vney putting his head 
 out of the window : well, have you stopped the chaise 
 to tell me this, you silly fellow 'r" — 
 
 'No, massa, no!' answered Mungo, *me no stop 
 chaise ! post boy him want to know where massa go.' 
 
 ' Tell him to drive to the house of Doctor Bradbury 
 without delay, and then I shall send you back with 
 the horses to Mr. Wiggins's.' 
 
 The postillion obeyed his order, and in a quarter of 
 an hour, Trelawney was within sight of Elm Grove; 
 but not wishing to surprise the family at so late an 
 hour, he dismissed the chaise at the end of the Doc- 
 tor's plantations, and desiring Mungo to order a bed 
 at the Turnpike-house, sent him oil' with the chaise,
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 2^59 
 
 while he measured his way towards the paternal roof 
 of Mary Bradbury ; a slight rap at the door announ- 
 ced his approach, which in a few moments was opened 
 by Mary Bradbury herself! 
 
 * How late you are, father,' said Mary, as she was 
 unclosing the door, 'Elizabeth and I have had our 
 night-caps on this hour.' * Never so late but wel- 
 come,' exclaimed Trelawney, popping his head in at 
 the door, as Mary opened it, and he gently caught her 
 in his arms, as a brother would his sister, from which 
 Mary, without one atom of affectation, as gently dis- 
 engaged herself, having uttered an exclamation of 
 surprise and pleasure at his unexpected arrival 1 and 
 casting at him a look of anxiety, hoped that all was 
 well at Fitzosbourne House. 
 
 ' Yes, dear girl, and your Henry is well too ; but 
 come, Mary, admit me instantly to your father and 
 mother, for my business to Elm Grove requires im- 
 mediate dispatch.' 
 
 ' But you are not going away to-night, Mr. Tre- 
 lawney,' said Mary, with a look, as much as to say, 
 and without seeing Rosa, but Mary was silent, and 
 Trelawney was soon in the presence of Mrs. Biadbury 
 and Eli>:ii"beth, who expressed the greatest juy at see- 
 ing him. 
 
 ' I expect Doctor Bradbury every moment from his 
 nightly visit to our dear friends at the White Cot- 
 tage,' said Mrs. Bradbury; ' Oh, Mr. Trelawney. huw 
 thankful are we to Providence for having restored 
 that dear woman to her family ; what a loss her chil- 
 dren would have sustained in her ; and our poor pas- 
 tor, how would my heart have bled for him!' 
 
 ' It is true, Madam, that the loss would have been 
 irreparable,' replied Trelawney, ' some anxiety would 
 have been spared to my excellent friend, for the ami- 
 able Rebecca, you know, can't want the protection of 
 her father, and Henry will soon be provided for be- 
 yond his most sanguine expcclatious.'
 
 260 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 * And the dear little Rosa would have remained his 
 sole comfort,' said Mrs. Bradbury, but she could not 
 have made a more unfortunate observation for de- 
 pressing the spirits of Trelawney. 
 
 'The dear little Rosa,' said he, sighing deeply, 
 'can never want protection while, ' but recollect- 
 ing how improper it was to indulge in the distant 
 glances at Rosa, he paused, when Mary instantly re- 
 lieved his embarrassment by informing him that there 
 was another wedding to take place in the village at 
 the beginning of the ensuing week. 
 
 ' Any friend of yours. Miss Mary ':" inquired Tre- 
 lawney, turning as pale as ashes. 
 
 ' Ask my sister,' said Mary, and Trelawney fixing 
 his eyes on the blushing Elizabeth, soon perceived 
 that the fair bride was not very far distant. 
 
 ' Don't believe her, Mr. Trelawney,' said Eliza- 
 beth, ' you know she is the most tormenting and tan- 
 taii::;ing creature in existence.' 
 
 ' And notwithstanding her sly inclination, I have 
 every reason to expect that her turn will coftie next,' 
 said Trelawney, fixing his eyes on the surprised 
 countenance of Mi's. Bradbury, and for which Mary 
 could not account. 
 
 Trelawney on some inquiries made by the fond 
 mother of Henry Clarendale, had dropped a hint quite 
 sufficient to prove his kind intentions of coming to 
 Elm Grove, and Mrs. Bradbury was in a delightful 
 flutter of spirits, when the doctor knocked loudly for 
 admittance ; but on his entrance to the parlour, no 
 words can do justice to the doctor's surprise when he 
 perceived whom he had the honour of saluting as his 
 guest in close conversation with Mrs. Bradbury. 
 
 ' Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!' vocifer- 
 ated he, extending both his arms towards Trelawney, 
 whom he most cordially embraced, when he had a 
 little recovered from his surprise. ' And to what, Mr. 
 Tan j ore Trelawney,' said the doctor, seating himseif
 
 THE MVsTi:iUOUS MARHIAGB. 261 
 
 on a chfiu- next to Trela\\Tiey, 'to what accident have 
 I ihe unspeakable pleasure of beholdinp: you at iiha 
 Grove; where you are so welcome that' I hope you 
 will deem no apology necessary for its poor accom- 
 modation ? Well, but do tell us the news. How 
 are the lords and ladies, how is Harry; lucky dog! 
 mount the pulpit without climbing a ladder. But 
 rounds, Mrs. Bradbury, do you mean to starve Mr. 
 Trelawney; where are Molly and Betty, why don't 
 they come and give Mr. Trelawney something to cat !' 
 All this the doctor uttered in one breath, to the no 
 small amusement of Trelawney, at the moment that 
 Mary entered with a delicate chicken, nicely boiled, 
 some ham and tarts, and the doctor having watched 
 Trelawney till he had swallowed a few mouthfuls, ran 
 into the cellar to fetch a bottle of brown stout and 
 some Madeira, desiring Mary to sing the favourite 
 Scotch ballad of 
 
 ' Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
 ' And never brought to mind 7 
 
 %vith which request, hovyever, Mary certainly did not 
 comply; and when the doctor returned both his 
 daughters had gone to their chamber, by the express 
 command of their mother, and the earnest petition of 
 Trelawney, who had intimated, to Mrs. Bradbury, 
 that his communications were of such a nature, as to 
 render the absence of the young ladies indispensable. 
 ' Where's Mary ?' said the Doctor, entering with a 
 basket well stocked with bottles, and being informed, 
 he was fully satisfied, and having prevailed on Tre- 
 lawney to swallow a bumper of Madeira, vgr\' cordi- 
 p.Uy drank to his health, and sat down with the 
 strongest symptoms of curiosity to attend to the com- 
 munications which Trelawney appeared so anxious to 
 give. An allusion having been made to Henry Clar- 
 endale, the doctor said that he had always thought 
 him the finest young fellow in existence.
 
 262 THE MYSTEillOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 'And this is your real opinion, Doctor Bradbury ?' 
 asked Trelawney. 
 
 'My real opinion!' echoed the doctor; 'Mr. Tre- 
 lawney. I never had but one opinion respecting Harry 
 Clarendale! Zuunds, have I not known him frona 
 his earliest infancy, were not he and his lovely sis- 
 ters, fair Beckey and darling Rosa, exactly like bean 
 blossoms, all growing on the same beauteous stalk ; 
 did I not always tell you, Mrs. Bradbury, that Harry 
 would make a man of his father ? understand me 
 rightly, Mr. Trelawney, some sons make boys of 
 their fathers, nay, they do not scruple to make them 
 asses before they have done with them ; and I never 
 had such an opinion of Harry Clarendale.' 
 
 ' I am the more rejoiced,' said Trelawney, * as it 
 will doubtless give you no small pleasure, to hear of 
 the rapid rise in his good fortune. 
 
 ' I have heard it all,' said the doctor. *I was with 
 my old friend when he received the letter from Lord 
 Fitzosbourne, and Lord help me, if I had not held 
 my pocket handkerchief to my eyes, I should have 
 caught the infection from the whole family, for there 
 was not a dry eye left in the White Cottage ; — 
 I began to tremble for my patient, poor Mrs. 
 Clarendale, scarcely recovered from her fever ; what 
 is this all about? said I, in my usual blustering man- 
 ner : — ' Here,' said my old friend, thrusting his Lord- 
 ship's letter into my hand, 'read this, Bradbury, and 
 judge of the feelings of a father ;' — well, I did read 
 it, and more than once I felt for my pocket handker- 
 chief ; hang it, thought I, I wont cry neither, I hate 
 crying, when a liugh is so much more pleasant to 
 one's feelings, so I made my old friend as cheerful as 
 myself ; we got round the fireside in the old oak par- 
 lour, and made Phil and Beckey tell us all about the 
 fine sights they had seen in London ; this, and a few 
 bottles of brown stout, concluded the evening.' 
 
 Trelawney,— more entertained than he had beeu
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE 263 
 
 for many a weary day since he had last behtU the 
 doctor's hospitable mansion; takiuj,' from his pocket 
 the letter of Lady Glenthorpe, to which was affixed a 
 copy of his own. and spreading- them on the table, ex- 
 claimed, — ' "Well, Doctor Bradbury, I must inform you 
 of another part of Henry's guod fortune, with which 
 you are unacquainted, and at which no doubt you 
 will be rejoiced ; what say you to his having: actually 
 received overtures of marriage from the Countess of 
 Glenthorpe, Lord Fit/.osbourne's sister 'r' 
 
 ' Say,' cried the almost petrified Doctor Bradbury, 
 and in so great a tremour that he could hardly sit on 
 his chair? 'say. Mr. Trelawney, that if Harry Clar- 
 endale marries her, I shall instantly revoke my good 
 opinion of him, and say he has acted like the greatest 
 scoundrel in existence.' 
 
 * Why so ?' inquired Trelawney, with coolness. 
 
 'Because,' said he, pacing the room with hasty 
 strides, 'because I always thought he loved my >Lary.' 
 
 ' And so did I, I am sure,' said Mrs. Bradbury, 
 with a faltering voice, ' but riches and high birth have 
 rivalled my poor Mary;' and the fond mother, stung 
 to the soul by the supposed apostacy of Henry, burst 
 into tears which Trelawney could not withstand ; ho 
 could have liked to besiege the doctor a little longer; 
 but a mother's tears were too much for him ; there- 
 fore turning to the doctor, he said, 
 
 ' And supposing Henry had been true to Mary. — 
 and had even sent me down to intercede with his fa- 
 ther and you, to grant him your joint consents to 
 marry Mary to-morrow morning, would you. Doctor 
 Bradbury, have consented to this an-angement ':' 
 
 ' Would I not r' uttered the doctor, some gleam of 
 hope brightening his countenance; 'would a father 
 not wish to make his child happy ? oh, Mr. Trelaw- 
 ney, if you were a father you would not ask me such 
 a question.' 
 
 •I can stand this no longer,' eaid Trekwnoy,
 
 264 THF MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ''.L'.u.vu I am not a fathor. you shnll cvei* find me 
 respect the feelings of one. Doctor Bradbury, by tliat 
 immaculate power that now looks down on truth and 
 innocence, and by all the chaste ties of tender and ho- 
 nourable affection, — Henry Clarendale does love, and 
 will marry— — ' 
 
 ' Whom 'i" cried the doctor and Mrs. Bradbury, al- 
 mo;t in the same breath. 
 
 'Your jilary,' uttered Trelawney.— 'Mary Brad- 
 bury'.' and Mrs. Bradbury instantly fainted in the 
 arms of her transported husband. 
 
 CHAPTER XXyil. 
 
 trelatvney's overtures for the marriage of 
 henry clarendale and mary eradsury. 
 
 Progressively had the clock at Elm Grove respond- 
 ed the hours of one, two, and three, and still found 
 the doctor, his amiable wife, and Trelewney in con- 
 sultation on the most proper mode of forwarding the 
 union of Henry and Maiy, and the doctor having 
 given his free consent, that Henry was at liberty to 
 come and claim his affianced bride, whenever matters 
 could be brought to bear, for their nuptials to take 
 place. The doctor resolved to go over to the White 
 Cottage at a very early hour for the pastor, and biing 
 him to Elm Grove, for the purpose of consulring him 
 on the important affair ; Trelawney having declai-ed, 
 that he could not personally wait on Mr. Clarendale, 
 for reason'5 most weighty to himself, and that he 
 should probably leave Kenilworth the ensuing even- 
 ing without once paying a visit to the White Cottage. 
 Doctor Bradbury abruptly exclaimed, after he had 
 bade Trelawney a very good night, or rather a very 
 good morning, and as Mrs. Bradbury took up the 
 candle to conduct him to his chamber,—
 
 THE >nrSTERIOrS MARPvIAGE. 265 
 
 * And so. Mr. Trelawney, rtie .<=iq:lit of a bpautiral 
 rose at this season of tlie yci'.r is unc tiiifuvt-ible to 
 your feelings.' Trelawney making no reply, the 
 doctor bawled out in a lourler key, — 
 
 'You understand me. — I don't mean to be imper- 
 tinent, but you really do not intend, Mr. Trelawney, 
 to aro over with me to the White Cottage r' 
 
 To which Trelawney, shaking the doctor by the 
 hand, in the most serious tone uttered,—* I positively 
 do not, Doctor Bradbury, and wish you would not 
 pain me again, by tendering you a refusal.' 
 
 'Well, well, plense yourself,' muttered the doctor, 
 as he retreated to his own chamber, but if I was Rosa 
 Clarendale I should not be much obliged to you, I 
 protest; not so much as a 'how-d'ye-do,' or Gocl 
 bless you 'i' poor girl ; well 'tis a sad misfortune, a sad 
 misfortune indeed.' 
 
 'What's the matter, my dear?' asked Mrs. Brad- 
 bury, who just returned in time to hear the last sen- 
 tence as she closed the door of their chamber.' 
 
 'That folks in love are always playing at cross pur- 
 poses,' said the doctor ; 'zounds, if I had served my 
 ir'hil so with the girl of his heart, I should never have 
 danced a Scotch reel again as long as I lived. 
 
 ' Surely you cannot attach any blame to our old 
 friend the pastor ^ said Mrs. Bradbury. 
 
 'Yes, I do, — yes, I do, — by Jove I do,' said the 
 doctor, ' he has made bad worse, and that's the fiict; 
 and has made the poor girl, and that lino young fellow, 
 afraid to be seen in one anotlier's company; and that 
 is the way to make them fall in love ten fathoms 
 deeper.' 
 
 'But, my dear, you would not have Mr. ClnrendMo 
 encourage Trelawney's attachment for his daughter, 
 would you? — Xo, 1 am sure you would Hot, supposing 
 it werevour own case. — Suppose it was our Mary.' 
 
 This was a home questi n, a".'1 "ho doctor could find 
 no reasonable reply to ofier to his very reasonable
 
 266 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGB. 
 
 wife ; he was, therefore, obliged to yield, and for this 
 once, suffer Mrs. Bradbury to wear the palm of victory. 
 
 The slumbers of Trelawney were broken, and equal- 
 ly disturbed had been the sleep of Mary Bradbury; 
 which produced the following: dialogue ; — 
 
 ' What is the reason, Mary, you cannot sleep ? one 
 would imagine the bed was made of thorns.' 
 
 To which Mary replied, — ' Well, and I don't find 
 it a bed of roses. I assure you.' 
 
 ' I wonder, Mary, what you can be thinking of, — 
 and perhaps if I were to guess you would not tell me,* 
 observed Elizabeth, in the most coaxing accents. 
 
 ' I don't know that,' answered Mary, bursting into 
 tears ; I am very unhappy indeed, Elizabeth, and if 
 one cannot tell one's troubles to a sister, whom should 
 we trust to for comfort and consolation ?' 
 
 ' ^ly dear Mary, dry those tears,' said Elizabeth, 
 throwing her arms around her sister's neck, and kiss- 
 ing her, ' for I will impart to you all the consolation I 
 am able, be it ever so small.' 
 
 'Don't you think Mr. Trelawney's visit here to- 
 night very extraordinary, and that something very se- 
 rious has brought him all the way from London f 
 
 'I have been thinking the same thing all night 
 long,' answered Elizabeth ; 'and then to tell mamma 
 to send us to bed, just as if we were children ; I had 
 a mind to quarrel with him, and if it had not been for 
 the sake of Henry— Mary, what makes you tremble so r' 
 
 ' Henry,' said Mary, ' it is of Henry I am thinking, 
 and for Henry I fear; — should he have fallen under 
 the Earl's displeasure, or offended any of the family, 
 there is an end to any appointment. I know his dis- 
 position, he would not brook an insult, even from a 
 Lord, — Henry is proud.' 
 
 'But he is also humble,' observed Elizabeth; — 
 'humble where he is in fault, — and surely that pride 
 which goes in hand with humility must ever be deem- 
 ed proper : — don't you think so, Mary T
 
 THK MYSTEE10U8 MAERTAGB. 267 
 
 Mary, not a little pleased at the good-nafured turn 
 that Elizabeth had g-iven to affairs, began to recover 
 hei' tranquillity ; and the song of the rising lark, re- 
 minded them that it was time to shake oft" their very 
 drowsy slumbers ; for the doctor never permitted his 
 daughters to lie in bed lato of a morning. Mary arose 
 and dressed herself; but what was her surprise, wliea 
 she went into the parlour, to find a cheerful fire blaz- 
 ing, the tea things set for breakfast, and Trelawney 
 with a volume of Thomson's Seasons, repeating to 
 himself aloud, — 
 
 * Or when the mournful tale her mother told, 
 'Of what her faithless fortunes promised once. 
 
 * Mary,' uttered Trelawney, with a look of pleasure, 
 as he threw down the book. 
 
 ' Sir.' 
 
 ' How refreshing is sleep !' said Trelawney, < and 
 
 you look Mary ' He paused, and Mary blushed, 
 
 while she answered now v.-ith all the spirit she could 
 muster, — ' Well, Mr. Trelawney, I will tell you plain- 
 ly, that I have not had one wink of sleep the whole 
 night long.' 
 
 Trelawney now laughed, and said, * And what ban- 
 ished sleep from your pillow, my dear little girl :"' 
 
 ' That is another part of the business,' said Mary, 
 blushing deeper as she stirred the fire. 
 
 'I will tell you,' said Trelawney, 'you are dying 
 with curiosity to learn why I have suudenly come to 
 Elm Grove, and you have ten tliousand fears in that 
 little panting bosom for Henry "r' 
 
 '"Well, suppose I have,' said Mary; 'you are such 
 an ill-natured creature, that you are not concerned at 
 my anxious fears, and you don't look as if you wore 
 going to relieve them.' 
 
 Trelawney could not help laughing in spite of his 
 pretended gravity, as the doctor entered, but not be- 
 fore Trelawney had pronounced, with inexpressible
 
 268 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 kindness, * I hope, my dear Mary Bradbury, the pe- 
 riod is rapidly approaching for the consnmniation of 
 all your hopes and wishes respecting Henry.' 
 
 ' What do you mean, Trelawney ? I cannot un- 
 derstand you,' said Mary, with agitation. 
 
 ' But you will understand me, Mary, sooner, much 
 sooner than you are aware of,' answered Trelawney, 
 'and remember there is a season for all things.' 
 
 'A very good morning to you, my very good Sir,' 
 said the doctor, in the best humour imaginable; 
 ' Mary, my girl, give your old father a kiss.' 
 
 * father,' said Mary, complying with his request, 
 'what has put you into such spirits this morning ? 
 and where did you get those nice flowers at this 
 gloomy season of the year ? (for the d(jctor had a 
 choice collection of beautiful flowers, which he pre- 
 sented to Trelawney ;) — ' Oh, I can guess where, but 
 I won't tell.' 
 
 ' What is that to you, you gypsy, where I have 
 gotten them ?' asked the Doctor, giving a sly wink at 
 Mary ; 'it suffices that they were presented to me by 
 the snowy hand of one of my pretty patients, who 
 charged me to give them to the lad she loved best.' 
 
 * Then I am sure, doctor, they cannot belong to 
 me,' said Trelawney, exhibiting some confusion, as he 
 placed the pretty nosegay as close to his breast as 
 possible, gazing on them with a delighted expression. 
 
 ' Well, if they don't belong to you, I had better re- 
 turn them to the pretty creature who gave them to 
 me, she won't mind a few flowers, though I must own 
 she seemed to take a great deal of pains to collect 
 them together ; — 'And mind you don't spoil them. 
 Doctor ]3radbury,' said she, holding out her pretty 
 little hand, which I think is as white as a snow-ball ; 
 so I brought them, but I can take them back again if 
 you have a mind, Mr. Trelawney; — what say you P 
 
 'No, doctor, it is hardly worth while to give yen so 
 much trouble to return them.'
 
 THI5 MYSTERIOUS >fARRTAOB. 2S9 
 
 The doctor was, at this cool manner of Trelaw- 
 ney's, out of all patience, and roared ouf, without 
 ceremony, — ' No. by Jove, I think not ; and if you 
 knew, Sir, the fair soil from which they have come, 
 you would prize them a great deal more, that's all I 
 have to say. Sir, on the subject.' — Trelawney cuuld 
 but smile at the doctor's impetuosity. 
 
 * I suppose Henry will then live in Coventry,' ob- 
 served Elizabeth, ' but the distance is not great, ho 
 can visit his mother every day, if he likes.' 
 
 * Yes, if he can be persuade'd to relinquish the so- 
 ciety of a much nearer relative,' said Trelawney. 
 
 ' A nearer relative, Mr. Trelawney,' said Elizabeth, 
 with great surprise; 'has Heury a nearer relative 
 than his mother r' 
 
 ' But he may have. Miss Bradbury,' repeated Tre- 
 lawney ; ' what do you call a wife .-'' and Trelawney 
 fixed his eyes on the crimsoned cheeks of Mary. 
 
 Elizabeth perceiving his drift, only simpered, while 
 stealing a sly glance at her sister ; but determined to 
 have a little'sport with Mary, she said, — 
 
 ' Why, really, as to Henry having a wife, I never 
 thought of such a thing.' 
 
 ' Nor you, Miss Mary, have never once surmised 
 that Henry would be likely to marry when he is set- 
 tled in the church t' * Not I indeed,' said Mary. 
 
 ' That's a good joke, by Jove,' said the doctor ; 
 ' why, j-ou gypsy, how dare you look Mr. Trelawney 
 in the face and say so ? don't we know that it is all a 
 sham ; not think of Harry Clarendale, zounds, I 
 dun't think you have thoug-ht of any thing else sinco 
 you were born.' Here the entrance of the pastor en- 
 ded the conversation. 
 
 ' My dear Tanjure,' exclaimed the pastor, ' I rejoice 
 in seeing you,' as he extended his hand to meet the 
 trembling' one of Trelawney ; a thv)usand tender _re- 
 ciillections and ideas of a melanchulv imprcs.sion, 
 damped his joy at beholding his iaiht-r's ola rricnd
 
 270 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 beneath whose humble cottage he first imbibed a taste 
 
 for domestic hap^jiness, which he felt would always 
 remain with him ;— 'how very kind to visit your old 
 friends,' said tlie pastor, wishing to evade any per- 
 sonal observations on his own family ; nor did Tre- 
 lawuey venture to hazard an inquiry after the health 
 of Mrs. Clarendale, well knowing that he could not 
 do so without asking- for, or mentioning the name of 
 the beloved Rosa. 
 
 * You are certainly, my good Sir, no stranger to the 
 purport of my visit to Doctor Bradbury, who doubt- 
 less has been sufficiently explicit on the cause which 
 induced me to come hither to serve my friend.' 
 
 ' Oh, when is it you have not been ever ready to 
 serve us, dear Trelawney,' exclaimed the pastor, with 
 tears ; ' heaven reward and eternally bless you.' 
 
 Tlie pastor was overpowered by the painful recol- 
 lection of the unfortunate destiny of that man to whom 
 of all others he was most obliged ; he who had been 
 the means of raising him from a state of almost ab- 
 ject penury, to a state of comparative independence 
 and even affluence, and who had now undertaken a 
 journey to promote the happiness of his son, which 
 son he'had provided for far beyond his sanguine ex- 
 pectations ; yet this generous being he had banished 
 from his house by the prohibition in his letter, and for 
 what? Because his own child had been guilty of 
 confessing that she loved a man whom she before 
 knew was the atfianced husband of another woman ? 
 She had confessed it, but Trelawney never had ; at 
 least, not to the pastor had he ever acknowledged his 
 regard for Rosa ; but had ever observed the most 
 chaste propriety towards her in all his conduct, — why 
 then should he have dealt so severely to the son of 
 his benefactor and friend 'i 
 
 And Trelawney departing just to tell ISIungo to get 
 everything ready for their departure in the evening ; 
 the pastor unburdened his uncomfortable sensations
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 271 
 
 to the doctor, who exclaimed, ' Glad to hear it upon 
 my soul, that you have some little repentance loft in 
 you. I told you it ^vas a shame, did I not, when the 
 fine young lellow had been doing all the good he 
 could to serve you, making the fortune of Henry as 
 rapidly as possible, with Lord Fit/.o.->bourne, plump 
 you go and put a negator on his coining near your 
 house, fearing he would run away with your daugh- 
 ter, when all the world knows that he is going to be 
 married to another woman, and would not do such a 
 thing for the universe. I tell you honestly, this may 
 be morality, or fine feeling, call it what you please, 
 but curse me if ever I saw any thing so like ingrati- 
 tude in the whole course of my existence.' 
 
 ' Hold, Doctor Bradbury, you are now going great 
 lengths, and pain me by your accusations. I never 
 forbade Trelawney my house ; no, heaven is my wit- 
 ness. I only suggested the proprijty that a separa- 
 tion should take place, between himself and an object 
 whom he cannot behold with indifference, and there- 
 fore should not behold at all, since he cannot do so 
 consistently with that honour v.-hich every man holds 
 himself responsible to his Maker for, and to his fellow 
 beings. I only hinted this, Doctor Bradbury, in my 
 letter to Trelav.ney, as necessary for the happiness of 
 my child. Is there then aught of ingratitude, in the 
 retiectiou that I have done my duty, not only to my 
 child, but to Trelawney himself!' 
 
 '"Well, well,' said the doctor, 'we are all apt to 
 make mistakes, and if I have made one, it won t be 
 the first I shall makp in my old days, so give me your 
 hand, my honest old friend, and let harmony be iho 
 only tune that shall be heard among us. 
 
 Trelawney now entered, and obtained the pastor's 
 sanction for Henry to marry Mary Bradbury, who 
 shaking Trelawney atiecliona'tely by the hand imulor- 
 ed him to go over to the "White Cottage, and fee ^Ir:*. 
 Ciarendale'before he loft; an ijivitaliuu which g.ivo
 
 272 THE MYSTERIOUS MAUIUAGE. 
 
 Iiitn great pleasure, but which he prudently declined, 
 alleging that time would not permit him to avail 
 himself of his kindness. 'The business is settled,' 
 .^aid Trelawney, and the sooner Henry is married the 
 better; this will effectually silence all overtures of 
 Lady Glenthorpe, with whose love epistles then he 
 will never be troubled again. 
 
 It was then agreed that as soon as Henry was ap- 
 pointed, his nuptials with Mary should take place 
 the Sunday following, in the village church at Ken- 
 ilworth, to be conducted in a private manner. 
 
 'And the young folks shall have something to make 
 the pot boil,' said the doctor, producing certain docu- 
 ments which he spread on the table to their astonish- 
 ment as these documents proved that the doctor was 
 possessed of more property than had been sup- 
 posed from the parsimonious manner in which he had 
 conducted hi.s arlairs. 
 
 'Don't suppose,' said he, 'that I let my son Phil 
 run away with the whole protits of my pestle and 
 mortar, or that I had not an eye upon my girls as 
 Y/ell as my boy. IMary is the darling of my heart, I 
 confess it, but then it would not be quite so pretty to 
 leave poor Betty in the lurch, so here's four thousand 
 between the two gipsies; and the rest ray old girl 
 and I will find sutlicient to jog on merrily with for 
 the remainder of our days, shan't we, Kate P Then 
 you know, as Phil has got the start of his sisters, why 
 I suppose the first grandson that is born (and I have 
 a shrewd guess it wont be long first,) must come in 
 for our share after we are gone.' 
 
 ' And if you have another grandson born before the 
 year is out, Doctor,' said Trelawney, 'you may make 
 him a present of the two thousand pounds you intend- 
 ed to give your daughter Mary Y' 
 
 ' I should be glad to know why, Mr. Trelawney,' 
 said tlie astoni.-jhed Doctor Bradbury. 
 
 ' Because your daughter Mary will have no need of
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAOB. 273 
 
 yotir beqnest ; for, on the morning she gives her hand 
 to Henry Clavendale, she will be in possession of five 
 thousand pounds, the gift of Tanjore Trelawnev. end 
 the merited reward of her virtues.' 
 
 Astonishment, gratitude and rapturous feelings, 
 sealed in silence the lips of the transported parents, 
 while the pastor burst into a flood of tears, which he 
 could not suppress. 
 
 Doctor Bradbury was the first to speak, and pour- 
 ed upon Trelawney such an overwhelming torrent of 
 praise, as to silence it from every other quarter, save 
 in the tearful eye of the grateful mother, who open- 
 ing the door of the next apartment, led forth the 
 blushing Mary, 
 
 ' There,' said Mrs. Bradbury, leading her to Tro- 
 lawney, 'there, Mary, there is your benefactor, — the 
 fi-iend'of your Henry also, who will shortly be your 
 husband, ratified by both his parents' consent 'and 
 your own. Oh, my child, whom have we to thank for 
 this ?' 'Trelawney ! To whom do you owe your now 
 smiling prosperous fortunes, but to that man. of more 
 than mortal excellence, the generous, the kind, the 
 ever dear Trelawney.' 
 
 Mary, overpowered by a deep sense of all the kind- 
 nesses of Trelawney, now summoned up in one great 
 debt of gratitude to him, threw herself on his neck, 
 and wept out the thanks which her full heart could 
 not by any other means express. 
 
 Be not too severe, ye sage critics, — a young, lovely 
 and innocent woman may weep in the arms of an hon- 
 est man, though as youug herself, without one thought 
 that would sully the breath of angels. 
 
 A quarter of an hour, however, soon placed every 
 body in their proper stations ; Trelawney positively 
 declaring, that if any of thorn said another word about 
 obligation, he would" send Mimgo for the chaise, and 
 vanish from them iu an instant. This was a com-
 
 274 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 plcfe muffle to the doctor's tongue, and the few hours 
 bt'fore Trelawney took his departure were passed in 
 rendering every thing in Elm Grove as pleasant to 
 his feelings as possible. 
 
 IMungo, however, did not look very well pleased when 
 he found that Trelawney was going away from the 
 Ti'hite Cottage without paying them a visit to bid 
 thorn farewell. Nanny Jones and Peter were run- 
 ning in Mungo's head all the time his master was 
 dressing ; in fact, Mungo was very much out of hu- 
 mour. Trelawney easily divining the cause of his 
 uneasiness, determined to have a little sport with him. 
 — 'I suppose, Mungo, you are rejoiced to return to 
 town ; you must not forget to desire Mr. Wiggins to 
 send the chaise precisely at six o'clock.' 
 
 To which Mungo replied, dryly, — ' jNIungo no for- 
 get what massa tell him,' and looking wishfully in 
 the fciceof Trelawne5% the unsophisticated child of na- 
 ture added, — *Me wish massa tell INIungo some ting 
 make poor Mungo happy 'i Mungo no sleep, — have 
 all night long no wink him eye one bit.' 
 
 * And v/hy did you not sleep, pray Mungo ?' 
 
 * Because massa he no go near White Cottage, see 
 good, good friends, and pretty Miss Rosy, — Mungo 
 so haijpy see Miss Rosy, — Miss Rosy she so good to 
 Mungo.' 
 
 ' Is there no one whom you feel anxious to see be- 
 sides Miss Rosy Y said Trelawney, 
 
 ' Oh, yes, massa, said Mungo, his ej'-es sparkling 
 •with gratitude, 'me wish see Nnnny Jones, — Nanny 
 Jones good, good woman, — kind to Mungo, give 
 Mungo good tings— no stingy.' 
 
 'So it appears,' said Trelawney, laughing, 'and 
 Kanny Jones has made great progress in your affec- 
 tions;— and I suppose you will have no objection to 
 pay her, and your old irinnd Peter, a visit before your 
 journey to London, which I permit you to do imme- 
 diately.'
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 275 
 
 ' Massfi, massa, good mas?a,' he exclaimed, * make 
 poor Mungro quite happy.' 
 
 To which TreLiwriey returned no other answer than 
 by giving him a certain sum, on which was written, 
 'For the Servants at the White Cottage.' With it 
 Mungo joyfully departed, to meet-his old companions. 
 
 The pastor stayed dinner at £Im Grove, after which 
 he and Trelawney repaired to the docior's study, 
 where, with considerable emotion, Trelawney thus 
 addressed him: — 
 
 * I have already apprized you, my good Sir, that I 
 am on the eve of departing from this country, with 
 my friend Lord Sydney Belmont, and it is probable 
 that I may continue absent two years.' 
 
 To which the pastor, with equal emotion, answer- 
 ed, 'you have, my dear Tanjore, and may the Father 
 of mercies protect you and guide you in safety back.' 
 
 ' And in the event that it may not please Providence 
 to do so,' continued Trelawney, with a firm voice ; 
 ' should I, like my father, now meet and beh^jld you 
 
 for the last time ' The pastor grasped the hand 
 
 of Tanjore, but he could not articulate a sentence, so 
 strongly had the words of Trelawney wrought upou 
 his feelings ; Trelawney thus continued, — ' In this 
 event, my father's Clarendale, I implore you to grant 
 me one favour, and remember, if j'ou deny me, that 
 it w^s the last request made by me to my father's old 
 friend.' 
 
 The lips of the pastor quivered with emotion, he 
 filowly dropped the hand of Trelawney. and at length, 
 he ejaculated. — ' Tanjore, dear, beloved Tanjore, I can 
 deny you nothing.' 
 
 'What,' said Trelawney, 'can you repose confi- 
 dence in one who, in spite of destiny, at this moment 
 doats on your angelic daughter,— yes, Mr. Claren-. 
 dale, you know I doat on your daughter Rosa with 
 unutterable fondness ; — but what of that, can Rosa 
 change my nature ?— Is' o ; I am yet unchanged in
 
 276 THE MYSTERIOUS MAETHAGE- 
 
 honour, and prepared to yield me a willing sacrifice, 
 (for such I now feel that it is,) to ' the Will of my 
 Father.' On my return to England, you will behofd 
 me the husband of Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne.' 
 
 The pastor breathed more freely ; he had now no 
 fears, and he rapturously exclaimed, — ' Virtuous, 
 amiable youth I heaven will surely reward thee.' 
 
 'As to my request,' said Trelawney; — 'Rosa's 
 education is but half completed, — it is my wish to be- 
 hold the loveliest flower in creation expand its open- 
 ing beauty to perfection, — let your daughter Rosa re- 
 ceive that polish which education can give. I am 
 aware of the great expense that will attend such edu- 
 cation—to you considerable, to me nothing. 
 
 ' To you, Tanjore, — to you,' exclaimed the pastor, 
 * surely you cannot mean, you cannot intend that this 
 godlike charity is to flow from you ?' 
 
 ' My intentions have ever been the same,' said Tre- 
 lawney, ' and I am glad that you so imderstand me. 
 You will receive for such purposes the money to be 
 expended yearly on the education of your daughter, 
 to whom breathe not a sentence of my confession to 
 you ; all the rest I leave to your discretion ; and now 
 farewell, my father's Clarendale, best and worthiest 
 man, farewell.' 
 
 Trelawney immediately joined the doctor and Mrs. 
 Bradbury, who apprized him the dinner was on the 
 table, and never was a meal pai-took of with more de- 
 lighted sensations ; in the breast of the pastor it was 
 more than gratitude, while Trelawney had a con- 
 sciousness of having created happiness to all around 
 him. But the hour came for his departure, and the 
 chaise had been ready nearly an hour before Trelaw- 
 ney had the courage to bid his friends adieu. 
 
 At length Trelawney rose ; — Mary had sat next to 
 him during dinner, and a presentiment, that it might 
 be the last time she should behold her benefactor, so 
 depressed her that she could scarcely «peak to hira.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 277 
 
 *Mary,' said he, 'you have a natural aversion to 
 taking leave of your friends, and so have I,— so,' 
 (taking both her hands in his) he fervently exclaim- 
 ed, ' may angels bless you, my sweet, ingenuous, ami- 
 able girl, eternally bless you ; bear my kind wishes 
 to Philip and Pi.ebecca when you see them.' 
 
 Not another word did Trelawney pronounce, but 
 springing from Marj-, he was instantly seated in the 
 chaise, and Mungo following, Trelawney drew up the 
 blinds, and the postillion drove with great velocity, 
 from Elm Grove. 
 
 But a scene equally affecting took place at the 
 White Cottage, between liosa and her mother, res- 
 pecting the conduct of Trelawney, of whose arrival 
 the doctor had apprized them, when he called in the 
 morning, the intelligence of which soon faded the 
 roseate hue of lovely Rosa's face. But what was her 
 emotion on hearing the doctor press her father to go 
 over immediately to Elm Grove, at the request of 
 Trelawney, circumstances not permitting him to visit 
 the White Cottage. 
 
 'If you know his reason,' said the doctor, 'it is 
 more than I do, but I am positive he will not come; 
 for to tell you the truth, I was pretty sharp with him 
 for it. But you know what a charming fellow he is, 
 there's no such thing as falling out with him, it is 
 morally impossible. His mind was made up. Well, 
 iny sweet little mountain rose, where's all your fresh 
 colour this monaing ? Poor Rosa made no reply to 
 this question, not conscious that she looked paler tban 
 usual ; though she felt near fainting. For Rosa's 
 was a combination of feelings hard to be described, 
 but by those precisely in her situation. 
 
