Part 4

Ellen was engaged the next morning with her needle when Mordaunt suddenly entered the room (for the ceremony of announcing visitors was never thought of at Llanwyllan): she rose hastily, as hastily sat down again, turned pale, then red, and in answer to his hasty inquiries, said--"Are you alone, Sir?" "Alone," replied Mordaunt, surprized beyond measure; "yes, certainly: did you expect to see anyone with me?" "Yes--no, that is, I thought we were told that Mrs. Mordaunt, that your wife was to come with you." "My wife!" exclaimed Mordaunt, turning first as red and then as pale as Ellen had done, almost in the words of Othello, and perhaps not perfectly unlike him in feeling; "What wife? I have no wife." "I beg your pardon, indeed," said Ellen, "for giving you such a strange reception, but we were really told that your lady was certainly coming with you." "What could have given rise," said Mordaunt, regaining his composure, "to such a ridiculous tale? And did _you_, Ellen, could you believe it?" "I own I thought it strange," replied she, "that you had never mentioned it, and I doubted the truth of the story; but Joanna seemed to credit it, and I was told Mrs. Ross had asserted it, but I daresay," added she, smiling, "that it was one of those gossip's tales of which we have so many in this village." Mordaunt said he was wholly unable to account for it, and advancing to the table where she had been sitting, for hitherto they had both continued standing, said--"Shall I disturb you if I sit down by you for half-an-hour?" "Certainly not," said Ellen: "you will allow me to go on with my work." But Ellen's hand did not second her intention, for it shook so much, she was obliged to put down the work, and to say, half laughing, by way of covering her confusion--"I have flurried myself so ridiculously by fancying I was going to see a stranger, that I must rest till my hand is a little more steady." Mordaunt, for the first time, took the trembling hand within his own, and pressing it very gently, said:--"You have not shaken hands with me on my return, Ellen, yet I hoped you would have been glad to see your friend Mordaunt once more: will you allow me the title?" he added, gazing on her intently. Poor Ellen, who had not really any of the usual complimentary phrases, such as "you do me honour, &c." knew neither which way to look nor what to say; and Mordaunt, softly raising her hand to his lips, relinquished it, and pitying her visible confusion, endeavoured to relieve it by saving:--"I think you are a little, a very little paler and thinner than when I left Llanwyllan." "I have been taking a great deal of exercise," said Ellen; "and I think you too, Mr. Mordaunt, are changed: you look pale, and seem fatigued." "Oh yes, Ellen, yes; I have encountered much since we parted--much fatigue both of body and mind. In these sweet shades I hope once more to be at peace: oh, that I might never leave them more, 'the world forgetting, by the world forgot;' that I might, that I could remain here for ever! Would _you_, Ellen, would _you_ endeavour to sooth my cares, and to restore my peace of mind?" He again seized her hand, and wildly grasping, pressed it to his throbbing forehead. Ellen looked at him with eyes of apprehension; his energy, his apparent agitation alarmed her: he saw the surprize he had excited, and dropping her hand, said:--"Forgive me, I am not myself to-day; but I must indeed be lost before I can for a moment forget the perfect respect I owe you." His countenance became at once more composed, and after a moment's pause, he said smiling:--"And how is the poor straw hat which I spoilt the night before I went away?" "Indeed you did not spoil it," said Ellen, laughing; "it would not easily be injured." "Oh, certainly, it was completely spoilt, and as I was the author of the mischief, though you would not give me any commission for Bristol or Bath, I could not resist the desire I felt to replace the loss which I know you cannot do here, and I have accordingly chosen one for you, which, though extremely simple, will, I am sure, be particularly becoming: I have also added one for Joanna, not exactly like your's in shape, because it would be ridiculous; I mean it would not be becoming to her style of face." "You are too good: I am sorry you should have had so much trouble." "Oh, the trouble certainly of doing any thing for _you_ and your friend must be insupportable; terrible as it was, however, if you will do me the favour of wearing this simple bonnet I shall think it overpaid: there is also a little parcel for Mrs. Ross: and some books for our good friend Mr. Ross: nor have I forgotten my first and truly valued friend your father: his little remembrance I shall take the liberty of sending here; but shall I order the box with the other things to Mr. Ross's or here?" "Mrs. Ross and Joanna are going to pass this afternoon with me," said Ellen; "if you will therefore persist in taking so much trouble, we will examine our presents, which are, I dare say, very elegant." "I thank you a thousand times for not reproving my presumption in fancying I could chuse a hat for you. I will send the box presently, and when the contents have been looked at, may I join your little party and walk with you?" "Certainly; we shall be glad of your company." Mordaunt soon after went away, though Powis, who came in, and seemed heartily glad to see him, pressed him to partake their homely fare at dinner, but promising to come again in the afternoon, Mordaunt declined staying then. Powis was haunted by no fears on his daughter's account: his open hospitable temper made him always ready to receive the stranger, and he saw not far enough into the human heart to suspect that one so eminently gifted by nature and improved by art, as Mordaunt was, must have some paramount inducement to fix himself for two or three months amongst the woods of Llanwyllan. Honest, simple, and credulous, he implicitly believed what Mordaunt had told him respecting