CHAPTER LXXIX.

THE EARL OF ELLINGHAM AND LADY HATFIELD AGAIN.

It was about two o'clock, on the day following the incidents just related, that we shall find the Earl of Ellingham seated with Lady Georgiana Hatfield, in the drawing-room at the residence of the latter.

Arthur had returned on the preceding evening from France, accompanied by Mr. de Medina and Esther, after having seen Tom Rain, Tamar, and Jacob Smith embark at Havre-de-Grace for the United States.

Rainford and Tamar were united in the bonds of matrimony in Paris; and Mr. de Medina had insisted upon placing in the hands of his son-in-law a sum of ten thousand pounds, as a proof of his perfectly cordial feeling towards him, and of his determination, also, fully to recognise Tamar as his daughter again.

The Earl communicated all these incidents to Lady Hatfield, who listened to them with the greatest interest.

"I propose to introduce the Medinas to you shortly, Georgiana," said the young nobleman. "You will find the father a person of very gentlemanly manners, well read, and particularly agreeable in conversation; while his daughter, Miss Esther, is as amiable and accomplished as the child of such a man should be."

"Arthur," replied Lady Hatfield—for they now addressed each other in the same friendly, or rather familiar manner, when alone together, as if they were brother and sister—"I would rather not form the acquaintance of your friends for the present."

The Earl appeared surprised and vexed.

"Georgiana," he exclaimed, in a tone of gentle remonstrance, "is it possible that you entertain any of those ridiculous prejudices[36] which only very ignorant or very narrow-minded persons can possibly entertain towards a most estimable race?"

"Oh! no—no," cried Lady Hatfield emphatically. "I have read much concerning the Jews, and I feel convinced that they are most unjustly treated by Christians. Heaven knows, Arthur, that I have no bad prejudices of that nature; and were I imbued with them, I would never rest till I had stifled such evidences of an illiberal and narrowed mind."

"I am delighted to hear you thus express yourself," said the Earl. "During my sojourn in France with the Medina family, I have obtained a great insight into the Jewish character; and I am convinced that it is fully as benevolent, as generous, and as liberal as that of the Christian. But we were speaking of my proposed presentation of Mr. de Medina and his daughter Esther to you. From all that I have said to them concerning you, they are most anxious to form your acquaintance; and you have yet to explain to me the meaning of your observation that you would rather postpone the introduction."

"To justify myself," returned Georgiana, blushing, "against your suspicion that I entertain illiberal prejudices, Arthur, I will frankly state my motives for expressing that wish. Indeed, I know not why any consideration should induce me to retain those motives a secret—especially as the explanation of them will afford me an opportunity to give you my advice. For have we not agreed to be unto each other as brother and sister?—and in what can a sister more conscientiously advise her brother than in matters regarding his happiness?"

"My happiness!" exclaimed the Earl, starting slightly, and evincing some degree of astonishment at Lady Hatfield's remark.

"Yes, Arthur—your happiness!" repeated Georgiana, with difficulty suppressing a sigh. "Now, listen to me attentively. I have heard that Miss Esther de Medina is eminently beautiful—excessively accomplished—very amiable—and endowed with every qualification to render her worthy of becoming even a monarch's bride."

"Georgiana!" cried the Earl of Ellingham, his heart fluttering with mingled suspense, surprise, and joy.

"Yes," observed Lady Hatfield; "and since you have learnt," she added more slowly, and in a softly plaintive tone—though she endeavoured to subdue the emotion which so modulated her voice,—"since you have learnt that _our_ union is impossible, Arthur,—since you have ceased to look upon me otherwise than as a sister,—it is probable—nay, it is both natural and certain that you cannot have beheld Esther de Medina with indifference."

"Georgiana," exclaimed Arthur, in a solemn tone, "I never can forget that my first love was devoted to you; and—although circumstances have, alas! prevented our union—yet I should be unwilling to promise to another that heart which I so freely—so gladly gave to you!"