 Perhaps Trelawney was now married to Lady Al- 
 exina Fitzosbourne ; — if so, what light had she to 
 expect to see him 'r But if Trelawney was not mar- 
 ried, how unkind not to come and bid' her farewell;- • 
 why did he shun the sight of her 'i
 
 Z7» THE MYSTERIOUS MA-RRIAGE. 
 
 Another thin.s^ was still more painful to Rosa's 
 feelings,— he could smile, and even sport with Doctor 
 Bradbury, on such a subject, while she was absent 
 and miserable; and her heart panted with a small 
 portion of dignified pride and resentment, woman's 
 best auxiliaries for disappointed passion. 
 
 The doctor in his attempt to make things better, 
 always had a knack of rendering them much worse by 
 ill-seasoned jokes, and he suddenly demanded of the 
 pastor, if he could give any reason for Trelawney's 
 absenting himself from the White. Cottage ? 
 
 To which the pastor gravely replied, — 'The best of 
 all possible reasons, Doctor Bradbury, — because he is 
 forbidden to enter it.' 
 
 'That's a good joke, by Jove,' exclaimed the doctor, 
 greatly enraged with his old friend ; ' and who has 
 forbidden him, pray F' 
 
 'A father I' answered Mr. Clarendale, 'naturally 
 anxious to promote the happiness, by preserving with 
 unsullied purity, the reputation of his child.' 
 
 Tho doctor v/as silenced, and placing his arm in the 
 pastor's, they proceeded to Elm Grove. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIIL 
 
 MARRIAGE OF ELIZABETH BRADBURY TO MR. 
 
 MILDMAY.-— APPOINTMENT OF HENRY CLARENDALE 
 
 TO THE RECTORY OF COVENTRY. 
 
 At the departure of the pastor and Doctor Brad- 
 bury, where did the agitated Rosa rest her aching 
 head? and who kissed away her tears, and bid her 
 seek consolation where it can only be obtained ? Who 
 but a mother whispered this consolation, — who but 
 her who having felt a mother's pangs, knew best how 
 to teach a child its duty ; but well was that tender 
 mother aware, that severe or reproachful language
 
 THF. MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 279 
 
 was the most improper system to adopt with her 
 child, whose heart would have broken under it. 
 
 From a mother's lips hard indeed would have fall- 
 en reproach, — since the sutforing heart of Rosa had 
 already wept abundantly for her fault ; and there is 
 no gTcater pang- to a feeling- heart than that which is 
 produced by the consciousness of our own indiscre- 
 tion ; and this pang Rosa now felt, as weeping on tho 
 bosom of her mother she dared not lift her eyes to 
 meet the indulgent smile, ever ready to be bestowed 
 Soothingly and gently she said, 
 
 'Arouse from this weakness, ray beloved Rosa, 
 exert your fortitude, and, under Providence look to 
 your ever indulgent fother and mother for your coun- 
 sellors and friends. Remember the great eiror you 
 have fallen into is to be overcome by time and reason, 
 we do not wish to correct it by severity, well assured 
 that my dear child is too pure and blamelcs-< to havj 
 merited it ; yet, my dear Rosa, (here Mrs. Clarcndalo 
 paused while she strained the trembling girl clo.ser to 
 her breast.) will not see her poor father and mother 
 made miserable by continuing to cherish a passion for 
 an object for whom it will not be only unavailing but 
 criminal ; — praiseworthy, I own, is your brother's 
 benefactor, your father's friend, thefriendof our wholo 
 family ! All this I admit ;— but to Rosa, he can 
 never be more than a friend ! The husband of Lady 
 Alexina Fitzosbourne must not inspire a warmer sen- 
 timent in the breast of Rosa ; instantly then, my bo- 
 loved child, dismiss this weakness frum your mind, 
 and never lose sight of what Trelawnoy is. and what 
 you are— shrink not from the native truth! Think, 
 my child, that there is a Providence who in its just 
 di'-^pensations can never err, though we are continu- 
 ally doing so, and provoking its vengeance ; think of 
 this, my Rosa, and reject not a mother's counsel : 
 turn your thoughts to active pursuits, and rest on my 
 indulgence to grant you all that is reasonable and
 
 280 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 just ; banish from your recollection this pleasing pre- 
 possession of an object that never can be j^ours, and 
 let friendship, pure and sacred, supply the place of 
 romantic passion in the bosom of my child ! thus 
 will you regain your soul's tranquillity; and thus 
 •will you be more endeared to the hearts of your pa- 
 rents, and in the estimation of all your friends!' 
 
 ' Indeed, indeed, I wiU, my dearly beloved and best 
 of mothers,' said Rosa, raising her head from her 
 mother's bosom, and looking confidently up to her 
 dear face ; ' I vf ill be all you wish ; do with me what 
 you please, my dearest mother, I will forget all but 
 what you have taught me to be. — To-night when I 
 say my prayers I will heave a last sigh to the recol- 
 lection of one whom I ought never to have loved, but 
 as the husband of another; — but indeed, dearest 
 mamma, I could not help it, "and that is the truth. 
 
 Rosa paused on the reflections of the many strug- 
 gles her heart had sustained on Trelawney's account, 
 and casting down her beautiful eyes to hide the bit- 
 ter tears which she shed at the idea that she must 
 think of him no iT!o:e. Mrs. Clarendale tenderly ex- 
 claimed, ' This is not the way, my beloved chii'd, to 
 prove that you intend to profit by my counsel.' 
 
 At which Rosa started from her recumbent pos- 
 ture, threw her arms affectionately round Mrs. Clar- 
 endale' s neck, and running into her own chamber, re- 
 tm-ned with a little box, in which she had deposited 
 the necklace, bracelets and earrings, which Trelaw- 
 ney had given her, and placing them in the hands of 
 her mother, sat a few moments in silence. 
 
 '"Well, my love,' said Mrs. Clarendale, with a gen- 
 tle smile, 'and what am I to do with these h' 
 
 'Keep them, mamma, till — till— I,' Rosa stam- 
 mered r.nd blushed a great while, before she could 
 finish her sentence ; ' till I — I mean, mamma, you 
 must keep them, till I have almost forgot who gave 
 them to me.'
 
 THK MYSTERIOUS MARRIAOB. 281 
 
 Mrs. Clarendale could scarcely resist smilinj^, but 
 she preserved her gravity while she uttered, — ' A veiy 
 prudent plan, my love, ami so I will ; ask mc not to 
 return them, remember, but on these condition^.' — 
 
 ' No, mamma, indeed I never will,' answered Rosa, 
 and instantly taking out her work-basket, she began 
 to employ herself, and tried to assume a cheerful com- 
 posure, which at length became more natural ; thus, 
 day after day, encouraged by the kindness of her f(.ud 
 parents, did the lovely Rosa gradually recover a por- 
 tion of that tranquillity which she once imagined 
 would return no more. 
 
 But Trelawney was not forgotten by Rosa ; he was 
 only remembered, to put her more strongly in mind 
 of her duty ; and at length she thought of him as one 
 whom she hoped to meet in another world, but was 
 forbid to behold in this ; and when conversing with 
 Mary Bradbuiy on the subject, she would mournfully 
 exclaim, ' Ah, Mary, how delightful is the thought 
 that those loved beings whom we could not mix with 
 in this earthly state without censure and pain, we 
 shall, hereafter behold again, in freshness and in 
 health, ten thousand times more beautiful ; and be a 
 thousand times more endeared to our recollection ; — 
 tell me, Mary, is not this thought delightful 'r' 
 
 Rosa uttered this with no affectation ; there was 
 serenity in her beautiful features, a dignified com- 
 posure in her manner, that proved she had often re- 
 flected on this happy thought, which drew tears frota 
 Mary's eyes, which she did not let Rosa see. Mary 
 would then resume her vivacity, and rally the spirits 
 of her pensive friend, by exclaiming, — 
 
 ' Pray, Rosa, are you determined on sending me 
 home, to take a bason of water-gruel, put my ftot in 
 warm water, and go moping to bed r' At which 
 .speech, most gravely uttered, Rosa could not rosisfc 
 laughing, while she added — ' No, Mary, n'.i ; how 
 can you think so Y
 
 282 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 * How can I think of any thing else,' said Mary, 
 ' when you talk to nie of such things ; come, let us 
 go down stairs, my mountain rose, and see if you can 
 afford me a dish of tea, before I return to Elm Grove ; 
 and then to-morrow I may favour you with my agree- 
 able cojiipany to Woodlands; I am ashamed to see 
 Beckey, she has invited me so often. On the strength 
 of Mary's promise, Rv)sa accompanied her lively com- 
 panion down stairs, and found Mr. and Mrs. Claren- 
 dale waiting tea for them, — 
 
 ' Weil, I am glad you are come at last, my loves,' 
 said the pastor, to whom the society of Mary was al- 
 ways a relaxation ; ' now, Mary, when you "have had 
 tea, I shall beg your opinion of a new purchase I have 
 been making for my daughter.' 
 
 *A purchase for me, dear papa,' inquired Rosa, 
 ' how kind ; yet quite unnecessary, because I have as 
 many new things as will last for years. Mary, you 
 remember my new gown, I have only worn it once 
 since we went to London, ' 
 
 'Well, well,' said the pastor, 'don't complain of 
 my extravagance, for in this purchase I have made 
 no addition to yoiir wardrobe, though I hope you will 
 find it a great addition to your amusements.' 
 
 'Mary Bradbury, do make haste and drink your 
 tea,' said Rosa, ' I do so much want to see what papa 
 has been so kind as to purchase for me.' 
 
 ' Indeed, but you must not be of the party,' said the 
 pastor, ' jMary is only to be my companion in the next 
 room, and let your mother tell you if she dares.' 
 
 'But I'm sure mamma will,' said Rosa, in coaxing 
 accent;^, as the pastor, and INIary rose from their seats. 
 
 'But I am sure mamma won't,' said Mary, laugh- 
 ing- as she followed the pastor into the parlour, and 
 Mrs Clarendale remained silent to all the inquiries 
 made by Rosa, till tbeir return; Mary expressed m 
 the most rapturous terms her approbation of his pur- 
 chase.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 283 
 
 '•You will absolutely be charmed, Rosa,' eaid Mary 
 Bradbury, ' for what can be more charming than that 
 •which gives us power to charm others.' 
 
 ' May I now be trusted with the secret, papa T in- 
 quired Rosa. 
 
 ' Yes, my sweetest,' answered Mr. Clarendale, 
 * come with me, and you shall there be presented with 
 a g-ift vrorthy of your gratitude and acceptanf-e.' 
 
 The strong emphasis which her father had placed 
 on the word gratitude, arrested the attention of Rosa, 
 and for a moment made her start with emution. 
 Could this gift come from Trelawncy, and if from 
 him. her father had thought it proper to accept of it ; 
 and if it was not his gift, it did not matter who pre- 
 sented it. 
 
 Soon, however was the curiosity of Rosa gratified, 
 for on coming into the oak paiiour, her eyes were 
 saluted with a beautiful harp, most delicately orna- 
 mented, with books, of most appropriate music, 
 adapted for lessons, every one of which se'cmed to 
 have been skilfnlly selected. 
 
 Astonishment for a few moments kept Rosa silent ; 
 at length she inquired, with a faltering voice, to 
 whom she was indebted for so juattering a compliment 
 — 'for flattering you know it is, papa, because I am 
 unacquainted with this charming accomplishment.' 
 
 ' But is there not a possibility of your being abb 
 to acquire it, my dear r' said the pastoi*. 
 
 'Oh, yes, papa if anybody who understands it will 
 take the trouble to teach me, doubt not but I will 
 learn most aptly.' said Rosa. 
 
 'We will tiy that very soon, my darling,' .^aid the 
 po^ ior, and without hesitation, informed her by whom 
 this gift had been presented to her, as also the kind 
 intentions of Trelawnev, in his having expressed a 
 -wish that she would perfect herself in every us«.:iil 
 and ornamental accomplishment suitable to her age, 
 and bciiiu a course of studies for that purpose ; * in
 
 284 THE MYSTERIOUS MARIIIA.GE. 
 
 order to do this, my beloved child, go actively about 
 what you have to perform, and fix your mind exclu- 
 sively on that and nothing- else, otherwise you will 
 frustrate the benevolent intentions of your friend, who 
 has supplied me with the means to put his excellent 
 design into execution; an uncultivated mind presents 
 a blank, for havin^: no resources in itself, it is inevi- 
 tably oblig-ed to others, and is therefore often misled 
 in its opinions, which renders it not only habitually 
 but_naturally the slave of prejudice, and too frequent- 
 ly illiberality; — forbidding- vanity, ridiculous pride 
 and virulent malignity are often the consequence of 
 want of intellectual acquirement; but an infhiite 
 number of virtues, my dearest Rosa, will spring- fi-om 
 the cultivation of the*mind. 
 
 The first sensation of Rosa at sight of the beauti- 
 ful harp, designed for her alone, was surprise and 
 pleasure ; the next, on being told that it was the gift 
 of Trclawney, was that of unbounded delight, that he 
 had not in any degree, lessened in his attention to- 
 wards her. 
 
 But when her father had apprized her of the whole 
 of his generous intentions, and that Trelawney himself 
 wished her to excel in accomplishments, and' had act- 
 ually made a provision to her father, in order that no 
 expenses should be spared in perfecting her education, 
 the transports she felt could neither be concealed, nor 
 the consequent tide of her joy be disguised, for Rosa was 
 the child of nature, and tears and smiles often con- 
 tributed to heighten that exquisite beauty in her 
 countenance, and she could not but ask herself, why 
 Trclawney interested himself so strongly in her wel- 
 fares—of what consequence to him coulti be her edu- 
 cation, since to him she could be nothing ?— and why 
 should he feel so anxious to see her possessed of those 
 elegant accomplishments in which he could take no 
 share, and pleasure, as probably he would never wit- 
 ness or hear of them? Fx-om what then spruug this
 
 THE MYSTERIOtS MARRIAGE. 285 
 
 generosity so uncommon, and so little selfish, that 
 ilosa doubted whether love for her had anything to 
 do with it; yet to be all he wished iilledher heart 
 with emulation she had never felt before. She cast 
 her eyes down in silence, and restinj? them on the 
 harp, the loveliest blush mantled on her fair cheek, 
 while she passed some slight remarks on its beautiful 
 and appropriate ornaments— an enchanting figure of 
 hope, crowning love with a chaplet of myrtle flowers. 
 
 The myrtle is an emblem of constancy, thought 
 Rosa, but blushed, and checked herself in the recol- 
 lection, that with the constancy of Trelawney she had 
 nothing to do, — that belonged to another, and she 
 turned from the soul-harrowing reflection ; yet when 
 taking her lessons from some of the most approved 
 masters, sent by order of Trelawney, the figure of hope 
 and mjTtle often caught her observation, and a pen- 
 sive sigh often followed. 
 
 Rosa made quick advancement in her studies, she 
 had Italian masters and French, while the pastor 
 superintended her selection of English authors. He 
 furnished her mind with the treasui'es of antiquity, 
 and the philosophy of nature ; nor was the more light 
 and amusing entertainment of the Belles Lettres for- 
 gotten. 
 
 In a short time she played and sung with the most 
 exquisite taste, though she had not yet acquired 
 science. So much was Rosa rapidly advancing to- 
 wards perfection in every accomplishment, that her 
 fond parents, often gazing on her with the most 
 rapturous delight, no longer wondered that Trelawney 
 loved so sweet and engaging a creature, and gifted 
 with all the charms of youthful beauty. 
 
 And Mary still continued to charm the listening 
 throng with her merry ballads in the old oak parl<-ur, 
 whenever the Bradbury family were invited to meet 
 a snug party of friends at the "White Cottage ; the 
 doctor declaring that though the voice of Miss Claren-
 
 286 THE MYSTERIOUS MAllRIAGE. 
 
 dale was very fine, and her s^ngs admir.'iltjy executed, 
 that he preferred Mary's'old gypsy ballads to the 
 finest compositions of lilozart. 
 
 Woodlands, the residence of Mi-, and Mrs. Philip 
 Bradbuiy, was often resorted to, as the seat of domes- 
 tic happiness and social harmony, by the two happy 
 families of Doctor Bradbury and Mr. Clarendale ; and 
 E.ebecca was the happiest of v/ives, as she was shortly 
 likely to be the happiest of mothers, a circumstance 
 which gave the doctor the greatest pleasure, for hav- 
 ing long anticipated the period when he should be 
 made a grandfather, he could not easily have brooked 
 a disappointment to his wishes. ' It was all settled, 
 therefore, that the little stranger should be a boy, 
 and that boy should be gifted with the two thousand 
 pounds he had intended as the portion of Mary. 
 
 ' So mind. Beckcy,' said the doctoi*, one evening as 
 they 'vere all assembled to tea, at Woodlands, * mind 
 you don't give us a girl instead of a boy, — if you do, 
 by Jove, 1 will have nothing at all to do with it ; girls 
 are so troublesome, they ai'e such a plague to ' 
 
 'Their fathers,— are not they. Sir!''' said Mary, 
 placing one of her little hands on his mouth, while 
 she adjusted his wig with the otlier. * There now, 
 father, you will do,' said she, with a winning smile ; 
 for the doctor, who never consulted much ceremony, 
 had made poor Rebecca blush extremely, as young 
 Mildmay, the lover of Elizabeth Bradbury, and several 
 visitors were paying their first congratulations to the 
 young married couple at Woodlands. 
 
 Mary hov^^ever soon reconciled Rebecca to herself 
 again, by diverting her father from the present sub- 
 ject he had thought proper to entertain the 'company 
 with, and the conversiUion took a difi'crent turn ; all 
 eyes resting with delight on the lovely Rosa, now more 
 mature in beauty and dignified in her deportment, and 
 improved by eveiy accomplishment ; nor was there a 
 greater admirer of those graces, than Rebecca.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGK. 287 
 
 The strong attaclimrnt of Ilcbooca to her beloved 
 Rosa, had increased with years ; and it had received 
 no diminution from her marriage and its consequences, 
 —for when a mother, Kebtcca felt that the should 
 love her sister more dearly. With these reflections 
 did Rebecca gaze with increased delight and admira- 
 tion on her lovely sister; and as she listened with 
 rapture to her charming song, would softly ejaculate 
 prayers for her future happiness, — often exclaiming 
 to her husband, when they were alone, — 
 
 * I have but one wish now, indeed, dear Philip.' 
 
 ' Oh, my love, don't say so, you women have so 
 many;— but come, out with this wish. I hnpo you 
 don't want me to convert the garden into a fish-pond, 
 or make a Chinese building over the wall.' 
 
 ' I will scold you, if you are so impertinent,' said 
 Rebecca, but not parting with her sweet smile : ' I 
 ■was thinking of my sister, when I said I had but one 
 wish more to make me happy, and that was— -but I 
 shall make you vain, so I have half a mind not to tell 
 
 you.' 
 
 ' But iJvith the other half, I am persuaded you will,' 
 said Philip Bradbury ; ' come, 1 will tell you, — you 
 were thinking of Rosa, and wishing ' 
 
 * That Rosa was as happy as I now am,' said Re- 
 becca, with a most enchanting smile, which gratified 
 her transported husband i ' oh, that she was married 
 to one who could appreciate her merit.' 
 
 ' For my part, my dear Beckey,' answered Philip, 
 • I have but one wit^h about the niatt>:r, and that is, 
 unless Rosa is united to Trelawney, I am quite indif- 
 ferent whether she marries at nil.' 
 
 ' ^Married to Trelawney !' said Rebccc^i, ' my sister 
 married to Trelawney : oh, fie, Philip, how can you 
 think of such a thing, when you know how utterly 
 impossible, that is.' 
 
 ' Impossible or possible, she will never marry any 
 body else,' said Philip.
 
 288 THE MYSTERIOUS MARllIAGE. 
 
 'Nonsense, Philip, Low stvatigely you talk.' said 
 Rebecca, 'will not ouv dear and excellent friend very 
 soon become the husband of Lady Alexina Fitzos- 
 bourne? answer me that question.' 
 
 'I will answer nothing,' said Philip, 'nor till I see 
 Trelawney the husband, of Lady Alexina Fitzos- 
 bourne, will I believe that he has such intention.' 
 
 Rebecca gave a severe lecture to her husband for 
 this speech, and ever after avoided the subject as 
 much as possible, well knowing the sentiments of her 
 dear and honoured father. 
 
 The ensuing week, Philip and Rebecca were not 
 much by themselves, in consequence of Elizabeth 
 Bradbury's being led to the hymeneal altar by young 
 Mildmay ; the doctor being very impatient to have 
 every thing brought to a conclusion with the young 
 cou|ile, saying — ' That it was no use to stand shilly- 
 shallying when people had made up their minds on 
 the score of matrimony.' 
 
 So the fair Elizabeth, who was in this matter 
 * nothing loath,' became the wife of Pcichard Mildmay, 
 three months before she had intended, merely because 
 her father never ceased importuning her on a subject 
 by no means disagreeable ' to a fair maiden's ear,' who 
 was going to marry the lad of her heart. 
 
 Away posted Doctor Bradbury to "Woodlands, to 
 invite his son and daughter to the Avedding, which 
 was carried on with the same spirit as had been that 
 of Philip's and Rebecca's, only a little more riotous ; 
 for the millers had come to Kenihvorth, by the invi- 
 tation of their young master, to celebrate this joyful 
 era of his life ; and the sports continued for many 
 days in the village, the doctor declaring, that it was 
 impossible to have too much of a good thing. 
 
 When they were tired, however, with dancing and 
 feasting, the' pastor mildly reminded them, that there 
 was a season for all things, and that it was now time 
 to depart in peace.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 289 
 
 Thus was order and sobriety kept within proper 
 bounds, and the village of KenUworth once more 
 eerene as 'spring tide flowers;' — a bird might have 
 nestled on the branches of a tree, and its sweet notes 
 would have been heard by the passer by, so tranquil 
 became the sequestered village of Kenilworth; to 
 which, and its rural scenes might be ascribed the 
 beautiful lines of Goldsmith, in his charniing des- 
 cription of the Deserted Village :- 
 
 'Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain, 
 •"Where health and plenty cheer the labouring swain, 
 ' Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, 
 'And parting summer's lingering bloom delay'd. 
 * Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, 
 •Seats of my youth, where every spot could please.' 
 
 Though Mary Bradbury treated the letter of Lady 
 Glenthorpe to Henry, with the contempt it merited ; 
 y^ she was not pleased with its contents, and she 
 feared that she would molest him again while he was 
 in town. Not that Mary Bradbury could be jealous 
 of such a woman as Lady Glenthorpe, or doubt for 
 one moment the fidelity of Henry Clarendale; yet 
 she was agitated by the subject. 
 
 Accident often reveals the state of our minds when 
 we least expect it, and so it happened with Mary; for 
 when the whole family, including Philip and Rebec- 
 ca, and Mr. and Mrs. Mildraay, were invited to din- 
 ner at the White Cottage, Doctor Bradbury, suddenly 
 turning to his son, said, — 'I can get nothing out of 
 the women, because they don't like to praise one an- 
 other, but tell me, Phil, what sort of a woman this 
 lady is, that was so kind as to want to jump into 
 Mary's place with our Harry, — this Lady Glenthorpe, 
 what is she like ?' 
 
 ' Very much like a woman, Sir,' said Philip, 'to the 
 best of my recollection ;' and set everj-body in a roar 
 of laughter, especially the young bridegroom.
 
 290 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE, 
 
 * Well, but I suppose she is a prodigious fine one, 
 is she not, Phil ?' 
 
 ' What makes you suppose so, Sir Y 
 
 ' What makes me suppose so !' said the doctor, 
 
 * Why, what the dickens can make me suppose any 
 thing else ? When an old woman falls in love with 
 a young man she is ' 
 
 ' Decidedly ridiculous, Sir,' said Philip Bradbury, 
 
 * but I really do not think Lady Glenthorpe either 
 old or ugly. She is a beautiful woman.' 
 
 ' Mary, my dear givl, what ails you ?' said Mrs. 
 Clarendale, observing Mary's paleness, for whom this 
 description of her rival was enough, but making some 
 slight excuse to Mrs. Clarendale, she tried to conceal 
 her perturbation, while she exclaimed with great 
 spirit — ' Yes, I am quite of your opinion, Phil ; Lady 
 Glenthorpe is — is — is— a very — very that she cer- 
 tainly is— one of the most disagreeable women I ever 
 beheld.' 
 
 The laugh was now turned against poor Mary, who, 
 in attempting to dissemble, had actually revealed the 
 real state of her feelings ; she had intended to praise 
 Lady Glenthorpe at the expense of her sincerity, but 
 truth, like a beautiful cherub child, stood at the door 
 and would not permit her. 
 
 ' I will not suffer my dear little girl to be so tor- 
 mented,' said the doctor ; ' come, Mary, sit by me, 
 and I will protect you against all railers ; let them 
 laugh if they please, 'tis we that shall win ; not all 
 the Lady Glenthorpes under the sun can banish your 
 sweet image from the breast of Henry.' ' But if she 
 will wear yellow stockings, we cannot help it ; but 
 come, Molly, give me a kiss, and to-morrow I will 
 give you something out of my sly purse.' But Mary 
 wouli not kiss her father till he coaxed her pretty 
 handsomely, and the yellow stockings were never 
 mentioned again. 
 
 ' Mary, however, was not destined to wear the yel-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 291 
 
 low stockings long, a happier fate and brighter pros- 
 pects awaited her ; for not many days after, the pas- 
 tor, as he sat at breakfast, was most agreeably sur- 
 prised by the following intelligence from Trelawney, 
 written in apparent haste and agitation, but the con- 
 tents of the letter nearly overpowered his feelings, 
 and those of the transported mother ;— 
 
 'My dear united friends of the "\Miite Cottage and 
 Elm Grove, I hasten not only to inform you, but to con- 
 gratulate you, on the tiilin^s I now communicate ; Henry, 
 your dear Henry, has this morning received his ordin- 
 ance, from the Bishop of L , and is thouiiht qualified 
 
 by his Grace, with whom he has obtained an interview, 
 to enter into holy orders, by which he will be immedi 
 ately gifted with the living of Coventry. 
 
 'My dear friends, if I a'id that my heart is too full on 
 the present occasion, I shall only do justice, for I now 
 feel it impossible to express them : Henry is all agitation, 
 and you must not expect to hear from him till he is more 
 collected, to acquaint you with the result of his good for- 
 tunes ; remember that it will now be a momentous time 
 With him 1 
 
 ' Yours sincerely and faithfully, 
 
 ' Tanjore Edward TreJaicney.' 
 
 * If there be an angel in the human form, that an- 
 gel is Trelawney,' exclaimed Mrs. Clarendale, casting 
 a look of such unutterable fondness at the agitated 
 Rosa, that she burst into an agony of tears, blessing 
 the hand which raised her brother to a station where 
 his merits would meet with a just reward. 
 
 ' These are the tears of gratitude, father,' said she ; 
 *ah, do not chide them, for indeed they are sacred to 
 Trelawney.' 
 
 ' To chide you, my dearest girl, is not in my na- 
 ture,' said the pastor, ' but let me not see your tours, 
 Rosa. Fanny, my love, you are to blame for this 
 trial of her sensibility ; she would have boon collect- 
 ed had you been so ; but you are a mother, and a mo- 
 ther's weakness must ever be indulged.'
 
 292 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE, 
 
 ' Oh my Henry, tlie darling of my soul,' said Mrs. 
 Clareudale, weeping and forgetting all but him, ' my 
 dear, dear boy, never did your mother feel a transport 
 equal to this ; no, not when your beauteous eyes first 
 opened to the new-born light ; not when on my bo- 
 som I first received your balmy breath, did your mo- 
 ther feel such joy as now !' 
 
 ' Not when your little Rosa was born, and my dear 
 sister Rebecca,' said Rosa, in winning accents ; ' oh, 
 yes, mother, you loved us all, say you did, and let 
 not Henry bear the victory from me and Beckey ? did 
 you not love us all, mother, as you did Henry r" 
 
 "Whether it was the look of Rosa, so afi'ectionate, 
 that pleaded in the heart of her mother, it is difficult 
 to determine, for Mrs. Clarendale caught with trans- 
 port her beloved child to her maternal bosom ; and 
 the pastor, wholly overpowered, instantly hastened to 
 communicate the joyful tidings to the participator of 
 his family concerns, the eccentric, but no less worthy 
 Doctor Bradbury. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 TRELAAVNEY GIVES THE PORTRAIT OF ROSA TO 
 HENRY TO RETURN TO MARY BRADBURY. 
 
 No sooner did Trelawney arrive in town than he 
 hastened to Grosvenor Square, though eagerly wish- 
 ing to obtain one hour's conversation with Lord 
 Sydney Belmont, at Valencia Lodge ; but Trelawney 
 conceived his first duty was due to Lord Fitzosbourne, 
 whc^se affectionate conduct during the unpleasant 
 business between him and the Marquis of Montre- 
 voirs, had much endeared his Lordship to him. 
 
 The establishment of Henry Clarendale, and the ne- 
 cessary arrangements for his more permanent happi- 
 ness, in his union with Mary Bradbury, all which ha 
 hoped to &ee completed before his depar uure from Eng-
 
 THE MYSTEHIOUS MARRIAOE. 293 
 
 land, now occupied his mind. Norwastheconscion^Tiosa 
 of having performed his duty to his iriends at K<nil- 
 worth, without its full reward ; for he had not only 
 laid the foundation of Mary's happiness, but he had 
 provided for his beloved Rosa, in such a way that her 
 delicacy could not be hurt, by the respecttul rej^ard 
 he had evinced for her welfare, and which had met 
 the full concurrence of her father. He had, there- 
 fore, only to overcome the pang of leaving Englnid 
 without "beholding her, and to return as hopcle.ss as 
 ever, of all that related to her, — return to become tho 
 husband of Lady Alexina Fitzosboume, with the cer- 
 tainty of Rosa being lost to him for ever. In this 
 frame of mind, he entered Fitzosbourne House, and 
 without ceremony, in his travelling dress, presented 
 himself in the saloon, where he was agreeably sur- 
 prised at finding the whole of the Valencia family 
 present. 
 
 ' Trelawney returned, thank heaven!' said Lord 
 Sydney, rising in transports to welcome him. 
 
 'My dear boy Tanjore,' said the Earl, afiectionate- 
 ly, ' 1 have been anxiously expecting your arrival 
 these two hours.' 
 
 ' And I have been out of patience this quarter of an 
 hour,' said Lady Frances Belmont, laughing with her 
 usual good humour. 
 
 Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne was playing with a 
 gold chain, which was suspended from her bosom, a 
 new purchase that morning, and from which she did 
 not condescend to remove her eyes, when Trelawney, 
 approaching her with a kind inquiry after her health, 
 she poutingly answered : — 
 
 'What is it to you how I am ?' 
 
 'Alexina,' exclaimed the Earl, 'Alexina, is this 
 your reception of Trelawney 't' 
 
 ' Oh, pray do not give yourself a moment's uneasi- 
 ness on ray account, my dear Lord,' said Trelawney, 
 smiling, and in good humour, ' I am not sxirprised
 
 294 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGB. 
 
 that I should be an un-welcome guest with my fair 
 cousin, for here is my formidable little rival,' point- 
 ing to the marmozet, which she had placed on her 
 lap, who is more fortunate in her Ladyship's good 
 graces than I am.' 
 
 ' How ill-natured you are, Mr. Trelawney,' said 
 Lady Glenthorpe, ' always to be making remarks on 
 my little niece's little pet. Lady Honoria Belmont, 
 did you ever see a more beautiful creature ?' 
 
 ' I really have no predilection in favour of monkeys, 
 Lady Glenthorpe, and must confess myself wholly 
 ignorant of their personal qualifications,' 
 
 * I am very glad to hear it, my dear young lady,* 
 cried the Earl, ' and wish you could persuade my 
 daughter to adopt so reasonable an opinion.' 
 
 Lady Alexina's folly now raised disgust in all pre- 
 sent, by lavishing on her favourite a thousand ridi- 
 culous caresses, while she exclaimed, — ' I will love 
 my monkey, in spite of all you can say, that's what 
 I will, papa.' 
 
 The Earl made no reply to this amiable speech, 
 having entered into conversation with Trelawney and 
 Lord Sydney Belmont, on the subject of their in- 
 tended departure, which was to follow the presenta- 
 tion of Henry Clarendale, who had that morning been 
 
 some hours with the Bishop of L , by whom he 
 
 was received most graciously ; but Trelawney in the 
 chop-fallen countenance of Lady Glenthorpe, soon 
 perceived what reception Henry's letter had met with 
 from her mortified and offended Ladyship, and he 
 found it difficult to suppress a laugh,' when making 
 inquiries after Henry, she answered with a disdain- 
 ful toss of the head, ' Really, Mr. Trelawney, I am 
 not Mr. Henry Clarendale's keeper— though my bro- 
 ther has condescended to became his pati'on.' 
 
 ♦ A patronage of which I feel assured he will ever 
 prove worthy,' said Trelawney, smiling: 'but do you 
 not know, Lady Glenthorpe, that when the great con-
 
 THE MT8TERI0US MARRIAOK. 295 
 
 descend to bestow favours on their inferiors, they add 
 to their exalted rank instead of lessening it, and to 
 their private virtues an illustration far more valuable 
 than their armorial bearings, or the proudest monu- 
 ment which can be erected to their memories.' 
 
 ' I shall not dispute the argument with you, Sir, — 
 nor am I a judge of his qualifications sufficiently to 
 prove him worthy of the honours to which he is ap- 
 proaching by Lord Fitzosbourne's interference, with- 
 out which he would have remained in obscurity.' 
 
 'Unless your ladyship had been pleased to exalt 
 him to a much higher rank and station,' said Trelaw- 
 ney, determined to punish her rancorous mode of ex- 
 pression. 
 
 Instantly her Ladyship's cheeks assumed the deep- 
 est scarlet, and her quivering lips articulated, — 'Me, 
 Mr. Trelawney 1" — me raise your friend to rank and 
 eminence ; — I do not comprehend you.' 
 
 ' Yet your Ladyship is of all women in the world 
 the least dull of comprehension,' said Trelawney, 
 deliberately ; and Lady Glenthorpe exhibited a con- 
 fusion which was perceptible even in the eyes of her 
 silly niece, who, bursting into one of her girlish laughs, 
 exclaimed, — ' Gracious me, aunt, what makes you 
 blush so ? — I never saw you blush before ; do tell me 
 what it is all about r"— dear, how funny and comical.' 
 
 * Lady Alexina, I beg you will retire with me to my 
 dressing-room,' said the now enraged Lady Glen- 
 thorpe, and dreading lest any further explanation 
 should take place between herself and Trelawney, 
 in the presence of her niece, and curtseying to Tre- 
 lawney, most graciously, bade him good night. 
 
 " ' Parting is such sweet sorrow,' " 
 uttered Trelawney, and assuming a theatrical accent. 
 
 To which her Ladyship instantly adopting his man- 
 ner replied, with intolerable effrontery and affectation, 
 in the words of the love-sick Juliet, — 
 
 " 'That I could say good nigbt till It were morrow." "
 
 296 THE MYSTEPvIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 This conversation was not heard by the Earl, who 
 had retired to his chamber when his guests departed ; 
 and Henry Clarendale, unable to encounter the cold, 
 disdainful looks of Lady Glenthorpe, who now treat- 
 ed him with contempt, felt his situation in the absence 
 of Trelawney, very uncomfortable in Fitzosbourne 
 House, though under it he had experienced such good 
 fortune, and having a very severe head-ache from the 
 effects of agitation, he was retiring to his room, just 
 when Trelawney arrived at Fitzosbourne House. 
 
 'You shall positively have no sleep to-night, 
 Henry,' said Trelawney, after he had satisfied his 
 inquiries as to the healths of his dear relatives at 
 Kenilworth, ' because I am going to talk of nothing 
 to you but Mary — Mary, dear Mary, will be the 
 theme of our conversation for some time, I promise 
 you, — a blush, Henry, — what jealous again ?' 
 
 'Jealous, my dear Sir,' said Henry, — 'jealous of 
 Mary? Oh, no, I am cured of that.' 
 
 ' Upon my soul, I am glad to hear it,' said Trelaw- 
 ney, 'for jealousy and love are two of the most 
 quarrelsome companions that can meet together; 
 jealousy was once very near getting the better of your 
 good sense ; — jealous of me too, at the moment that I 
 was making a voluntary confession to Mary of my 
 love to your sister. — You look surprised, but it was 
 even the case ; but I will now justify Mary Bradbury, 
 of ever having merited your suspicion, which you re- 
 member was first excited by my paying the amiable 
 girl some attention ;— do you remember, Henry?' 
 
 ' Oh, Sir, I would banish the recollection from your 
 remembrance altogether, fearful that it might lessen 
 me in your good opinion.' 
 