his health, and the delight he took in the wild scenery around the village; and pleased with his company, would willingly have had him a constant inmate of his house; yet he doated on, and highly appreciated Ellen; but he fancied that Charles Ross had gained her affections, and looked forward to her marriage with him as a thing determined on. Ellen felt a little awkward on the subject of the bonnet, for she had never mentioned to Mrs. Ross or Joanna that Mordaunt had spent two or three hours at the Farm the night before he left Llanwyllan; as to the straw hat, it was, in reality, not injured, although he chose to fancy it was spoilt by way of excuse for ordering another; she, therefore, did not like to mention the circumstance at all, dreading Mrs. Ross's sharp questions and Joanna's looks; in fact, she did not wish to mention the intended presents, and half resolved to appear surprized when the box arrived: this, however, her natural dislike to deceit deterred her from attempting, though Joanna's late conduct had taught her a reserve she never before had felt towards her. The moment dinner was over Ellen went to her chamber, where she took unusual pains in dressing herself as nicely as her very moderate wardrobe would allow; a neat plain white gown or two being the extent of her finery. Mrs. Ross would seldom allow Ellen or Joanna to wear any thing better than a grey stuff, or small printed calico, yet in spite of her expected rebuke, the very best white gown was this afternoon put on; her hair was nicely and delicately arranged under a cap smaller than those she usually wore; for going without a cap or hat, was, in Mrs. Ross's idea, quite bold and improper. Neither Joanna nor Ellen had ever seen a feather or artificial flower, except once, when mere children, Powis had taken them for a few days to Carnarvon, where a few were exhibited; but as to wearing any, they would as soon have thought of putting on diamonds, so different were their simple ideas from those of the very fine ladies we now see every day walking or riding to market, with their ear-rings and necklaces, fine lace frills, green veils, au parasols: expect them soon with foot-boys at their heels. Yet Powis could have given his daughter a thousand pounds; and Ross, though not rich, was in a station of life which might have entitled Joanna to expect some little indulgences, of which, however, she never even thought. Two or three small bows of pale pink ribbon were the only ornament of Ellen's caps, and her slender waist was surrounded by a short sash of the same colour; a bouquet of late roses and jessamine was placed in her bosom; and the gentle agitation of her spirits animated her eyes and complexion: she looked exquisitely lovely; so fresh--so new--so bright--the poet might have said of her--"she looked like Nature in the world's first spring." She had just completed her nosegay, when Mrs. Ross and Joanna arrived; the former with a new assortment of work prepared for Ellen's completion, who sighed when she saw the quantity to be executed. "Bless me, Ellen," said Mrs. Ross; "why you are dressed up as fine as a lady; one would think you were going to a wedding or a christening.--I hope you have not invited Mrs. Price and Mrs. Howel to-day," (the wives of two neighbouring farmers, who drank tea once or twice a year with Ellen and the Ross's) "for I am come in my old gown, and Joanna in her every-day cotton: why, child, are you dressed so much?" "I don't know, ma'am: I thought my coloured gown was dirty, and the day was so fine and warm, I thought this would be cooler." "Umph," said Mrs. Ross, looking at her with eyes sharpened by curiosity, and then nodding at Joanna, as much as to say you see I was right, she drew up her head and was silent a moment; then, by her next question, shewing the turn her thoughts had taken, she said: "Has Mr. Mordaunt been here?" "Yes, ma'am," said poor Ellen, blushing like crimson. "Umph," again said Mrs. Ross, and again she nodded at Joanna. Joanna, looking slily at Ellen, added, while she could hardly refrain from laughing--"And his wife?" "No," said Ellen, looking up at Joanna, and smiling, for she could not help being diverted at the oddity of her tone and look. Just at this moment in came the maid with a small parcel and a large bonnet-box, which, she said, a boy had brought from Dame Grey's. "God bless my heart," said Mrs. Ross, "why that is the very box I saw at Mr. Mordaunt's, and which made me fancy he was married." Ellen explained as well as she could, but certainly not very clearly, what the contents were; and Joanna was so diverted with the absurdity of the report raised by such a trifle, that she burst into a loud and incontrollable fit of laughing, in which Ellen heartily joined; and though Mrs. Ross scolded, and was quite angry that they would not cease laughing and open the box, they laughed on, when the door opened, and in came Mordaunt. He supposed the box had been received and opened an hour before, not knowing his messenger had stopped to play by the way, and was quite astonished to see them gathered round it, the two girls laughing, and Mrs. Ross half scolding and half laughing too. He was hastily retreating; but his presence operated like an electric shock on the whole party. Ellen was half ashamed; and Mrs. Ross and Joanna, who always felt a degree of awe from the dignity of his manner, were afraid he would be offended: the former endeavoured to explain the cause of their mirth; and Mordaunt no sooner heard what had given rise to the report which had so much perplexed him, than--"Albeit unused to the laughing mood," he could not keep his countenance. The explanation, however, was not unpleasant to him, for he had been quite at a loss to guess how any report of him, whether true or false, could have reached Llanwyllan. The box was now opened, a ceremony at which Mordaunt would willingly not have been present, though he certainly wished to see whether the hat was becoming to Ellen.

