CHAPTER C.

THE EARL OF ELLINGHAM AND ESTHER DE MEDINA.

It was about two o'clock in the afternoon of the day following the scene just described, that the Earl of Ellingham and Esther de Medina were walking in the gardens attached to Finchley Manor.

The beautiful Jewess leant upon the arm of that fine young nobleman who had suddenly appeared before the world in the light of the champion of the industrious classes.

Never had Esther seemed so ravishingly lovely as on this occasion:—a rich carnation hue tinged her cheeks, beneath the clear, transparent olive of her complexion; and her fine large black eyes mirrored the enthusiasm of her soul, as she listened to her companion, who was expatiating upon the wrongs and sufferings endured by the sons and daughters of toil.

Her generous heart beat in entire sympathy with his own in this respect. Until the previous evening she had known little more of the condition of the people than is generally gleaned by young ladies of good education from the works which they peruse. But the Earl's lucid and convincing exposure had shed a marvellous light upon her soul: she comprehended how much the industrious millions were neglected by the Government—how sorely they were oppressed by a selfish, grasping, greedy oligarchy—how noble a task it was which the Earl had imposed upon himself.

His brilliant eloquence—his logical reasoning—the tone of deep conviction in which he had spoken—the conscientious earnestness of his manner—and the honest fervour that animated him when, having disposed of the more argumentative portion of his speech, he burst forth in his impassioned peroration,—all this had made a profound impression upon Esther de Medina. For hitherto her gentle heart had loved him for all those qualities of person and of mind which usually engender tender feelings in the maiden's bosom: but now she felt that she could adore him—that she could worship him as a hero who had stood forth in honest championship of a cause which it was so glorious to undertake.

Therefore was it that her cheeks were tinged with the carnation glow of youthful enthusiasm: therefore was it that her fine dark eyes flashed with the fires of so generous a fervour, as she now dwelt upon every word that the nobleman was uttering in reiteration of those sentiments which he had so boldly enunciated the night before.

But by degrees the conversation took a different and more tender turn; and as they entered an avenue of trees verdant with the foliage of an early Spring, the nobleman found himself speaking in obedience to those feelings of admiration which he experienced towards the beautiful Jewess.

"It was not to treat you with a political disquisition, Miss de Medina," said the Earl, "that I came hither to-day. I had another and very different object in view; for I am about to ask you to bestow upon me a boon which, if accorded, shall ever—ever be most highly prized. Esther—dearest Esther," added the nobleman, sinking his voice to a tender whisper, and gazing upon her affectionately, "it is this fair hand which I solicit!"

"Oh! my lord," murmured Esther, casting down her swimming eyes, while she felt that her cheeks were burning with blushes, "you have not well considered the step which you are now taking."

"I have reflected deeply upon the course which I am adopting," answered the nobleman, "and I am convinced that my happiness depends upon your reply. Tell me, Esther dearest—can you love me? Will you accept me as your husband?'

"Did I consult only my own heart, my lord," replied the beautiful Jewess, her countenance still suffused in virgin blushes, and her voice tremulously melodious, "I should not hesitate how to reply—oh! how could I? But I cannot forget, my lord, that I am the daughter of a despised—a persecuted—a much maligned race,—that the prejudices of your country and your creed are hostile to such an alliance as this, the proposal of which has done me so much honour."

"You are well aware, my beloved Esther," said the Earl, "that I have none of those absurd prejudices. The proudest Christian who wears a crown might glory in being the son-in-law of such a man as Mr. de Medina; and, even were he otherwise than what he is, it were a worthy aim of ambition to become the husband of his daughter Esther."

"I am well aware, my lord," resumed Esther, "that your heart harbours every noble and ennobling sentiment—that you are all that is great, and liberal, and good. Proud and happy, then, must that woman esteem herself who shall be destined to bear your name. But not for me, my lord—not for the despised Jewess must that supreme honour be reserved. No," she continued, her voice faltering, and her bosom heaving convulsively,—"no, my lord,—it may not be!"

"Esther," exclaimed the Earl of Ellingham, in an impassioned tone, "tell me—I conjure you—is this the only motive which induces you to hesitate? Is it simply on account of those absurd prejudices which my illiberal fellow-countrymen entertain in reference to your race? is it solely on this account that you deny me the boon I demand?"

"That reason—and another," murmured the lovely Jewess, in a low—hesitating—and tremulous tone.