 'Then, Henry, you must banish gratitude and 
 Mary at the same time ;' how shall we manage that ?' 
 Henry was silent; — and Trelawney proceeded: — 
 
 ' I was one morning visiting Elm Grove, Henry, 
 and conversing with the amis^le mistress of the man-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 207 
 
 sion, when Mary suddenly entered. I shall never 
 forget her arch expressive countenance, as she held 
 in her hand a portrait of her own painting, and never 
 did she execute a drawing more to perfection, than 
 the charming countenance she had obtained a correct 
 likeness of; but at which the tantalizing little hussy 
 would not permit me to steal more than a transient 
 glance. This portrait, Henry, which I longed to call 
 my own, was that of your lovely sister; imagine, 
 therefore, my confusion, when the tormenting Mary 
 held it at a greater distance, laughing with the most 
 provoking nonchalance, till Mrs. Bradbury, who prob- 
 ably guessed the nature of my feelings, left us together, 
 when Miss Mary again tormented me, and a second 
 time punished my affected indifference by withdraw- 
 ing it from my view. I had no alternative of escaping 
 from my little tyrant, but by a confession of my love 
 for Rosa, to get possession of Mary's treasure, and I 
 disclosed in confidence to Mary Bradbury, that my 
 heart was alone in possession of Rosa, and would ever 
 remain so. Now, Henry, mark the sequel of this 
 mutual confidence, for to it was owing your ungener- 
 ous suspicions of an amiable girl who has never ceased 
 to love you with the truest sincerity. I entreated 
 Mary to give me the precious portrait, at the same 
 instant that I demanded the secrecy of a circumstance 
 so delicate and peculiar. The necessity of binding 
 Mary to secrecy was obvious, while on her part she 
 demanded, that I should never reveal to Rosa how I 
 got the picture. Thus was mutual confidence ex- 
 changed, and a mutual promise passed between us. 
 The picture became mine, and the amiable Mary, be- 
 came subject to the cold suspicions of her once kind 
 and adoring Henry.' 
 
 'Ah, do not make me blush by pleading guilty, my 
 dear Mr. Trelawney ; for my dear Mary is now just- 
 ified, and her transported Henry never more can doubt 
 her true aft'ection.' Trelawney, smUed emd replied 
 with emotion, —
 
 298 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 'Yes, Mary has kept her promise sacred, at the 
 risk of forfeiting the good opinion of the man she 
 loved ; yet Mary has never betrayed the confidence of 
 Trelawney, and I have broken mine; — from her pro- 
 mise Mary is now released, for concealment is no lon- 
 ger necessary, and it now devolves upon me to return 
 her the picture of Rosa.' 
 
 ' Return the picture of Rosa again to Mary,' ex- 
 claimed Henry, in surprise; 'ah, wherefore, Mr. 
 Trelawney, when the sight of it is so necessary to 
 your happiness, and will give you great pleasure r" 
 
 ' Necessary to my happiness,' repeated Trelawney, 
 agitated beyond expression ; ' give me pleasure, — can 
 a miser feel pleasure in thinking on his gold, when he 
 has lost it in the stream ? — The picture of Rosa give me 
 pleasure ! — Henry, no ; no honest man ought to con- 
 template with pleasure the portrait of another when 
 his hand is pledged at the sacred altar, and the mar- 
 riage vow once passed his lips ; — I must not think of 
 Rosa, and behold myself in the same instant the 
 husband of Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne. Take then, 
 Henry, the precious picture of your sister ; and as 
 soon as you behold your beloved Mary, inform her 
 from whose hand you received this deposit, — once 
 Mary's gift, but now the gift of Trelawney.' 
 
 Henry bowed his head in silence, much affected by 
 the emotion of the generous Trelawney. 
 
 ' There,' said Trelawney, opening his bosom, and 
 discovering, in a rich case of gold, the beautiful fea- 
 tures of Rosa, traced by the hand of Mary ; ' there, 
 Henry, behold the portij^t of your sister,— remove it, 
 I beseech you, from my breast, lest that in one ec- 
 static glance of her dear features I forget my resolu- 
 tions, and prove how weak is the nature of man.' 
 
 Henry instantly obeyed the order, with a trembling 
 hand, while his heart felt most poignantly for Trelaw- 
 ney and his beloved sister, whose health and languid 
 spirits during his visit to his paternal abode was no
 
 THE inrSTEBIOUS MAKRIAGE. 299 
 
 longer a mystery, for the lovely girl then laboured 
 with a secret attachment to Trelawney, and vainly 
 endeavoured to suppress it. 
 
 When Trelawney had resigned Rosa's picture, 
 which Henry conveyed to his own breast for security, 
 he wept much and exclaimed,— ' Farewell, Rosa, — 
 beloved of my soul, eternally farewell ! I could not 
 possess thee with honour, and without honour there 
 could be no happiness for thee or Trelawney.' 
 
 He then grew more composed, and entered into the 
 bright prospects of his young friend, and the anauge- 
 ments necessary for his permanent establi.«hment as 
 soon as he had taken holy orders ; informing him of 
 what had passed between himself and Doctor Brad- 
 bury, and his father. 
 
 ' Your mother I did not see,' 
 
 * Not see my mother,' said Henry ; * then of course 
 
 you had no opportunity of seeing ' Henry checked 
 
 hinl^^elf ;— but Trelasvney replied, — 
 
 ' Your sister ; — you are right, Henry, I did not see 
 Rosa; — I would not again behold Rosa for worlds, in 
 the frame of mind I now am, it Wduld tear the tibres 
 of my heart asunder. But though I have not seen 
 Rosa, should I perish in a distant country, I have 
 thought of Rosa, — ah, who shall prevent true love 
 from thinking,- -should this be the result of my des- 
 tiny, your sister, Henry, is provided for; Mary too, 
 do you think I have forgotten Mary, my little minia- 
 ture painter r" And Trelawney smiled as he wished 
 Henry good night ; but it was but a melancholy 
 smile, and Henry felt it from the bottom of his soul, 
 as he ardently pressed his hand, — he wished that pro- 
 vidence had been kinder, and made Trelawney happy. 
 
 "Who shall pierce the impervious veil of mortal des- 
 tination ? — None ; however exalted in rank, or station, 
 or bloated by affluence. — And even were the veil 
 withdrawn, dare we behold it 'i should we not trem- 
 ble at its awful dispensations ?— Ah ! these secret
 
 300 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 things belong only to the Lord. The development is 
 hereafter, therefore patiently trust the Alinighty. 
 
 Such were the reflections of Henry on his pillow ; 
 while sleep gently closed the weary eyes of Trelaw- 
 ney, the faithful monitor beat calmly on his brilliant 
 throne, an approving conscience ! that blest reward of 
 all earthly trials and afflictions, and to which there is 
 nothing superior. Trelawney rose early the ensuing 
 morning, greatly refreshed and tranquillized ; having 
 made an early appointment with Lord Sydney Bel- 
 mont, he hastened to "Valencia Lodge much sooner 
 than he could suppose any of its fair inhabitants had 
 arisen ; what therefore was his surprise when he en- 
 tered the drawing-room at the Duke's, to find Lady 
 Honoria out of her dressing-room, and engaged at 
 work, so intently that she did not perceive the en- 
 trance of Ti'elawney fill he addressed her, and she 
 started with an emotion of surprise and pleasure. 
 'Mr. Trelawney, I did not expect to see you thus 
 early,' said her "Ladyship. 
 
 ' Because there is a reversion of day and night at 
 Fitzosbourne House,' my sweet friend,' inquired Tre- 
 lawney, seating himself, without ceremony, beside 
 her; 'do you mean that r" 
 
 * No, indeed, I did not mean to be so severe,' ans- 
 wered Lady Honoria, with a smile. 
 
 ' Lady Honoria Belmont is not apt to speak without 
 meaning,' answered Trelawney, observing the blush 
 on her fair cheek, as her mild blue eyes encountered 
 his, with a sensation of poignant concern. Perhaps 
 it was pity that she should still cherish a predilection 
 in favour of one from whom she could meet no return ; 
 perhaps it was respect for the superior virtues and 
 accomplishments of Lady Honoria, but certainly it 
 was not love that made him heave a responsive sigh 
 to her's, as she remarked the short period before the 
 departure of her brother from England, and the un- 
 certainty of his speedy return.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 301 
 
 * I ■will not promise for its being speedy,' said Tre- 
 lawney, ' but my sweet friend has no cause to indulge 
 Bucli melancholy presages ; rather, dear Lady Hono- 
 ria, anticipate the pleasui-e of a happy meeting ; Lord 
 Sydney will cherish the sweetest remembrance of hia 
 beloved sister, nor will you be banished from the re- 
 collection of your veiy sincere and grateful fi-iend and 
 admirer, Tanjore Trelawney. 
 
 It was the warm effusion of a benevolent disposi- 
 tion, fur which he was so remarkable, that prompted 
 him to impart consolation to the gentle Lady Ho- 
 noria. who had too much discernment to receive his 
 compliments in any other light ; she had entirely re- 
 covered her spirits, when Lord Sydney and ladies 
 Catlierine and Frances Belmont entered the room. 
 
 ' Fanny, it is your fault,' said I-ady Catherine, curt- 
 seying to Trelawney ; ' we shall be tormented all the 
 morning with his company ; you know we were to call 
 on -uadame de Valmont precisely at twelve.' 
 
 'But I shall not plead guiUy,'Lady Catherine Bel- 
 mont,' said Lady Frances, ' and I appeal to you. good 
 gentlefolks, if I am not right in rejecting the idea that 
 the company of Mr. Chandois Queensbury, who is 
 coming to take a family dejune, sans ceremonie, can 
 be so disagreeable to my sister as she represents.' — 
 
 ' The company of Mr. Queensbury is an acquisition 
 at any time,' said Trelawney, ' but to Lady Catherine 
 I conceive his society has additional charms.' 
 
 ' From whence have you taken your conceptions, 
 Mr. Trelawney r' asked Lady Catherine, blushing. 
 
 ' From observation, Lady Catherine, and your 
 Ladyship's avowed opinion ; 'frequently have you de- 
 clared that eccentricity was pleasing, and if it is so, 
 the gentleman we are alluding to is amply gifted with 
 the power of pleasing his most partial admirers.' 
 
 ' Inow your Ladyship is fairly caught,' said Lord 
 Sydney, laughing, ' for of all the eccentric creature* 
 xxnderthe sun your lover is the most singular.'
 
 302 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 *My eccentric lover,' exclaimed Lady Catherine, 
 * Gracious heaven, Sydney, why do you imagine that 
 Mr. Chandois Queensbury is a lover of mine.' 
 
 * I will adopt Trelawney's expression, and say it is 
 observation, my dear sister,' said Lord Sydney. 
 
 'And I have had my observations,' said Lady 
 Frances. 
 
 ' And I mine,' repeated Lady Honoria. 
 
 'Bravo,' said Lord Sydney, now escape if you can, 
 no, no, Lady Catherine, there you stand confessed—' 
 " 'A maid in all her charms.' " 
 
 instantly exclaimed a familiar voice, and Mr Chan- 
 dois Queensbury presented himself at the door.' 
 Pray, ladies and gentlemen, have you heard the ro- 
 bin's petition,' said he, 'if so, pray give me a place 
 by 3'our fire, for I have been literally perishing in the 
 cold these two hours, to behold a whimsical exhibi- 
 bition ; Belmont, picture to yourself a fine Lady try- 
 ing to learn the art of skaiting, — I have witnessed a 
 personage of exalted rank and fashion, before a mul- 
 titude, exhibiting her delicately proportioned limbs 
 on the frozen Serpentine River, purposely to set the 
 fashion for all the high-bred ladies in the purlieus of 
 St. James's,' ' The lady was the beautiful and ac- 
 complished Lady Sarah D , 'twas even she !' 
 
 ' Beautiful I never thought her,' said Lord Syd- 
 ney, ' and as to her accomplishments, the specimen 
 just given has amply satisfied me. A female skaiter 
 in Lapland might not astonish the natives, where it 
 is practised for utility ; but were I to see one of my 
 sisters on the Serpentine River, so displaying her 
 abilities I should blush to own her.' 
 
 ' Her Ladyship,' observed Lady Frances, 'always 
 affects singularity. Honoria, do you remember when 
 she wore a fur cap, tippet and mufi" in the middle of 
 July, and sat on the coach box with her coachman as 
 she drove through Bond Street.'
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAOF. 303 
 
 * And the laug'hing'-stock of all her acquaintance,' 
 exclaimed Chandois Queensbury. 
 
 ' Oh, you severe creature,' said Lady Frances. 
 
 ' Severe, Lady Frances,' said Chandois, ' by no 
 means, I should only be doing justice to your sex, 
 who, when they step out of the bounds which deli- 
 cacy prescribes as their chief ornament, cease to charm 
 us, however alluring their personal loveliness, or fas- 
 cinating their conversation.' 
 
 ' For my part,' said Trelawney, ' I enter so deci- 
 dedly into your sentiment as to declare that I never 
 yet cuuld admire beauty without modesty.* 
 
 ' Oh, then you wilU-idmire Madame de Valmont'a 
 new song, as a case in point,' said Lady Catherine. 
 
 * Fanny, hand the song to Chandois Queensbury to 
 read. 
 
 'Lady Frances while presenting the song to her 
 sister added, very provokingly, but very prettily, — 
 
 * Lady Catherine Belmont can always read by proxy 
 — in the person of Mr. Chandois Queensbury !' 
 
 ' Because she is probably of opinion there are none 
 so likely to do justice to Madame de Valmont's com- 
 positions,' observed Trelawney. 
 
 ' I am always happy to deserve the good opinion of 
 the ladies, but unfortunately, Lady Frances, I do not 
 at present merit that of your sister ; remember, Lady 
 Catherine, that we quarrelled yesterday, and have had 
 no time to make it up again.' 
 
 'Did we,' said Lady Catherine, 'well, I declare I 
 had quite forgotten what it was all about.' 
 
 ' Indeed,' said he, ' that is more than I dare say for 
 myself, I never forget what Lady Catherine utters, 
 •though it is only a monosyllable.' 
 
 Mr. Chandois Queensbury, as he took the song out 
 of the snowy hand of Lady Catherine, it is not very 
 clear whether he did not give it a gentle squeeze ; 
 but whether Lady Catherine was oti'ended or not, 
 cannot be determined, for she resumed her smiles of
 
 304 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 charming vivacity more than ever, while Chandois 
 read, — 
 
 The Rose that is blushing on Modesty's Cheek 
 
 Tlie bright silver lily to love I compare. 
 
 Yet never was lily to me half so fair, 
 
 So fragrant, so blooming, so chaste and so meek. 
 
 As the rose that is blushing on Modesty's cheek ! 
 
 I have seen the soft blush of the fresh rising morn, 
 I have seen the sweet cowslip peep under the thorn, 
 But I never saw beauty, the beauty I seek. 
 Where the rose was not blushing on Slodesty's cheek 1 
 
 I own there's a charm in the love-beaming eye, 
 I own there's a spell in the love-breathing sigh. 
 But where is the charm that her eyes would bespeak. 
 If the rose is not blushing on Modesty's cheek I 
 
 If beauty is charming, I'll bend to its shrine, 
 And perhaps I may oyn\ the sweet nymph is divine, 
 Eut the beauty I love, and the charmer I seek. 
 Is the rose that is blushing on Modesty's cheek. 
 
 * I have always admired the delicacy of this lady's 
 compositions,' said Trelavvney ; ' but t own the words 
 of tliis little air surpass them all ; there wants but 
 one finish to render it truly charming.' 
 
 ' And what may that charm be, pray Trelawney ?' 
 said Lord Sydney. 
 
 ' The charm which always captivates the listening 
 ear, the voice of Lady Honoria Belmont,' said Tre- 
 lawney, respectfully approaching Lady Honoria, as 
 he requested she would accompany her voice to the 
 music ; and Lady Honoria did it ample justice, never 
 was her voice in finer tune, and Trelawney, as he 
 contemplated this sweetly interesting young lady, 
 could not help avowing to his own feelings, that had he 
 not loved Rosa Clarendale, the amiable Lady Hon- 
 oria Belmont could not have failed to become the ob- 
 ject of his choice ; but this was not to be thought of; 
 no human tie could lessen his affection for Rosa, 
 whom he wished to see as accomplished as the being
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 305 
 
 before him ; and well he knew that she had a mind 
 capable of such instruction ; and her heart and her 
 disposition wanted no additional aid. 
 
 ' I suppose you will visit Florence, if you go to 
 Italy," asked Chandois Queensbury of Trelawney. 
 
 ' Ask my friend,' said Trelawney, ' for it is of little 
 consequence where I go ; I love nature wherever she 
 spreads her flowers; — can drink water with the simple 
 Geutoo, and partake of the banquet with the sons of 
 affluence, sleep on a hermit's rushy couch, or repose 
 in the pavilion of a palace; in short, I am not easily 
 discontented with fortune, even when she frowns ; 
 though not ungrateful when she yields me her smiles.' 
 
 ' Sir,' said Chandois Queensbury very gravely, 'you 
 talk like one unacquainted with adversity.' 
 
 'Believe me, no,' said Trelawney, with great energy, 
 * I have visited the haunts of extreme \vretchednes3 
 and misery, have seen grey hairs washed with tears 
 and the cheek of youth made pallid by affliction.' 
 
 ' But it was your fortunate lot to relieve the suflFer- 
 ers, because you were blest with the power ; ah I Mr. 
 Trelawney, it is when we cannot relieve, that the 
 heart sustains a pang too great for utterance, it is 
 when we are sufi'ering ourselves, and behold others 
 suftering with us, that we taste of the bitter draught.' 
 
 ' I will admit, and I thank heaven, that has never 
 been my case,' said Trelawney. 
 
 ' But' it has been mine, Mr. Trelawney,' said 
 Chandois Queensbury ; though I now cannot sum up 
 half my wealth, I am not ashamed of acknowledging 
 that I have been poor, and if poor men cannot feel for 
 one another, they must not expect to find compassion 
 in the rich. Now as I have been a traveller, Mr. Tre- 
 lawney, I must recommend you to visit Florence. 
 
 ' You will do well, for every corner of this beauti- 
 ful city is full of wonders, in the arts of painting, 
 statuary and architecture ; but the Venus de Medici 
 is the standard in female beauty and proportion ; it 
 
 T
 
 S06 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 stands in the Tribunal ; it is of white marble, and is 
 surrounded by other master-pieces of sculpture, by 
 Greek masters.' There is also the chapel of Lorenza, 
 which is, perhaps, the finest and most expensive hab- 
 itation that ever was reared for the dead.' 
 
 'Oh, how I should like to see this Venus,' ex- 
 claimed Lady Frances. 
 
 ' I see one now,' said Chandois, ' and if you look 
 in that mirror, Lady Frances, you too will see one.' 
 
 ' Queensbury, I thought you never attempted to 
 flatter the ladies,' said Lord Sydney. 
 
 ' Well, but I don't thank him for this compliment,' 
 said Lady Frances, ' for it is not clear to me that he 
 did not mean one of my sisters, — they are both reflect- 
 ed in the same mirror, you know.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 HENRY CLARENDALE's APPOINTMENT TO THE 
 RECTORY OF COVENTRY, AND HIS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Before Trelawney left Valencia Lodge, he retired 
 with Lord Sydney to converse about their intended 
 plans, in which the Duke of Valencia was also a party 
 concerned; and they agreed to depart, on Henry 
 Clarendale's ordinance being obtained, for Italy. The 
 Duke paid Trelawney the highest compliment by de- 
 claring that his son could not have selected a com- 
 panion in whom he could place such confidence, or on 
 whose friendship he could so faithfully rely ; not that 
 I suspect my dear boy of ever disgracing his ances- 
 tors, or wounding the feelings of his father,' said the 
 Duke, with dignity ; * honour is too strongly implant- 
 ed in the breast of my Sydney, — but he is young and 
 impetuous, and inexperienced, — and few young men 
 of the present times are Trelawneys.' 
 
 * That I may ever be worthy of your Grace's favour-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAOB. 307 
 
 able sentiments, I shall feel proud and happy,' said 
 Trelawney, bowing to his Grace, 'but I am unwillrng^ 
 to receive a compliment, however gratifying, at the 
 expense of Lord Sydney. 
 
 Trelawney now departed for Fitzosboume House, 
 where the Earl was impatiently waiting: for hira. 
 * My dear Tanjore,' said the Earl, meeting Trelawney 
 on the stairs, with the Bishop's letter in his hand, * I 
 have been seeking you all over the House, till honest 
 JMungo told me you were gone out ; hero is most ex- 
 cellent news for your friend Henry, — summons him 
 here immediately, to tell him of it.' 
 
 Henry came immediately, and received his good 
 fortune with such modest grace and gratitude, that 
 the Earl was greatly affected. ' May every blessing 
 wait on my noble benefactor and my friend,' exclaim- 
 ed Henry, bending one knee before his Lordship, who 
 kindly raised him from his suppliant posture, and 
 heartily congratulated him on his success. 
 
 Meanwhile Trelawney wrote to the pastor a hur- 
 ried but kind epistle to' his friends, the contents of 
 which are already known ; and soon the happy pa- 
 rents had the felicity of beholding their darling son 
 appointed to the station he was so calculated to till ; 
 even the living of Coventiy, amidst the warm plau- 
 dits of the parishioners,— the aged and the young, the 
 iniirm and the sickly, all breathed forth their prayers 
 that his days might be long and happy. Father, mo- 
 ther, sisters and friends greeted him with smiles of 
 love and rapture. But Henry had another gift to re- 
 ceive, far more precious than a diadem, — the hand of 
 Mary Bradbury, which was pledged to him at the al- 
 tar in the church of Kenilworth, just one week after 
 his presentation, to the no small joy of both their de- 
 lighted parents. 
 
 The parsonage-house became the residence of Henry 
 and Mary, being most convenient for his professional 
 concerns, and to which the happy pair removed after
 
 808 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 fitayin-T a few days at Elm Grove, and making every 
 boQvb.iT.py around them, and all Kenilworth resound- 
 ed in tlieir praise. 
 
 As to Doctor Bradbury, on the marriag^e of his 
 daughter Mary, which had transported him beyond 
 all bounds, he declared he would .shut up shop, as he 
 had provided for his family, through a long course of 
 laborious industry, and that they were now comfort- 
 ably settled in life ; he therefore very soon retired, 
 rc>igning the whole of his business to bis son Philip, 
 ulio was beginning to acquire the same respectable 
 Dame as his father had done before him. 
 
 The doctor purchased a neat cottage, about a mile 
 from Woodlands, where, retiring wirh his still lovely 
 old woman, (for so the doctor called Mrs. Bradburj%) 
 he occasionally passed his tiine in the most agreeable 
 manner, alternately with the three young happy mar- 
 ried pairs. Philip and Rebecca being nearest, he was 
 with them most. 
 
 The doctor would often post to the parsonage, to 
 see Mary, where he felt most at home ; for Mary was 
 etill the darling of his heart, she still set his wig to 
 rights whenever it was awry, tied his meckcloth. and 
 sung old gypsy ballads to amuse him, as he occupied 
 a large elbow-chair, in the warmest corner of the tire- 
 side, Mary sat generally with her f;\ther with her 
 work-basket, while Henry would often accompany 
 them with a book, delighted in paying every atten- 
 tion to his father-in-law. while Marj^ was the happi- 
 est of women, her rosy lips often confessed it to her 
 adoring husband, and her cheerful countenance proved 
 that her assertion was true. 
 
 Sometimes when she beheld Rosa, who was often 
 at her brother's, and reflected on the destiny of Tre- 
 lawney, she lamented that he could not be united to 
 the woman whom he so much loved, and if Mary had 
 not reflected on Trelawney in the midst of her happi- 
 ness, she would not have merited her fortunate lot,
 
 THE MYSTERIOXJS MARRIAGE. 309 
 
 for Trelawney had created it, promoted it, and com- 
 pleted it, and when Mary thought of him, a tear was 
 often dedicated to his memory. 
 
 Meanwhile Rosa was advancing in those acquire- 
 ments, which promised to render her the most accom- 
 plished of her sex ; she exceeded the most sanguine 
 expectations of her masters, and had become so great 
 a proficient on the harp, (the favourite music of Tre- 
 lawney,) that several of her masters were dispensed 
 with ; in all other accomplishments of polite learn- 
 ing she was progressing so greatly that Mr. Claren- 
 dale acknowledged that his beauteous daughter sur- 
 passed all the expectations he had ever formed, for 
 Rosa now painted beautifully, and gave specimens of 
 this exquisite art in admirable sketches of the delight- 
 ful scenery, which abounded in that charming coun- 
 try ; but while the sweet maid, sedulously employed 
 every moment to attain every useful and ornamental 
 accomplishment, she still occasionally assisted her 
 mother in domestic occupations ; for she was the 
 only mistress of the White Cottage for days together, 
 Mrs. Clarendale being at Woodlands with Rebecca, 
 ■with whom a momentous period was rapidly approach- 
 ing, — a pei'iod when a mother's presence is doubly en- 
 dearing to soothe the timid fears naturally attending 
 a delicate female at such a crisis. 
 
 The union of her darling Mary with her no less 
 darling brother, made the heart of Rosa bound with 
 the most rapturous joy ; Mary had long been the sis- 
 ter of her heart, and she was'now really so by this 
 tender and sacred connection with her family. 
 
 But poor Rosa, with all her virtues, was yet a wo- 
 man, and a woman in love, and when she witnessed 
 the happy union of her brother Henry ; when >''.ie 
 marked the rosy blush and the sparkling eye, indi- 
 cating the enraptured heart of Mary, pour Rosa did 
 sigh and think of Trelawney ;— and we must forgive 
 her for it,— it is not in mortal to be perfect.
 
 310 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Amid this happiness, Elizabeth was not forj^otten ; 
 — she and her husband were present at Mary's wed- 
 ding, and they often visited Woodlands and the Par- 
 sonage ; old Doctor Bradbury, seating himself in the 
 midst of the happy group, and while the cheerful 
 glass went round, often sung the old song of ' Ere 
 around the huge Oak,' with great sensibility and 
 feeling. 
 
 While the roseate hours were thus enjoyed under 
 the domestic roofs of the White Cottage, Woodlands, 
 and the Parsonage, let us visit the mansion of Lord 
 Fitzosbourne :— alas, no bosom there tasted of peace 
 but the amiable Trelawney, and that peace was only 
 reflected to him from the happiness he had created to 
 others ; all else would have presented a dreary blank 
 to Trela\vney, for the conduct of Lady Alexina every 
 hour gave fresh proofs of the utter impossibility of his 
 ever becoming attached to her ; and Trelawney now 
 beheld it with fixed indifference, but with deep regret, 
 that it was operating on the feelings of her father, 
 whose health was rapidly undergoing a change, which 
 increased as the time fixed for the departure of Tre- 
 lawney approached ; but to which Lady Alexina and 
 her aunt looked forward with the utmost pleasure. 
 Lady Alexina, having again contracted a gambling 
 debt, which she feared would be discovered, she im- 
 patiently longed for Trelawney' s departure, in hopes 
 of being able to coax her father (at whose declining 
 health she evinced her usual insensibility) into a good 
 humour to settle her demands. 
 
 And to the feelings of Lady Glenthorpe we must 
 ascribe but one powerful motive— self-interest, which 
 had been the leading principle of her mind from her 
 earliest days, and still continued to operate. The su- 
 perior virtues of Trelawney excited her envy, but the 
 many proofs of his liberality to her, convinced her 
 that such an acquisition to the family was of the great- 
 est consequence; and wealth being her idol, she never
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 311 
 
 objected to his becoming the husband of her niece; 
 her influence over the weak mind of her niece, made 
 her imagine that Trelawney, through Lady Alexina, 
 would ever be subservient to her means, and that she 
 could obtain as much money as necessary, from so 
 abundant a store ; still Lady Glenthorpe anticipated 
 the absence of Trelawney with much satisfaction, be- 
 lieving that her brother would be more solicitous for 
 her society, and she should regain that power over 
 him, which since the arrival of Trelawney she had 
 lost. 
 
 Trelawney had much conversation with the Earl, 
 in which he disclosed his sentiments on the conduct 
 of Lady Glenthorpe, beseeching him to take his 
 daughter under his own immediate inspection, during 
 his absence ; and that on his return, he would be 
 willing to marry Lady Alexina, according to the "Will 
 of his Father. ' I hope to receive a favourable ac- 
 count of your health, my Lord,' said Trelawney most 
 affectionately ; ' nay, I beg j'ou will demand my im- 
 mediate return, should necessity require ; be assured 
 your wishes should be complied with, even at the 
 hazard of my life. 
 
 Trelawney pressed the feverish hand of Lord Fitz- 
 osbourne tohis lips, while the agitated Earl exclaim- 
 ed, — 'Dear, noble, boy, ever more solicitous for the 
 happiness of others than your own, and will you, my 
 dear Tanjore, come back before two years are expired, 
 if I should require your assistance, — will you, dear 
 boy, glad an old mans heart, and smooth the pillow 
 destined to receive my last breath Y The Earl pau- 
 sed, and Trelawney, deeply atfected, said, 
 
 * In the period of two mouths, my Lord, if you wish 
 it ; nay, had not my word of honour been passed to 
 Lord Sydney, I would decline my intended expedi- 
 tion, and devote my whole duty to your Lordship.* 
 
 A smile of joy lighted up the languid features of 
 the Earl. * Vii'tuous, amiable youth,* said he, ' the
 
 312 THE aiTSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 glory of my existence ; oh, Tanjore, my heavt is full 
 while I coiifess — I have a daughter, but she is not 
 worthy of you, — no, by heaven, Alexina is not worthy 
 of you; she is — oh, Tanjore, 
 
 ' The child of Lady Fitzosbourne! my dear, my ever 
 honoured aunt!' said Trelawney, 'and I will not 
 suffer you, my dear Lord, to say any thing more. 
 
 * Louisa has totally destroyed my child!' repeated 
 the Earl, with strong emotion ; ' oh, why did I not 
 remove her far from her pernicious example, which 
 has made her dissipated, and attached even to the 
 gaming-table!' 
 
 ' From which folly I hope she is reclaimed,' said 
 Trelawney, unconscious of her new indiscretion in 
 that respect. My dear Lord, compose yourself, for I 
 will hear nothing more of Lady Alexina's foibles ; I 
 would amend them if possible, but that not being 
 likely at present, I must hope that time will bring re- 
 formation ; be composed, regain your health, and do 
 not despair, my Lord.' 
 
 ' Despair and I have long been companions,' said 
 the Earl, with a deep sigh, ' but for your sake, I will 
 try to enjoy the reflection of happiness, — more I can- 
 not reasonably expect, for I buried happiness with my 
 lovely Alexina.' 
 
 ' But her gentle virtues ' exclaimed Trelawney. 
 
 ' Live in my heart,' said the Earl ; ' alas, I hoped 
 to see them reflected in her child, but ' 
 
 The Earl paused, for the shrill voice of Lady Alex- 
 ina calling to her marmozet, which had broken its 
 silver chain, and pleased to regain its liberty, it had 
 found its way into the library, where Trelawney and 
 Lord Fitzosbourne were sitting, but was quickly fol- 
 lowed by its enamoui'ed mistress. 
 
 'Pray, papa, have you seen my monkey,' asked 
 she in the utmost anxiety, and without attending 
 either to the pale looks of her father, or to Trelawney. 
 
 'Your monkey, foolish girl,' said the Earl, 'my
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 313 
 
 thoughts and attentions are, I thank heaven, other- 
 wise engaged ; I cannot converse with an animal.' 
 At which Lady Alexina, not regarding the serious 
 tone in which the Earl spoke, and anxious for the re- 
 covery of her truant, applied to Trelawney ; 
 
 * Oh, Trelawney, if I have lost Pug l' shall be so 
 unhappy.' 
 
 'For a day and a half, probably,' said Trelawney, 
 'but can you imagine, that I can be solicitous about 
 finding the monkey, who is so dangerous a rival in 
 your a-ifections.— should I not be kinder to my own 
 interest, to suffer him to escape 'r' 
 
 'Ah. you know where Pug is, and you wont tell 
 me, you'ill-natured creature,' said Lady Alexina ; 
 
 'You are right in your supposition,' said Lord 
 Fitzosbourne ; ' I am like Trela^vney, and I do not 
 find it very pleasant to be rivalled by a monkey.' 
 
 •What shall I give you, Tanjore, to find Pugr* 
 asked she, most coaxingly, and approaching Trelaw- 
 ney in a more agreeable way than she had ever done 
 before, — 
 
 ' "What your Ladyship has never given me yet — a 
 good word'.' 
 
 The cheek of Lady Alexina was crimsoned with 
 blushes, and she stood like a beautiful statue, the 
 figure of embarrassment, conscious that she had fully 
 merited his accusation. "When Trelawney had sulli- 
 eiently punished the fair culprit, he drev/ aside one of 
 the siik curtains which shaded an arcade of beautiful, 
 fragrant shrubs, and there, in sly ambush, sat Mr. 
 Pug, who, on being called by his'mistress, flew into 
 her arms, and was almost stifled by her kisses.' 
 
 ' Ridiculous girl,' said the Earl, ' to bestow caresses 
 on one of the most hideous animals in creation.' 
 
 But Lady Alexina darted out of the library, wirh 
 Pug in her arms ; hastily thanking Trelawney for 
 the recovery of her prize. 
 
 Trelawney and the Earl, both separated to dress
 
 914 THE MYSTEEIOTJS MABRIAGE. 
 
 for dinner, at which the Valencia feimily were invited, 
 as a sort of farewell to the young friends departing 
 for their tour. Mr. Chandois Queensbury was also 
 solicited by the Earl to meet the Duke's family on the 
 same day. 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe, who could not bear to be outdone 
 in magnificence at the Duke's table, entreated the 
 Earl to suffer her to manage the order of this day ; 
 and when she had obtained the Earl's consent, lier 
 Ladyship strove to procure all the delicacies of the 
 season; and the dinner which was served up on this 
 day exceeded all the luxuriance that was ever seen at 
 Fitzosbourne House, and which, had the taste of each 
 guest been consulted, would have been wholly un- 
 necessary ; for the Duke of Valencia never ate but of 
 one dish, and the young ladies never indulged in 
 
 Erocured luxuries, Lord Sydney being content with 
 is fare, however simple, which his sisters provided 
 for him. 
 
 But Lady Glenthorpe was an ambitious woman, 
 and if the Earl's whole fortune had been expended on 
 her own and Lady Alexina's artificial wants, Lady 
 Glenthorpe had never repined, or heeded the desola- 
 tion it would have produced. Is it then to be sup- 
 posed, that under such auspices the niece was likely 
 to be more provident than the aunt, with such an ex- 
 ample ever before her eyes ? 
 
 The Duke's carriage arrived at Fitzosbourne House 
 before that of Mr. Queensbury' s, whose equipage and 
 liveries were new, the elegancy of which attracted a 
 crowd of admirers. 
 
 'Oh, there is Chandois Queensbury sporting his 
 new chariot for the first time,' cried Lady Frances 
 Belmont, as she sat close to the window. 
 
 ' 1 protest it is very elegant,' said Lady Glenthorpe, 
 * only much too plain for a man of his splendid expect- 
 ations—I beg ten thousand pardons. Lady Catherine 
 Belmont.'
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 315 
 
 * Beg pardon of me, Lady Glcnthorpe !— for what, 
 may I ask r' said she, in some confusion. 
 
 ' By making my remarks so freely on Mr. Chandoia 
 Queensbury,' uttered her Ladyship. 
 
 ' Surely your Ladyship's observations in that res- 
 pect cannot apply to me,' answered Lady Catherine; 
 but everjbody laughed, as at that moment Mr. 
 Queensbury entered the saloon, and took his station 
 by the side of Lady Catherino, and never had her ec- 
 centric lover appeared to such ^ reat advantage, not 
 only fi-om the easy elegance of his dress, but from his 
 conversation, always sensible and pleasing, and from 
 an expression in his countenance, which certainly 
 •was quite unusual with him, for it was that of vivacity. 
 
 ' I have been admiring your carriage, Queensbury,' 
 Bald Lord Sydney. 
 
 'Which is neatness personified,' exclaimed Lady 
 Glenthorpe ; ' I assure you, Mr. Queensbury, it does 
 credit to your taste.' 
 
 ' I am proud to merit your Ladyship's approba- 
 tion,' said Queensbury, bowing to Lady Glenthorpe. 
 
 'Don't you think it rather too grave";" observed 
 Lady Frances Belmont. 
 
 ' I always choose my colour to the complexion of my 
 mind,' answered Queensbury; 'Lady Frances would 
 make choice of a more lively colour,' 
 
 'Dipped in Iris's bow,' said Lady Frances; *I am 
 fond of variety, — are not you, Lady Alcxina Y 
 
 ' Oh dear, that I am,' simpered out the childish 
 beauty; 'I never could bear any thing ten minuiea 
 without being quite tired of it. and wanting something 
 else to amuse me the next half hour, and so on, you 
 know, my dear Lady Frances, to the end of the 
 chapter.' 
 
 A general laugh ensued ; and Lord Sydney whis- 
 pered to Trelawney, — 'This is the most sensible 
 speech I have yet heard from her.' 
 
 * At least it has truth to recommend it.' said Tre-
 
 316 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 lawney ; and dinner being announced, the conversa- 
 tion ended — a dinner and dessert almost unequalled 
 in the palace ef St. James's ; every delicious fruit and 
 the choicest wines and preserves ; while flowers the 
 most rare ornamented each silver vase, j'ielding fra- 
 grant perfumes. Lady Glenthorpe's extravap:ant dis- 
 position was fully gratified and her ambition flattered, 
 and she was in the most exhilarated spirits. But 
 Lady Honoria Belmont's depression was visible, 
 though she laboured to conceal it on the present occa- 
 sion ; and if a sigh escaped from the beauteous con- 
 fines of its snowy prison, it was attributed to the part- 
 ing shortly to take place between herself and brother, 
 on the Saturday following. Lord Sydney felt joy in 
 parting with his sister, having long discovered her 
 passion for Trelawney, which could only end in bitter 
 disappointment. Long had he observed her languid 
 face and faded form, and impatiently waited for that 
 h^ur when the object of her aflections would be re- 
 moved from her sight. 
 
 'Come, Queensbury,' said the Duke, 'give your 
 counsel to these inexperienced adventurers, — you, who 
 have seen even ' India's barren sands.' ' 
 
 'Returned, but still a pilgrim, your Grace,' said 
 Chandois Queensbury, ' to offer my vows in my own 
 country to the only shrine I can adore.' 
 