"It is alike unjust and ridiculous for me to suppose that, as I cannot become your wife, Arthur, you may never marry. No," continued Lady Hatfield; "I should despise myself, were I to entertain such abhorrent selfishness. My ardent desire is to know that you are happy; and Esther de Medina is well qualified to ensure your felicity. Nay—interrupt me not: remember, it is now a sister who counsels a brother! Granting even that you could never love another as you have loved me—and this is a supposition which I have not vanity enough to entertain for a moment—but, even granting it, for argument's sake, you may yet treat a beautiful and affectionate wife with that tenderness—those delicate attentions—and that cherishing kindness which will make _her_ happy. Oh! believe me, such a state of bliss would soon beget love in your heart,—a love for Esther as ardent and sincere as that with which you honoured me; for it is the mere idle theory of romance-writers, that the same heart cannot love twice. Nature herself proclaims the falsehood of the doctrine; and the experience of all wise legislators, whether secular or ecclesiastic, declares the same, by the mere fact of allowing second marriages. Believe me, Arthur, I am speaking solely in regard to your happiness; and the day shall come when your lips breathe the words, '_Georgiana, I thank thee for the counsel thou gavest me_.'"

The Earl surveyed with respectful admiration that noble-hearted woman who thus stifled her own feelings through generous solicitude for his felicity.

"And now," she resumed, after a moment's pause, "you can divine the reasons which induced me to express a wish that my introduction to the Medinas should be postponed for the present. I am but a weak woman;—and though I can proudly say that no petty feeling of jealousy would ever enter my heart—yet I would rather not awaken in my mind painful recollections of _what might have been_, by beholding you in the society of one to whom you would be engaged. Moreover, as Miss de Medina has doubtless heard that _our_ union was once resolved upon," added Lady Hatfield, now unable to suppress a profound sigh, "it would not be agreeable for her to visit me, if she accept you as her husband, until after your marriage. Those are my motives, Arthur: and now you will admit that, so far from entertaining any illiberal prejudices against the Jews, I have proved the very contrary, by earnestly recommending you to espouse an amiable and beautiful lady belonging to that nation."

"Dearest sister—for such indeed you are to me," said the Earl of Ellingham, "I appreciate all the excellence of your intentions in thus advising me; and I will frankly admit to you, that did I now think of uniting my fate with any woman, Esther de Medina would be the object of my choice, since my alliance with yourself has been rendered impossible. But I am not quite prepared to take that step—nor do I even know whether Miss de Medina would accept my suit, were I to proffer it."

"If her affections were not engaged before she saw you—before she knew so much of you," exclaimed Georgiana, "she loves you now. Oh! of this I am convinced," she continued enthusiastically. "Consider how much you have done to render her grateful to you; and gratitude in woman is the parent of affection! You have saved her beloved sister Tamar from the depths of despair by adopting those wondrous schemes, by which he who is now her husband, was snatched from the jaws of death;—you reconciled a father to a long discarded daughter;—and you have at length seen that daughter made a wife—the wife of the man she adores! Oh! Arthur, think you not that Esther ponders on all this? Yes—and, in the gratitude of her generous soul, she already sees a god-like being in the Earl of Ellingham."

"You will render me quite vain, Georgiana," said the young nobleman; "for you are magnifying into glorious achievements a few very common-place acts on my part."

"I am giving you your due for all that is great and noble in your disposition—all that is excellent and estimable in your character," replied Lady Hatfield, in a tone of fervent sincerity. "And that you are every thing I describe is so much the more to your credit, inasmuch as you belong to a class not famous for good qualities. The aristocratic sphere is characterised by intense selfishness—by a love of illegitimate power—by an abhorrence of the inferior grades,—and by a hollowness of heart which brings shame and reproach upon their hierarchy. When, then, we find this corrupted and vicious sphere possessing a glorious exception such as yourself, the world should be the more ready to recognise your merits. But I will say no more on this head, my dear Arthur," added Georgiana, with a smile, "for fear that you should think I wish to coax you into following that counsel which I, ere now, so seriously and so conscientiously gave you."