Both hats were of straw, equally fine; but that intended for Ellen had an elegant simplicity in the form, which seemed made on purpose for her. At the bottom of the box was found a parcel, directed for Mrs. Ross, which contained a handsome dark sarsnet for a gown, with which the good lady was so delighted, that she quite overwhelmed Mordaunt with thanks and compliments, to which he put a stop by requesting to see the bonnets on their respective owners.

"I am not dressed fit to wear such a bonnet," said Joanna, glancing her eyes on Ellen; "but--" "Aye," said Mrs. Ross, "very true: I believe you knew your bonnet was trimmed with pale pink, Ellen, and put on those ribbons on purpose to match it." "No, indeed," said Ellen, half hurt at the suggestion. Mordaunt saw with what unusual care she was adorned, and could not help being pleased at it. He was himself drest with particular nicety, and was really as handsome and fine a figure as Ellen was beautiful. The bonnets were tried on, and highly approved. Ellen, indeed, was, if possible, improved by hers. The parcel for Powis contained some handsome articles of plate likely to be useful to him; and Mr. Ross's books, which were sent to the Parsonage, consisted of Eschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles, uniformly and elegantly bound, and of superior editions. Thus the taste of all parties seemed to have been consulted, and every one of course was pleased with the kind attention.

CHAP. VI.

To me be Nature's volume broad display'd; And to peruse its all instructing page, Or haply catching inspiration thence, Some easy passage raptured to translate, My sole delight.

She lov'd: but such her guileless passion was, As in the dawn of time, inform'd the heart Of innocence and undissembling truth.

THOMSON'S SEASONS.