 So delicate, and so direct a compliment to his 
 daughter, who blushed extremely, for a moment grati- 
 fied the Duke ; who asked Mr. Queensbury, how he 
 liked Madeira and Madras, in which he had resided 
 so long.' 
 
 'So well,' replied Queensbury, 'that I would have 
 Lord Sydney and Mr. Trelawney, when they are over 
 the Atlantic, not to return without taking a peep at 
 Madeira. Its climateis so delightful, that the scorch- 
 ing heat of summer and the icy chill of winter are 
 unknown, for spring and autumn reign continually, 
 and produce fruits and flowers throughout the year,
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 317 
 
 and even the plants and flowers which are nursed in 
 English greenhouses, grow wild there in the fields ; I 
 have seen the hedges in Madeira mostly formed of the 
 myrtle, the rose, the jessamine and the honey-suckle, 
 Aviiile other flowers, here considered exotics, spring 
 up spontaneously in the meadows. Tha goldfiuch is 
 so numerous, that great quantities are sent to this 
 country.' 
 
 * His Grace was speaking of Madras, — said Trelaw- 
 ney. 
 
 ' Or, Fort St. George,' answered Queensbury ; * I 
 •was there, Mr. Trelawney, nearly six months ; it is 
 situated close on the margin of the bay of Bengal, 
 and you will be delighted with its appearance, which, 
 is beautiful in the extreme, the houses being all cov- 
 ered with a stucco nearly like the finest marble, and 
 bears as high a polish, which gives a grateful fresh- 
 ness in so warm a country ; in short, Madras is all 
 that the eye can conceive of a Grecian city in the age 
 of Alexander. The clear blue cloudless sky, the pol- 
 ished white buildings, the bright sandy beach, and the 
 dark green sea, present a combination totally new to 
 the eye of an Englishman just arrived from London.' 
 
 With this and many other descriptions of the coun- 
 tries through which he had travelled, Mr. Chandois 
 Queensbury greatly entertained his friends, giving 
 evidence of the superiority of his judgment, and the 
 cultivation of his mind. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 DEPARTURE OF TRELAWNEY AND LORD SYDNEY 
 BELMONT FOR ITALY. 
 
 Bright beamed the sunny rays through the win- 
 dows of Trelawney's apartment on the morning of hi» 
 departure from Fitzosbourne House.
 
 318 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGB. 
 
 But he was pained to witness the great mental de- 
 pression of the Earl, on account of his intended ab- 
 sence. For he was really attached to the Earl for his 
 kindness to Henry Claiendale, and for the tender and 
 parental sensibility which he displayed in the afiair 
 of the Marquis of Montrevoirs ; in short, during' his 
 long residence under his roof, the Earl had exhibited 
 the greatest attachment to him. He had been very 
 solicitous to render him happy, and reconciled to the 
 Will of his Father ; and though his heart was set on 
 the marriage of his daughter, agreeably to the con- 
 tract, yet that contract had never been mentioned 
 with an air of authority ; he had only lamented that 
 Lady Alexina had not created in the heart of Trelaw- 
 ney that tender regard which the nature of their con- 
 nection required. Trelawney, therefore, could not 
 behold his emotion, without partaking of his feelings, 
 and soothing his agitated spirits as much as he could, 
 in a separation which he assured him should only be 
 protracted to the limits of his wishes ; on which as- 
 surance the Earl was more composed, exclaiming,' 
 
 * Remember, Tanjore, I live on the expectation of 
 your promise, — a speedy return to Fitzosbourne, on 
 
 which you will instantly become •' ' The husband 
 
 of your daughter,' uttered Trelawney, and taking a 
 hasty leave of Lady Alexina, who suffered him to im- 
 print a kiss on her cheek, with as much sensibility as 
 if it had been Parisian marble, he took her hand be- 
 fore he jumped into the chaise, and pressing it to his 
 lips, softly ejaculated, — ' If you would secure your 
 own happiness, and merit the future good opinion of 
 Trelawney, cease to follow the example of your aunt, 
 — beware of the gaming-table!' 
 
 It was well that this caution was given in so gentle 
 and low a voice as not to be heard, and that the car- 
 riage instantly drove from the door, leaving Lady 
 Alexina in a flutter of spirits, like that of a child afraid 
 that some of its faults would be discovered, and that
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 319 
 
 it should not escape whipping, and she burst into 
 tears, and throwing herself into the arms of the agi- 
 tated Earl, who totally mistaking the cause, tenderly 
 kissed her cheek, while he passionately exclaimed, — 
 ' Oh, my child, much more grateful to my feelings are 
 these tears than a thousand of your smiles, for they 
 prove that you value Tanjore Trelawney ; — but cease 
 to weep, he will soon return, and then ' 
 
 But Lady Alexina had ceased to weep, and was al- 
 most ready to laugh at the mistake which her father 
 was under, in the supposition she had been shedding 
 tears for the absent Trelawney; not one had been 
 sacred to him. they were for her own dear self. 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe had given a cold adieu to Trelaw- 
 ney, which did not call forth a much warmer one on 
 his side. Wondering, therefore, at Lady Alexina' s 
 tears, she could not help expressing her surprise when 
 they were alone : — ' "What did that ill-natured crea- 
 ture say to you at parting, my sweet love, to cause 
 you to shed tears r' 
 
 But Lady Alexina, from some secret cause, did not 
 choose to satisfy her aunt in this particular ; for she 
 was conscious that the parting words of Trelawney 
 contained just reproaches on her own conduct, and 
 did not convey a very flattering compliment on that 
 of her Ladyship's ; and she evaded her aunt by a lit- 
 tle artifice carelessly observing, that he had only told 
 her to take care of her health, and not to keep late 
 hours in his absence. 
 
 '"Well, my love,' said she, 'he shall see that we are 
 not to be dictated to, by the proud East Indian ; time 
 enough to show his authority when you are married 
 to him, but till then he dare not control you in the 
 innocent recreations necessary to your youth and 
 beauty; — we will enjoy ourselves, my sweet fingel, in 
 the absence of your bashaw, who, for aught we know, 
 may be a very Blue-Beard in his heart.' 
 
 'Lord, aunt, how you frighten me,' said Lady Al-
 
 320 • THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ^ . 
 
 'exina, * for if Trelawney be a Blue-beard, I hope he 
 will not treat me as he did Fatima, and cut off my 
 head with the rest of his wives.' 
 
 ' Oh, my love, there is no knowing what he may 
 do,' said the artful Lady Glenthorpe ; — but come, my 
 sweetest, let us think how we are to lay out the plea- 
 sures of the day ; your father is almost inconsolable, 
 in his own apartment, from which we dare not dis- 
 turb him ; suppose we take an early dinner, and just 
 peep in at our old friend's to enjoy a snug rubber un- 
 der the rose i^' 
 
 Lady Alexina hesitated, stammered, and blushed, 
 — she felt irresolute, and knew not how to comply 
 with her aunt's abominable request, for it was to the 
 house of Lady Renegarde she had asked her to go. 
 Trelawney's parting words came to her recollection, 
 and this was the moment of repentance in the inex- 
 perienced breast of Alexina ; had the form of lovely 
 virtue interposed, at this critical moment, she had 
 been spared a life of sorrow and reproach, and Lady 
 Alexina had been saved; — but her father was not 
 present when he should have been, and, like many 
 other lovely victims, she fell into the fatal snare which 
 dissipation had spread for her. 
 
 Parents, never part with your children, however 
 dear the relatives and friends, to the guidance of 
 others, — an aunt is not a mother, an uncle is not a 
 father. Lord Fitzosbourne had submitted his daugh- 
 ter too much to the care of his artful and dangerous 
 sister, and instead of shutting himself up to weep for 
 the absent Trelawney, he should have stayed with 
 his child, to correct her follies, and pi-event those in- 
 dulgences which he knew would be tolerated by her 
 aunt. 
 
 The weak-minded Alexina could not deny the pro- 
 posal made by Lady Glenthorpe, who led her to her 
 dressing-room, where she assisted her maid to dec- 
 orate her beautiful person, on which she passed the
 
 THE MYSTEEIOUS MARRIAGE. 321 
 
 most extravagant encomiums, telling her, that she 
 looked like the beauteous Cleopatra when she cap- 
 tivated Mark Antony, and after taking a slight re- 
 freshment, the carriage conveyed them to the glitter- 
 ing mansion of Lady Renegarde, who received her 
 votaries with smiles of ill-concealed triumph, and 
 where in a few hours Alexina once more became the 
 dupe of the false pleasures of the gaming-table. 
 
 Trelawney, with Mungo, proceeded to Valencia 
 Lodge, to meet Lord Sydney Belmont, whom he found 
 surrounded by his weeping sisters, who were unable 
 to bid him farewell, till the Duke who also was greatly 
 affected, begged that they would retire. ' Ah, I do 
 not find parting such ' sweet sorrow,' Trelawney,' 
 said Lady Frances, smiling through her tears, ' and 
 I find that I love Sydney better than I thoughtl did.' 
 
 * Honoria, heaven preserve and bless you,' said 
 Lord Sydney, straining her fondly to his heart ; but 
 the fainting girl could not answer him, and giNTng 
 Trelawney an expressive glance, which sunk deep 
 into his soul, she suffered her sisters to lead her out 
 of the apartment. 
 
 ' There is nothing so completely subdues my feel- 
 ings as the tears of a woman,' uttered he, attempting 
 to recover himself. 
 
 ' And he who could not be affected by a woman's 
 tears, is unworthy of the name of man,' said Mr. 
 Chandois Queensbury, who had till now been a silent 
 but not an insensible spectator of the scene, and who 
 had found dispatch necessary in all adieus with be- 
 loved connections, and now hurried Lord Sydney 
 from the Duke, after he had taken his affectionate 
 farewell of his greatly respected sire, leaving his 
 Grace a few moments alone with Trelawney. ' Tre- 
 lawney, my prayers attend you,' said his Grace, 
 pressing his hand with fervour, ' be a kind Mentor to 
 my dear boy, though your counsel be given in the 
 form of a Telemachus.' 
 
 u
 
 322 THEMTSTEKIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 'Rely on my allegiance to your Grace,' answevpd 
 Trelawney, bowing, and seating himself beside his 
 friend, he nodded his kind adieu to Mr. Queensbury, 
 who stood at the gates till the carriage was out of 
 sight. 
 
 The travellers arrived safely at Dover, and em- 
 barked in a few days for Italy. But contrary winds, 
 which lasted for many weeks, caused the pilot to 
 steer for another part of the ocean, in which they 
 •were in danger of being buried, had they not steered 
 for the Scottish shores, on which the tempestuous 
 gales had for several days blown them ; and when 
 they cast anchor in a safe harbour, the captain con- 
 gratulated his passengers on their lucky escape from 
 all the horrors of shipwreck, to which they had beea 
 for ten days hourly exposed. 
 
 ' But I fear,' said the captain, * we shall not be able 
 to obtain much assistance, this being the most north- 
 erly part of the coast, where a few herring fisheries 
 is all the commerce of the inhabitants, and from the 
 shattered state of the vessel she must he repaired, ere 
 we can proceed on the voyage ; my greatest anxiety is 
 for your accommodation in this desolate place, where, I 
 fear, while the vessel is repairing, you will find it diffi- 
 cult to procure a habitation suitable to your station.' 
 Lord Sydney replied, 'Birds of passage must be 
 content with any station which Providence may be 
 pleased to assign to them. I am not vei'y solicitous 
 about accommodation. Captain, when reflecting ou 
 the dangers we have escaped. — On what part of the 
 coast are we situated ?' 
 
 ' The island to which we are now lying adjacent is 
 called Inchcolm,' said the captain, ' near the coast of 
 Fife, and in the Forth. On it stands the ruins of a 
 monastery, founded in 1123, by Alexander the First, 
 in gratitude for his escape when driven on this island 
 in a tempest, such as we have had, for the hospitable 
 treatment which his Majesty received from a hermit,
 
 THE MYBTKRIorS MARniAGE. ?23 
 
 who enfcrtiinod him with the milk of his cow for three 
 days and three nights.' 
 
 ' I have always admired the brave Scots,' said Lord 
 Sydney, 'and since chance has thrown us on their 
 hospitable coast, shall be hnppy of improving my ac- 
 quaintance by personal conjmunication with so hardy, 
 vifcorous, and industrious a race of people.' 
 
 Captain Finchley retired to hi.s cabin to devise 
 means to repair the vessel, leaving Trelawney and 
 Lord Sydney together, to consult on their own im- 
 mediate arrangements ; and it was finally settled 
 when the weather would permit, that they should 
 land on the island of Inchcolm, and remain there 
 while the ship was under repair, and the ensuing day 
 being favourable to their wishes, Trelawney find Lord 
 Sydney, including their respective servants, with 
 part of their luggage, were conveyed on shore. 
 
 When landed, and inhaling the fresh breeze of the 
 mountains, so romantic and picturesque. Lord Syd- 
 ney, exclaimed, ' Well, thank heaven, we are again 
 safe on terra firma.— Oh, the blessings of land and 
 liberty! Are they not grateful to an Englishman'* 
 heart, Trelawney r' 
 
 ' And to everj- man's heart who knows how to ap- 
 preciate their value,' replied Trelawney, ' yet some 
 repine under those blessings; and because they can- 
 not gather all the roses which life scatters on its 
 paths, crush beneath their feet those few which are 
 given for their acceptance.' 
 
 Captain Finchley listened with admiration to their 
 conversation as they proceeded to the only hou.se of 
 entertainment which the island alforded fur accommo- 
 dation of travellers. 
 
 It was seated on the brow of a high mountain. 
 They had nothing to oti'er to their unexpected guests, 
 but some coarse barley cakes, a few dried herrings, 
 some poor whiskey, and a few potatoes, their whole 
 *bill of fare,' which wotUd have made a city alderman
 
 824 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 die of starvation ! The host belonging to this very 
 elf gant and sumptuous house of entertainment, styh-i'd 
 himself the ' Laird of Creggy,' possessing not only the 
 poverty, but all the pride of the ancient Scots, which 
 they carry about them, as a sort of protection, where- 
 ever they wander in their native mountains. 
 
 But the Laird of Creggy inherited a deal of good 
 humour, cheerful vivacity, and a willingness to oblige 
 his guests ; he had ' twa bairns,' as he called them, 
 and a \gi(de wife.' 
 
 The wife was stately and proud, and took snuflf in 
 prodigious quantities,^resenting her 7mdl or box, to 
 Trelawney and Lord Sydney, as soon as they came 
 in ; but the daughters were beautiful and wild, as the 
 goats which broused on the tops of their mountains. 
 They had yellow hair, blue eyes, and very rosy 
 cheeks. They had great family pride, inherited from 
 their ancestors ; and whenever Lord Sydney glanced 
 at them, they evinced by a chaste, and dignified de- 
 meanour, that those glances would only be welcome 
 while kept within bounds of the strictest propriety. 
 
 Yet these were Scotch girls, without either shoes or 
 stockings, the daughters of a petty Highlander, whose 
 sole inheritance was the house he possessed, with a 
 field of potatoes. Yet these girls could give an ac- 
 count of their ancient country, and were not unac- 
 quainted with the history of others, nor unlettered in 
 the muses. They adored their Creator, not merely by 
 outward forms, but in purity and simplicity of heart. 
 
 What delighted Trelawney and Lord Sydney most 
 during their visit to the Laird of Creggy' s was, to 
 hear all the family chanting melodies, and the ancient 
 ditties of their native country ; and while Isabel and 
 Jessy sat at their spinning-wheels, often has Trelaw- 
 ney listened with rapture to the popular ballads of 
 *Auld Robin Gray,' *John Anderson, my jo,' and 
 *the Yellow hair'd Laddie,' given in so chaste a style 
 of Bweet simplicity, that they would have made many
 
 THE MYSTEIIIOUS MAREIAGE. 325 
 
 a modern belle blush at her own vapid expression and 
 want of feeling. 
 
 One evening when the Laird was expatiating on 
 the noble deeds of his ancestors, now and then inter- 
 larded with a Scotch ditty, a fine grey horse, richly 
 caparisoned, came to the door of the Mountain Goat, 
 having a rider of some importance, as with the air of 
 no common vassal, he loudly vociferated, ' Andrew,' 
 the name of our host, and the Laird of Creggy in- 
 stantly rose, carrying out a large bottle of whisky, of 
 which they each took a bumper. The gude wife pre- 
 sented her snufF-box ; no persuasions, however, could 
 induce him to dismount, and enter their abode ; but 
 with smiles of the most perfect cordiality, he intima- 
 ^ted that he would visit him another day, but his er- 
 rand was one of emergency for his ' bonnie lady.* 
 Andrew held a few minutes of close conversation 
 with his Highland friend, often glancing at Trelaw- 
 ney and Lord Sydnay ; probably the Laird of Creggy 
 was boasting of the rank of his guests, and informing 
 him of the accident to which he owed the bmour uf 
 entertaining such exalted personages at the Moun- 
 tain Goat. 
 
 Both Trelawney and Lord Sydney often found it 
 difficult to understand their host, as his dialect w;i3 
 that of a broad Highlander, which from his conver- 
 sing with men of different nations, was rendered still 
 nipre unintelligible, as he introduced a variety uf 
 wurds from each, for the interpretation of which thoy 
 were obliged to apply to a stranger, an Englishmsin, 
 who often resorted to the Mountain Goat, to sniuko 
 his pipe and drink whisky punch, as a relaxation 
 from business, and being now present, he conversed 
 with Trelawney. 
 
 'The Highlander you have just seen. Sir, conver- 
 sing with the landlord, is a vassal in the service of 
 Lady Jean Campbell, the sole heiress of Dumfixirling 
 Castle, three miles north of this mountain ; it is built
 
 326 THE MYvSTBRIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 on a solid rock, and of such stupendous magnitude, 
 that it was once thought impregnable by the English 
 army. A bloody battle was fought there, however, 
 under the command of the brave General Campbell, 
 ^reat grandfather to the present Lady Jean, in which 
 near ten thousand men were slain and wounded, the 
 brave General himself having fallen a victim to his 
 bravery. Dumfairling Castle then became the inher- 
 itance of Wallace, Earl of Campbell, who dying left 
 issue an only son, Alexander Campbell, the bravest 
 and most noble of all their clan ; followed by the brave 
 Scots, he stood foremost in the battle's heat, anima- 
 ting by his courage his soldiers, in war a lion, and in 
 peace a lamb. He was destined, however, to receive 
 a blow more mortal than any he would have sustain- 
 ed from the hands of an enemy. — the death of Lady 
 Campbell, who died in giving birth to a daughter, his 
 only child, and the sole heiress of his large domain, 
 the present Lady Jean, who is renowned for her un- 
 common beauty, with no more pride. Sirs, than the 
 humblest of her vassals. But you have not heard the 
 most affecting part ; for Lady Jean became an orphan 
 and an heiress. Lord Campbell did not survive his 
 lady's death, of whom he was so passionately fond, 
 that desiring his infant daughter to be brought to his 
 bed-side, her likeness to her mother operated so power- 
 fully on his mind, that invoking a blessing on her 
 beauteous, cherub face, he was seized with a convul- 
 sive spasm, and suddenly expired, leaving his infant 
 daughter at once unconscious of her orphan state, or 
 the splendid title that awaited her. 
 
 'At this affecting crisis, nothing could be done by 
 the faithfully attached vassals of the Earl, but bes- 
 towing the tenderest care on his child, now their sola 
 mistress. Lady Jean was placed under the care of 
 Margaret Ferguson, who had been her mother's fa- 
 vourite and principal attendant, and who became both 
 the nurse and governess to her tender charge, till she
 
 THE jrfSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 327 
 
 attained to an age when it was necessary to inforin her 
 of lier rank and exulted situution. All the faithful 
 vassals of her father's clan, msmy whose heads were 
 silvered with age in the service of tlie brave Camp- 
 bell, were summoned to her presence; and kneeling 
 before her, all swore allegience to their mistress, — that 
 should the hour of peril ever assail the castle of Dum- 
 fairling, tliey would then shed their blood ere they 
 would desert their beloved mistress, or cease to pro- 
 tect the house of Campbell. 
 
 ' The lovely Jean, then only fifteen years of age, 
 affected by a scene so novel, and possessed of a mind 
 far superior to her yeans, burst into tears, while in a 
 voice of angelic sweetness, she .'said timidly, — 'Brave 
 followers of my father's fortunes, friends of the house 
 of Campbell, receive a daughter's gratitude; — brave 
 chieftains, who have followed ray father through the 
 path of glory, mine be the task t:o smooth the pillow 
 of your rugged age, and reward your faithful services. 
 In this castle, my paternal abode, and where lie bur- 
 ied the remains of my illustrious ancestors, rest you in 
 peaceful security, from all your future cures, and none 
 of you shall be displaced in your authority. In the 
 meantime, act for an inexperienced child ; I am only 
 this day fifteen years of age ; chieftains, you are bet- 
 ter able to govern than I am, and you cannot please 
 your mistress better than to exercise the duties of hu- 
 manity. Let not the weary traveller go unrefreshed 
 from my gates, nor the wandering pilgrim without 
 his alms, — chide not the sons and daughters of mis- 
 ery, with bestowing cold contempt on their supplica- 
 tions, — give to the child of want food, and to the na- 
 ked raiment; so, chieftains, shall the house of Camp- 
 bell be prosperous and happy, under the immediate 
 protection of the great Eternal, who protects us all.' 
 
 ' "With these words Lady Jean Campbell modestly 
 covered her face with a veil, and curtseying to her 
 vuBsals, retired with Margaret Ferguson, amidst tha
 
 328 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE, 
 
 warm plaudits and blessings of her father's admiring 
 and grateful chieftains. 
 
 * I need not tell you, Sir, that Lady Jean became 
 the idol of her people, to whom she grants such in- 
 dulgence, that they love her more as an engaging 
 beautiful child, than their mistress, though every at- 
 tendant in the castle would risk his life in her service.' 
 
 ' Good heavens, Trelawney,' exclaimed Lord Sj'd- 
 ney, ' did you ever hear such a picture given as that 
 of Lady Jean Campbell ; what an enchanting crea- 
 ture ! I feel a little curiosity to see a female who with 
 the simplicity of a child, unites the mind of a heroine.* 
 
 ' That is exactly what a woman ought to be,' said 
 Trela%vney, 'but pray, Belmont, don't fall in love 
 with the picture, before you have seen the original.* 
 
 * Love,' said Lord Sydney, laughing, ' is out of the 
 question ; I might as well try to enter the seraglio of 
 an imperial Turk, as besiege the walls of Dumfair- 
 ling Castle, to obtain a sight of its fair mistress.' 
 
 ' That your Lordship may easily obtain,' said Mr. 
 Harrison, the name of the stranger, ' for all will see 
 her to-morrow, if they will go over the mountain.' 
 
 ' And why to-morrow,' inquired Lord Sydney. 
 
 'Because, it is Lady Jean's birth-day; she will 
 be eighteen years old to-morrow, and there will be 
 such rejoicings among her vassals and strangers who 
 go there ; they will be entertained with good and 
 abundant cheer, though she passes the whole of this 
 day in a different manner herself.' 
 
 ' How ?' inquired Lord Sydney. 
 
 ' In visiting the tombs of her father and mother,* 
 said Harrison, ' on which she sprinkles fresh-gather- 
 ed flowers, and remains there for a long time in silent 
 devotion, after which she enters the chapel veiled, 
 where prayers are read by her chaplain, and hymns 
 chanted by the vassals, chieftains and attendants. 
 Then she receives their congratulations in the great 
 hall, and distributes presents, and alms to the poor.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 329 
 
 * "WTiat an angel !' exclaimed Lord Sydney ; and 
 Trelawney smiled, on perceiving that his young and 
 noble friend was intoxicated with the pleasing des- 
 cription given of this admirable young female. 
 
 All that Harrison had asserted was seconded by the 
 Laird of Creggy, who said that she was ' the bonni- 
 est wee lassie ' that ever drew breath in auld Soot- 
 land. To which his gude wife and daughters, sub- 
 scribed, declaring that Lady Jean Campbell was tho 
 bonniest lady in aw the country, and that they were 
 going to see the feast at the castle in honour of her 
 birth-day, from which they always returned ' wi 
 mickle silver and mony a gude thing.' 
 
 The health of Lady Jean Campbell was now drank 
 by all the party, much to the satisfaction of the host, 
 as Lord Sydney and Trelawney ordered a large bowl 
 of whiskey punch, of which 'they invited Captain 
 Finchley and Mr. Harrison to partake. 
 
 And at the request of Trelawney, the Laird of 
 Creggy's bonnie daughters sang some of their native 
 airs. Isabel sang, ' Oh, Nannie, wilt thuu gang wi* 
 me ?' with great sweetness and simplicity ; while 
 Jessy gave the sprightly air of, ' There is nae luck 
 about the house,' in such a pure style of Scotch melo- 
 dy, that Trelawney several times exclaimed, — ' Bravo, 
 bravo, my little mountain daisy.' 
 
 And Lord Sydney insisted on an ew.ore ; and this 
 encomium on the musical abilities of their daughters, 
 gratified the vanity of the gude wife and her mon. as 
 they came from the mouth of an English nobleman. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXn. 
 
 LORD SYDNEY BELMONT'S ANXIETY TO BEHOLD 
 DUMFAIRLING CASTLE, AND LADY JEAN CAMPBELL. 
 
 Beautiful was the next morning, the sun shin- 
 ing in all his glory, while the richest flowers yielded
 
 330 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 their fragrance as they entwined round the lattice of 
 the windows in the chamber where Lord Sydney re- 
 posed ; birds poured forth their sweetest melody, and 
 the ships in the harbour of Inchcolm seemed to kiss 
 the silvery wave, so calm, so transparent was the 
 ocean. Scarcely a breeze fanned the honeysuckles 
 •which Jessy and Isabel had planted in the little gar- 
 den which their father had allotted to them for their 
 industry. The goats skipped over the mountain, 
 while the happy herdsman, who, tuning his pipe with 
 a merry Higlxland ditty, never repined because for- 
 tune had not made him a richer man. He had health 
 and peace, — he loved his Maggy and she loved him, 
 and this was ambition enough to warm a shepherd's 
 heart. 
 
 This was the happy mom which welcomed the na- 
 tal day of lovely Jean ; herself the fairest flower of 
 the gay chaplets which were to be presented to her 
 by her grateful vassals. 
 
 When Mungo brought the goat's milk into his mas- 
 ter's chamber, which they liked for their morning 
 repast, he desired him to tell Le Sage to inform Lord 
 Sydney, that breakfast was read}'. Which order 
 Mungo obeyed ; but no Lord Sydney appeared ; he 
 ■was not to be found by Le Sage, who went in search 
 of him to every part of the Highland habitation ; at 
 ■which intelligence Trelawney would have been under 
 alarm, had not the sly looks of Jessy and Isabel left 
 him at no loss to surmise to what quarter his friend 
 had directed his steps. 
 
 Curiosity to behold Lady Jean Campbell had been 
 such a predominant sensation with Lord Sydney, that 
 he did not sleep the whole of the night ; his imagin- 
 ation pictured the sweet maid in the earliest days of 
 her orphan state, as 'a beauteous cherub babe.' In 
 imagination he strayed to where the lovely Jean, on- 
 ly fifteen years old, stood in the midst of her vassals, 
 and smrounded by her father's chieftains. The
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGB. 331 
 
 epeech she had delivered to them, exciting his ardent 
 admiratiitn, and frura thence he beheld her kneeling 
 before the tombs of her father and her mother, and 
 scattering roses with her snowy hands. 
 
 Then he followed her to the chapel, where, breath- 
 ing fervent prayers, he left her covered with a mo- 
 dest veil that shaded her lovely features. Lord Syd- 
 ney could go no farther— and starting from his rest- 
 less pillow, he exclaimed to himself, ' Lady Jean 
 Campbell is an augel I' He hastily dressed, resolutely 
 bent on that day to behold her. 
 
 It was scarcely break of day when he presented 
 himself to Isabel and Jessy, who were just returning 
 from milking the goats, desiring them to procure him 
 a guide to take him over the mountain, as he wished 
 to taste the fresh breezes before the sun shed its 
 powerful rays, and throwing down a handful of sil- 
 ver, he told them to buy with it ribbon knots to tio 
 up their hair, an ornament of which Scotch girls 
 are very fond. 
 
 The herdsman offered to conduct Lord Sydney to 
 any part of the island ; and being told that he was 
 desirous of seeing the castle of IDumfairling, Isabel 
 and Je sy could not help smiling at one another, be- 
 lieving that the English gentleman felt a much 
 stronger curiosity to behold the bonnie lady of the 
 castle herself than any thing belonging to it. 
 
 Leaving the inn, they proceeded, by short cuts, till 
 a most stupendous rock overlooking the sea met their 
 view, and nearly on its summit the Castle of Dum- 
 fairling reared its lofty towers, defying the ocean 
 which rolled beneath its" battlements. 
 
 It had an awfully grand appearance, and was on 
 all sides diversified with glens and mountains, with 
 shrubs and trees of the most beautiful verdure. A 
 clear stream flowed at the foot of the battlements, 
 which emptied itself by windings into the bosom of 
 the sea, the banks of which were covered with tin in-
 
 332 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 numerable quantity of flowers. The castle had also, 
 large porticos, on the tops of which projected the head 
 of some monster. 
 
 Anciently this castle must have made a very for- 
 midable resistance to the enemies that would have be- 
 sieged it. Here, then, thought Lord Sydney, the 
 brave General Campbell breathed his last sigh in the 
 midst of glory, and in the arms of his faithful fol- 
 lowers ; here expired the valiant warrior amidst the 
 tears of his sorrowing chieftains ; alas, victory too 
 dearly gained, yet will the tears of his country sprout 
 among the cypress which shadows his remains, and 
 his memory be ever sacred in the hearts of his friends. 
 
 On the brow of the hill the travellers stopped to 
 take a particular survey of the castle of Dumfairling ; 
 and the herdsman, to inform him (while he pointed 
 to a little cabin, over the door of which was suspend- 
 ed a painted sign, intended for a ship, under which 
 was deciphered. 
 
 Highland Wldskey sold here, 
 Entertainment for Man and Beast, 
 By Donald Mac Donald ; J 
 that he would find very good accommodation if his 
 Lordship wished to rest himself in yon ' wee housie 
 on the brae,' and that it was noted for *as gude 
 whisky as ony in aw Scotland.' 
 
 Lord Sydney, however, felt no predilection to taste 
 of the exhilarating draught, but he judged that it was 
 not a matter of indifference to the Highlander, and 
 telling him that he might stay at the cabin till his 
 return over the mountain, gave him money to procure 
 some refreshment, for which the Highlander, taking 
 off his bonnet from his head, bowed down to the 
 ground, and then making the best of his way to the 
 'wee bit hou.sie,' and longing to boast of the presents 
 of siller from the 'bonnie braw English gentleman.' 
 
 Meanwhile Lord Sydney rambled near the boun- 
 daries of the castle, casting many an anxious glance
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 333 
 
 towards that part of it which he imagined was in- 
 habited by the family and attendants, and honoured 
 by the presence of its fair mistress. But not a hu- 
 man being met his eye,— all was silent, and he ram- 
 bled on without interruption, unmindful of every ob- 
 ject but the one he had in view ; at length he was 
 suddenly surprised by a figure which at the distance 
 appeared angelic, so beautiful was the cherub face, 
 yet this object was not Lady Jean Campbell ; still was 
 Lord Sydney enchanted with its striking beauty, for 
 it was that of a lovely boy, habited like a page, whose 
 age did not seem to exceed nine years ; he had a dress 
 made tight, composed of silk of a celestial blue, a 
 Tartan plaid over his shoulder, and a Highland bon- 
 net decorated with a plume of black feathers, sweetly 
 contrasting with the loveliness of his complexion, and 
 his bright golden locks. At the precise moment when 
 Lord Sydney beheld him, he had thrown oil' his bon- 
 net, and was culling the wild flowerets on the river's 
 bank, which he put into a little wicker basket. 
 
 As Lord Sydney approached him, he was not in- 
 timidated ; and entering into conversation with the 
 little Cupid, was answered by him with most enga- 
 g^ing sweetness. His Lordship inquiring his name, 
 he replied, — 
 
 * I am Robert.' 
 
 * Robert, and have you no other name, sweet boy !' 
 *Yes; Robert Duncan,' answered the child. 
 
 * What is the name of your father 't' 
 
 * I don't know — I have no father,' said the boy. 
 'But you have a mother, my lovely one,' asked 
 
 Lord Sydney, drawing nearer, and examining every 
 feature in his beauteous face. Was it curiosity in his 
 Lordship '^ No— it was suspicion. The sweet child 
 said, — 
 
 ' No ; I don't want one. 
 
 'Not want a mother,' asked L^rd Sydney, viewing 
 the child with astonishment ; ' then I suppose, my lit-
 
 334 THE MYSTEHIOIJS MARRIAGE. 
 
 tie fellow, Toti are in the service of some g^allant lord ?* 
 'No,' said litHe Robert very archly, 'I serve a 
 
 bonnie lady — Lndy Jean Campbell is my mir,tress. 
 ' Indeed, what I suppose you are her page r* 
 'Yes,' said Robert. 
 
 ♦ And do you love Lady Jean Campbell r" 
 
 * Oh yes,' replied the ehild, ' everybody loves her, 
 and I love her most, that I do, for I am her page, and 
 she loves me too ; she often kisses me till I am out of 
 breath, and calls me her dear, sweet little Robert.' 
 
 Lord Sydney could have pressed the lovely boy to 
 his heart with the greatest aflecfion for the sake of 
 Lady Campbell ; but then who was the father of this 
 little Robert r* Could any body tell ? Yes; Lady 
 Jean Campbell. ' But would she i ell ? And why not f ' 
 thought Sincerity and Innocence. ' Because,' ans- 
 wered Suspicion, and 'perhaps,' cried Jealousy. — 
 
 ' And how do you pass your time, sweet boy, with 
 your lovely mistress,' asked Lord Sydney. 
 
 ' I always try to please her ; she is never angry 
 with me. I am with her all the day long, but I don't 
 sleep with her now as I used to do.' 
 
 ' Sleep with her,' cried Lord Sydney, ' sleep with 
 Lady Jean Campbell — I should think not indeed.' 
 
 ' But when I was a very little boy I did, in the blue 
 chamber where she sleeps now, but now I sleep in a 
 pretty little green room alone, where Margaret Fergu- 
 son puts me to bed, and after I have said my prayers, 
 Lady Jean always comes and kisses me, and bids me 
 good night, and then I fall asleep, for I am not one 
 bit afraid, because Lady Jean says while I am good 
 that nothing will harm me.' 
 
 The boy now said that as he had filled bis basket 
 with flowers he must leave him, because they wore 
 for Lady Jean. ' For you know it is Lady Jean's 
 birth-day, and every body in the castle gives her as 
 many flowers as they can gather on this day. I am 
 giad my basket is quite full ; I ^hall carry it into tlia
 
 THE MYSTP.RIOrS MARRIAGE, 335 
 
 chapel for all that, for do you know, — but 1 mu>>t not 
 tell.' 
 
 ' And -why not ?' cried Lord Sydney. 
 
 * Because'it will make you cry,' said the boy, ' I 
 don't mind crying — for when Lady Jean cries in the 
 cha)X'l, every body cries with her, and so do I.' 
 
 ' And what makes Lady Jean so sonowful Y 
 
 * Oh she is never sad but when she is there, throw- 
 ing about the flowers on the white marble images, 
 and then she cries as if her heart would break ; and 
 BO does Margaret Ferguson, for do you know once she 
 told me all about it. who the white niarble lady was, 
 and the great soldier that was on the white horse. 
 Lady Jean said, ' Duncan, mind what I am going to 
 tell you, and then she pointed to the white horse, and 
 said, that gentleman on the horse was Alexander the 
 Earl of Campbell, and he was my father, Kobert ; and 
 that lady with the little baby in her arms was my 
 mother. Are they not gone up to heaven, said I, 
 where you tell me all the good go and are made angels 
 of: And she said, Yes, Kobert. and kissed me.' 
 
 Oh that I were but one half hour a little page, 
 thought Lord Sydney, while his cheerful prattler 
 eeemed very unwilling to relinquish his society, and 
 trotted by his side. 
 
 At length they approached the grand entrance to 
 the Castle, but the boy pointed to a little grntod gate 
 at which he said he was going to enter as the nearest 
 way to the apartments inhabited by his mistress. 
 ' Won't you go with me,' suid the boy ; ' you may if 
 you please; nobody will be angry, no, not even 
 Harold Gray— he is a great deal bigger than you, but 
 he wont frighten you, because it is Lady Jean's birtli- 
 day. and many come to the castle to drink her heallti 
 with old Harold Gray ; there will be such nice cakes, 
 you cannot think — Do come in, pray do, and then I 
 will tell Lady Jean that a genthman, for you are a 
 gentleman, an't you r you look like a jjendenjan.
 
 336 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 *1 hope so, my sweet little fellow,' uttered Lord 
 Sydney, 'but I cannot to-day, because I have left 
 Borne friends who are waiting: for me to return, but I 
 will see you again very shortly.' 
 
 ' Shall it be to-morrow ?' asked the boy. I shall 
 go to the river to gathei's flower ; I gather flowers 
 every morning for my mistress. 
 
 * Indeed,' said Sydney, 'well then to-morrow on 
 the river's banks I will meet you, my little friend.' 
 
 On this assurance, the little page seemed perfectly 
 content, and tapping at the grated door, he was ad- 
 mitted, but again nodded to Lord Sydney, exclaiming, 
 
 * Good bye, Mr. Gentleman, I sha'nt forget you.' 
 