"And on that advice will I reflect deliberately," replied the Earl, who could not conceal from himself that he was rejoiced it had been given. "And now, Georgiana, I must take my leave of you for the present," he added, rising from his seat: "for I have a commission of a somewhat important nature to execute for my half-brother. Indeed, the mention thereof reminds me that I have never made you acquainted with one of the best traits in his character. But does it annoy you,—does it vex you to hear me speak of him?"

"No—no," answered Georgiana, somewhat hurriedly. "Since I have known that he is your brother, I have been pleased to hear you say as much good of him as possible."

"And this incident to which I allude," continued the Earl, "is not the least praiseworthy of the many fine deeds which must be placed to his account on the bright side. It appears that about three months ago he adopted a little boy under very peculiar circumstances. A poor woman died suddenly, through want and exposure to the inclemency of the weather, at an obscure house in Seven Dials. Rainford happened to be there at the time, and he took compassion on the little boy whom this poor woman had in charge. The boy was not the woman's child—as a certain letter found upon the person of the female proved. This letter was at first detained by those miserable wretches who so persecuted my poor brother: but it subsequently fell into his hands; and he entrusted it to a Mr. Clarence Villiers, in order that this gentleman might institute inquiries relative to its contents. I am now about to seek Mr. Villiers, and obtain the letter from him; because, it appears from all I have heard, that it is indubitably addressed to some lady of title, although no name be mentioned in it. In fact, the poor woman—whose name was Sarah Watts——"

"Sarah Watts!" repeated Lady Hatfield, with an hysterical scream, a deadly pallor overspreading her beautiful countenance.

"That is the name——But, my God! you are ill!"—and the Earl rushed forward to catch Georgiana in his arms, as she was falling from her chair.

He conveyed her to the sofa; but for some moments she seemed insensible. He was about to summon her female attendants, when she opened her eyes, glanced wildly around her, and then said in an excited tone, "Do not ring for any one,—I shall be better in a minute—remain with me, Arthur,—I have now much to tell you!"

Surprised and grieved at the effect which his words had produced on Lady Hatfield—yet unable to comprehend wherefore the mere mention of a name should have so seriously touched her feelings,—the Earl gazed upon her with interest and curiosity.

At length a faint tinge of red appeared upon her cheeks; and, with reviving strength, she sate up on the sofa, motioning the young nobleman to take a chair near her.

"Arthur," she said, "I ought not to have kept that _one_ secret from you—for are we not now brother and sister? But, alas! you—with your generous heart and fine feelings—can well understand how painful it is for me to speak of my own dishonour,—and the more so, since that degradation—that deep disgrace was caused by _him_ who is nearly allied to you."

"What! can it be possible?" exclaimed the Earl, a sudden light breaking in upon him: "that child—that boy, whom Rainford has adopted as his own——"

"Is mine!" said Georgiana, in a voice of despair;—and, covering her face with her hands, she burst into an agony of tears.

The Earl of Ellingham started from his seat, and began to pace the room in a manner denoting the most painful excitement.

He was, indeed, deeply afflicted.

How wronged—how profoundly wronged had Georgiana been!—and by _him_ who, as she herself had said, was so nearly allied to him!

Oh! Tom Rain—Tom Rain! that was the darkest episode in thy life!

Thus thought the Earl likewise;—and bitter was his sorrow at the revival of such appalling reminiscences as those which now rent Lady Hatfield's heart with anguish, and called forth the floods of grief from her eyes.

"Arthur," at length she said, exercising a violent effort to subdue her sorrow, "give not way to bitter reflection on my account. For _your_ sake, all has been forgiven—though it may never be forgotten; for memory is immortal! But that child—that boy of whom you speak—he is indeed with his own father; and Providence doubtless willed that it should be so!"

She paused, and stifled the sobs which rent her bosom.