"Ah! that _other_—I can divine it!" cried the young nobleman. "You know that I was engaged to Lady Hatfield;—but that engagement exists no longer—has ceased to exist for some time! I will not attempt to persuade you, dearest Esther, that I did not love Georgiana;—but I now feel that my passion in respect to her was very different from the affection which I entertain for you. Georgiana was the idol of my imagination—you are the mistress of my soul. My attachment to her was wild and passionate—to you it is tender and profound. Dazzled by her splendid beauty, I was bewildered—captivated—held in thraldom: but such a love as that contained not those elements which might render it durable. Your modest and retiring charms, sweet Esther—your amiability—your gentleness—your goodness, all combine to render my love permanent and impossible to undergo diminution or change. Moreover, circumstances which I need not—cannot explain to you, suddenly transpired to alter my sentiments in respect to Lady Hatfield—to make me look upon her as a sister, and never more in any other light. But if you will give me your love, my Esther, you shall experience all the happiness which can arise from an alliance with one who will make your welfare the study of his life. Indeed, if you still hesitate on the score of those prejudices to which we just now alluded,—then—sooner than resign my hope of possessing this fair hand of your's, I will renounce the society in which I have been accustomed to move—I will dwell with you, when heaven's blessing shall have united us, in some charming seclusion, where we shall be all in all to each other—I will devote myself entirely to you and to that task which I have taken upon myself in respect to the industrious classes—that fine English people, in whom my sympathies are so deeply interested—"

"Oh! my lord," murmured Esther, in a joyous though subdued tone, "how have I merited all the proofs of attachment which you now lavish upon me?—how can the obscure Jewess flatter herself that she is worthy of becoming the bride of one of England's mightiest nobles?"

"Then you _do_ consent to become mine, Esther?" cried the handsome young peer; and, reading her answer in her eloquent eyes, he caught her in his arms—he pressed her to his heart—and on her virgin lips he imprinted the first kiss which Esther had ever received from mortal man save her own father.

A few minutes elapsed in profound silence,—a few minutes, during which the happy pair exchanged glances of sincere, and pure, and hallowed love.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps drawing near fell upon their ears: they turned, and beheld Mr. de Medina approaching down the avenue of trees.

Then the Earl of Ellingham, taking Esther's hand, advanced towards the Jew and said in a firm and manly tone, "Mr. de Medina, I am glad that you have come hither at this moment, for I have a great boon to beg of you—a precious gift to solicit!"—and he glanced tenderly towards the blushing maiden who stood by his side.

"I understand you, my dear Arthur," returned Mr. de Medina, smiling. "But I presume that the whole business is already settled and arranged between you," he added, looking slily and benignantly at his daughter.

"Miss de Medina has consented to bestow her hand upon me, my dear sir," answered the nobleman; "and I scarcely dread a refusal on your part."

"A refusal!" ejaculated Mr. de Medina, the tears of joy and gratitude starting to his eyes: "there is indeed no danger of that! On whom would I consent to bestow my jewel, my pride, if not upon you—_you_, my dear Arthur, who are all that an Englishman ought to be? Yes—I give you my daughter; and may God ensure your happiness!"

The venerable Jew embraced the Earl and Esther; and the happiness of those three deserving and admirable persons was complete.

The Earl of Ellingham passed the remainder of that day at Finchley Manor; and it was past eleven o'clock in the evening when he alighted from his carriage at the door of his own abode.

On the ensuing morning Clarence Villiers called upon the nobleman, by whom he was most courteously received; and the Earl proceeded to explain to him the nature of the business which had induced him to request the favour of that interview.

"Mr. Villiers," said Arthur, "it will be sufficient for me to inform you that I had reasons for experiencing a more than common interest in behalf of Thomas Rainford, with whom you were somewhat intimately acquainted. What those precise reasons were, you, as a gentleman, will not enquire: but I believe that you have in your possession a particular letter, which Thomas Rainford entrusted to you; and circumstances now render it necessary that this document should pass from your hands into mine."

"The high character of your lordship commands immediate compliance on my part," said Villiers, producing the letter from his pocket-book and tendering it to the Earl.

"I thank you for this proof of confidence, Mr. Villiers," observed the nobleman: "but to set your mind completely at rest, I can show you a written authorization, signed by Thomas Rainford, to enable me to receive the paper from you."

"It is not at all necessary, my lord," answered Clarence, rising to take his departure.

"One moment," said the Earl, much struck by the frank, candid, and gentlemanly demeanour of Villiers: "any one who felt an interest in Thomas Rainford—especially one in whom he reposed sufficient confidence to entrust with that letter—has a claim on my friendship. I should therefore be delighted to serve you, Mr. Villiers; and let this assurance tend to convince you that I am animated by no idle curiosity in enquiring relative to your position in life. I believe you hold a situation in Somerset House?"

Villiers answered in an affirmative.