 Lord Sydney Belmont then, with a sensation of 
 love for Lady Jean Campbell, measured his steps 
 back till he came within sight of the wee housie, and 
 where he was again informed by Donald, that whis- 
 key was to be had within ; to enter now was, therefore, 
 an act of necessity, to inquire for his Highland friend, 
 to conduct him over the mountain, whom he soon 
 found in a state which induced his Lordship to dis- 
 
 Eense with his services ; for the merry Highlander 
 ad gotten quite fu' with Donald's gude whiskey, and 
 was displaying his vocal abilities, by roai-ing out some 
 very popular airs of his native country. 
 
 Lord Sydney departed and explored his path alone, 
 but not without difficulty, and at length arrived at 
 the Mountain Goat in safety, at a very late hour, al- 
 most exhausted for want of refreshment, not having 
 tasted anything since morning ; but to the great joy of 
 Trelawney, who was very uneasy at his long absence. 
 
 * The heat has overcome me,' said Lord Sydney, ex- 
 tending his hand to his friend, as he threw himself 
 into a chair, ' otherwise, I am quite well, and have 
 been gratified beyond expression.' 
 
 'Le Sage, bring some re ft-eshment for your master,' 
 said Trelawney ; and Lord Sydney, taking a glass of 
 wine and some biscuits, felt considerably relieved
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 337 
 
 from his fatigue, and during supper, amused his friend 
 with an account of his adventure over the mountain 
 with Lady Jean Campbell's beauteous little page; 
 'and he dwelt with peculiar delight on that part of his 
 narration relating to Lady Jean Campbell, describing 
 in the most glowing coloui's the beauty of little Ro- 
 bert Duncan. 
 
 'But you shall behold him,' said Lord Sydney, 
 * and judge for yourself. Trclawney. T^o-morrow j'ou 
 shall be my companion in my journey over the moun- 
 tain to the river's banks, where the sweet boy will be 
 employed in gathering flowers for his mistress.' 
 
 'Beware, my Lord,' said Trelawncy, 'of the sly at- 
 tack of Cupid, who waits in ambush to surprise your 
 heart ; you have heard of young love among the roses, 
 have not you ? I premise that the very moment you 
 behold Lady Jean Campbell, you will fall desperately 
 in love with her. This little Robert Duncan is only 
 the sly god of love in disguise.' 
 
 ' Oh, there is nothing more likely,' said Lord Syd- 
 ney ; ' for it is not unnatural to love the woman whose 
 virtues we adore. Tell me, Trelawney, had so sweet 
 a portrait been given you of Lady Alexina Fitzos- 
 bourne, would not you have loved her P' 
 
 ' Had ten thousand portraits been given me of Lady 
 Alexina Fitzosbourne,' replied Trelawney, 'and each 
 one more charming than the other, she could not have 
 engaged my atfections. 
 
 'Good heavens, and why?' exclaimed Lord Syd- 
 ney, with astonishment and surprise. 
 
 ' It is because I am too highly sensible of both,' said 
 Trelawney, ' that I could not give my heart but to one 
 exclusive object in all the world ; yet that object is 
 not Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne. 
 
 Then who is 'i would have been a natural inquiry 
 by Lord Sydney ; but it was too delicate to m;ike of 
 his amiable friend— his sister Honoria suggesting it- 
 self to his imagination, but it was only for a moment, 
 V
 
 338 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 for never had the conduct of Trelawney exhibited any 
 thing towards her than that of ardent friendship and 
 esteem. 
 
 * What is your Lordship so intently meditating up- 
 on ?' asked Trelawney, with a smile to which Lord 
 Sydney replied, — 'I was thinking of my sister 
 Honoria.' 
 
 ' Your sister Honoria !' exclaimed Trelawney, with 
 energy ; ' may every blest spirit attend her, guard her 
 gentle slumbers, and visit her with such repose as an- 
 gels taste of,' and a sigh escaping him, Lord Sydney 
 began to think he had a real passion for his sister ; 
 and he exclaimed, — 
 
 ' Oh, this Lady Alexina, she prevents all our hopes, 
 and this will of your father's ; but for that, Trelaw- 
 ney, I might one day have had the happiness of call- 
 ing you by a dearer title, though you can never be 
 dearer in my regards.* 
 
 ' As how, my dear Belmont?' inquired Trelawney, 
 eagerly, for he perceived the error into which his 
 friend had fallen, and from which he felt it his duty 
 to awaken him ; ' by what dearer title could you claim 
 me 'f 
 
 * By becoming the husband of my sister,' answered 
 Lord Sydney, ' Honoria, whom you love.' 
 
 ' Honoria, whom I respect, and ever shall, Trelaw- 
 ney, ' whose gentle virtues and accomplishments I 
 admire, to whom I could be friend and brother ; but, 
 my Lord, I could be nothing more.' 
 
 'Not if Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne, was ' 
 
 'Entirely out of the question,' said Trelawney, in 
 a firm, yet softened voice, while he grasped the hand 
 of Lord Sydney, ' I could not be the husband of your 
 sister ! could I, oh Belmont, while this devoted heart 
 remains in the possession of another ? and that it will 
 ever remain hers while the pulse of life animates this 
 breast; yes, even in the hour of death, Belmont, the 
 name of Rosa will be dear to Trelawney 1'
 
 THE MTSTERTOrS MARRIAOB. 339 
 
 'Rosa!' exclaimed Lord Sydney, now deeply affect- 
 ed at the emotion of his beloved friend. 
 
 'Rosa Clarendale,' said Trolawnry, 'the daughter 
 of my respected old friend, Mr. Clarendale, njy fa- 
 ther's friend — the father of Henry Clarendale.' 
 
 There needed no further explanation ; the whole 
 secret was divulged. Lord Sydney remembered his 
 earnest entreaty, when the atfair of the Marquis ren- 
 dered a private conversation on his affairs necessary 
 at Fitzosbourne House; also the words of Trelawney : 
 *If I perish, Belmont, let this pacquet be conveyed to 
 Clarendale.' And sorry that he had alluded to his 
 Bister, and revived painful recollections in the wound- 
 ed mind of his friend, besought his forgiveness, 
 which was readily granted, and before they re- 
 tired to their chambers, Trelawney unburdened his 
 heart to the sympathizing confidence of his friend, 
 imparting every circumstance relating to hia attach- 
 ment for Rosa. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXTIL 
 
 INTRODrCTION OF LORD SYDNEY AND TRELAWNEY 
 TO LADY JEAN CAMTHELL. 
 
 Jessy and Isabel returned from the castle of Dum- 
 fairling, as they had predicted, with mickle siller and 
 many braw presents, the customary gift of Lady Jean 
 Campbell on every anniversary of her birthday, to uU 
 the young folks who were invited to the dancing and 
 feasting by the vassals, with whom the Ljiird of 
 Crcggy was a favourite ; and if he was not quite fu', 
 he was a little on that way when he returned to tho 
 Mountain Goat to entertain his guests with the good 
 cheer he had partaken of, and the tine sights ho had 
 seen at the castle— and ' here's to th*- bunnie Jean, thn 
 flower of aw Scotland,' was drank in many a noggin
 
 340 THE MYSTERIOUS MAERIAGE. 
 
 of auld whiskey before the cock crowed to remind the 
 shepherds that it was time to bring up their goats to 
 the mountain. 
 
 The Laird of Creggy had made no little boast at the 
 castle, of what braw English gentlemen he had be- 
 neath his roof, with plenty of siller and bonnie gude 
 hearts as ever beat in ony men's breast, and invited 
 many of the vassals to come to the Mountain Goat, 
 when they should see and chat a wee bit with the 
 English gentleman's serving men, one of whom was 
 black and came fi-om the Indies, and that many a 
 gude tale they could tell, na minding what mickle 
 siller they spent on the reckoning.' 
 
 'English noblemen,' exclaimed Annot, the princi- 
 pal attendant on Lady Jean Campbell, who heard the 
 conversation of the Laird retailed by the vassals, and 
 lastly from the mouth of Harold Gray, the steward 
 of the castle, — * English noblemen wrecked upon our 
 coast, and at the INIountain Goat for accommodation! 
 The tale is incredible.' 
 
 ' It is true, Mrs. Annot,' said Harrison, who being 
 a master carpenter, had been employed for several 
 days at the castle, ' for I had the honour of convers- 
 ing with the gentlemen at Andrew Creggy's, where 
 they have taken lodgings till the ship is able to pur- 
 sue her voyage. 
 
 ' They were driven on the rocks in our last dread- 
 ful tempest, and some of my men ai-e now on board of 
 the vessel repairing her, and the captain assures me 
 that they wtll not be ready to put to sea again for six 
 weeks.' 
 
 'You don't say so, Mr. Harrison?' ^aid Mrs. An- 
 not, ' and all that time the poor gentlemen must re- . 
 main at that filthy pigstye, the Mountain goat. I am 
 shocked at the inconvenience they must endure. Are 
 they young gentlemen, Mr. Harrison ?' 
 
 'Yes,' said Harrison, 'and the handsomest young 
 gentlemen I ever saw. One of them is the son of a ,
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 341 
 
 duko, atifl is called Lord Sydney Belmont, ; the othor 
 belongs to some great lord as he cornea fr«)ni foreign 
 parts, and has got a black footman ; he is called Tre- 
 lawney.' 
 
 ' Quite a foreign name,' said Mrs. Annot, 'and I 
 suppose they are very rich and generous.' 
 
 ' They roll in riches,' said Harrison, ' they don't 
 mind what they pay for any thing, and Andrew is 
 ready to go out of his wits for joy at such gentlemen 
 staying at the Mountain Goat.' 
 
 ' And well he might,' said Mrs. Annot. * They 
 may thank heaven for sending such a storm ; they 
 wont have one like it evciy day. There are Jessy 
 and Isabel receiving some fine presents, I dare say.' 
 
 ' That is an afi'air I cannot tell any thing about, 
 Mrs. Annot,' said Harrison, ' because I never saw 
 them take any; the lasses are well enough, you 
 know, Mrs. Annot.' 
 
 ' Yes, they are all well enough, or they would not 
 be allowed to come to the castle, Mr. Harrison ; Mrs. 
 Ferguson is very particular, — very particular indeed.' 
 
 * Is Mrs. Ferguson more particular than Lady Jean 
 Campbell, Mrs. Annot "r' 
 
 ' Oh ! a thousand times more so ; thank heaven, 
 my dear lady is a different sort of person ; I never 
 saw her out of temper but once, and that was when 
 old Harold turned a poor pilgrim fi-om the gates con- 
 trary to her Ladyship's orders.' 
 
 ' Was that well done of Harold Gray, Mrs. Annot ?' 
 
 ' No, indeed, it was very ill d(me, and so my Lady 
 thought, ' but there is such a difference between Mrs. 
 Ferguson and Lady Jean, for Mrs. Ferguson is a very 
 old woman, and Lady Jean was only eighteen years 
 of age yestei'day : she is so simple, and takes delight 
 in such childish amusements— she is actually gone 
 out this morning with only little Robert Duncan to 
 fish in the river ; how fond my Lady is of that child !' 
 
 'How enviable then is his situation,' said Mr.
 
 342 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Harrison; the proudest, knight in Scotland would 
 glory in marching under the banners of Lady Jean 
 Campbell.' 
 
 ' Oh, no doubt of it,' said Mrs. Annot, * Lady Jean 
 is the sweetest creature imaginable, but I don't think 
 her handsome, though she is reckoned so. Is not 
 she, Mr. Harrison ?' 
 
 ' By all who are not insensible to real beauty,' said 
 Harrison, * I think her the most bewitching creature 
 I ever saw in my life.' 
 
 ' Bewitching, — that is the word you men are so fond 
 of,' said Mistress Annot, 'but we women .' 
 
 ' Are no judges of female beauty,' exclaimed Mr. 
 Harrison, ' it is seldom indeed, that we ever hear 
 truth pronounced by a female on the personal quali- 
 fications of another, who is the admiratioa of the op- 
 posite sex ; what is the cause. Mistress Annot i" 
 
 Mrs. Annot tartly observed, — that men and women 
 were much alike in that particular, and that there 
 was half a dozen of the one and six of the other, in 
 her mind ; and somewhat abruptly she left Harrison 
 to perceive that a more rancorous weed could not 
 spring up in the bosom of a woman than envy. Mis- 
 tress Annot, who was a very pretty Scotch woman, 
 had two motives for abruptly quitting Mr. Harrison; 
 first, she was afi'aid of his thinking that she was jea- 
 lous of the superior loveliness of her mistress — and in 
 the next place she was impatient to communicate the 
 important intelligence respecting Andrew Creggy's 
 illustrious guest, hoping that when Mrs. Ferguson 
 heard the wonderful tale of such gentlemen being 
 crammed into the mean habitation of the Mountain 
 Goat ; that she and Mr. Douglas, her nephew, would 
 ofifer them an asylum at the castle ; and that she 
 should both see and be seen by the English noble- 
 men, and if this scheme did not succeed with the old 
 lady. Mistress Annot would whisper it in the ear of 
 Lady Jean Campbell, as soon as she should return
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MAT.UTAnE. 313 
 
 from fiphinp:, with a particular accoTint of Andn^w 
 Cre^gy's bonnie guosts ; to see whom ^listress An- 
 not felt all the curiosity which is ascribed to the sex. 
 
 As Mistress Annot, was only waiting maid to a 
 lady, we must excuse her vanity and curiosity ; as 
 these sort of personages generally possess an abun- 
 dant share. Margaret Ferguson in her sixty-ninth 
 year, was pleasingly engaged in netting a pair of 
 silken gloves for her little ftivourite Robert Dun- 
 can ; pres«^ntiug a picture of old age— of winter 
 though clothed in snowy semldance, yet serenely 
 mild, with sunny rays gilding the hoary frost. — For 
 Margaret Ferguson was cheerful, active, good tem- 
 pered, and even handsome ; possessed of a healthy 
 constitution, and a happy temperature of disposition, 
 with a heart of tenderness, she loved to do good ; if 
 she sighed it was for the misfortunes of others, not 
 her own ; if she wept, her tear was sacred to pity, to 
 sympathy, and to friendship, but never to love — she 
 had never experienced the ingratitude or the perfidy 
 of man ; from all love's torments, whether pleasing or 
 painful, Margaret had been free. In early days she 
 entered the service of Lady Jean Macpherson, who 
 becoming the wife of the brave Earl of Campbell, did 
 not relinquish the services of her faithful attendant, 
 but on the marriage, took Margaret with her to 
 Dumfairling Castle, nor parted with her till she died. 
 In the arms of Margaret P'erguson, the mother of 
 Lady Jean Camijbell breathed her last ; and scarcely 
 had her babe received a father's blessing, before he 
 also expired in the arms of Margaret. 
 
 "Was it not natural that she should cling to the 
 only surviving branch of the house of Campbell, 
 whom she tenderly and atiectionately reared, resisting 
 all otters of marriage from many of the brave chief- 
 tains. But Margaret, lived alone for the infant Jean, 
 through all her helpless infancy, with maternal solici- 
 tude and fondness, idolizing her infant graces, and ol-
 
 344 THE MTSTERlOrS MARrJACE. 
 
 most worshipping her as she srrew up info womnn- 
 hi)od lor her likeness to her mother, in the loveliness 
 of her features, and sweetness of her disposition, 
 "When Lady Jean Campbell was about eleven years of 
 a.o-e, there was a young female in the castle, called 
 Editha, an orphan maid, remarkable for the uncom- 
 mon loveliness of her person, and for her unassuming 
 manners, and the virtuous qualities of her disposition. 
 Unfortunately for Editha, she was too beautiful to 
 escape the notice of one of the high-born chieftains, 
 who after various insinuating professions of honour- 
 able attachment, won the heart of the fond, credulous 
 maid, betrayed and abandoned her to her fate. 
 
 Agincourt Falconbridge Duncan, her faithless lov- 
 er, suddenly quitted the castle, leaving the seduced 
 Editha a prey to the tongue of slander, and far advan- 
 ced in a state of pregnancy. Poor Editha, now no 
 longer happy, because no longer innocent, threw her- 
 self on her knees before the venerable Margaret Fer- 
 guson, confessed her indiscretion, revealed the author 
 of her shame and ruin, and implored protection for 
 her unborn infant. 
 
 Was it denied to the deluded and forsaken Editha ? 
 — No ; Margaret Ferguson had reflected on the words 
 of our blessed Saviour, — ' Go, daughter, and sin no 
 more,' and these were the precise words she addressed 
 to the poor heart-broken Editha, who in a short time 
 gave birth to a lovely boy, paying with unutterable 
 pangs for her indiscretion; — poor Editha, in a few 
 hours after the birth of her child, breathed out her 
 last sigh in the presence of her protectress, — and the 
 motherless boy became the property of Mrs. Fergu- 
 son. In a few menths the perfidious deserter of poor 
 Editha fell in battle, on the Banks of the Rhine ; — 
 nor, when the intelligence was conveyed to the castle, 
 was ISIargaret Ferguson sorry for his fall. The un- 
 common beauty of the child soon attracted the atten- 
 tion of Lady Jean, who often asked ^Margaret, who
 
 THE jrVSTKRlOL'S MARRIAGE. 345 
 
 th;it bonuHful child belong-ed to? — and one ninvnfng 
 her ladyship touk little Robert in her arms, and bes- 
 towing iuuumcrable caresses on the lovely innocent, 
 asked, ' to whom does he belong Y 
 
 To which Margaret replied, — ' He belongs to me, 
 my dear ;' and remained quite silent. 
 
 ' That child belongs to you, Margaret ? impossible ! 
 —you are not his mother ;' and Lady Jean smiled on 
 the venerable placid countenance of Margaret. 
 
 ' No, my dear, I am not his mother.' 
 
 ' Then who are his parents, Margaret ? — O tell me.* 
 
 ' It is a melancholy story to impart to yon, my love,' 
 said Margaret ; but you shall know in due time ' 
 
 ' And why not tell me now, Margaret Y 
 
 To which Mrs. Ferguson replied, — 'because, my 
 love, it is improper for you to hear at present ; when 
 you are older, you shall know all that you require 
 respecting little Robert Duncan, and who were his 
 father and mother.' 
 
 Lady Jean bended over the infant, as it now lay 
 sleeping in her snowy arms. ' Is he, Margaret, an 
 orphan boy 'i then heaven bless him, for he is my 
 brother ; — I am an orphan too, and I will be his sis- 
 ter. — Margaret, cannot you part with him r* I will 
 take such care of him, — he shall never want.' 
 
 ' One kiss, my dearest, and amiable child, image of 
 your sainted mother, inheriting all her goodness, you 
 are worthy of the great ancestors from whom yuu are 
 descended,— the glory of the house of Campb^'ll 1' ex- 
 claimed Margaret. — ' And will you, indeed, be the 
 protectress of this poor boy T 
 
 * AVhile I live,' uttered Lady Jean, clasping her 
 beautiful little hands together, while tears tioated, in 
 her lovely eyes, ' I will protect this boy.— I never will 
 desert him, Margaret, — he is an orphan, and so am I ; 
 — I therefore beg, that from this moment he may be 
 my page, and that every due respect, as such, uiay be 
 paid to him ;— do you hear, Margaret Y
 
 346 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. ' 
 
 'Yes, my dear lady, I hear, and I applaud,' said 
 Margaret, taking- little Robert out of the fatigued 
 arms of his illustrious mistress, and while she kissed 
 him, heaved a sigh to the memory of poor Editha, 
 whose misfortunes were not related to her till she had 
 arrived to the state of womanhood. She had often 
 admired the beautiful Editha, and she dropped a tear 
 to the recollection of her sorrows, cherishing her off- 
 spring with tenfold tenderness. 
 
 Meanwhile little Robert flourished like an opening 
 rose-bud under the eye of his lovely mistress, in whose 
 apartments he constantly lived, and on whose bosom, 
 he slept, till he had reached his ninth year, and then 
 he had a chamber to himself. His increasing beauty 
 and rapid growth often made some of the old ones 
 suspect, that, it was not a circumstance impossible, 
 whether the young Robert Duncan, though then a 
 page, would not, one day or other, be the Lord of 
 Dumfairling Castle, at which old Harold Gray would 
 frowningly silence all such insinuations, bidding 
 them remember that a daughter of the house of 
 Campbell would know better than to unite herself in 
 marriage with the son of Editha. 
 
 All these surmises, were soon dropped ; while the 
 beauteous page, who hourly discovered some generous 
 trait, insensibly banished envy and jealousy from the 
 breasts of the chieftains, and became as much beloved 
 by the vassals as he was the idol of their mistress. 
 
 Mistress Annot was at times very jealous of him, 
 and frequently exclaimed, in the hearing of Harold 
 Gray, — if that boy were a few years older, I think my 
 Lady would marry him.' 
 
 ' Dinna be sic a daft fule, lassie,' exclaimed Harold, 
 taking a pinch of snuff from his mull, ' ye mun mind 
 what ye' re saying o' the bonnie bairn, ye ken, or ye'll 
 nae stay lang i'the Castle o' Dnmfairling-' 
 
 This broad hint sufficed, and Mrs. Annot never 
 breathed her thoughts of Lady Jean's fondness for
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 347 
 
 littlo Duncan, whom she was obliged to treat with the 
 respect due to his distinguished oflSce. Whenever 
 Mistress Annot had a point to carry, she entered Mrs. 
 Ferguson's or Lady Jean's apartment with some 
 complimentary speech on the surprising beauty of the 
 little favourite. — ' I should not at all wonder, madam,' 
 said she, ' if when he is a man, he will be one of the 
 most gallant knights in all Scotland.' 
 
 * The boy is well enough for his years.' said the 
 venerable Margaret, as she continued her netting. 
 
 ' Well enough,' exclainied Annot, * well enuugh, 
 ]Mrs. Ferguson ! why he is a prodigy ; he can read 
 and write, — aye, much better than I can.' 
 
 ' Very possible,' said Mrs. Ferguson, for Lady 
 Jean Campbell, has been his instructress.' 
 
 'Oh dear, I had forgot,' replied Mrs. Annot, 
 blushing ; 'well, he is certainly a sweet fellow.' 
 
 Mistress Annot now stated what she had heard from 
 Harrison, at which Mrs. Ferguson expressed surprise, 
 desiring Annot that Mr. Harrison might be summon- 
 ed to her presence. 
 
 She went to him and said, ' You must go and tell 
 Mrs. Ferguson, all you kjiow about the young hand- 
 some English gentlemen who are at Andrew Creggj-'s.' 
 
 ' It appears you have done that already, Mrs. 
 Annot,' said Harrison, observing her blushes. 
 
 ' Oh dear, no, — I have not told her one half of 
 what I meant to say, for I do so pity ' 
 
 'Young, handsome gentlemen!' said Harrison, 
 laughing at the confused looks of Mistress Annot as 
 he followed her into the apartment of Mrs. Ferguson, 
 where the old lady desiring Annot to bring him a 
 glass of wine, made inquiries after the English stran- 
 gers ; and Harrison satisfying her with every partic- 
 ular, it was agreed that on the return of Lady Jean 
 Campbell, a messenger was to be dispatched to the 
 Mountain Goat, offering Lord Sidney Belmont and 
 Mr. Trelawney an accommodation more worthy of
 
 348 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 thfiir exalted rank, and all the entertainment which 
 the castle of Dunifairling could afford. 
 
 ' It shall never be said,' exclaimed Mrs. Ferguson, 
 'that the Scots are less remarkable for hospitality 
 than English folks. Had my dear lord and lady lived 
 to witness this accident on our coast, they would have 
 rushed to the English strangers, and offered them an 
 asylum in their house ; — great was their benevolence 
 and liberality, which did not extend to exalted per- 
 sonages alone, — the houseless ever received protection 
 in the house of Campbell, — the poor and the wretched 
 were never turned empty handed from their doors. 
 
 But Margaret, while thus honouring their memo- 
 ries, was unconscious of the scene which was taking 
 place on the river's banks, with her lovely mistress. 
 Lord Sydney Belmont, with impatient anxiety, awa- 
 kened his friend at an early hour the ensuing morn- 
 ing to remind him of his promise to accompany him 
 over the mountain ; and they both set out on their 
 ramble, directing their course towards the river, Tre- 
 lawney pausing as they came in sight of the towers 
 of the castle, to contemplate the majestic beauty of 
 the scene. 
 
 'How romantically beautiful,' exclaimed Trelaw- 
 ney, as they turned to the banks. 
 
 ' And yet it is awful and sublime in its appearance,* 
 observed Lord Sydney ; when they were startled by 
 the piercing cries of a female. 
 
 They waited not a moment, but flew towards the 
 spot from whence it had proceeded, and they encoun- 
 tered a sight, the most affecting — It was the figure of 
 a young and beauteous female about to plunge into 
 the rapid current of the river, who, with clasped 
 hands, rent the air with her piercing cries. 
 
 It was Lady Jean Campbell ; and the object of her 
 terror was little Robert Duncan, who had fallen over 
 the river's banks, and was struggling with the wave 
 with all his little strength.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 349 
 
 * SfranpTcr, whoe'er thou art,' exclaimed Lady Jean, 
 seizing: the arm of Lord Sydney in wild accents of 
 despair, ' Save! oh. save that child !' 
 
 Instantly Lord Sydney was in the middle of the 
 stream; and swam towards the boy with incredible 
 velocity — another shriek was uttered by Lady Jeau, 
 as, almost panting for breath, Lord Sydney, by one 
 vigorous effort, reachc'd and grasped the body of the 
 panting sufferer, drawing him safely out of the water. 
 
 ' Gallant stranger, receive the eternal gratitude of 
 Jean Campbell I' said she, as soon as she could speak, 
 while kneeling beside the child, and resting his head 
 on her bosom, she tried to revive him, while she be- 
 sought Trelawney, who had supported her trembling 
 form during the distressing scene, to ring the bell at 
 one of the porticos, which would summon her vassals; 
 it was an alarm bell — and innumerable attendants 
 appeared, Harold Gray receiving in his arms little 
 Hubert Duncan, who was carried up to Mrs. Fergu- 
 son's apartment, and laid in a warm bed, while every 
 attention was paid to his preserver, Lady Jean mo- 
 destly retiring to her own chamber. Mrs. Ferguson 
 and Mr. Douglas, her nephew, welcomed her noble 
 guests, with her Ladyship's request to accept of an 
 abode in the castle during their stay on the island of 
 Inchcolm, an invitation which was too agreeable to 
 thL' feelings of Lord Sydney and Trelawney to be re- 
 jtcted. • 
 
 A sumptuous dinner was put into preparation for 
 the entertainment of the English guests, and Lord 
 Sydney, to whom a warm cordial was given, was 
 shown into a magnificent apartn:ient, and Trelawney 
 into another, to change the order of their dress, 
 (Mungo having arrived with the travelling trunks.) 
 They were soon summoned to the presence of Lady 
 Jean Campbell. Though she was much smaller in 
 stature than the ordinary size of women, which gave 
 her an appearance of juvenility, yet the delicacy and
 
 350 THE MYSTERTOTTS MARRIAGE. 
 
 proportion of her fijrure were inimitable ; her hanris 
 and feet were beautifully small, but her face— such a 
 face, all the united powers of a Raphael, or a Rubens, 
 could not have given the happy combination of beauty 
 which it possessed ; her mouth was singularly pret- 
 ty, her lips of the most rosy freshness, her teeth were 
 white, and her eyes were a dark lovely blue, her hair 
 was of a bright golden auburn. She had on a robe of 
 snowy resemblance, a tartan scarf hanging loosely 
 over her shoulders — she thus entered the banqueting- 
 room, and approaching Lord Sydney and Trelawney 
 with a smiling air, welcomed them to Dumfairling 
 Castle. 
 
 ' So I find, my Lord, you are already acquainted 
 with my little page, said she to Lord Sydney with a 
 quick and ardent gaze, ' Robert is not a stranger to 
 his gallant preserver.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I have met with him only once before.' 
 
 * So he told me,' said Lady Jean, 'and that only 
 once has been sufficient to give you a title to his re- 
 membrance, which he will feel when he is informed 
 that you have risked your life for his; ah, my Lord, 
 it is not likely that he will ever forget you.' 
 
 * I beseech j'our Ladyship not to over-rate a ser- 
 vice which is already more than repaid by the grati- 
 fying sensation it has aflTorded to my o%\ti feelings,* 
 said Lord Sydney. A splendid dinner was now ser- 
 ved up, at which only Mrs. Ferguson was present. 
 
 During the repast, and after much conversation 
 ensued, of the most pleasing kind, in which the beau- 
 ty, the simplicity, and the sensibility of the lovely 
 hostess were particularly fascinating. She had no 
 affectation, and was not sedulous to attract admira- 
 tion by displaying her accomplishments; but Tre- 
 lawney expressing a wish to hear some of the native 
 Scotch melodies, she complied, and sitting down to 
 the harp, struck the strings with such tasteful exe- 
 cution, that they vibrated on the heart of all present.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 351 
 
 Lord Sydney, before the evening was gone, Had no 
 heart at all — it was in the po-ssession of Lady Jean 
 Campbell before he was aware of it. 
 
 "When they retired for the nijrht, Trelawney asked 
 Lord Sydney how he found his heart, which he 
 thuught was in great danger of being besieged. 
 
 'Besieged I' said Lord Sydney, 'it is already sur- 
 rendered by voluntary inclination. I never saw a 
 female more calculated to charm me, and one whom I 
 could so idolize as this Lady Jean Campbell.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 GROWIXG ATTACHMENT OF LORD STDXEY BELMONT 
 AND LADY JEAN CAMPBELL ;"THEIR MARRIAGE. 
 
 A PERIOD of three weeks had now elapsed, and 
 Lord Sydney Belmont and Trelawney were still the 
 guests of Lady Jean Campbell, whose empire over the 
 heart of the former was completely decisive. Lord 
 Sydney every hour discovered some new charm in 
 the lovely Jean ; nor was it the loveliness of her 
 person which alone fascinated, it was united with the 
 superior charm of her disposition and her accomplish- 
 ed mind, which had not, it is true, received the polish 
 of the great world ; but perhaps from this circum- 
 stance she derived her sweetest charm ; for she w<ia 
 pure and artless. 
 
 The lovely Jean suspected no one of intentional 
 ■wrong ; pure and unconscious of deception, she was 
 happy in believing others to be so, and searched no 
 further into the recesses of the human heart ; when, 
 therefore, her heart received the first impressions of 
 dawning love for Lord Sydney Belmont, she did not 
 attempt by dissimulation to hide the blushes which 
 kindled at his approach, nor suppre>s the heaving 
 sigh when she rellected on the probability of his soon 
 departing fiom the Scottish shores ; for ike captain as-
 
 352 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 sured liis noble passengers that the vessel would be 
 ready to sail at the expiration of a fortnight. This 
 intelligence Trelawney communicated to Lord Syd- 
 ney, as he was sitting alone in his chamber, after having 
 written a long account of their adventures to Valen- 
 cia Lodge, and the hospitable treatment which they 
 had experienced from the generous islanders, in which 
 letter his Lordship described Dumfairling Castle, its 
 magnificent chambers, its lofty battlements, its state- 
 ly towers, and beautiful ronuintic scenery which sur- 
 rounded it ; also its inhabitants, a brave, hardy, and 
 generous set of Scots, who had followed to the field 
 their noble lord, the Earl of Campbell ; distinguish- 
 ing themselves in the fiercest battle, by their firm al- 
 legiance to their victorious leader. 
 
 In describing its owner Lord Sydney borrowed the 
 pencil of a glowing artist, either a Rubens or Corre- 
 gio, in describing the portrait of Lady Jean Camp- 
 Bell. To his sister, Lady Honoria, he wrote ; — 
 
 * You will say that I have not sufficiently des- 
 cribed the charms of my lovely Caledonian maid, because 
 I have not precisely told you what colour her eyes are of, 
 and whether her complexion be brown or fair ; I can on- 
 ly say there is a dark blue flower, which half opening to 
 the sunny ray, seems to float in crystal beauty — so clear, 
 so bi'ight, and so blue are the eyes of my bonnie .Jean ; 
 and then her complexion — she is certainly not so fair, 
 Honoria, as the generality of English women, but when 
 she blushes, from the refiection of truth and ingenious 
 simplicity, she always reminds me of a young and rosy- 
 liliped cherubim that Shakspere so beautifully des- 
 cribes. I expect that Fanny will presume to laugh, and 
 Catherine dare to exercise her wit at the expense of the 
 bonnie lassie, but I shall remind the former of her im- 
 pertinence, and no birds froin Italii, but on the strength 
 of good behaviour ; and the latter I shall put in mind of 
 a life of solitude rejected for the society of a Queensbury, 
 so with both saucy girls I shall at least be even. 
 
 'Adieu, dearest Honoria. — The kind regards of our 
 friend Trelawney accompanying those of your 
 
 • Ever affectionate brother, Hijdmii) Belmoiit.'
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 353 
 
 < This is ' Love among the roses,' my dearest Bel- 
 mont,' said Trelawney, laughing' heartily as he re- 
 turned the long epistle ; ' in short, the god of love 
 makes most formidable advances, and I see your dan- 
 ger. You have encountered a Calypso in this island, 
 from whom I see it will be more diiiicult to separate 
 you than I imagined.' 
 
 ' Ah ! give her not a title So foreign to her artless 
 nature,' said Lord Sydney ; ' she may be a Calypso in, 
 beauty, but she has none of her seductive arts. I own 
 myself her willing captive, and would sooner become 
 a voluntary slave in her dominions, than monarch of 
 the proudest empire.' 
 
 ' Well, but have you considered on our voyage to 
 Italy 'f The nature of our arrangements will not 
 permit of a much longer stay in the island of Inch- 
 colm, as Captain Finchley has just informed me that 
 we shall be ready to sail in a fortnight from these hos- 
 pitable shores.' 
 
 ' Sail in a fortnight for Italy !' exclaimed Lord Syd- 
 ney, his countenance turning pale, while every fea- 
 ture betrayed agitation. 
 
 'Certainly, my Lord,' answered he, *to Italy; 
 which is your intention, is it not F' 
 
 ' "Which irr/s ray intention,' replied Lord Sydney, 
 * till— till I landed on the coast of Scotland ; but hav- 
 ing done so, I could remain for ever fixed." 
 
 ' By a magnetical influence you are not able to re- 
 sist ; "l perceive it most clearly,' sf^id Trelawney. 
 
 ' Yet I certainly will go if you wij^h it, Trelawney,' 
 uttered Lord Sydney, in great embarrassment. 
 
 ' If I wish it 1' repeated Trelawney; I have no wish 
 but your's, that is not intimately connected with your 
 happiness, welfare, and felicity.' 
 
 ' To be plain then, Trelawnej',' said Lord Sydney, 
 'my dear friend, I will unburden my whole soul to 
 you ; give me your counsel, which I shall follow, be it 
 what it may: I adore Lady Jane Campbell, and I
 
 S54 THE ivnrsTEP.ious marriage. 
 
 could this instant lay my hand, fortune, and person 
 at her feet ; and were I assured that she does not look 
 upon me with indifference, I would not quit this 
 coast without breathing a confession of my pure and 
 honourable affection — could I hear fi-om the lovely i 
 Jean, the extatic words, ' I love,' think you that to 
 Italy I would steer my course, while there\vas a pros- ■ 
 pect of calling such an angel mine Y 
 
 ' Well, but in what do you require my counsel ?' I 
 will give it you unsolicited. There is nothing which 
 wrings a confession of the state of a woman's heart so 
 strongly as when the hour approaches in which she is 
 to bid adieu to the object of her affections : I know it 
 and have felt it by experience' — Trelawney thought 
 of his beloved Rosa. She could not conceal her tears, 
 nor the throbbings of her heart, as hiding her face on 
 the bosom of Mary Bradbury, she had wept out her 
 last farewell. \ 
 
 ' Lady Jean Campbell has yet to be apprised,' con- \ 
 tinned Trelawney, ' of our departure from the island 
 of Inchcolm. If, when we inform her suddenly, as if 
 by mere accident, which can be done to-day at dinner, 
 if she discovers the emotion, which I have a shrewd 
 guess she will do, then, my Lord, we need not steer 
 to the coast of Italy ; for she will not let you long re- 
 main ignorant of the state of her affections — what 
 think you of my plan ?' 
 
 ' Your plan is excellent,' said the delighted Lord 
 Sydney, ' and if I was certain that execution would 
 follow.*' — 
 
 A soft tap at the door announced a visitor, and 
 that visitor was little Robert Duncan. 'Ah! you 
 eaid you would sail in my ship to-day,' said he to 
 Lord Sydney ; ' do come and see how nicely Lady 
 Jean has trimmed it with such pretty bows of white 
 ribbon, and all because I said, and I know what I 
 said,' and the boy looked archly. 
 
 ' What did you say I'-' asked Lord Sydney.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MAERIAGE. 3oO 
 
 'You won't tell Lady Jean.' 
 
 'Certainly not.' 
 
 ' Says I, who do you think is going to sail in my 
 little ship, and I told her it was you, and she smiled, 
 .and took the bows from her hair, and tied up the nice 
 little scat and curtains, which she said would keep the 
 sun from scorchiajr you ; and she st\id Lord Sydney 
 is your preserver, Robert, and you cannot be too care- 
 ful of him ; and I said, must I love Lord Sydney, 
 Lady JeanP and she said, yes, dearly, Robert, as 
 much as you love me.' 
 
 ' And then, says I, do you love him, Lady Jean ?' 
 
 * And what did Lady Jean say to this qusston ?' 
 asked Trclawney ; ' did she say yes or no 'r' 
 
 ' No, Sir, she did not say any thing ; but how she 
 did blush,— she was as red as scarlet. 
 