"You may think me a cruel and heartless mother, Arthur," she resumed at length, now speaking in a mournful, plaintive tone, "thus to have abandoned my offspring: but reflect ere you blame me! I was as it were alone in a house situated in a retired part of the country—a man entered at night—he found his way to my chamber—he took advantage of my loneliness——O God! how have I survived that disgrace—that infamy? Desperate was my resistance—but vain: and the ravisher, as you already know, was Rainford! Alas! pardon me if I then mentioned his name with bitterness; but human patience could not speak it calmly when such a cloud of crushing reminiscences come back to the soul."

Again she paused: the Earl remained silent. What could he say? He loathed—he abhorred the conduct of his half-brother, whom he would not attempt to justify;—and his good sense told him that it were worse than mockery to aim at consoling the victim of that foul night of maddened lust and atrocious rape.

"Some weeks afterwards," continued Lady Hatfield, in a voice scarcely audible and deeply plaintive, "I found that I was in a way to become a mother. You may conceive——But no: it is impossible to imagine the state of mind into which this appalling conviction threw me. And yet I was compelled to veil my grief as much as possible;—for at that time a suspicion of my condition on the part of the world, would have driven me to suicide. I need not—I could not enter into the details of the plan which I had adopted to conceal my dishonour. Suffice it to say, that I succeeded in so doing—and, in a small retired village, and under a feigned name, did I give birth to a son. To Sarah Watts was the babe confided;—and, for a sum of money paid down at once, she agreed to adopt it as her own. By an accident she discovered who I was—my name was on an article of jewellery which I had with me. But she promised the strictest secrecy, and I put faith in her words. Oh! do not blame me, if I acted as I have now described—if I abandoned that child whose presence near me would only have been a proof of my dishonour, and a constant memorial of the dread outrage which no levity—no encouragement—no fault on my part had provoked!"

"Blame you, Georgiana!" exclaimed the Earl, approaching and taking her hand kindly;—"how could I blame you? You acted as prudence dictated—and, indeed, as circumstances inevitably compelled you. But—now that the parentage of this child is at length discovered—how do you wish me to act? Remember, Georgiana, every thing in this respect shall be managed solely with regard to your wishes—solely according to your directions. Shall I communicate in a letter to my half-brother the secret which has thus strangely transpired this day?—or shall I leave him in ignorance of the fact that he has adopted his own son?"

"He knew not that the outrage he perpetrated led to that consequence," said Lady Hatfield, now cruelly bewildered and uncertain how to decide. "No—he could not even suspect it—for I never met him again until that night on the Hounslow road—and even then I recognised him not—and it was only at the police-office in Bow Street that I again beheld him who had been my ruin!"

"I am convinced," observed the Earl, "that Rainford has not the least suspicion that you indeed became a mother. And, oh! when I touched upon the subject of his atrocious behaviour towards you—while we were in Paris—had you seen the tears of contrition—heart-felt contrition which he shed——But, no," added the Earl, suddenly interrupting himself,—"it were impossible that you could forgive him!"

"I forgive him for _your_ sake, Arthur," said Georgiana, in a mild but firm tone. "And now, relative to that child—yes—he shall know that he is with his father; and your brother must be informed that he has adopted his own son! Providence indeed seems to have so willed it; for we cannot believe that accident alone threw the child thus wondrously into the way of the author of its being. Arthur," she added, taking the young nobleman's hand,—"you will write to Rainford—and you will tell him all. It is not necessary to enjoin him to treat the child with kindness—for you say that his disposition is naturally generous. Nevertheless—I should wish," continued the lady, looking down as she uttered these words, and sinking her voice almost to a whisper—for _maternal feelings_ were stirring within her bosom,—"nevertheless, I should wish that you impress upon the mind of your half-brother the necessity of bringing that child up in the paths of virtue and honour."

"Your wishes shall be complied with," answered the Earl. "But fear not that Rainford would inculcate evil principles into the mind of his son. No—he is thoroughly changed, and will become a good, and, I hope, a happy and prosperous man."