"And the salary you at present receive is only ninety or a hundred pounds a-year?" continued the Earl. "You see that Thomas Rainford made me acquainted with your circumstances, and that I have not forgotten them. Indeed, he requested me to exert myself in your behalf; and I am anxious to fulfil his desire. I called at your lodgings in Bridge Street, and learnt that you had been very recently married. Now, ninety or a hundred pounds a-year," continued the Earl, with a smile, "are little enough to enable you to support your changed condition in comfort; and the state of political parties forbids me to ask any favours of the men in power. I will make you a proposal, which you may take time to reflect upon. I require a private secretary: and that post I offer to you. The emoluments are four hundred a-year, and a house rent-free. The dwelling is a beautiful cottage belonging to me, and situate at Brompton. Moreover, I will give you three hundred guineas for your outfit and furniture."

Clarence Villiers was astonished—nay, perfectly astounded by the liberality of this offer; and, unable to utter a word, he gazed upon the Earl with eyes expressive of the most sincere gratitude, mingled with admiration at his generous behaviour.

"I know," resumed the Earl, "that a government situation is a certainty, and that you have every chance of rising in your present sphere: think not, therefore, that I now offer you a precarious employment. No—whether I continue in that activity of political existence on which I have just entered—or whether I be compelled by circumstances to renounce it,—you shall be duly cared for."

"My lord, I accept your generous proposal," exclaimed Clarence, at length recovering the power of speech; "and I shall exert myself unweariedly to deserve your lordship's good opinion of me."

"The bargain is therefore concluded," said the nobleman. "I will give you a note to my solicitor, who will immediately put you in possession of the lease of the house at Brompton."

The Earl seated himself at a writing-table, and penned the letter to his professional agent: he also wrote a cheque on his bankers for three hundred guineas; and the two documents he handed to Clarence Villiers, who took his leave of the kind-hearted nobleman, his soul overflowing with emotions of gratitude and admiration.

How joyous—oh! how joyous a thing it is to carry glad tidings to the beloved of one's bosom,—to hasten home to a fond, confiding, adoring wife, and be able to exclaim to her, "The smiles with which thou greetest me, dearest, will not be chased away from thy sweet lips by the news which I have in store for thee! For God is good to us, my angel—and happiness, prosperity, and buoyant hopes are ours! From comparative poverty we are suddenly elevated to the possession of affluence; and we enjoy the protection of one who will never desert us, so long as we pursue the paths of rectitude and honour!"

Oh! to be enabled to say this to a loved and loving creature, is happiness ineffable; and that felicity was now experienced by Clarence Villiers, and shared by his charming wife.

Wealth in the hands of such a man as the Earl of Ellingham was like anodynes in the professional knowledge of the physician who attends the poor gratuitously:—the power to do good is the choicest of the unbought luxuries of life, and far more delicious than all the blandishments that gold can procure.

From the midst of a selfish and bloated aristocracy, how resplendently did the Earl of Ellingham stand forth as a glorious example of generosity, manliness, and moral worth! He was the true type of a sterling English gentleman—an Englishman of education, enlightened soul, and liberal sentiments;—not one of those narrow-minded beings, who believe that birth and wealth are the only aristocracy, and whose ideas are limited as the confines of the land to which they belong. Your prejudiced Englishman is a most contemptible character:—borrowing so much as he does from foreign nations—even to the very fashion of his coat and hat, or his wife's gown—he boasts in his absurd and pompous pride, that England is all and every thing in itself. Britain is indeed a wonderful country; but Britain is not the whole world, after all. In all that is useful as far as the solid comforts of life are concerned, she stands at the head of civilisation; but she cannot compete with France in the refinements and elegancies of existence, nor in the progress of purely democratic principles. If Great Britain be a wonderful country, the French are a wonderful—aye, and a mighty and noble nation, likewise; and in France at least the principles of equality are well understood, and the battering ram of two Revolutions has knocked down hereditary peerage—class distinctions—religious intolerance—and that vile _prestige_ which makes narrow-minded Englishmen quote the "wisdom of their ancestors" as a reason for perpetuating the most monstrous abuses!

But let us return to the Earl of Ellingham, who, having terminated his interview with Clarence Villiers, repaired to the dwelling of Lady Hatfield.

Georgiana was at home, and Arthur was immediately admitted to the drawing-room where she was seated.

He had not now the same feelings of pleasure which had lately animated him, when entering the presence of one whom he had sought to love as a sister: the scene at Carlton House haunted him like an evil dream;—and as he contemplated the calm and tranquil demeanour of Georgiana, he felt grieved at the idea that beneath this composure must necessarily reign the excitement experienced by a woman who had resolved on becoming the King's mistress.