 The boy soon ran out of the room to show his mis- 
 tress some trilling pi-esenrs which Trelawney gave 
 him ; and he said to Lord Sydney ; 
 
 ' I think, my Lord, we shall not find much difficul- 
 ty in trying to discover the state of Lady Jean's heart. 
 I think the little page put rather a home question to 
 his lady, which she could not parry ; — v.-hat say you?' 
 
 'Oh, do not transport me beyond myself,'' said 
 Lord Sydney, ' 'tis gratitude she iecls. nothing more.' 
 
 ' We shall see how far her Ladyship's gratitude will 
 extend to my poor friend,' said Trclawney ; and the 
 friends now separated to dress for dinner. 
 
 ' My dear, you are not in your usual spirits to-day,* 
 said Mrs. Ferguson to Lady Jean who. was sitting 
 pensively at the window of the dressing-room, with 
 her eyes fixed on the wide expanse of the ocean. 
 
 ' I was thinking how swiftly that trcachei-ous ocean 
 may bear away our dearest connexions, and how soon 
 they may be buried beneath its waves,' said Lady 
 Jean, with tears, fearing that such a fiite might at- 
 tend her English friends. 
 
 ' 'Tis not the ocean that will make friends treacher-
 
 356 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ous or ungrateful, if they are not already so, my dear- 
 est love,— nor can it efface the tenderest recollections 
 from our memories, if memory still is faithful. But 
 I suspect you were thinking of our English travellers 
 when your eyes looked upon the ocean ? — I entertain 
 the most exalted opinion of their sentiments, and be- 
 lieve they will never forget the hospitality and kind- 
 ness they have received under the roof of Lady Jean 
 Campbell.' 
 
 'Ah, Margaret, but men are so forgetful of woman's 
 kindness,' said Lady Jean, with a deep and pensive 
 sigh; 'alas, they only remember their folly.' 
 
 ' From whence do you draw these conclusions, my 
 sweet love ?' 
 
 'Not from my own experience, but from the fate of 
 Editha,' said Lady Jean; 'ever since you told me 
 her fate, I have had a poor opinion of mankind. 
 When a fond woman trusts to the protection of man, 
 how base he is who can have the cruelty to desert her!' 
 
 Just then Duncan came in to show his handsome I 
 little presents, which put an end to a conversation j 
 which ]\Iai-garet wondered at. She did not know that 
 the dear lady was beginning to feel the influence of love. 
 
 ' I wish Lord Sydney and Mr. Trolawney would not 
 go away,' said Robert ; ' I shall be so sorry when 
 they go in the great ship lying in the harbour; — 
 wont you, Mrs. Ferguson ''^ I am sure that lady Jean 
 •will.' Lady Jean blushed. 
 
 ' Why, Duncan,' said Mrs. Ferguson, ' I declare 
 the gentlemen have quite spoiled you.' 
 
 ' Not Mr. Trelawney, — but Lord Sydney has, actu- 
 ally,' said Lady Jean. 
 
 ''Well, but must not I speak the truth?' said the 
 little prattler. 
 
 ' Yes, my love ; always do so,' said Lady Jean. 
 
 ' Well, then, I am so sorry Lord Sydney is going 
 away. — I do so love him, he is so kind, and so like — ' 
 
 * Who is he like, you little simpleton ?' asked Lady
 
 THE ^nrSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 357 
 
 Jean, who was not very angry with the boy's remarks. 
 
 ' You ; — Lord Sydney is like you 1' said little Dun- 
 can, just as Trelawney and Lord Sydney entered the 
 room, and found Mrs, Ferguson recovering from a lit 
 of laughter, and Lady Jean covered with blushes. 
 
 ' r^Iay WG know the cause of your extraordinary 
 mirth, Mrs. Ferguson r"' said Lord Sydney. 
 
 ' Oh, your Lordship must excuse my rudeness,' said 
 ISIrs. Ferguson, 'but it is all owing to Duncan; — he 
 has been finding a likeness in you to Lady Jean.' 
 
 ' "Was ever such a little rebel — Robert, you deserve 
 my thanks though, for all that,' said Lord Sydney, 
 fondling him, and patting his head. 
 
 ' Do you know why I said you were like Lady Jean ? 
 — ' I>';ecau38 she has got such pretty blue eyes, and so 
 have you ; and because she is so good tempered, and 
 60 are you, — so you must be like her, you know.' 
 
 ' And pray, Duncan, why do you not take notice of 
 my eyes 'r' cried Trelawney, perceiving the embar- 
 rassed situation of the lovely hostess. 
 
 * Oh, I love you almost as well as I do him,— not 
 quite, but almost.' The dinner now coming in, he 
 was dismissed with a large piece of cake for his pains. 
 
 Trelawney. who had undertaken to begin the siege 
 for his friend, very soon said to Lord Sydney, — ' I 
 hope, my Lord, you have finished the letters for his 
 Grace, your father.' 
 
 And Lord Sydney, pretending to inquire into the 
 reason of his inquiry, Trelawney answered, — 'Be- 
 cause they are of no use, unless you have precisely 
 mentioned the time of our departure, which Captain 
 Finchley assures me will be in less than two weeks 
 from the present date.' 
 
 ' I did not inform my father of a circumstance of 
 which I did not know,' Lord Sydney said, in a voice 
 scarcely articulate, from a sudden eniotion he saw in 
 the countenance of Lady Jean Campbell, for she be- 
 came pale, while her qiiivering lips demanded, if he 
 were going to sail for Italy, in so short a period.
 
 358 THE MYSTERIOL'S MARRIAGE. 
 
 — * I thoiight your stay here would have been much 
 longer, — but in two weeks you will leave Scotland.' 
 
 ' And your hospitable mansion, with deep regret, 
 yet with sensations of gratitude, Lady Jean Camp- 
 bell, which cannot be erased from our memories,' said 
 Trelawney, perceiving that his friend was actually 
 tongue-tied. Lord Sydney could not speak, from the 
 sensations he experienced ; but to have put Lady 
 Jean's sensibility to such a trial, he could scarcely 
 forgive Trelawnej'-, and unconscious of what he was 
 doing, he flew to the sideboard, and filling a glass 
 with wine and watei', approached her, and most ten- 
 derly exclaimed, — 
 
 ' You are ill. Lady Jean, your pale complexion de- 
 notes it. Trelawney, call for Mrs. Ferguson, she is 
 ill, and we have made her so. Forgive me '— — but 
 Trelawney was gone ; Lord Sydney was alone with 
 Lady Jean Campbell ; and this favourable moment to 
 plea'd the ardour of his attachment was not to be re- 
 sisted, he might never have such another, and seizing 
 the cold snowy hand, which trembled with emotion, 
 he pressed it to his lips, while he breathed out the 
 most ardent avowal of his chaste and honourable pas- 
 sion, beseeching her to honour him with a speedy and 
 ingenuous reply. — ' My heart, my fortune, my title, 
 all are yours, sweet maid, and from you I ask no 
 more than your beauteous self; give me but the title 
 of being your husband, and in all beside you are your 
 own mistress. — Speak, lovely and beloved Jean, — 
 trifle not, I beseech you, with a heart so devotedly 
 your own.' 
 
 Her Ladyship did not draw away her hand from 
 Lord Sydney, while she thus replied: — 'My Lord, 
 though I am young and inexperienced, I have dis- 
 cerned your merits, and if I found my heart too sen- 
 sible of 'them, you must forgive me for betraying it 
 in the manner I have just done in the presence of 
 your friend. I am a child of simphcity, and I have
 
 tht: ^^s■STERIors ^iarriage. 3o9 
 
 never been taught to disguise the sentiments of my 
 heart, where those sentiments were not disgraceful to 
 the house of Campbell. You were the preserver of a 
 poor littleorphanboT,-and when you snatched Duncan 
 from the briny wave, the heart of Jean Campbell un- 
 consciously became yours. The retiring modesty of 
 my sex would never have permitted me to have told 
 you so, but to an avowal of mutual regard. I there- 
 fore do not blush in giving that hand where alone I 
 have bestowed my heart. Receive it then, Lord Syd- 
 ney, and be the protector, the friend, the guardian, 
 and husband of the orphan Jean.' 
 
 Lady Jean Campbell now, overpowered by the af- 
 fecting situation into which she had been thrown, 
 burst into tears, to relieve her full heart, which were 
 wiped from her lovely cheek by the transported and 
 happy Lord Sydney, who, taking the opportunity of 
 Lady Jean's retiring, burst into the chamber where 
 Trelawney was amusing himself with the sportive 
 tricks of the little page, exclaiming, — 'Victory, vic- 
 tory, my dearest friend ! — No Italy for Belmont,— no 
 Italy for Trelawney I' 
 
 ' i knew that, when I made my exit,' said Trelaw- 
 ney, ' what do you say now to love among the roses ?' 
 
 ' That he may ever be among the roses, without 
 being encumbered by the thorns I' answered Lord 
 Sydney. The two friends consulted respecting their 
 future arrangements ; their tour to Italy being given 
 up by Lord Sydney Belmont, he could "think of no- 
 thing but Lady Jean Campbell, to whom he was de- 
 termined to be united before he returned to England; 
 and Trelawney felt no predilection to travel alone to 
 distant countries ; he knew tliere was but one part of 
 the world that contained his all of happiness, and aa 
 that happiness was denied to him, all other places 
 were objects of indifference to him. 
 
 It was finally settled that they should acquaint 
 Captain Finchley of this alteration in their plans ;
 
 360 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Captain Finchley expressed great regret to relinquish 
 their company to the coast of Italy. But he sustain- 
 ed no loss from his passengers, who amply repaid him 
 for the time they had been on board. 
 
 Trelawney and Lord Sydney called at Andi'ew 
 Creggy's, at the Mountain Goat, to whom they gave 
 a liberal sum for the time they had been under his 
 roof; and the bonnie lasses had no reason to com- 
 plain of English strangers' want of generosity, for 
 never had their small services been more amply re- 
 paid. In a few days, however, a report was soon cur- 
 rent that the Flower of aw Scotland, their bonnie 
 Jean, would shortly bloom upon a branch of English 
 nobility— a report not pleasing to some of the high- 
 blooded Scots, who preferred her wedding one of their 
 own clan. 
 
 But Lady Jean Campbell was her own mistress, 
 and an heiress in her own right, and the lovely Cale- 
 donian in selecting a lord other bosom's choice taught 
 them the simple lesson of consulting happiness before 
 ambition. 
 
 After Lady Jean had yielded her consent, she en- 
 tered the chamber of Margaret, and throwing herself 
 on the bosom of her second mother, revealed all her 
 communications with Lord Sydney Belmont, at which 
 ^Irs. Ferguson did not express the least surprise. 
 
 'Do you not approve of my choice, Margaret?' 
 
 * Ah, my dear young lady,' said she, with tears in 
 her eyes, what right have I to object to it ! but not to 
 flatter you, I admire the noble young Lord who will 
 be so highly distinguished by the honour of your 
 hand, so highly, indeed, that he will be the envy of 
 all Scotland. Ah ! who would not have been proud 
 of an alliance Avith a daughter of the house of Camp- 
 bell ; your brave father ' 
 
 ' Was the Earl of Campbell,' said Lady Jean, * and 
 had my father lived he would not have thought him- 
 self disgraced by my union with Lord Sydney Bel- 
 mont, whose father 'is the Duke of Valencia.'
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 361 
 
 'To whose title his own son will succeed,' said 
 ^^rarearo!:, in a tone oi exultation. 
 
 ' Unquestionably that must follow, if heaven spares 
 the life of my dear lord,' answered Lady Jean. 
 
 ' Then my dear child will one day be a duchess,* 
 exclaimed Margaret, ' the Duchess of Valencia.' 
 
 ' I was not contemplating any titles except one that 
 I should be prouder of, were I England's queen,' said 
 Lady Jean. Lady Jean assured Margaret that she 
 and Robert Duncan should be amply provided fur; 
 and the recollection of her maternal kindnesses during 
 her helpless infancy, and the afiecting period when 
 death closed the eyes of her angel mother bursting on 
 her memory, Lady Jean, wholly overcome, threw her 
 lovely arms over the venerable form of her faithful 
 attendant, and wept, and said, ' ^largaret, do not 
 imagine that we are going to be separated.' 
 
 ' I hope not, my dear young lady, I hope not ; for 
 were that the case, my heart would soon break.' 
 
 ' And mine too, if I could ever live to be ungrateful 
 towards you,' answered Lady Jean ; ' you have been 
 a mother to me, Margaret, and we will never part.' 
 
 Lord Sydney now entered, and fuund Lady Joan 
 with her faithful attendant, and as they were deeply 
 engaged in conversation, would have retired, out of 
 respectful delicacy to his lovely Jean, ' I fear I am 
 an intruder, my good Mrs. Ferguson,' said he ; 'if 
 so, pray tell me, and I will depart.' 
 
 ' Indeed but you are no such thing, my Lord,' said' 
 ^Margaret, viewing him with more complacency than 
 ever through her spectacles, ' well, I think the boy is 
 riaht— you do resemble my dear young Lady.' 
 
 * If you flatter me so highly I must leave you,' said 
 Lord Sydney, blushing at the intent examination 
 which Margaret was taking of every feature. 
 
 ' Do any of your sisters resemble you r' inquired 
 Lady Jean, peeping, as if bv accident, at the tino 
 countenance of her transported lover.
 
 362 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE, 
 
 * Only one,' replied Lord Sydney, 'and that is— ' 
 
 * She whom you have so often talked of so affection- 
 ately,' said Lady Jean ; — ' it is Honoria.' 
 
 ' Who told you so, dearest ?' asked Lord Sydney. 
 ' One who delighted in dwelling on her praises,* 
 said Lady Jean, * that I have often thought, — ' 
 
 * What have you thought, my loveliest Jean P asked 
 Lord Sydney, gazing with, transport on one of the 
 most fascinating countenances in the world. 
 
 ' Tliat love prompted the eloquence of his tongue,' 
 said Lady Jean, with a rosy blush on her face. 
 
 'Then you are deceived, sweetest Jean,' said Lord 
 Sydney ; * my fiiend Trelawney does not love my sis- 
 te'r Honoria ; I should regret it if he did. Poor girl, 
 her situation would be worse than it now is.' 
 
 ' And why regret it r^' asked Lady Jean, ' Is not 
 your friend worthy of your sister r" 
 
 ' Oh, he is worthy of almost every woman in the 
 whole world ; you know not half the excellence of 
 Trelawney ; but he could never be the husband of 
 Honoria.' 
 
 ' Is he then already the husband of another ?' de- 
 manded Lady Jean. 
 
 ' No, but he soon will be,' * he is to be married to 
 the only daughter of the Earl of Fitzosbourne, Lady 
 Alexina Fitzosbourne; the contract having been 
 made before he was born, by the will of his father. 
 
 * The will of his father !' repeated Lady Jean in as- 
 tonishment, 'and before he was born! how strange.' 
 
 Lord Sydney now informed her ladyship of the pe- 
 culiar destiny of his amiable friend, at the recital of 
 which Lady Jean Campbell heaved a sigh to the sor- 
 rov.'s of Trelawney. 
 
 About this period, letters arrived from England, 
 two for Lord Sydney, and one from Fitzosbourne 
 House for Trelawney, containing a most affectionate 
 testimony of the Earl's regard, hoping that his ab- 
 sence would not be protracted beyond the period pro-
 
 THK MYSTERIOITS MARRIAGE. 363 
 
 posed ; that his health, so far from having mended, 
 was rapidly declining and that ore liu closed his eyes 
 in this mortal career, he was solicitous that the will 
 of his father should he ratified between him and his 
 dauiilitcr. A very slight mention of Lady Glenthorp© 
 and Lady Alexina was added ; and Trelawney resol- 
 ved that, after the marriage of Lord Sydney Belmont 
 to repair to England, and to hc.il the wounded feel- 
 ings of the Earl, by becoming the husband of Lady 
 Alexina. Lord Sydney's letter ran thus ; — 
 
 'My dear Boy, 
 
 ' In cousultins your own happiness you consult 
 mine. I am not wholly a stranger to the family of La-ty 
 Jean Camphell, with whom your alliance cannot to me be 
 objectionable. 
 
 ' That Lady Jean is both lovely and worthy the election 
 of my dear Sydney, I have no doubt;— tlicre fore, you may 
 marry with my free consent, whenever you may think it 
 convenient. I am better pleased to see you return to a 
 fond father's arms, though a bridesroom, than have part- 
 ed Mith you as a bachelor for so long a period as you in- 
 tended. 
 
 ' Your sister Catherine -nill, ere your return to England, 
 be the bride of Queensbury. Fanny, too, has receivecJ 
 very flattering overtures from Lord William Mowbray, and 
 will probably accept of them, as his Lordship is every way 
 unexceptionable. 
 
 ' Of my Honoria what shall I say?— She is as good a girl 
 as ever, but strangely fallen off in her health ;— I say 
 strangely, because it is so suddenly after yoiu* departure 
 that she has thus languished. I hope your return to Eng- 
 land may enliven her,— but I have fears, Sydney, which I 
 shall not at present disclose. 
 
 ' I ha^•e not seen Lord Fitzosbourne lately ; report says 
 Jiis Lordship's healt his greatly irapaireil. Give my best 
 wishes to dear Trelawney. Commend me to your bouuie 
 Jean. Your sisters are impatient to lichold her. 
 •My dear Boy, I remain your aifoctionate father, 
 
 • Goadibcrt Sjdueu Valencia* 
 
 It was agreed by the two friends that on Iho mar- 
 riage of Lord Syiiey, Trelawney should depart for
 
 364 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIARE. 
 
 England, leaving the happy pair to follow at their 
 leisure, as the marriage of Lady Jean would require 
 certain arrangements in the castle, which could not 
 te so speedily executed, to the precise time which 
 Trelawney had told the Earl that he should arrive in 
 London. And Trelawney had, on the third morning 
 subsequent to these arrangements, the satisfaction of 
 beholding him the happy husband of Lady Jean 
 Campbell, and the Laird of Dumfairling Castle. The 
 nuptials were solemnized in the chapel, and being 
 conducted privately, none were witnesses on this oc- 
 casion but the chaplain who performed the cei'emony, 
 Trelawney, Douglas, Mrs. Ferguson, and little 
 Duncan. 
 
 Trelawney then took a tender adieu of Lord Syd- 
 ney and his amiable bride, and set out, with I\Iungo, 
 for England ; and arrived safe in Grosvenor Square, 
 where, at a late hour, he entered the mansion of Lord 
 Fitzosbourne. 
 
 The Earl met him at the door with open arms, ex- 
 claiming, — 'Welcome once more, dear Tanjore! — 
 once more welcome to my longing eyesight!' and 
 away posted the Earl up stairs, and opening wide 
 the door of the drawing-room, while he led his daugh- 
 ter to Trelawney, Avho testified her usual insensibility 
 as the Earl uttered, in joyful accents, — ' Now I shall 
 once more breathe again — I shall inhale new life, new 
 hopes, new pleasures, — my dear Tanjore is come, and 
 all will be well again.' 
 
 But Trelawney, as he surveyed the pale counte- 
 nance of the Earl, felt shocked at the visible altera- 
 tion which had taken place in so short an absence, 
 and endeavoured to enliven his greatly dejected spirits, 
 and in a few days his Lordship was much improved 
 in health and spirits ; which was owing to the plea- 
 sure of Trelawney's return to England, but to his 
 consent that his marriage with his daughter should 
 immediately take place, to the no smairjoy of Lady
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 300 
 
 Alexina, who longed to be married, for a change in 
 her situation, and for the accomplishment of all her 
 ambitious schemes, and wishes. Lady Glenthorpe 
 heard it with transports, and gave orders for Lady 
 Alexina's wedding attire to be prepared. 
 
 Trelawney's visit to Valencia Lodge was deferred 
 till after his marriage, to announce the marriage, and 
 to give some idea of the bonnie Jean, about whom 
 Lady Alexina made some inquiries ; — ' Is she very 
 handsome r' 
 
 ' Uncommonly so,' was the reply of Trelawney. 
 
 ' Well, but she has red hair,' exclaimed Lady Al- 
 exina, 'and that you know is so odious.' 
 
 ' Red hair !' said Trelawney, ' you greatly mistake, 
 — Lady Belmont's hair is of a light auburn, and 
 beautiful and luxuriant. "What made you suppose 
 her hair was red r' 
 
 ' Because all Scotch women have red hair.' 
 
 'You might with equal propriety advance that 
 they have all grey hair ; ' upon my life, Alexina, you 
 are the strangest girl in existence.' 
 
 ' Aunt, did not you tell me so ?' 
 
 ' Me, my love ?'' cried Lady Glenthorpe, now red- 
 dening like scarlet, 'I cannot recollect any such 
 thins-.' 
 
 ' Oh, but you can, aunt ; don't you remember when 
 we were talking of Lord Sydney being married to the 
 Scotch lady, you know what you said ?' 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe made no reply; — but Lord Fitz- 
 osbourne, soon put an end to the discussion, by softly 
 whispering in the ear of his daughter, if she had for- 
 got what was to take place the ensuing morning. At 
 v.hich she smiled, and exclaimed to Trelawney as she 
 bid him good night, — 
 
 * What do you think papa says ?— but do you know 
 I had quite forgot it.' 
 
 ' I cannot precisely tell,' answered Trelawney dis- 
 gusted at the childish frivolity of her manner.
 
 366 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 * That to-morrow is our wedding-day,' said Lady 
 Alexina. 
 
 ' In all human probability,' said Trelawney, sup- 
 pressing a bitter sigh, ' Lady Alexina, it may.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 AGITATION OF TRELAWNEY ;— SPLENDID PREPAR- 
 ATION OF LADY GLENTHORPE; — SUDDEN 
 INTERRUPTION AT THE CHURCH. 
 
 Never was a bridal morn ushered in with more 
 contention of the warring elements than that on. 
 which Tanjore Trelawney was to become the husband 
 of Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne. The winds howled 
 tempestuously, and the rain fell in torrents, but 
 greater were the tempests of passions which had 
 caused a sleepless night to Trelawney, now almost on 
 the verge of resigning his happiness for ever. 
 
 And, although there was a monitor within which 
 assured him, that the sacrifice he was now making to 
 the will of a beloved father, yet it was a sacrifice 
 which shook his inmost soul, for had his heart beeu 
 ever so free, he felt that heart could never have se- 
 lected such a woman as the daughter of Lord Fitzos- 
 bcurne, whose uncommon likeness to her aunt, Lady 
 Glcnthorpe, transcendanlly lovelyas she was, against 
 whom his prejudice in the early part of their ac- 
 quaintance had never worn away, but now amounted 
 to disgust ; the more when he refiGcted how absolute 
 was her dominion over the giddy and vain Alexina; 
 how keenly, then, did Trelawney ponder over the 
 severity of his fate, when that heart painfully drew 
 a contrast between the proud heiress and the humble 
 daughter of the village pastor, the all-subduing, cap- 
 tivating, beloved Rosa, whose name his tongue re- 
 peated'in faltering accents for the last time ; but that
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 367 
 
 form could never be erased from his recollection ; and 
 which no change of time or situation, could ever tear 
 from thonce. Hastily he arose, and having fervently 
 invoked a prayer, that he might possess fortitude in 
 so great a trial, ^s•ithout betrayin?^ the secret commo- 
 tions of his soul, he endeavoured to assume a serenity 
 of mind he was for from feeling-, though conscious 
 that the strict performance of his duty in submitting 
 to the will of his father, would at some future hour 
 soften his grrief. 
 
 * Mungo,' said Trelawney, * get my things to 
 dress ; there is a great deal of business to be done to- 
 day, and it is nearly nine o'clock.' But Mungo look- 
 ing at his face, proved his assertion not true, which 
 made the devoted creature exclaim, — 'Ah, Massa, 
 you no sleep more den Mungo I — Mungo no wink hira 
 eye all night I— Tink of massa make de water come in 
 Mungo eye, like rain on plaintain flower. — Massa no 
 happy, Mungo no happy too.' 
 
 'i rclawney reminded "him that this was his wed- 
 ding-day, on which he was to drink his health, and 
 toast that also of his bride. Lady Alexina Fitzos- 
 bourne, who would be the future mistress of Trelaw- 
 ney Castle, when they again returned to India. But 
 Mungo, with whom Lady Alexina had never been a 
 favourite, was bent on unburdening his mind, vehe- 
 mently cried, — 'Ah, Massa, me no wish to see dat 
 day I' 
 
 ' And why not, Mungo ?' asked Trelawney. 
 
 'Because wife no make massa happy, why massa 
 get wife, when wife no make massa happy "'' 
 
 As this was a home-que.^tion to a man on the point 
 of matrimony with a woman whom he did not like, 
 Trelawney did not hazard a reply, but giving Mungo 
 a liberal mark of his bounty, wh^n ho had finished 
 dressing him, he retired in a better humour, although 
 muttering, as ho went down stairs, — ' Why massa get 
 wile, when hiux no happy V
 
 36S THE MYSTERIOUS MAHRIAGE. 
 
 To describe the splendid preparations whicli were 
 taking place in the mansion of Lord Fitzosbourne is 
 impossible, and which, though wished to be private 
 by Trclawney, was not permitted to be so by the vain 
 and ambitious Lady Glenthorpe ; no art was wanting, 
 no expense spared, to render the magnificence com- 
 plete ; — the establishment and equipage of Lady Al- 
 exina were dazzling beyond description, and her dress 
 rich and magnificent in the extreme. She was loaded 
 with the most sumptuous ornaments of costly ap- 
 parel, and a cestus of diamonds, presented by the hand 
 of her indulgent father, completed her brilliant and 
 dazzling appearance. When led by her aunt into the 
 magnificent apartment prepared for the wedding 
 guests, and where in pensive silence sat the thought- 
 ful bridegroom, the uncommon splendour of Lady AI- 
 exina arrested his attention, while her beautiful per- 
 son, for a moment, dazzled his eyes, but could not 
 mislead his judgment or hold captive his heai't. 
 What a pity, thought Trelawney, that such a beauti- 
 ful form should be wanting, in every other requisite, 
 to render the gift; valuable. 
 
 Lady Alexina received the warm congratulations of 
 her surrounding admirers, or rather her flatterers, 
 with a consciousness of her exalted station ; but when 
 approached by Trelawney, whom she failed to capti- 
 vate, she blushed, and as he took her hand to lead 
 her to the carriage to convey them to the hymeneal 
 altar, affected a sensibility she did not feel, for well 
 did she know she was receiving a hand without a 
 heart — a heart which was making a sacrifice to the 
 will of his father, a triumph she could ill conceal; 
 much less could Lady Glenthorpe, who now beheld 
 the completion of all her ambitious views. 
 
 As soon as the carriages were in sight of St. 
 George's church, the agitation of Trelawney became 
 more apparent, scarcely could his faltering lips pro- 
 nounce one sentence to his destined bride ; v/hile the
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 369 
 
 spiteful triumph pourtrayed on the countenance of 
 Lady Glenthorpe added to the tortures of his mind. 
 
 At length the carriages stopped amidst crowds of 
 spectators, when Trelawney, mustering firmness and 
 dignity, and seizing the hand of Lady Alexina, with- 
 out once looking at her, led her in silence through 
 the church, and when they were all assembled at the 
 altar, a solemn silence prevailed. 
 
 The doors of the church were then closed, and none 
 admitted excepting a few strangers who had pressed 
 through the crowd ; in a few moments the nuptials 
 began to be performed by the Rev. Mr. Barton, who 
 had just arrived at that part of the ceremony which 
 says;— 
 
 * If any one know any just cause or impediment why 
 these two persons should not be joined together in holy 
 matrimony, let him now declare it, or for ever after hold 
 his peace.' 
 
 Just then, a tall, gigantic, Irishman rushed from 
 one of the pews, to the altar, and bellowed out in 
 broad Irish accents, 'Devil burn me, but you must be 
 after listening to Pat O'Connor, before you can get on 
 at all, at all, in the business, for there is a great big 
 thumping impediment at the end of it, which Pat 
 O'Connor is come all the way from Ireland to teU 
 you of.' 
 
 Neither the ludicrous situation of the Irishman, 
 the astonishment of the parson, the gaping wonder of 
 the spectators who yet remained in the pews, nor the 
 imperative orders which were given to turn him out, 
 produced any change in the countenance of the Irish- 
 man, who undauntedly pressed more eagerly forward, 
 and stood fixed and root-bound, insisting that he 
 would be heard, and repeating his words with a most 
 dreadful oath, to the consternation of all present; 
 while Lady Glenthorpe, with the fire of a fury dart- 
 ing from her eyes, in an authoritative tone, com- 
 manded Mr. Barton to proceed with the ceremony. 
 
 X
 
 370 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 ' That he shall not do, by heaven !' uttered Tre- 
 lawney, in a voice of thunder, and resigning the hand 
 of Lady Alexina ; ' no, by heaven, he shall not, till I 
 have received an explanation of this most extraordin- 
 ary interruption ; speak, fellow, by what authority do 
 you presume to come here, or by whom are you sent, 
 to interrupt the marriage rites V 
 
 ' Oh ! long life to your honour,' said Pat, now ad- 
 vancing boldly up to the altar, ' and is that all you're 
 wishing to know '■^ faith, and myself has it here, tied 
 up in a bag, nate and handy, of Judy O'Connor's 
 making, the very thing itself, itself.' 
 
 ' Judy O'Connor !' vociferated Lord Fitzosbourne, 
 turning round with amazement, and fixing his eyes 
 fuU on the now almost convulsed features of the dis- 
 mayed Lady Glenthorpe, while she perfectly scream- 
 ed out, — 
 
 ' Judy O'Connor, you vile impostor ! what have 
 you to do with Judy O'Connor F' 
 
 ' Och, bad luck to your ladyship,' roared out the 
 Irishman, drawing out a bag from beneath his sur- 
 tout, and taking from thence a paper, curiously fold- 
 ed, but on which was written in large and legible 
 characters, — 'For the most excellent Lord Fitzos- 
 bourne.' — 'Bad luck to your Ladyship,' continued 
 Pat, 'that would be after calling a poor Irishman 
 out of his name, only because he's spaking the truth ; 
 sure and I have enough to do with Judy O'Connor, 
 my auld mother, who would be after easing her con- 
 science by sending me over the salt sea ocean, to tell 
 his Lordship there, of a little bit of a sort of a blun- 
 der your Ladyship has committed with the crater of a 
 daughter of yours ; — sure and she's no more the 
 daughter of Lord Fitzosbourne than Pat O'Connor, 
 that stands here by himself alone.' 
 
 'Lady Alexina not my daughter!' exclaimed the 
 agitated Earl ; ' Louisa, I comuiand you to speak, in- 
 stantly unravel this mystery !' and he turned with a
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 371 
 
 fierce inquiring look towards Lady Glenthorpe, who 
 now, pale as a spectre, and motionless with terror 
 and surprise, faintly articulated, — 
 
 ' Be satisfied, brother, 'tis a vile imposture,' and 
 drawing out a bottle of salts, requested that the mar- 
 riage cercmoncy might not be delayed or interrupted 
 by such ridiculous and impertinent intruders. 
 
 But the Earl was not so easily satisfied, much less 
 was the now highly agitated and irritated Trelawney, 
 who, grasping the arm of Lady Glenthorpe, so that 
 she could not escape from his pursuit, with firmness 
 now exclaimed, — 
 
 ' How dare you, presuming and audacious woman, 
 expect on grounds like the present, that the marriage 
 ceremony will be suffered to proceed •' — that, however, 
 must now depend upon your Ladyship. I must, there- 
 fore, beg that you will immediately elucidate this mys- 
 terious affair, which, though toothers may appear enig- 
 matical, I have no doubt is perfectly comprehensive to 
 your Ladyship ; to he more plain, Lady Glenthorpe, 
 I suspect 'you'to be guilty of a gross deception either 
 practised on the feelings of a too indulgent father, or 
 on me ; but do not expect me to become your dupe 
 so easily, or that I will tamely suffer Lord Fitzos- 
 bourne to be imposed on. Therefore, be pleased to 
 declare here, in the presence of this reverend gentle- 
 man, all you know of this mysterious business, — 
 speak, madam, — is this lady, who was about to be 
 my v>-ifc, the daughter, or is she not the daughter of 
 your brother, the Earl of Fitzosbourne 'i" 
 
 On these words of Trela\vney, uttered in the most 
 decided and impressive manner, Lady Glenthorpe 
 gave a loud and piercing shriek, and sunk motionless 
 in the arms of Lady Alexina, who, perfectly scream- 
 ing with terror and apprehension, called for her car- 
 riage, and was instantly conveyed home with her dear 
 aunt, her orders being immediately obeyed, the church 
 was then cleaied of all but the parties most malni-
 
 372 THE MYSTERIOUS MAERIAGB. 
 
 ally interested on this occasion, and in this mysterious 
 and unexpected affair ; meanwhile, the Irishman still 
 kept his post, stationing himself close to the side of 
 Trelawney, who would not lose sight of him a single 
 moment, but thrusting him into the carriage, jumped 
 in and seated himself by his side, to the no small 
 amusement of the gaping spectators, for Pat exhibit- 
 ed a strange contrast to Lady Alexina, who had only 
 a few moments before occupied the same seat in the 
 carriage with Trelawney. 
 
 * Meanwhile, the agitated Earl, in almost a frenzy 
 of passion, consternation, disappointment and despair, 
 and accompanied by the surprised and astonished 
 divine, the Rev. Mr. Barton, reached his carriage 
 with a tottering step and a trembling frame, and 
 ordering the coachman to drive as fast as the horses 
 could carry them, proceeded with an aching heart to 
 his mansion in Grosvenor Square. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 IMPORTANT DISCOVERY ;— DISSOLUTION OF THE 
 MARRIAGE CONTRACT ;— TRELAWNEY's LIBERALITY 
 ON THE occasion; — ARRIVAL OF LORD AND LADY 
 BELMONT ;— AND CONCLUSION OF THE NOVEL BY 
 THE MARRIAGE OF TRELAWNEY AND ROSA. 
 
 Whatever were the contents of the paper which 
 the Irishman had delivered into the hands of Lord 
 Fitzosbourne, its effects were powerfully exerted on 
 the feelings of the Earl, who, having perused it 
 during his ride from Hanover to Grosvenor Square, 
 in the presence of Mr. Barton, fell back in his carriage 
 before it arrived at Fitzosbourne House, in a state of 
 insensibility, from which he did not recover till many 
 hours after he had been conveyed to his own apart- 
 ment, notwithstanding the earliest medical assistance 
 had been procured.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE, 373 
 
 The first returning moment of sensibility, however, 
 was expressed by an impatient and eager demand to 
 see and converse with Mr, Trelawney, who, having 
 left Mr. Pat O'Connor safe under the custody of 
 Mungo, had never once quitted his Lordship's bed- 
 side, and was now the first eagerly to inquire after 
 his health. 
 
 ' I am better, my dear Tanjore,' exclaimed the Earl, 
 with a convulsive shudder, and reaching out his hand 
 to clasp the trembling one of the agitated Trelawney, 
 — ' that is, my dear boy, I am as well as any man can 
 expect to be after he has been shook by a tremendous 
 earthquake, for such, Tanjore, I have received by the 
 perfidious conduct of that vile woman, whom I now 
 blush to call my sister, — but let her not approach me, 
 Tanjore, nor the viper come into my presence till 
 calmer moments succeed my ungovernable rage 
 towards her ; neither suifer her to escape from Fitz- 
 osboume House till she has produced her accomplice, 
 accessary to the cruel deception which has so long 
 blinded the eyes of an agonized, fond and doating 
 husband ;— she is a monster of ingratitude and de- 
 pravity, Tanjore; but heaven would not suffer her 
 iniquitous design to prosper. — You are free, Tanjore, 
 — the Will of your Father is dissolved! and Lord 
 Fitzosbourne himself now dissolves you from the fatal 
 Contract of Marriage, which has so long destroyed 
 your happiness and mine ; I say destroyed, because 
 the object destined for the noble sacrifice you were 
 about to make, was unworthy of you. I have always 
 acknowledged, even when I thought her mine, that 
 Alexina was unworthy of Tanjore Trelawney; but 
 she does not belong to me, Tanjore, the mystery is 
 now unravelled, and deception is no more — she is no 
 child of my angel wife ; poor girl, she is the daughter 
 of that detested woman, my sister, Louisa, Countess 
 of Glenthorpe.' 
 
 * Almighty powers !' exclaimed the now so greatly
 
 374 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 agitated Trelawney, that he could hardly support 
 himself from fainting at the bed-side of the Earl; 
 ' and had not my aunt a child born ?' 
 
 ' She had,' cried the Earl, now bursting into a pas- 
 sionate agony of tears ; ' my Alexina was delivered of 
 a son, who breathed but to expire with its angel 
 mother ; it was then that the traitress stepped in, and 
 seized the moment most applicable to her vile and 
 wicked purpose, — by bribery she corrupted the weak 
 mind of Judith O'Connor, who had attended Lady 
 Fitzosbourne for a considerable time in the capacity 
 of nurse, she only was present with Lady Glenthorpe 
 and the accouchier, at the birth of my son, whose 
 angel breath had so sooner departed than the living 
 child of my sister, the infant Alexina, was substitu- 
 ted in its place ; — presented to me, in the first days of 
 my distracting grief, as the child of my lost angel, — 
 presented to me by the hand of my sister, how, Tan- 
 jore, could I possibly doubt the assertion, or my heart 
 guess at the deception ? I had previously been ira- 
 formed, that Lady Glenthorpe's child was a son, and 
 that it was still-born, and I inquired no further, as 
 this circumstance took place only three weeks before 
 the accouchment of my dear wife. I only heard that 
 my sister had parted with Judith O'Connor, in order 
 that she might attend Lady Fitzosbourne, who had 
 particularly requested her services, and that Lady 
 Glenthorpe, though scarcely recovered from her own 
 confinement, was in actual attendance at the bed-side 
 of my sutfering Alexina. All I thought, Tanjore, 
 was, that it was kind, it was heavenly, in Louisa thus 
 to step forth, regardless of her own personal safety, to 
 administer to the comfort and soothe the pangs of my 
 departing angel. — Oh, God, merciful Searcher of all 
 Irl^man hearts, whether they be good or evil, how was 
 a doating husband, and a fond, confiding, affectionate 
 brother deceived ? I saw not my supposed daughter, 
 the infant Alexina, till a period of two months had
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGK. 376 
 
 elasped after the death of my beloved wife, and then 
 I beheld her in the arms of my sister, who, together 
 with this Judith O'Connor, who was her nurse, had 
 the entire management and care, as I then thought, 
 of my child; as she advanced to womanhood, the 
 little resemblance she bore either to the mind or per- 
 son of Lady Fitzosbourae, has often afflicted me sen- 
 sibly, and I have every reason to believe, Tanjore, 
 that it was also a circumstance of deep regret to your 
 father, — was it not ?— speak truly.' 
 