From this time Mordaunt's visits at Llanwyllan Farm were constant, and in spite of Mrs. Ross's expected reprehension, Ellen, though always gentle, humble, and submissive, certainly did not execute all the needlework planned for her to do; and, worse than that, Farmer Howel's wife declared she had not above half the usual number of chickens to carry to market for Ellen Powis that she used to have; and Mrs. Ross requesting to taste the currant wine, made under her own direction, found that it had latterly been managed so ill, that it would all become vinegar. This was a grievous fault, and grievously did Ellen answer it, for loud and sharp were Mrs. Ross's animadversions; and repeatedly did she remind Joanna that she had prophesied all this. Joanna walked sometimes with Ellen, and of course with Mordaunt, for they seemed inseparable, but found their conversation frequently turning on things beyond her comprehension, or interrupted by short dialogues, carried on in a low voice, to which her presence seemed an interruption; yet no one could say Mordaunt ever directed himself but with the most entire respect towards Ellen, and politeness towards Joanna. Amongst other wonders which Mordaunt shewed to Ellen, such as beautiful drawings, trinkets for gentlemen, &c. and which were to her entirely new, was one which excited in her, not only admiration, but delight. This was his own miniature picture, beautifully painted, and a striking likeness. Ellen had literally never seen a portrait, except some old faded family pictures, which hung in the hall and staircase of her father's house, and represented some of the former proprietors: but these dull miserable daubs hardly conveyed to her an idea of the delightful art of portrait painting; and when she saw this speaking and elegant resemblance of her fascinating friend, she was so enchanted and enraptured, that Mordaunt, contrary to his first intention, requested her to keep it; and she, ignorant of its value, or the construction the world would have put on her accepting the picture of a gentleman, as readily received it as she had done two or three books and drawings he had given her; but different were the sensations with which she looked at this, to her, most desirable gift: it was the companion of her solitary hours, and, when not actually before her eyes, was ever present to her imagination: and when Mordaunt was absent, his picture was laid by her side; yet a sort of intuitive feeling made her snatch it up, and conceal it when any one approached. It is obvious how greatly this indulgence must have increased those sentiments of tenderness which now so irresistibly assailed her young and innocent heart. As the autumn advanced, and the evenings grew longer, Joanna and Ellen were still left less together. Mordaunt was understood to be continually at the Farm; and even the unobserving farmers' wives began to conclude his attentions into love, and to conclude the match between him and Ellen Powis determined on. A slight cold gave Ellen a reason, or rather an excuse, for staying at home, when at the end of a week Mrs. Ross determined to go herself to the Farm and see how Ellen's work went on. In the road she met Powis, and asking if his daughter were at home, he said, "Yes," and added, "I don't think she is well; she has a cold, and looks pale. How is it you and Joanna have not been to see her these two days?" "Nay," said Mrs. Ross, "I have not seen her for nearly a week. Joanna called the other day, but I fancy Ellen is better engaged than to want _our_ company." "How do you mean," said Powis, looking surprized, "why is not Mr. Mordaunt with her every day?" "Why yes, I believe so--part of every day--but what need that hinder your coming? He says she is a clever girl, and she is so anxious to learn what he calls geography, or something like it, that they spend a good deal of their time at their books and such like, and I can't but say I relish my newspaper twice as well now Mr. Mordaunt and Ellen sometimes shew me whereabouts the armies are, and have made me understand whereabouts France, and Spain, and England, and so on are, upon the great maps he has brought to our house."