Nevertheless, in pursuance of the resolutions already established in his mind, he conquered—or rather, concealed his sentiments; and, though a bad hand at any thing resembling duplicity of conduct, he managed to greet her without exhibiting any thing peculiar in his manner.

"I have two important communications to make to you, Georgiana," he said, as he seated himself opposite to her. "The first relates to a delicate subject, which we will dispose of as soon as possible. In a word, I have this morning seen Mr. Villiers; and he has given me this paper."

Lady Hatfield eagerly received the document from the hands of the nobleman, and ran her eyes rapidly over it. Her countenance grew deadly pale, and tears trickled down her cheeks, as she murmured in a tone of subdued anguish, "My God! they were in want—they were starving—that woman and my child—and I——"

Then, stopping suddenly short, she threw herself back upon the sofa, covered her face with her hands, and no longer sought to repress the outpourings of her grief.

The Earl interrupted her not: he understood the nature of those emotions which constituted a subject of self-reproach on the part of the unhappy lady, who was so deeply to be commiserated; and he thought within himself, "She possesses a kind—a feeling heart!"

At length Georgiana broke the long silence which prevailed.

"Yes—there can be no doubt?" she exclaimed: "that boy is my child—and he is now with his father! May heaven bless him!"

"Rest assured that he is with one who will treat him kindly, although some weeks must elapse ere _he_ can learn who the boy really is," observed the Earl of Ellingham. "And now for the second communication which I have to make to you, Georgiana," continued the nobleman, desirous to change the topic as speedily as possible. "I have taken your advice—I have followed your counsel——"

"And Esther de Medina is to become the Countess of Ellingham?" said Lady Hatfield, in a low and mournful tone of voice.

"Esther has consented to be mine," added the Earl; "and her father has expressed his joy and delight at the contemplated alliance."

For a few moments Georgiana turned aside her head, and appeared to struggle violently and painfully with the emotions which filled her bosom.

"Arthur," she said at last, evidently scarcely able to stem the flood of her agitated feelings, "I am happy to learn these tidings. You will be blessed in the possession of one who has been represented to me in such an amiable—such an estimable light. I congratulate you—and _her_ likewise. You deserve all the felicity which this world can give; and she who is destined to be—your bride," added Georgiana tremulously, "must feel proud of you. Yes, Arthur—your high character—your talents—your generous disposition—your noble nature——"

She could say no more: in summing up all his good qualities, she seemed to be reminded how much she had lost—and she burst into tears.

Arthur was painfully affected: he had not expected such a scene as this!

Was it possible that a woman who, either yielding to the cravings of a voluptuous disposition or dazzled by an ignoble and false ambition, had consented to become the mistress of a King,—was it possible that such a woman could manifest so much true and profound feeling on learning that he whom she had once loved was about to wed another, she herself having counselled the alliance? Was it possible that he was still so dear to her, and that her own generous nature had suggested that union through a conscientious belief that it would result in his happiness, though she herself sacrificed all her tenderest feelings in urging him to adopt a course which must necessarily interfere even with the friendship which had conventionally succeeded their love? He had indeed, in the first instance, fancied that the advice which Georgiana had given him arose from the best and kindest motives; but the scene at Carlton House had made him mistrustful of her. Now, then, all his good opinion of her revived in its pristine strength;—and yet he was bewildered when he thought that one, who was susceptible of such noble conduct, could have become so suddenly depraved as to consent in a single hour to resign all the purity of her soul in homage to the advances of a royal voluptuary.

But Georgiana understood not what was passing in his mind; and she supposed, by his embarrassed manner and air of profound thought, that he felt only for her in regard to the position in which they had been formerly placed.

"Let no thought for me mar your happiness, Arthur—dear Arthur," she said, in a voice of solemn mournfulness. "Believe me, I have your welfare sincerely—deeply at heart—far more than perhaps you imagine," she added, with strange yet unaccountable emphasis. "At the same time, I am but a poor weak woman, and cannot altogether restrain my feelings. I rejoice that you are about to form an alliance with an amiable and beautiful young lady, who is so well deserving of your love: at the same time, my memory—oh! too faithful memory—carries me back to those days—indeed, to only a few months ago, when _my_ hopes were exalted and _my_ prospects of happiness bright indeed. However," she added hastily, "let me not dwell upon that topic—and pardon my momentary weakness, Arthur. May God bless you!"

With these words, Lady Hatfield hurried from the room; and the Earl of Ellingham took his departure, grieved and bewildered by all that had just occurred.

"If Georgiana be really serious in resigning herself to King George the Fourth," thought Arthur, as he returned in his carriage to Pall Mall, "she sacrifices the purity of the most generous—the tenderest—the noblest heart with which woman ever was endowed,—save and excepting my own well-beloved Esther!"