 * I will not hesitate to declare to you, my Lord,' 
 said Trelawney, ' that my father has often dwelt on 
 this circumstance with painful emotion ; but on my 
 frequent inquiries to know if Lady Alcsina resem- 
 bled my beloved aunt, he once, sighing deeply, ac- 
 knowledged that she did not : — 
 
 ' She is, Tanjore,' cried he, ' the exact model of his 
 Lordship's sister, Lady Glenthorpe,'— and perceiving 
 that this subject always gave him pain, I of course 
 never afterward resumed it. On my arrival at Fit- 
 zosboume House, I found my father's assertion in- 
 contcstibly true ; — Lady Alexina did not resemble my 
 beloved aunt, — while her most striking likeness to 
 Lady Glenthorpe filled me with astonishment and 
 surprise, and at moments, when I have fondly gazed 
 on the lovely portrait of Lady Fitzosbourne, I have 
 led the unwilling Alesina close beside it to contem- 
 plate the heavenly, serene, mild and beautiful fea- 
 tures, as I then imagined, of her lamented mother, 
 with which she always went away dissatisfied and 
 displeased ; I will own that her insensibility on this 
 subject always gave me the most poignant anguish, 
 and inspired me with a disgust towards her which I 
 vainly endeavoured to overcome, for if a mother's 
 memory be not sacred to the heart of a child, where 
 are we to look, my Lord, for more tender or congenial 
 ties r' 
 
 Lord Fitzosbourne trembled with struggled emo-
 
 376 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 tions of tenderness for tEe still beloved child he had 
 so long idolized as his own, and while tears chased 
 one another down his pal(* and languid cheeks, ac- 
 knowledged that fauUy as Lady Alexina was, he felt 
 he could never forego his affection for her. 
 
 ' It would be unnatural, would not it, my dear Tan- 
 jore,' uttered he, 'were I now to renounce the poor, 
 deluded, infatuated girl, it would be quite unnatural 
 to abandon her to the protection of such a mother ? 
 — yet, if you think I ought -■«—»' the Earl paused, he 
 still doated on the thoughtless, inexperienced Alex- 
 ina, and feeling that he did so, he knew not at this 
 moment what excuse to make for the weakness of his 
 subdued feelings. 
 
 But the generous Trelawney, ever mindful of the 
 feelings of others more than his own, already beheld 
 the painful conflicts passing in the mind, and strug- 
 gling in the heart of the afflicted and agitated Earl, 
 and after a few moments passed in the most affecting 
 silence, he at length exclaimed, while he pressed the 
 cold hand of the Earl affectionately to his lips, — 
 
 ' Abandon Alcxiua to the protection of her mother, 
 who, both cruel and mercenary, would have abandon- 
 ed her!— oh, my beloved Lord, believe not that I 
 would encourage you in adopting a sentiment so con- 
 trary to your nature ; — no ; even I will not abandon 
 or renounce Alexina, and though it cannot now be 
 reasonably expected that I should perform a contract, 
 which, were my father living he would himself in- 
 stantly command me to disengage myself from, yet I 
 feel it an indispensable duty, consistent with present 
 circumstances, as well as to the honour and humanity 
 of a man, never to abandon the unfortunate Alexina; 
 — I say unfortunate, because she has been rendered 
 truly so by the pernicious counsel and example of 
 such a mother ; but she shall not at the same mo- 
 ment be rendered portionless, or dependant on her 
 bounty. No, my Lord not when Trelawney is bless-
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 377 
 
 ed with the gifts of affluence to share it with his 
 friends ; had Lady Alexina possessed my afiections, 
 the present discovery would have made no diminu- 
 tion of my regard for her, and she would still have 
 been my wife, and consequently been entitled to my 
 property ; but though she is not your daughter, I do 
 not forget, my Lord, that she is still your niece, and 
 being such, I now take upon me to say, that she will 
 be provided for by Trelawney. I here engift her, in 
 her own personal right, with the sum of ten thousand 
 pounds, as her portion of that large and extensive 
 property which, by the marriage contract according 
 to the will of my father, as the wife of Tanjore Tre- 
 lawney she would have been entitled to ; on condition 
 that Lady Glenthorpe, her mother, has no share in 
 the disposal of, the said property, or the slightest 
 claim on the possession of it in the event of Lady 
 Alexina' s demise. My Lord, does this arrangement 
 meet your concurrence ?' 
 
 Astonishment at the unbounded display of good- 
 ness of heart, and generosity in the character of Tre- 
 lawney, had alone kept Lord Fitzosbourne silent, and 
 gazing with unutterable fondness on his fine, anima- 
 ted and soul-breathing countenance, he remained for 
 many moments incapable of articulating a single sen- 
 tence from excessive emotion ; at length, recovering 
 himself, he rapturously exclaimed, — 
 
 ' And is it possible, thou dear, noble and generous 
 Tanjore, that you can bestow so noble and disinter- 
 ested a mark of your bounty on my poor Alexina r' — 
 Can you thus indeed calmly and deliberately relinquish 
 so great a part of your property ? Oh, Tanjore, had 
 your father lived to see this day, how had he rejoiced 
 in the inestimable treasure of such a son. To whom 
 have you not been a blessing and a comforter 'i be- 
 loved and virtuous, amiable youth, — may heaven 
 eternally preserve, reward, and bless you 1 — would in- 
 deed that I had possessed a daughter worthy of your
 
 378 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 love, but that not being the case, let us talk of other 
 matters. With respect to Alexina, I see you are de- 
 termined that I should not cast her off, (and thgJEarl 
 smiled, well knowing that his own heart would not 
 have permitted him to do so, had Trelawney even 
 suggested such a thought,) — but as to Louisa — 1 
 positively must ' 
 
 'Forgive her!' pronounced Trelawney, most em- 
 phatically. 
 
 ' Forgive Lady Glenthorpe !' exclaimed the Earl, 
 breaking out into a violent gust of passion, 'no, by — * 
 
 ' Hold, my Lord, for heaven's sake, do not utter 
 rash vows,' cried Trelawney, gently placing his hand 
 on the Earl's lip ; 'I do not mean to say that you 
 should immediately forgive her,— her conduct "has 
 rendered that impracticable, but in the event of time, 
 when she has become a sincere penitent, you will, I 
 ara nevsuaded, pardon her indiscretion, and encourage 
 lu, in a reformation. Forgiveness, my Lord, is the 
 It irribute of heaven itself, and surely mortals, weak, 
 corrupted and erring, as the very best of us are, have 
 no right to withhold it from one another.' 
 
 ' Tanjore, you are one of the most dangei'ous coun- 
 
 . sels in existence,' said the Earl, gazing at Trelawney 
 
 with delighted expression, 'for were you to plead, 
 
 though the cause were execrable, you would gain a 
 
 jury on your side.' 
 
 ' Were my cause execrable I would not dare to 
 plead at all,' answered Trelawney, with a smile. 
 
 ' Then you must not come before the judges,' said 
 the Earl, who, with the assistance of his attendants 
 was by the persuasion of Trelawney placed in a largo 
 elbow chair close to the fire, and his mind being con- 
 siderably relieved from the conversation he had held 
 with Trelawney, every successive hour now produced 
 returning composure, only ruffled when by accid;nit 
 the name of Lady Glenthorpe was mentioned in his 
 presence.
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 379 
 
 Meanwhile, the now almost frantic, despairing and 
 humbled Lady Glenthorpe durst not show her face to 
 one inhabitant in Fitzosbourne House, but closely 
 shut up in her dressing-room, gave way to all the 
 violent extremes of her disposition ; — one moment she 
 was heard to burst into fits of laughter, while the 
 next beheld her melted into tears, and lastly, total 
 silence and despondency ensued, — particularly when 
 her daughter absolutely refused to go into her pre- 
 sence, and perhaps this was the only moment that 
 Lady Glenthorpe discovered that she had been a mo- 
 ther. 
 
 ' What !' uttered she, sinking down with the most 
 bitter and most mortifying sensation she had ever ex- 
 perienced in her whole life, on the sofa before Lady 
 Alexina's attendant, and bursting into tears, 'and 
 will not my own child see me ? she for whom I have 
 sacrificed the love of an only brother, — she for whose 
 sake I have bowed and cringed to the haughty, proud 
 Trelawney, even before she was born, — she for whom 
 I flattered the silly Alexina till she consented to the 
 marriage contract ; and is this the reward for all my 
 labour and my pains, — ungrateful girl ! but I will in- 
 stantly lot her see who is her mother, and let her still 
 know that she will in future be dependant on my 
 bounty, and consequently be subject to my commands.' 
 
 On these words. Lady Glenthorpe rushed by Lady 
 Alexina's terrified maid, with a fury not to be ex- 
 pressed, and presented herself at the door of her 
 daughter's dressing-room, where she loudly demand- 
 ed admittance, but to her inexpressible rage and mor- 
 tificatinn, not only found it barred against her, but 
 Lady Alexina positively refused to see her,— and the 
 subsequent conversation took place between the bar- 
 red door, with a mother and a daughter. — betraying 
 the fatal eftects of false indulgence, and a bad example 
 but too well followed,— and it commenced with t'he 
 following sentence from the mortified and indignant
 
 bbU THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Lady Glenthorpe, who exclaimed, after knocking re- 
 peatedly for admittance, — 
 
 'What is the reason you don't choose to open the 
 door, you shameless girl ?' 
 
 To which the other politely returned for answer, 
 tittering and laughing, as it appeared, all the while, — 
 
 'Because I don't choose it; — there, how do you 
 like that P And you ought to be ashamed of yourself, 
 not me ; and though you are my mamma, I will never 
 call you so,— no, I will spit in your face first. And 
 now I am a woman grown you dare not beat me, so 
 go along about your business.' 
 
 * Open the door, my Alexina, only for one moment,' 
 exclaimed the now sobbing Lady Glenthorpe. 
 
 ' No, — that's what I won't, madam mamma,' said 
 Lady Alexina ; ' because if it was not for you, Tanny 
 would have married me, and now every body will 
 laugh at me, because I went to church and came 
 home again without a husband ; but I don't care, I'll 
 marry somebody in spite of you, that's what I will.' 
 
 On this dutiful sentiment of an atiectionate child, 
 Lady Glenthorpe uttered an involuntary, loud and 
 piercing shriek, and fell senseless against the door of 
 her really and truly ungrateful child ; and it was in 
 this prostrate situation, that Trelawney, in returning 
 to his own apartment having left the Earl for a few 
 moments to compose himself, discovered her Ladyship. 
 
 Any female precisely in this situation, would at any 
 time have commanded the attention of the compas- 
 sionate Trelawney, but the sister of Lord Fitzos- 
 bourne, however culpable she had been, now demand- 
 ed the offices of common humanity, aud perceiving 
 that it was Lady Alexina' s dressing-room against 
 whose door the wretched culprit had fallen, he gently 
 raised her from the ground, and demanded immediate 
 admission from Lady Alexina, and at his command it 
 was instantly unclosed. 
 
 * Surely, Lady Alexina, I am not to attribute this
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 381 
 
 sudden indisposition in Lady Glenthorpe to your 
 want of attention,' uttered Trelawney, placing: her 
 Ladyship in the kindest manner in a chair, and ad- 
 ministering some hartshorn to her relief, while he 
 rung the bell for further assistance. 
 
 ' if she chooses to faint, lord ! Trelawney, how can 
 I help it P' said Lady Alcxina, looking on her wretch- 
 ed mother, without betraying the slightest concern. 
 
 ' People do not generally faint without some partic- 
 ular cause,' said Trelawney, in displeased accents, 
 * she is your mother, and has a double claim to your 
 humanity, — how came it then that 1 found your door 
 barred against her ?' 
 
 Lady Alexina now exhibited some marks of shame 
 and confusion, and replied, not without a great deal 
 of hesitation, — 
 
 ' Why, we had a quarrel, and she flew in a passion, 
 
 — so so so I — locked the door, to keep her out, 
 
 only just out of a bit of fun, for I intended to open 
 the door just as you came, but then I suppose she fell 
 down and fainted away ; — but I don't care, — I don't 
 care for any of you.' 
 
 ' I believe that your Ladyship's assertion is strictly 
 true. — On this subject, however, we will no longer 
 discuss, as it is now immaterial,' said Trelawney, 
 perceiving that no change of circumstance or situa- 
 tion would produce any alteration on the naturally 
 giddy-minded, thoughtless Alexina. 
 
 The situation of Lady Glenthorpe, however, de- 
 manded immediate attention ; for on opening her 
 eyes, she again screamed, and was conveyed to her 
 own apartment in a very alarming state, the disorder 
 of her mind having in a few hours produced an inflam- 
 matory fever, which required medical aid as soon as 
 possible ; and in this situation she was left to the care 
 of her attendants. Lady Alexina never once attempt- 
 ing to enter her apartment, though while Trolawuey 
 was present, she affected to feel some degree of con-
 
 382 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 cern ; and being left a few moments alone after din- 
 ner with Trelawney, she suddenly addressed hira in 
 the folic iwing manner, at which it was almost utterly 
 impossible to feel angry with her or resist laughing, — 
 
 ' I suppose, Tanny, you wont marry me after all, 
 will you ?' 
 
 At which Trelawney, with the utmost possible 
 gravity, replied, — 
 
 ' I certainly, Lady Alexina, do not now hold my- 
 self responsible to act according to the contract made 
 by the will of my father,— a contract which you must 
 be well av.'are, was made without consulting either 
 your inclination or mine.' 
 
 ' Well, I know that,' said Lady Alexina, * and be- 
 tween you and me, Tanny, it was a very ridiculoiis one, 
 and I don't much mind about its being broken off, — 
 only---— I should like to be married for all that.' 
 
 ' It is certainly a very natural wish. Lady Alexina,' 
 said Trelawney, half laughing, ' and it is very likely 
 that you may.' 
 
 ' And pray don't you intend to marry ?' demanded 
 Lady Alexina. 
 
 So unexpected and yet so home a question, brought 
 fresh blowmg roses, of a much deeper colour than car- 
 nation, instantly into the cheeks of Trelawney, and 
 lie exhibited a confusion he could not easily shake oft", 
 while he attempted carelessly to reply,'— 
 
 'I really cannot tell.' 
 
 ' Well, but you are old enousrh,' said Lady Alexina. 
 
 'Very probably,' uttered Trelawney; 'but come, 
 let me lead you to the chamber of Lord Fitzosbourne, 
 he is anxious to behold you.' 
 
 ' But what am I to call him now ?' demanded Lady 
 Alexina, in the most awkward embarrassment, 'he 
 won't let me call him papa, and I shall hate to call 
 him any thing else.' 
 
 ' Believe me, he is ready to call you by the loved 
 name he has ever been accustomed 'to do,' said Tre-
 
 THE MYSTEKIOUS MABRIAGE. 383 
 
 lawney ; ' and would you, my lovoly Alexiua, retain 
 that unbounded influence in his heart which you 
 have hitherto possessed, receive the advice of your 
 friend Trelawney,— let your conduct be such as to 
 iiierit his Lordship's approbation, and you will never 
 lament the loss of a father.' 
 
 With these words, Trelawney led the trembling 
 Lady Alexina into the presence of the Earl, who fur 
 some moments stood silently abashed, till hearing: his 
 Lordship sob, which he dii with almost convulsive 
 emotion, she ran and threw her arms round his neck, 
 calling him her own dear papa, and was again re- 
 ceived by him with the same idolized fondness as be- 
 fore; Lord Fitzosboume forgetting at that precise 
 moment whether Lady Alexina was his own daugh- 
 ter or that of Lady Glenthorpe. 
 
 The Earl now visibly recovered his composure, and 
 briefly informed Lady Alexina of the generous gift 
 with which she had been presented by TrelawTiey, 
 and on what conditions she was to possess it, without 
 molestation from her mother, to whom, however, the 
 Earl strictly enjoined her to pay the attention which 
 was due to the mother who had given her birth, — 
 
 * For though incensed against Louisa myself,' said 
 the Earl, 'which may probably end in her dismissal 
 from Fitzosboume House, yet remember, Alexina, I 
 will not suffer you to insult your mother.' 
 
 'No, that's what I won't, 'indeed, papa,' said Lady 
 Alexina, 'fori loved her dearly when she was my 
 aunt, and I will go this very precious minute and 
 make it up with her.' And Lady Alexina instantly 
 disappeared, her spirits being exhilarated, from some 
 latent cause, to a most extraordinary pitch. At her 
 departure, a silence of some minutes prevailed ; at 
 length the Earl, looking anxiously after her, fondly 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 ' That poor girl certainly has some aflection for me, 
 Tanjore.'
 
 384 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIA(JB. 
 
 * If she has affections, they are undoubtedly yours, 
 my Lord,' replied Trelawney, since it does not aj)pear 
 that she bestows them on any beside.' 
 
 The Earl smiled, while he uttered, — 
 
 * Neither do I think that her heart is vitiated, or 
 her morals depraved.' 
 
 ' Heaven forbid that they should be either,' said 
 Trelawney, *but she wants management; and pro- 
 priety must now naturally suggest to you, my Lord, 
 that management must be yours ; were she once 
 again under the guidance of her mother, she would 
 be lost.' 
 
 * To all intents and purposes,' said the Earl, ' but 
 that while she is under my roof, she never more shall 
 be ; have the goodness, therefore, Trelawney, to ap- 
 prise her of my intention, that when she is perfectly 
 recovered from her indisposition, she must positively 
 depart from Fitzosbourne House. She has a small 
 estate of her own in North Wales, — there let her re- 
 tire, and brood over past actions amidst the Welsh 
 mountains, solitude is best suited to her present pros- 
 pects.' 
 
 ' But when she is a penitent, then you will once 
 more receive her,' said Trelawney, seizing on this 
 favourable moment for pleading the cause of the poor 
 culprit; 'when the tear of sorrow shall bedew her 
 cheek for past offences, — when her breast shall heave 
 with conscious pangs at the recollection of her un- 
 worthiness towards you, then, my Lord, you will not 
 suffer her to remain in the Welsh mountains, will 
 you ?' 
 
 * I believe not,' said the Earl, greatly affected by 
 the impressive manner in which Trelawney had 
 pleaded the cause of his offending sister ; ' I believe 
 not ; but positively, Tanjore, in spite of all your re- 
 sistless eloquence, I will at the present moment be 
 obeyed.' 
 
 * At the present moment, my Lord, you positively
 
 THE MYSTERIOrS MA71RIAGE. 3S5 
 
 cannot,' answered Trelawney, 'for Lady Glcnthorpe 
 is ;it the present moment labouring under the most 
 d;inj?erou3 and alarming illness.' 
 
 This intelligence produced an instant change in the 
 countenance of the Earl, and in a more softened ac- 
 cent he replied, — 
 
 ' Indeed, so ill I — well, well, she must be taken care 
 of; you sent for Doctor "Watson, did not you r' if not, 
 send for him immediately, my dear Tanjore, I beg of 
 you. — Poor Louisa ! — Well, well, I must suspend my 
 anger till she gets better ; in the meantime, Trelaw- 
 ney, you may tell her, that I am not so enraged as I 
 was at first, — that is, not quite so violent, — and that 
 if she will tell us where to find the son of that vile 
 scoundrel, Metcalf, from whom I wish to obtain some 
 further information respecting this mysterious busi- 
 ness, I may yet be induced to pardon her perfidious 
 conduct.' 
 
 ' I shall certainly comply with your Lordship's 
 commands,' said Trelawney, 'and you will find that 
 on Lady Glenthorpe's communication I am not mis- 
 taken in my supposition, that the mysterious stranger, 
 with whom I heard her Ladyship conversing at a late 
 hour one evening at Fitzosbourne House, is no other 
 than the son of this very Doctor Metcalf, who assist- 
 ed in practising this deception on you, whose sorrows, 
 though unknown, I then commiserated, as he more 
 than once confessed himself to be an unfortunate and 
 deluded man ; but I will search him out, and if I find 
 him worthy of help, his necessities shall be relieved.' 
 
 With those words, Trela^^^ley quitted Lord Fitzos- 
 bourne's chamber, and taking Judith O'Connor's 
 epistle with him, retired to his own. — It was the first 
 moment in which he had been left to his own reflec- 
 tions since the unexpected change in his condition, 
 and with a fluttering heart, and after fervently ejacu- 
 lating, — ' Almighty Providence, who can doubt thy 
 uuerring goodness!' he fell down on his knees in 
 Y
 
 886 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 humble thanksg-iving to his adorable Creator, -vrho had 
 granted to him the greatest blessing of life— liberty, 
 with free discretion how to dispose of it. 
 
 Nor was this alone the sweet reward and conscious- 
 ness of virtue to Trclawncy, he was rewarded doubly 
 by never having in thought, word or deed, deviated 
 from the will of his father, to which he had been 
 ready to sacrifice the dearest treasure in existence, the 
 first choice his heart had ever made of lovely woman ; 
 yet he had been ready to resign her to perform a mar- 
 riage contract, from which his soul revolted; he had 
 been ready, even as Abraham with Isaac, but the 
 kind interposition of heaven permitted not the the ac- 
 complishment of the pious sacrifice. 
 
 Trelawney went to bed, and if he thought of love 
 among the roses, we must not condemn him ; pleasant 
 thoughts will keep us wide awake as well as painful 
 ones, and Trelawney could not sleep without dream- 
 ing of a certain white cottage, beneath whose humble 
 ehade he had encountered a rose without a thorn. 
 
 Before he went to bed, however, he satisfied himself 
 with every particular relating to the contents of the 
 letter of Judith O'Connor, which was as follows, and 
 dated from the subsequent curious place of abode : — 
 
 * The sign of the Black Pig, in Bog-trotter 
 Lane, over across Muckslush Heath. 
 *May it please your Lordship, 
 
 ' This comes from where I, Judith O'Con- 
 nor do lie on a sick bed, on the very eve of departure 
 from this sinful world, and sure as I have a christian 
 soul to be saved, I cannot die without easing my con- 
 science of a little dirty bit of business that was tran- . 
 sacted without your Lordship's knowledge, when that 
 swate crater of a woman, your Lordship's beautiful 
 wife, gave up the ghost. 
 
 'Sure and it was myself, Judith O'Connor, that 
 stood by when she was brought to bed of as fine a buy
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 387 
 
 as ever your Lordship clapped your two good-looking 
 eyes upon, only the swate crater died for want of 
 breath, in a few minutes after I had taken it and 
 dressed it, and can-ied it to the bedside of my Lady, 
 ■who looked as if she was sleeping, but all the while 
 she was dead, may it please your Lordship. So Doc- 
 tor Metcalf and your Lordship's sister, when all was 
 over, said, — ' Judith, you see the little crater is dead, 
 and can't be brought to life again.'—' Och, worse 
 luck.' says I, 'and niore's the pity.' 
 
 ' ' But though it is dead, it shall make your fortune, 
 Judith,' said my Lady Glonthorpe. 
 
 ' Och, and to be sure, my Lord, I stared like a 
 stuck pig, not knowing what they would be after. 
 
 ' ' Faith,' and says I, ' ray Lady, devil a but of me 
 knows what you would be doing with poor Judy 
 O'Connor.' 
 
 ' But, och, bad luck to her Ladyship, that would be 
 after corrupting the morals of a poor simple Irish- 
 woman, that never thought of mischief at all, at all, 
 till her Ladyship popt it into my head. 
 
 ' Says she, * Judith,' says she, ' I will give you as 
 much as will buy you some cows, and a hold of pota- 
 toes, with a nice cabin to live in, if you will promise 
 to keep a secret.' 
 
 ' Faith, and I did, my Lord, more to my shame be it 
 spoken ; for sure and it was my own self brought little 
 miss in the very dead of night, and popt it in the bed 
 with your own swate Lady ; and sure it was my Lady 
 Glenthorpe that took away the dead baby, and sure it 
 •was laid in the grand place, when all was snug and 
 quiet, beside of its own. dear mamma, and the dovil of 
 one knev/ any thing at all, at all, about it, but Judith 
 O'Connor, and the old soul of a doctor, and sure and 
 I know he had enough to make him hold his tongue, 
 
 'From that hour, may it please your Lordship, I 
 nursed little miss, that was taken from your own Uesh 
 and blood, and when she was a year uld, my Lidy
 
 30» THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Glenthorpe sent me over to Ireland, where I fonnd my 
 dear Pat, safe and sound, for please your Lordship, I 
 was a widow ; so with the money my Lady gave me, 
 I bought a cabin, and a nice bit of a garden, and took 
 home Pat to live with me, but devil a bit of me could 
 rest, night nor dv.j, for thinking of the dead little 
 crater I changed for little miss ; so what did I do but 
 I tells my son Pat all about it, and says he, ' Mother, 
 devil a bit of me you'll ever see more, till you be after 
 sending me over the salt sea ocean, to tell his Lord- 
 ship of the dirty bit of a blunder ;' so then I fell sick, 
 please your Lordship, and sent away Pat, though he 
 is my darling, and I shall never see him more. But 
 it's never too late for repentance, my old bit of a 
 grandmother used to say. If I live to see Pat again, 
 he will tell me all about your Lordship, and if I die I 
 shan't live at all, at all, to hear any thing of the dirty 
 bit of a blunder. 
 
 ' So I remain, till death, and ever after, 
 
 'Your Lordship's loving servant to commad, 
 ^Judith O'Connor.^ 
 
 However affecting some part of the intelligence 
 which was conveyed in Judith O'Connor's curious 
 epistle, yet it was impossible to help smiling at its ec- 
 centricity and the genuine simplicity which it be- 
 trayed. 
 
 Pat, however, had obeyed his mother's injunctions 
 very faithfully, and arrived that very evening in 
 London, only to be informed, at the door of Lord 
 Fitzosbourne, that a marriage was to take place the 
 ensuing morning at St. George's Church, Hanover 
 Square, between the daughter of Lord Fitzosbourne 
 and the great Mr. Trelawney. 
 
 Poor Pat heard no more, the intelligence he had 
 received was quite sutBcient, and betaking himself 
 early to bed, he arose the following morning, and 
 posted away to St. George's Church, making many
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 389 
 
 blunders by the way, but where he stationed himself 
 in one of the pews, determed to seize the first favour- 
 able moment that occurred for introducing himself to 
 the bridal party. 
 
 Pat waited with no small impatience for that part 
 of the ceremony which precisely called for any person 
 to speak, and he no sooner heard the word ' impedi- 
 ment ' mentioned by the clergyman, than he rushed 
 forward and saluted them in the manner as described. 
 
 Trelawney had already arisen, and dressed himself 
 before the usual hour that Mungo was accustomed to 
 call him. In short, Trelawney felt transported be- 
 yond himself, and a thousand delightful ideas floated 
 in his imagination ; — so long had he been in the habit 
 of brooding over melancholy retrospections, and con- 
 templating with calm philosophy his own unhappy 
 destiny with Lady Alexina, that the certainty of his 
 being entirely disengaged from fetters so insupporta- 
 ble, made him enjoy the blessings of a new existence ; 
 he now lived for only one woman in the whole crea- 
 ted world, and that woman was Rosa,— his long ten- 
 derly beloved, his darling Rosa ; and if long patience 
 and suflfering, if true constancy merited reward, by 
 the gift of the dear hand we prize, surely Trelawney 
 of all other men living amply deserved that blessing, 
 for never from the first hour of his beholding her had 
 Rosa Clarendale been rivalled for a moment in his 
 heart ; he had not even flirted away an hour with 
 any of her sex, or paid idle compliments to any other 
 woman merely for the gratiflcation of his vanity, 
 which is the more surprising, as there is hardly one 
 of his sex but is addicted to this prevailing and ridi- 
 culous passion, even though they are at the same 
 period breathing vows of passionate love and con- 
 stancy to some betrayed, confiding, yet generous fair 
 one. But had this been the disposition of Trelaw- 
 ney with his Rosa, he would utterly have despised 
 himself for so doing ; because, in the first place, it is
 
 390 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 tlie most unexampled cruelty and ingratituds towards 
 the woman he professes to love ; and secondly, it is 
 deception and hypocrisy, and where there is either, 
 true att'ection and confidence can never repose. It is 
 true, that Trelawney had often been charmed with 
 the character of Lady Honoria Belmont, and it is 
 equally true, that had not Eosa existed, with such a 
 Woman he could have passed his days in peace and 
 tranquillity, but Rosa did exist, and no other woman 
 could unloose those chains she had fettered round his 
 heart. 
 
 Trelawney, however, felt it necessary to put a 
 check on the happy and delightful flow of spirits, 
 which he was conscious owed their oiiginin being re- 
 leased from his engagement wifh the Fitzosbourne 
 family, fearful of wounding the feelings of the already 
 too much disappointed Earl. But he could not hide 
 the joy which sparkled in his eyes, nor the animated 
 expression of his now love-beaming countenance, from 
 the piercing observation of his faithful Mungo, who 
 on entering his chamber, looked delighted, and ex- 
 claimed, with his usual sincerity, — 
 
 ' Now massa no marry, — he happy, happy, — missy 
 no good wife for massa. Mungo dance, — sing all day 
 long. Massa no marry missy.' 
 
 To resist laughing was utterly impossible, as Mun- 
 go had actually put himself in a dancing attitude, to 
 the no small amusement of his master, who well 
 knowing how much the poor fellow entered into all 
 his feelings, whether mirthful or melancholy, sulTer- 
 cd him to enjoy his humour. And at this moment a 
 gentle tap announced an unexpected but still no less 
 welcome visitor, in the person of his friend Lord Syd- 
 ney Belmont. 
 
 ' In the name of all that is wonderful, bewitching 
 and divine,' said Lord Sydney, ' what is become of 
 you, Trelawney r' I arrived only last night in town, 
 and had this morning the courage to leave my lovely
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 301 
 
 Je.iri to come in search of you. For heaven's sake, 
 tell me, are j'ou married or are you not, to Lady Al- 
 exina Fitzosbourne ? f(;r report says not. My sisters 
 are dying with curiosity, — come, do tell me.' 
 
 On the approach of visitors to his master's apart- 
 ment, Munj^o always made his exit, and Lord Sydney 
 being now seated beside his friend, Trelawney utter- 
 ed, with a degree of seriousness which could not be 
 doubted, — 
 
 ' lleport says true, I am not married, believe me, 
 nor ever shall to such a being as Lady Alexina Fitz- 
 osbourne.' 
 
 ' Gi;od heavens, my beloved friend!' said Lord Syd- 
 ney, 'why?' 
 
 • iiccause,' answei-ed Trelawney, ' there is no such 
 being in existence as Lady Alexina Fitzosbourne ; 
 the Lady we are speaking of is only the niece of Lord 
 Fitzosbourne, she is the daughter of Lady Glen- 
 thorpe.' 
 
 The astonished, the delightfully surprised and ami- 
 able Lord Sydney made but one jump from his chair 
 towards the middle of the room,— he clasped his 
 friend in his arms, — he laughed and he cried, all in 
 the same breath, and as soon as he could utter a sen- 
 tence, rapturously exclaimed, — 
 
 'Bravo! bravissima! encora!— my dear, dear 
 friend, accept my most fervent, my joyful congratu- 
 lations ; — hero's a discovery, — here's an escape from 
 purgatory, — now we shall all be happy,— all did I 
 eay Y — no, not quite all neither, there is poor Hono- 
 
 ria ! well, it can't be helped, we will be as happy 
 
 as we can, so that's the end of the business.' 
 
 ' Trelawney waited till Lord Sydney's joyful flight 
 had in some degree subsided, and immediately impart- 
 ed to him the whole proceedings which had taken place 
 at his ' Mj'sterious Marriage,' which had entirely done 
 away with the "Will of his Father ; with which com- 
 munication Lord Sydney again expressed his joyful
 
 392 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Kuxprise; and then heartily congi'atulating his amiable 
 friend on the fortunate and happy change in his pro- 
 spects, hurried back to Valencia Lodge big with the 
 important news ; and Lady Honoria not having yet 
 left her chamber, he immediately imparted the intel- 
 ligence to the whole family, who were assembled 
 round the breakfast table. 
 
 'Well,' cried the Dnke, wiping his eyes, from 
 which tears had fallen, ' were he a son of mine, I 
 could not more heartily rejoice in his good fortune ; 
 for without any possible exception, I conceive Mr. 
 Tanjore Trelawney to be one of the finest and most 
 noble characters in existence.' 
 
 'Don't you except your hopeful son and heir, papa ?* 
 inquired Lady Frances Belmont. 
 
 To which Lord Sydney, tapping her fair cheek, 
 replied, 
 
 ' You are as saucy as ever, Fanny. 
 
 * Oh, you will find me a great deal more so now you 
 are married, — we single girls are privileged, you know. 
 Now there is my sister Catherine, who was only mar- 
 ried three days ago, must learn to hold her tongue, — 
 not a word but matrimony, you know.' 
 
 This Lady Frances uttered with such charming 
 vivacity, looking so archly at her sister-in-law, that 
 the lovely Jean laughed heartily. 
 
 In short, there never was a more happy or amiable 
 family than that of the Duke of Valencia's, or one 
 more united together in peaceful harmony, love and 
 friendship, and it had now received no small addition- 
 al lustre by a union with the house of Campbell, the 
 lovely Jean being no sooner beheld by her husband's 
 family than they were charmed, not more by her 
 beauty and simplicity, than with her enchanting 
 manners and native goodness of heart. 
 
 As Lord Sydney had only quitted Dumfairling 
 Castle in order to introduce his charming bride to the 
 knowledge of his family, their visit to London was
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 393 
 
 intended to be a very short one. Although Lady Jean 
 had been prevailed on to leave her little favourite 
 Robert Duncan under the care of Maro:aret Ferguson, 
 yet she already felt anxious to behold him, and at 
 their return to Scotland, it was agreed that the whole 
 family of the Valencias should accompany them on 
 a visit to the Castle, Lady Catherine and Mr. Chan- 
 dois Queensbury, (on whom her Ladyship had at last 
 bestowed her fair hand,) being included in the invita- 
 tion. 
 
 Trelawney, on going down stairs, at the departure 
 of Lord Sydney, observed a newspaper on the table, 
 which a servant had only a few moments brought in, 
 in which he read the following curious paragraph 
 among the list of the new works of the day : — 
 
 Just Puhlislied, 
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE; 
 
 OR, THE WILL OF MY FATHER : 
 
 An entertaining History of Love in High Life ; 
 
 WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 The disappointed hopes of a celebrated Countess. 
 
 Trelawney could only smile at the whimsicality of 
 the above advertisment, not doubting but some poor 
 devil of an author had taken this opportunity of sup- 
 plying his necessities by this peculiar mode of adven- 
 turous merchandize, and heartily wishing him success, 
 he turned over to the account of marriages, and with 
 some degree of surprise and displeasure, read the fol- 
 lowing : 
 
 'A few days ago at St. George's Church, Hanover 
 Square, Tanjorc Trelawney, Esq., led to the hymineal 
 altar, the beautiful and accomplished daughter of the 
 Earl of Fitzosbourne, Lady Alexina Louisa, whose 
 personal loveliness, so justly c^lobrated, has long 
 been the wonder of an admiring age.'
 
 394 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 And immediately succeeding this was the following 
 one: 
 
 ' On Thursday last, married by special licence, 
 Chandois Queensbury, Esq., to Lady Catherine Bel- 
 mont, third and youngest daughter of his Grace the 
 Duke of Valencia.' 
 
 ' Amiable Catherine !' exclaimed Trelawney, soon 
 recovering his good humour, and throwing down the 
 paper, ' may this union with the man of thy heart be 
 crowned with peace and bliss, and all thy days pass 
 on in uninterrupted tranquility.' 
 
 But newspapers travel, and they are sometimes 
 Bwifter than the herald Mercury, and they now took a 
 journey down as far as the city of Coventry, .. from 
 Coventry they proceeded to the quiet village of 
 Kenilworth, where they soon found their way to — ^- 
 where.P why to the pastor's White Cottage. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Clarendale were quietly seated in the 
 little oak parlour, expecting their beloved Rosa, to 
 come and make the tea ; there was a nice, cheerful, 
 blazing lire, a bright copper tea-kettle placed on it, 
 and Nanny Jones had just brought in a plate of but- 
 tered hot rolls, all was in preparation for their accus- 
 tomed cheerful meal. 
 
 ' I wish my darling would come,' said the pastor, 
 giving an anxious look towards the door. 
 
 At this moment, a loud and piercing shriek, utter- 
 ed by the voice of their beloved child, which was 
 quickly succeeded by one equally loud from Nanny 
 Jones, arrested their attention. 
 