The young nobleman then took leave of Lady Hatfield, whom he left a prey to emotions of a very painful nature.

For deeply and tenderly did she love Arthur; and great violence did she to her feelings when she so generously and conscientiously counselled him to take the beautiful Jewess as his wife!

And as the Earl returned home to his mansion in Pall Mall, to pen a letter to Rainford, who was then on his voyage, under an assumed name, and accompanied by Tamar, Jacob Smith, and little Charley, to the United States,—he reviewed all the details of that long and interesting conversation which had that afternoon passed between Lady Hatfield and himself;—and he found that the tendency thereof was to make him ponder more seriously and more intently upon the image of the charming Esther than he ever yet had done.

Footnote 36:

We have been much gratified by observing that our attempt to vindicate the Jews against most of the unjust charges which it seems to be a traditionary fashion to level against them, has not passed unnoticed. All the Jewish papers have quoted the exculpatory passage at page 172 of this Series of "THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON:" many provincial journals have also transferred it to their columns; and in No. 173 of _Chambers's Edinburgh Journal_ (New Series) it was printed, with the following record of approval on the part of the Editors of that well-conducted periodical:—"_We cordially agree in this manly defence of a cruelly misrepresented people_."

In this enlightened age it is really horrible to think that the most abominable prejudices should prevail amongst Christians against the Jews. England boasts her high state of civilisation; and yet the Jews labour under innumerable disabilities, which have been abolished in France. After all, the French understand what civilisation really is much better than the English. The idea of a Jew sitting in the House of Commons would send all the Church party raving mad: but in France there are many Jews in the Chamber of Deputies. The learned Selden said very justly, "Talk what you will of the Jews, that they are cursed, they thrive where'er they come; they are able to oblige the prince of their country (and others too) by lending him money; none of them beg: they keep together; and for their being hated, my life for your's, Christians hate one another as much."

The worst feature in the malignant persecution and misrepresentation of the Jews, is that the evil prejudice against them has been, and still is, fostered by Christian Divines and Theological writers. A Spanish theologian has placed on record the following infamous specimen of malignity:—

"The tribe of Judah treacherously delivered up our Lord, and thirty of them die by treason every year.

"The tribe of Reuben seized our Lord in the garden, and therefore the curse of barrenness is on all they sow or plant, and no green thing can flourish over their graves.

"The tribe of Gad put on the crown of thorns, and on every 25th of March their bodies are covered with blood from deep and painful wounds.

"Those of Asher buffeted Jesus, and their right hand is always nearly a palm shorter than the left.

"Those of Napthali jested with Christ about a herd of swine, since when they are all born with tusks like wild boars.

"The tribe of Manasseh cried out, 'His blood be on us and on our children,' and at every new moon they are tormented by bloody sores.

"The tribe of Simeon nailed our Lord to the cross, and on the 25th of March, four deep and dreadful wounds are inflicted on their hands and feet.

"Those of Levi spat on the Saviour, and the wind always blows back their saliva in their faces, so that they are habitually covered with filth.

"The tribe of Issachar scourged Christ, and on the 25th of March blood streams forth from their shoulders.

"The tribe of Zebulon cast lots for the garments, and on the same day the roof of their mouth is tortured by deep wounds.

"The tribe of Joseph made the nails for crucifying Jesus, and blunted them to increase his sufferings; and therefore their hands and feet are covered with gashes and blood.

"Those of Benjamin gave vinegar to Jesus; they all squint and are palsied, and have their mouths filled with little nauseous worms, which, in truth (adds our author), is the case with all Jewish women after the age of 25, because it was a woman who entreated the tribe of Joseph not to sharpen the nails used for the crucifixion of our Lord."

* * * * *

That wretchedly prejudiced and unprincipled writer, Justin Martyr, wrote as follows, while apostrophising the Jews:—

"God promised that you should be _as the sand on the sea shore_; and so you are indeed, in more senses than one. You are as numerous, and you are as barren, and incapable of producing any thing good."