"'Tis all very well, neighbour Powis, all very well, if you like it: I hope you will have no reason to repent it; but I am afraid, when your shirts and stockings want mending, you will not like these new-fangled ways quite so well." "Why, to be sure, if Ellen neglects her business, that won't do at all; but I assure you she is very industrious, and tells me she rises an hour the earlier every morning, to get through her work, and have time to attend to her books." "Well, neighbour, as long as you are satisfied, I do not wish to make mischief; but certainly Mr. Ross never approved of her or Joanna's learning such things; if he had, he could have instructed them, at least as well as Mr. Mordaunt." "Very true; I did not think of that--well, we will talk to Ellen about it: you will find her at home; I left her busy at work: do speak your mind to her a little; I shall be guided by you and Mr. Ross in all things, seeing you understand such matters better than I do." They then parted, and Mrs. Ross a few minutes after arrived at the Farm; and on walking into the usual sitting-room, instead of finding Ellen at work, she found her surrounded with books and maps, and Mordaunt seated by her side, one arm rested on the back of her chair, while the other was engaged in tracing with the end of his pencil some lines on the map on which Ellen was looking: she was too intently engaged to observe Mrs. Ross's entrance, who stood suspended a moment, while she heard Mordaunt say, "And here, Ellen, here is Northampton--this is the road to Aubyn Castle; and just here----" "What here?" said Ellen, eagerly placing her finger on the spot she supposed to be that on which Mordaunt's habitation stood. "Is it here your house stands?" "Very near that precise spot," replied Mordaunt, drawing her hand gently away, and retaining it in his own, while his expressive eyes were fixed on her face: "very near it is my residence; but it is so far from Llanwyllan, that I begin to detest it, and to dread the thoughts of returning to it.--But what am I doing?" said he, with a deep sigh: "Oh, Ellen, I dare not tell you all my thoughts!" Ellen blushed, sighed, withdrew her hand, and accidentally glancing her eyes upwards, saw Mrs. Ross standing in the door-way, with astonishment, anger, and vexation, painted on her countenance. Ellen started, half screamed, and rose so hastily, she almost overset the table before her. "Bless me, Ma'am," she exclaimed, "I did not see you--I did not know--" "No, I dare say not, Miss Ellen; you were a great deal too much engaged to see or think of me: your servant, Sir. I beg I may not keep you standing; at least _I_ shall sit down, for _I_ am not going yet."

This gentle hint was intended to tell Mordaunt that she meant to outstay him; but she looked at Ellen with "eyes so full of anger," and Ellen turned so pale, and looked so alarmed, that Mordaunt thought he would at least give Mrs. Ross time to cool a little, before he left them together. Ellen began, in much confusion, to gather the books and maps together. "I am sorry to disturb you, but I did not expect," said Mrs. Ross, "to find you engaged in this manner, at this time of day, whatever you might chuse to do in an evening. I met your father, and he told me you were busy at work, or in the dairy: but," added she, in a low voice, "those things are not thought of _now_." "Indeed, Ma'am," said Ellen, blushing, while the tears started in her eyes, at being so lectured before Mordaunt, "indeed, I had just finished what I had to do in the dairy to-day, and had begun the work you desired me to do, when Mr. Mordaunt accidentally came in, and the maps we had been looking at last night lying in the window, he was just shewing me--" "Oh, it is all mighty well," interrupted Mrs. Ross; "I have no authority to interfere, I am sure, and do not wish to be impertinent. Pray, Sir," added she, turning to Mordaunt, "_do you stay much longer at Llanwyllan_?" "So," thought Mordaunt, "my turn is coming next. I hope, Madam," added he, smiling, "I shall not stay long enough to tire my friends." "Oh, I dare say not, Sir; I dare say you are _pretty sure of that_." This coarse and cruel hint covered Ellen with the deepest crimson; and Mordaunt, while his face was scarlet, and his eyes sparkled with an indignation he with difficulty repressed, said, in a lofty tone, "I have not, at least, Madam, been accustomed to incur such a misfortune, and therefore flatter myself I have now done nothing to deserve it." He rose with dignity, and approaching Ellen, who sat almost motionless, he took her trembling hand, bowed respectfully upon it, and said, "I shall do myself the honour of attending your father and yourself, Miss Powis, in the evening." Then slightly bowing to Mrs. Ross, he departed. "Good lack, good lack," said Mrs. Ross, who, awed by his manner, had been silent a moment, "what a dainty speech! The honour of attending Miss Powis! well, what will this world come to! Why, Ellen, child, you are spoilt for a farmer's wife, and will soon begin to fancy yourself a lady indeed." Ellen, whose spirits were now totally subdued, wept bitterly, and said, "I am sure, Madam, I do not know how I have deserved to be treated thus."

Softened by her distress, for with all her sharpness, Mrs. Ross loved Ellen, and really had her welfare at heart, she began to relent, and said more softly, "Why now, Ellen, child, hear me. Do you think it is right or creditable for a young girl like you to be constantly receiving the visits of such a man as Mr. Mordaunt? Tell me, Ellen, will he make you his wife?"

This was a question Ellen had never dared to ask herself. In the beautiful language of Shakespeare, which Mordaunt had lately given her, and with which she was so enchanted, she often allowed herself only three hours sleep in a night, that she might find time to read, she had often repeated to herself--