 The alarmed parents flew both together into the 
 kitchen, and beheld Rosa, pale as a spectre, and mo- 
 tionless, in the arms of Nanny Jones, who could only 
 articulate in the midst of her terror, while she was 
 bathing Rosa's temples with some vinegar, — 
 
 ' The paper, master,— the newspaper has done the 
 business for poor dear Miss Rosa, — God above knows 
 what there is in it to frighten her so, but she read a
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 395 
 
 few words and then she screamed and fainted away.' 
 
 The paster needed no further explanation from 
 Nanny Jones ; he took up the paper and read the 
 paragraph, and communicating the same in a whisper 
 to Mrs. Clarendale, they pressed round the form of 
 the inanimate and fainting- Kosa. 
 
 ' Let us send immediately for Doctor Bradbury, my 
 love,' exclaimed Mrs. Clarendale, bursting into tears 
 at the same moment ; ' my poor child, my poor Rosa, 
 her sensibility has overpowered her.' 
 
 The pastor heard not this sentence from the lips of 
 his beloved Fanny ; he was already on his way to Elm 
 Grove, in search of Doctor Bradbury, and much as he 
 respected the character of Trclawney, we must forgive 
 the pastor if at this moment he lost all sensation but 
 that which reminded him he was a father. 
 
 The situation of his poor girl, and the situation of 
 the now splendid bridegroom of Lady Alexina Fitz- 
 osbourne now presented a striking contrast, — and he 
 sighed heavily as he entered the abode of his old 
 friend. 
 
 jNIeanwhilo the fond and anxious mother had, with 
 the assistance of Nanny Jones, used every eflbrt to 
 recover the insensible Rosa ; she had at last opened 
 her eyes, and fixing them on her mother, burst into 
 an agonizing flood of tears, while she faintly articu- 
 lated.— 
 
 ' Ah, mother, do not weep, but pray forgive me ; I 
 expected it, but indeed it came upon me so suddenly, 
 I could not help it,— I expected that he would bo 
 married, — yes, I knew that one day Trclawney would 
 be married, but I could not bear to read the word — 
 married. Oh, mother, how I loved him 1 — I would 
 not love again for ever so much ; yet he is married — 
 Trclawney is married; — but, is ho really married, 
 mother 'i — where is the paper ? — let me read it ag-ain; 
 — is Trelav.ney married, mother '^ — has he a wile 'r — 
 ah, then, what is poor Rosa r' — In spite of all efforts
 
 39G THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE 
 
 now to prevent it, Rosa again became totally insensible 
 in the arms of her distracted and agonized mother, who 
 began to be seriously alarmed for her beloved child ; 
 while poor Nanny Jones was ready to break her heart 
 with weeping, and even Peter stood sobbing at a dis- 
 tance ; and at this moment Doctor Bradbury and the 
 pastor arrived ; it was then that poor Mrs. Clarendale 
 could no longer contain herself, but running up to 
 the doctor, and clasping his hand, mournfully ex- 
 claimed, — 
 
 * Oh, Doctor Bradbury, Doctor Bradbury, Trelaw- 
 ney has killed my dear child ! — yes, he has destroyed 
 the darling of our hearts, our sweet Rosa !' 
 
 To which the doctor very deliberately replied, 
 shaking some medicine he had brought with him iu 
 a bottle, which he was going to administer to Rosa, — 
 
 ' Trelawney has killed a fiddle-stick-end, — Trelaw- 
 ney has destroyed a fiddle-de-dee I— Upon my soul, 
 Mrs. Clarendale, I am ashamed to hear you talk so. 
 What, in the name of the seven wonders, was the 
 poor dear lad to do ? — you would not let him have 
 Rosy, would you F — answer me that question before I 
 proceed any further, will you, my good woman ?' 
 
 ' Oh, cease, Doctor Bradbury,' said Mrs. Claren- 
 dale, again bursting into tears, ' cease to torture me.* 
 
 'There now,' cried the doctor, but feeling at the 
 same moment sensibly grieved for his respected 
 friends, ' that is the way with all you women, the 
 very moment you meet with any contradiction, then 
 comes forth a shower of tears ; — its the way with you 
 all ; — its always the way with Mrs. Bradbury, and I 
 often say to her, when she vexes me, you may cry 
 
 and be ; you may guess what I mean, I shan't 
 
 swear now, unless you provoke me.' And away 
 marched the doctor up to the chamber of Rosa, but 
 the moment he beheld her, he burst into an involun- 
 tary flood of tears ; she was still insensible, and he 
 approached her with the tenderness of a father, —
 
 THE MYSTE-RIOrS MARRIAGE. 397 
 
 * My dear little rose-bud, I am come to give yon 
 comfort,' said he, ' I warrant you will speak to your 
 old Bradbury.' Rosa reached out her hand immedi- 
 ately towards him. ' Come, love,' said the doctor, 
 * there is money bid for you, — hold up your sweet lit- 
 tle head, and swallow a mouthful of this nice cordial, 
 and then go to sleep lor an hour or two, and curse 
 me if you wont be as merry as a lark by to-morrow 
 morning.' 
 
 Rosa did as she was desired, but without uttering 
 a single word; and in a few minutes, with the doc- 
 tor closely watching by her side, fell into a soft and 
 gentle slumber. He then requested Mrs. Clarendale 
 to keep the house as quiet as possible, and returned 
 to the little oak parlour to try what he could do to 
 impart some degree of consolation to his afflicted 
 friends. 
 
 ' How is my poor girl 'r' said the agitated pastor ; 
 'don't deceive me, Bradburj', — is Rosa in any imme- 
 diate danger 'i' 
 
 'Danger be hanged,' said the doctor, 'you are a 
 greater nincompoop than I took you for ; and sup- 
 posing she were, neither I, nor you, nor all the 
 world could help it ; but come, give me a pipe, and 
 let's have a bottle of brown stout, and we will talk 
 matters over soberly and comfortably, without put- 
 ting ourselves in a lustration, for where is the use of 
 that ? it would be only making bad worse. In the 
 first place, what, in the name of mischief, conjured 
 up that confounded newspaper this morning to tor- 
 ment that poor girl 'r' 
 
 ' You know 1 always have the paper every mom- 
 ins:,' said the pastor, reaching it towards the dot.;tor, 
 who, putting on his spectacles, read the paragraph, 
 and laying it down, exclaimed, — 
 
 'Well, curse me, if I don't think its all a sham, 
 after all ; there is too much flunmiory in it to be true ; 
 zounds and the devil, did not Harry tell me that this
 
 398 THE MYSTEniOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 Lady what-do-ye-caU'em, was nothing more nor loss 
 than a downright idiot 'i and if that is the case, how 
 dare they presume to speak of her accomplishments ? 
 — I know its a sham, and curse me, if I'll believe it 
 till I hear it from better authority than a lying news 
 paper.' 
 
 ' Let us send Peter for Henry, my dear,' said Mrs. 
 Clarendale, ' who knows but he may have received a 
 letter from Trelawney.' 
 
 ' It is very likelj',' answered the pastor ; and Peter 
 was accordingly despatched to the parsonage, with as 
 much expedition as possible, in the pastor's gig, and 
 not only returned with his young master, but Mary, 
 who no sooner learning from Peter the situation of 
 Rosa, than she hastened to the White Cottage with 
 her husband, and they both entered together the oak 
 parlour. 
 
 < Oh, Mary, my dear Mary, how kind of you, thua 
 to come and comfort us,' said Mrs. Clarendale ; but 
 the moment she beheld Henry, she thi-ew herself on 
 his neck and sobbed aloud. 
 
 Henry betrayed an agitation which he in vain at- 
 tempted to conceal ; Mary too looked pale, and was in 
 some degree of embarrassment when they inquired 
 after Trelawney. 
 
 In fact, they had both read the paper that morning, 
 and were affected and surprised by the intelligence it 
 conveyed of Trelawney's marriage. 
 
 ' And do you actually believe it to be true, Harry ?' 
 inquired Doctor Bradbury. 
 
 'i\) which Henry replied, with some emotion, — 
 
 ' i believe it to be very likely. Sir, — however re- 
 volting, however disgustful to the feelings of one of 
 the best of men — this hated marriage ; yet in obedi- 
 ence to a father's last caiiiiuands, I know he v/ould 
 have perished ere he would have violated the will of 
 his father.' 
 
 'Well, then it is all over,' said Doctor Bradbury,
 
 TUr. JIYSTEinOUS MARRIAGE. 399 
 
 'so we must do what we can witli our poor little 
 Rosy.' 
 
 'May I go and see her, father ?' inquired Mary, 
 with great anxiety. 
 
 * No, you shall not do any such thing,' said the doc- 
 tor; 'a woman always makes bad worse, and you 
 shall not go near her.' 
 
 ' Lord, father, how can you be so provoking ?' said 
 Mary. 
 
 ' Let the doctor have hi.s way, my dear girl,' said 
 Mrs. Clarcndale. 
 
 ' And I will have my way, — she knows it, don't you, 
 my gipsy r' exclaimed the doctor, pulling Mary on his 
 knee, and kissing her ; ' zounds, if Trelawncy him- 
 self were to come and insist on seeing my patient, I 
 would not let him.' 
 
 ' There is little danger of that,' said the pastor, 
 heaving a pensive sigh. 
 
 ^Scarcely had the pastor uttered these words, when a 
 cliidse and four drove furiously up to the White 
 Cottage. 
 
 JL^ry ran to the window, — Henry followed her. — 
 
 ' Trelawney's grey horses, by all that is wonder- 
 ful !' exclaimed he. 
 
 ' Trelawucy himself, by all that is good and gra- 
 cious I' uttered Mary ; and Trclawney rushed into 
 the presence of his friends, his eyes ovcrfluwing with 
 sensibility, his countenance beaming with smiles, his 
 arms stretched forth to clasp them to his warm and 
 generous soul. 
 
 'There, by Gog and Magog, was I not right?' 
 roared out the doctor; 'did I not tell you that it was 
 all a sham, and that it was a confounaod lie ':' 
 
 ' What, my dear doctor ':' exclaimed Trclawney. 
 
 'About your being married.' 
 
 ' ISIarried ! no,' said Trclawney, ' who told you so ?' 
 
 * The newspaper,' said the doctor, ' the couiounded 
 ncwtpaper, that has so bewitched and biuc-devilcd us
 
 400 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 
 
 all with vapours, tliat we can liardly tell wliat colour 
 we are made of.' 
 
 ' Pray, my good friends, let me be clearly under- 
 stood,' said Trelawney, now anxiously looking round 
 the room for one dear object that was not there ; ' I 
 certainly am not married at present, but I hope very 
 shortly to be ; nay, I shall think every hour whole 
 ages till I am the husband of her I adore.' 
 
 '"What, I suppose you don't mean to marry this 
 Lord's daughter,' said the doctor, resolved, notwith- 
 standing all the curiosity that was blended in every 
 countenance, that he would have the first word. 
 
 'Xo! nor yet the Lady's daughter,' exclaimed 
 Trelawney ; ' for Lady Alexina proves to be no other 
 than the daughter of Lady Glenthorpe, and being only 
 niece to Lord Fitzosbourne, the will of my father is 
 consequently dissolved, and I am free!' 
 
 The scene which now followed may very naturally 
 be supposed; — the doctor roared out with joy, — the 
 pastor and Henry shed tears of congratulation, — 
 while 3Iary and Mrs. Clarendale clasped their hands 
 in grateful rapture. But what did Trelawney do ? — 
 was he idle ? — no ; he made an inquiry after Kosa ; — 
 he was not to be controlled, he flew to her bedside, 
 and, pressing her trembling hand in his, rapturously 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 ' Rosa, I am thine, — for ever thine ! — it is now no 
 crime to love you ; the will of my father is dissolved, 
 I am free, and Trelawney is yours for ever.' And 
 taking her in his arms, he carried her down stairs to 
 her enraptured father and mother, where a proper ex- 
 planation took place, not only of all the circumstances 
 which had attended the Mysterious Marriage with 
 Lady Alexina, but Trelawney entertained his friends 
 with all his adventures since he had last paid a visit 
 to the White Cottage ; at the conclusion of which he 
 took the hand of his beloved Rosa, and leading her to 
 her father, pronounced, with great emotion — ' May I
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE. 401 
 
 now be permitted, Mr. Clarendale, to call this dear 
 hand mine ?' 
 
 The pastor could not utter a word, but silently 
 takin:,'' the hand of his now happy daughter, placed 
 it in that of the transported Trelawney's, who received 
 the inestimable blessing with grateful rapture ; and 
 the ensuing morning, at an early hour, the pastor, 
 at the particular request of Trela^\•ney, joined their 
 ha^ds. After which, the village bells rung with loud 
 peals, and Trelawney permitted his lovely bride to re- 
 ceive the warm and rapturous congratulations of all 
 her father's poor parishioners, to whom he extended 
 his bounty with the most imbounded liberality. As 
 to Doctor Bradbury, he knew not which to rejoice 
 most at — the marriage of Rosa with Trelawney, or 
 the birth of a little grand-son, which the amiable 
 Rebecca presented her husband with a few days after 
 her beloved sister had been united to Trelawney. 
 
 The doctor, however, on this occasion would have 
 his joke, prophesying that before another twelvemonth 
 was at an end, another little grand-son would come 
 from a certain quarter, which should be called Tan- 
 jore Trelawney. 
 
 Rebecca's little son, however, was soon the pride of 
 all their hearts ; the lovely Rosa often paying a visit 
 to "Woodlands, to nurse her little nephew, of whom 
 she became passionately fond. 
 
 One evening, when this happy and united family 
 were all together, Rebecca, in the course of conversa- 
 tion, adverted to the mysterious voice thoy had heard 
 while sitting at their window from the gardi'n. which 
 had so alarmed herself and Rosa, at which Trelawney 
 smiled, and exclaimed, — 
 
 ' The voice was mine, Rebecca ; — it was the evening 
 before I quitted the White Cottage, for my departure 
 for London.' 
 
 ' Oh, if we had then known it had been you, Tre- 
 lawney,' said Rebecca, ' Rosa and I would have had 
 z
 
 402 THE MYSTERIOUS MAERIAGE. 
 
 sucli Sport, we would have cured you of paying noc- 
 turnal visits in future.' 
 
 'Did I not always say it was TrelawneyF' said 
 Mary. 
 
 ' Yes, Mary,' said Rosa, ' but you are a witcli ; you 
 have told me of many things which have come to 
 pass.' 
 
 *I believe she is an enchantress still,' exclaimed 
 Trelawney ; ' what say you, Henry P 
 
 To which Henry, delighted with a compliment paid 
 to his beloved Mary, replied, — 
 
 * I have always found her so, Sir.' 
 
 It may now be necessary to account for the sudden 
 and unexpected arrival of Trelawney at the White 
 Cottage, to whom every moment now passed in Lon- 
 don had seemed an age ; and having succeeded to 
 reconcile Lord Fitzosbourne to his sister, who pro- 
 fessed herself to be a sincere penitent for her guilty 
 conduct, the Earl, at the intercession of Trelawney, 
 so far overcame his resentment as to consent that she 
 should continue to reside beneath his roof, — on condi- 
 tion that she never again attempted to lead Lady 
 Alexina into fashionable follies; whether she kept 
 this promise was uncertain, for her daughter in a very 
 short time bestowed her fair hand and laeautiful per- 
 son on an old gouty peer, for the sake of the consid- 
 erable property of which he was possessed, — sacri- 
 ficing, as her mother had done before her, happiness 
 for riches, and peace of mind for dissipation. 
 
 To Pat O'Connor, before he quitted the metropolis, 
 Trelawney presented a gift of fifty pounds, and sent 
 him over to Ireland to comfort his sick mother at the 
 sign of the Black Pig, Bog-trotter Lane, over Muck- 
 slush Heath. 
 
 To the unfortunate son of Dr, Metcalf, who proved, 
 as Trelawney had surmised, the mysterious stranger 
 who had visited Lady Glenthorpe at Fitzosbourne 
 House, he gave the sum of five hundred pounds, hav-
 
 THE MISTEKIOUS MAnRIAGE. 403 
 
 ing by her ladyship's direction found him a prisoner 
 confined for debt in the Kincc's Bench, where he would 
 have remained probably to the end of his existence, if 
 Trclawney had not sought him out and relieved his 
 necessities. 
 
 All this accomplished, Trelawney took an afiFection- 
 ate leave of Lord Fitzosbourne, from whom ho did not 
 conceal his intended marriage with the daughter of 
 I'Ir. Clarendale. 
 
 But Trelawney found it a more difficult matter to 
 tf;ir himself from the arms of his fricnu Lord Sydney 
 Belmont; and they did not part without shedding 
 tears on both sides, Lord Sydney's last words being,— 
 
 Tteuiember Scotland.' 
 
 To which Trelawney replied. — 
 
 ' While I have life and breath I' and jumped into 
 the chaise which was to convey him to his beloved 
 Rosa. 
 
 Is it now necessary to ask, whether Trelawney was 
 really and truly happy ? — no, .'^urcly not; for what can 
 contribute more to happiness than a consciousness of 
 having strictly performed every sacred and moral 
 duty,— an humble submission to the will of Provi- 
 dence ?— which in the event of time and perseverance 
 will never fail to bestow its merited reward. 

 
 404 
 
 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 
 
 I AM married, and long out of business no-cv, but 
 some tifteen years ago I was an assistant-matron in a 
 prison for female convicts. I am not inclined to give 
 its particular name, though I got good reports and a 
 fare share of promotion in the establishment, and left 
 it with the character of an efficient officer ; for the 
 story I am about to tell might appear somewhat com- 
 promising in the eyes of strict lady-superintendents 
 if it ever came across them. 
 
 Yv''ell, I had been about a year in the service, and 
 got fully acquainted with its duties, when a Jew- 
 ess named Jemima Jacobs was placed in my ward. 
 She was young — not over twenty, I should say— but 
 not at all handsome, being coarse-featured, squat, 
 and of a dirty-brown complexion, which the prison- 
 dress did not improve, as you may imagine. Her 
 trial had taken place at the Criminal Court on a 
 charge of stealing plate and jewellery to a large 
 amount from a wealthy Jewish family in which she 
 had been kitchen-maid. The evidence was clear 
 against her, the family being the chief witnesses. 
 Jacobs was convicted and sentenced to one year's 
 penal servitude — a lenient sentence, as it was thought, 
 for her offence. But the family, while they appeared 
 against her, were unanimous on the subject of her 
 previous good conduct, and showed a laudable anxiety 
 to mitigate her punishment by all the means in their 
 power. 
 
 After her arrival within our penal walls no visit- 
 ing day elapsed without some of them coming to see 
 and converse with their unlucky kitchen-maid. As 
 my readers are (as I hope) without experience of
 
 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 405 
 
 prison discipline, I may mention that such interviews 
 take place through two opposite grates — the convict 
 standing at the inner, her friends at the outer one, 
 and a prison-officer seated in the space between them 
 to see that nothing is said or done contrary to regu- 
 lations. I frequently occupied that post, and thus 
 had an opportunity of seeing the whole family, for 
 they came in turn by ones and by twos. Let me pre- 
 mise that their name was Josephs, and their place of 
 business a notable one in the city, with a jeweller's 
 shop in front, and a pawnbroker's office round the 
 corner. They consisted, as far as I ever knew, of a 
 f;Uher and a son, a mother and two daughters. The 
 father, a tall, thin, stooping man was always rather 
 shabbily dressed. The son was exactly like him, on- 
 ly some inches shorter ; to me he did not look many 
 years younger, though, of course, he must have been ; 
 and I can not say how I found out that his name was 
 Samuel. Probably it was from hearing his mother 
 call him so. For he came with her on the first day. 
 She was an enormous woman, dressed in expensive 
 but half-soiled finery. Her two daughters were hand- 
 some dashing girls, with full tticcs, an abundance 
 of jewelry, and very fashionable bonnets. They 
 mostly came in their carriage to the top of the road ia 
 which the prison was situated ; there it waited for 
 them till the interview was over, and father, mother, 
 son, or daughters never stayed more than five minutes. 
 The sight of Jacobs and the exchange of a very few 
 words with them seemed to satisfy them, but one and 
 all accosted her with the same sorrowful kindness, as 
 if deeply grieved by her unfortunate position. There 
 was a brief inquiry after her health, an admonition to 
 submit implicitly to the prison regulations, and con- 
 sider them all for her good, and a declaration that 
 they would take her back again to their service at the 
 expiration of her sentence if she behaved well. Jacobs 
 made suitable responses and very humble acknow-
 
 406 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 
 
 ledgements ; but one thing struck me as remarkable, 
 and it was never omitted in one of their visits — they 
 never went without asking if she had come to a pro- 
 per repentance of her great sin yet, and Jacobs as in- 
 variably answered, *' I'm afraid I have not." This 
 was so regularly done that I at last concluded it must 
 have some religious signification known only to the 
 Jews. The conduct of the Josephs toward their con- 
 victed kitchen-maid was certainly more amiable than 
 Gentiles generally show in like circumstances. But 
 we matrons and assistants soon began to think that 
 the cause might be found in Jacobs herself. A more 
 civil or submissive creature no prison-oflBcer could 
 desire to have in charge. In fact, Jacobs required 
 little care ; she scrubbed the stone-floors, made the 
 rough bags, was locked up at night, and even attend- 
 ed the chapel with the same unmurmuring humility. 
 Jacobs gave no trouble ; and any body accustomed 
 to look after female convicts will have an idea of what 
 a rare jewel she must have appeared in our eyes, and 
 what a contrast she presented to the other women of 
 the ward. 
 
 I am not going to enter on the woes of an assistant 
 matron, but the unexampled good behaviour of my 
 new prisoner, while it spared my nerves and temper, 
 could not but gain my best regards. I positively 
 liked Jacobs before she'had been a fortnight under 
 my charge, and the poor Jewess seemed to return mj?- 
 good-will. There was no trouble she wouldn't have 
 taken, no haste she wouldn't have made to serve me; 
 she ran without being called, fetched and carried 
 without being bidden ; and when allowed to clean my 
 room, as a reward for good conduct, because it con- 
 ferred additional liberty, she made every thing look 
 as bright and polished as if it had been new. I was 
 pleased, of course ; but cleaning and scouring appear- 
 ed to be Jacob's hobby — an uncommon one for a 
 Jewess— and still more rare amoncr the inhabitants
 
 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 407 
 
 of our wards. All the time she could spare from 
 prison-work was devoted to sweeping, scrubbing, and 
 polishing' up her own cell in every corner. Walls, 
 floor, and even the ceiling pot the benefit of her exer- 
 tions ; she reached them with an agility which nobody 
 would expect from her squat figure. Almost the en- 
 tire ward was indebted to her in this way, which 
 brings me to the only troublesome inclination Jacobs 
 ever showed. There was no such thing as getting 
 her to rest or remain in a cell more than two or three 
 weeks ; once it was fairly scoured out, and there was 
 nothing more for Jacobs to clean, not a speck of dust 
 left on its bare walls or in its four corners, she be- 
 came uneasy, restless, always imploring leave to 
 change with her next neighbour. Prison-rules do 
 not recognize such honours ; but, as in the working 
 of every system, rules will be relaxed and modifi(>d 
 according to character and circumstances, so in female 
 convict establishments, the good-will of oflScers, the 
 consideration of directors, and sometimes the general 
 desire for as much of a quiet life as can bo got in such 
 places, admit of small matters and allowances beyond 
 the strict regulations. Jacobs seemed to understand 
 the fact, and took her measures accordingly. Tho 
 only request she ever made to directors, lady-super- 
 intendent, or chaplain — the only privilege she ever 
 coaxed from me, in return for her spontaneous ser- 
 vices — tho only approach to intimacy with her fellow- 
 prisoners sho ever tried, was for leave to exchango 
 her cell. There was a report among us— I know not 
 how it originated— to the etfoct that tho Josephs had 
 made interest in her fiivour with the prison authori- 
 ties. "Whatever tho influence brought to bear on the 
 case might be, certain it was that Jacobs's request wa.s 
 always granted ; she got leave to exchango. I could 
 not bo more obdurate than the directors to a creature 
 who served me with such zeal ; and as for her fellow- 
 prisoners, though by no means inclined to assist or
 
 408 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE, 
 
 gratify each other generally, they were somehow 
 willing enough to oblige Jacobs. In short, before 
 half the time of her sentence elapsed, she had made 
 the round of the entire ward ; and at last requested, 
 with her unusual pertinacious humility, an immediate 
 transfer to No. 49, the last cell at the extreme end of 
 the corridor, and the only one she had not tried. 
 
 No. 49 was indeed a sort of forgotten or unused 
 cell, partly because it was out of the way, and partly 
 because there was a dark tradition attached to it. I 
 must tell you that my ward formed part of what was 
 called the old prison — a division of the building much 
 more ancient than the rest, which, in former times, 
 had been appropriated to male convicts, and a noted 
 burglar was said to have escaped public execution by 
 hanging himself in that very cell. Such stories can 
 never be got to die out, particularly in prisons ; but 
 it was hushed up as far as possible, to save the officers 
 trouble in case the cell should be wanted. That did 
 not happen, to my great satisfaction, and No. 49 was 
 left in its emptiness till Jacobs took a fancy to occu- 
 py it. Whether she had heard the tale or not I had , 
 no certainty ; it was very likely that some old in- 
 habitant of the prison would soon make her aware 
 of it. I advised the Jewess against her meditated 
 exchange, told her she could not expect to have an- 
 other, after going round the ward as she had done, 
 warned her that No. 49 was the most solitary, and 
 probably, fi'om its long emptiness, coldest of all the 
 cells ; but my advices and warnings were alike in 
 vain. Humbly obstinate as ever, in Jacobs would go, 
 and in she went. I determined in my wrath that she 
 should not make another flitting in a hurry, whatever 
 recollections of the burglar might arise. But to my 
 agreeable surprise Jacobs appeared to think nothing 
 about him ; she scrubbed and cleaned and polished 
 No. 49 with as much energy as she had shown in 
 her former apartments — if possible, I thought rather
 
 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 409 
 
 more. The ward-women were unanimous that she 
 knew all about the burglar, but in the cell Jacobs re- 
 mained, as if perfectly sati.-fied at last ; and when 
 nearly a month had passed away I congratulated my- 
 self on the prospect of no more removals. 
 
 In the meantime the Josephs kept on coming to 
 see her at the grate, chiefly the mother and daugh- 
 ters ; indeed, I observed that the gentlemen of the 
 family, having doubtless more business on their 
 hands, were but rare visitors, particularly the son 
 Samuel. The dialogue was always the same, conclu- 
 ding with the accustomed inquiry regarding her re- 
 pentance, which Jacobs continued to answer in the 
 negative ; and it appeared to me that the Josephs 
 heard that reply with increased sorrow every day. 
 Their ex-kitchen maid did not seem to share their 
 grief; she made the accustomed response humbly 
 and calmly, as if certain that the i-equisite amount of 
 contrition would come in good time ; and 1 could not 
 help thinking it a sort of Jewish penance which made 
 her take to the scrubbing and scouring of her out-of- 
 the-way cell more resolutely after every visit. 
 
 Things had been going on in that fashion for some 
 time. It was mid-winter, and, besides being unusu- 
 ally cold, a season of peculiar concern to us matrons 
 and assistants. Whoever has had to do with female 
 convict establishments will be aware that, in the dark 
 December, or rather the Christmas and New- Year 
 times, there is always a disposition to small riots 
 among the inhabitants of the cells. "Whetl^er it arises 
 from the remembrance of former festivities, contrast- 
 ing with the monotony of prison-life, or to some oc- 
 ciiit influence of the season acting on the spirits and 
 tempers of those difficult subjects, I can not say, but 
 certain I am, from woeful experience, that more win- 
 dows are then broken, more blankets and .^^hoets torn 
 up, more tierce battles fought, and more women car- 
 ried otf screaming to the dark cell-, than at any other
 
 410 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 
 
 period of the year. "VVe had nothing of the kind as 
 
 yet, and were hoping to get over the troublesome 
 time in comparative quiet ; but increased watchful- 
 ness was nevertheless considered necessary, and those 
 who did the night-duty were enjoined to make the 
 round of the wards more frequently than usual. A 
 dreary business it was for the assistant-matrons to 
 whom the work generally fell to pace about all the 
 long winter night through those gloomy stone pas- 
 sages, wrapped in a cloak, and with lantern in hand, 
 listening for every sound, looking in at the inspection- 
 hole above every cell-door, and anxiously wishing for 
 the six o'clock bell, which would relieve their watch. 
 I was on that duty one night about the middle of 
 December. I had made the stipulated rounds, and 
 found every thing quiet, when it occurred to me, 
 about three o'clock in the morning, the weariest hour 
 in the whole watch, that all night long I had not 
 looked into or even approached No. 49. The cell, as 
 I have said, was out of the way ; there was a sort of 
 bend or angle in the passage which led to its door, 
 and might have suited its ancient use— namely, the 
 condemned cell of the old prison. Jacobs had never 
 given any trouble, and was certainly not a breaking- 
 out subject, I felt it no neglect of duty to leave her 
 alone from hour to hour, while all the rest of the wards 
 were duly inspected ; but, for regulations' sake, I felt 
 that I ought to see the door of No. 49, as this was al- 
 most my last round. Back I went in its direction, 
 and let me remark that I had on a pair of list-slip- 
 pers, which were thought perfect treasures to a ma- 
 tron on the night-watch for their noiselessness ; but 
 judge of my amazement and confusion when, on soft- 
 ly approaching the cell of my model prisoner, I caught 
 a low rasping sound, as if something were being done 
 with a file or chisel. There was a faint light too ; I 
 shaded my lantern, and looked through the inspce- 
 tion-hole. The gas was burning very low, and
 
 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 411 
 
 crouched in tbe corner, with her face close to the 
 floor, but working with both hands, and a small bit 
 of broken iron, as if to wiilon a crevice she had niado 
 between it and the wall. I saw the hitherto quiet and 
 most manageable Jacobs. She had not heard, and 
 couldn't see me ; and, great as my surprise was, my 
 curiosity to know what she could be about, or intend by 
 making that crevice was still greater. I stood for a 
 minute or two watching her wurk, and soon perceived 
 that the object was to get her lingers in or to get 
 something out. The effort seemed desperate, for her 
 hands were scratched and bleeding in many places by 
 coming in contact with the sharp edges of the stono 
 and the broken bit of iron ; but at length she succeed- 
 ed in getting two lingers into the crevice, and out 
 with them came a string of beads so brilliant that 
 they flashed like so many drops of tiro in the faint 
 gaslight. 
 
 ' "What on earlh are you doing, Jacobs P said I, 
 speaking out my own astonishment ; and the Jewess 
 turned round with a far less amazed look than mine 
 must have been. 
 
 ' You have caught me, miss,' she said, in her cus- 
 tomary low and humble tone. * I knew you would ; 
 but you won"t be hard on me; you are a merciful 
 lady ; the Jo.-ophs will make you any present you 
 like ; and may be you would be good enough to take 
 this,' she continued, coming clo.^se to the locked door, 
 and presenting to me, through the inspection-hole, a 
 small but very brilliant pin. 
 
 ' No, Jacob.-;,' said I, 'I will not take any bribe 
 from you, and I want nothing from the Josephs; but 
 I want to know what you have been doing up at thia 
 hour in your coll. and what was that you took out of 
 the crevice between the wall and the floor.' 
 
 * I'll tell you all, miss, and leave my case to your 
 charity,' said Jacobs: 'thank my stars, the women 
 are too f;^r nil" to hear a word.' I knew that was cor-
 
 412 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 
 
 rect, and it made me stand at the inspection-hole to 
 hear her tell, in the dead silence of the winter-night, 
 one of the most singular tales of device and endurance 
 that I ever heard. 
 
 The string of brilliant beads was an old fashioned 
 diamond necklace, valued at I forget how many thou- 
 sands. It had been sold or pawned — Jacobs would 
 not decidedly say which, but I believe the latter— to 
 a grand-uncle of the Josephs. Some intimation of 
 the diamonds and their whereabouts reached a noted 
 gang of burglars, for they made an attack on the pre- 
 mises one night, and carried off, among other spoils 
 of less value, the precious necklace. The grand-un- 
 cle had pursued them with all the force of law, and 
 with all the power of riches. Many of the gang were 
 taken, and among them the leader, in whose posses- 
 sion the diamonds were believed to remain. But no 
 bribe, no promise that the Jewish attorney employed 
 for the purpose could offer, would induce him to give 
 the smallest infoi^mation, regarding the place of their 
 concealment. The man was a strange and desperate 
 character, and owed the firm a grudge on account of 
 a brother in the same trade, whom they had been in- 
 strumental in bringing to justice for an unsuccessful 
 endeavour after those very diamonds. He stood out 
 stoutly against every persecution. The Jew should 
 get no knowledge out of him ; he would make no 
 confession ; he would not be executed ; and the bur- 
 glar kept his word in the manner already mentioned, 
 leaving his cell invested with traditional terrors for 
 all future prisoners. But the Josephs's attorney, in 
 the course of his frequent conferences with him and 
 his associates, made one discover}-, or rather guess. 
 From hints inadvertently dropped, and looks invol- 
 untarily cast, he took a suspicion that in spite of pris- 
 on-searchers and other improbabilities, the diamonds 
 had been smuggled in with the chief of the robbers, 
 and hidden in some crevice of his condemned cell.
 
 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 413 
 
 Like a prudent son of Israel, the attorney had kept 
 that surmise for his own future benefit ; but years 
 passed, and no opportunity for acting upon it came 
 within his reach. Ho grow old, infirm, and ready to 
 retire from business, in which it appeared he had not 
 realized much money ; and then it occurred to him, 
 as a proper and profitable course, to sell his su.^picion 
 for a respectable sum to the surviving relatives of the 
 diamond-looser. According to Jacobs the bargain 
 had been a stiff one, though, owing to the lapse of 
 time, the failure of memory, and the alterations mad-- 
 in the old prison, it was impossible for the attomr y 
 to say what cell the burglar had occupied. By ju- 
 dicious inquiries, the Josephs found out that sudi a 
 cell still existed, marked and made memorable by its 
 peculiar legend ; and their kitchen-maid, Jemima, 
 being of pure Jewish race, and a distant relation, 
 volunteered to recover the family treasure by an ex- 
 pedient and for a reward which nobody but a dosccn- 
 dant of him who served the fourteen years for Laban's 
 daughter would have thought of. 
 
 It appeared that she had fixed her afifections on 
 their son Samuel. And on the strength of a promiso 
 that she should be made Mrs. Samuel Josephs, if her 
 scheme proved successful, this true daughter of Ja- 
 cob (of course with the connivance of the family) .stole 
 plate and other valuables, concealed them in her bo.x 
 of clothes, incurred suspicion and search, was commit- 
 ted, tried, and sentenced to a year of penal servitude 
 within the prison where the diamonds were believed 
 to be hidden. She depended on her own ingenuity 
 for getting into the dreaded cell and discovering the 
 hiding-place; hence her frequent removals, her 
 scrubbing and scouring propensities, and, I sincerely 
 believe, her humble services to me. How she con- 
 trived to bribe the women to those exchanges with 
 small articles of jewelry brought to the prison, and 
 retained in spite of hair-cutting and changes of clothes,
 
 414 THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 
 
 Jacobs frankly confessed, for the pin she offered me 
 was one of them. But the most curious part of the 
 business, to my thinking, was the Josephs's regular 
 question concerning her repentance, which was no- 
 thing less than an agreed-on signal, and meant, 
 ' Have you found them yet P Jacobs made a per- 
 fectly clean breast— there was nobody within possible 
 ear-shot — and when she had told me all, the poor 
 Jewess concluded with that sad and simple appeal : 
 ' I leave my case to your charity, miss.' 
 
 Perhaps it was weakness, perhaps it was some- 
 thing worse, in an assistant-matron ; but notwith- 
 standing the gravity of that title and oflSce, I was but 
 a young woman at the time ; moreover, I was keep- 
 ing company on my Sundays out with Mr. John 
 Adams, my present lord and master. We were en- 
 gaged in waiting only till he got a step higher in a 
 certain city office, and could begin house-keeping 
 with respectable prospects. My own little romance 
 made me sympathize with poor Jemima more than I 
 ought to have done, according to strict regulations. 
 I promised on the spot never to report, never to re- 
 veal her secret. 
 
 When the Josephs came the next visiting-day there 
 was a variation in the dialogue. Jemima solemnly 
 assured them of her complete repentance, and the im- 
 feigned joy which sparkled in their Jewish eyes, 
 would have given anybody unacquainted with the 
 secret an immense opinion of their moral principles. 
 After that no stone was left unturned, no efiort spared 
 to abridge the time of Jemima's penal servitude. 
 Every official, from the Home Secretary downward, 
 was besieged with applications and petitions, and 
 what influence they brought to bear on the superior 
 authorities was never made known to me ; but Jacobs 
 got her sentence commuted, and was released from 
 my ward and custody within one month, reckoned 
 from that memorable night. She went her way ex-
 
 THK DIAMOND NECKLACE. 415 
 
 actly lis phc came. There wa.s uothiu;^ remarka- 
 ble in the departure of the Jewish maid but an un- 
 usual amount of humble thanks and acknowledg- 
 ments to all the prison-matrons, especially myself. 
 The next sii^ht I got of her was on one of my Sun- 
 days out, when the Joscphs's carriag^c passed me, and 
 there was my model prisoner seated beside the large 
 mother, and quite as well overlaid with finerj-. If 
 Mrs. Samuel recognized me she did not appear to do 
 so. Our ways w«}re different, and we never came in 
 !ho slightest contact. But two years after, when Mr. 
 Adams and I were thinking of going to church to- 
 gether, a very handsome wedding-dress was sent 
 home to me, with a small brilliant stuck in the one 
 corner of it, and I knew the gift came from Jemima 
 Jacobs. 
 
 
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