At this moment Ross entered, and seeing this extraordinary scene, gazed with surprize, almost with dismay, upon them. "I was told," said he, gravely advancing, "that Mr. Mordaunt wished to speak to me. What is the matter Ellen? are you ill?" "Forgive my vehemence, dear Ellen," said Mordaunt. "I have startled your tender spirits by my impatience: permit me to conduct you to your friends; or shall Mr. Ross and I retire together?"
The particular tenderness of this address, and this almost open avowal of the interest he took in her, still more and more surprized Ross. Ellen rose, and with difficulty supporting herself, murmured she would go to Mrs. Ross—"Do so," said Ross; "but let me assist you.—Mr. Mordaunt, be seated; I will return to you immediately."—Without speaking more to her, he took her arm in his, and having seated her in the parlour, (where fortunately Joanna was alone), he told her to compose herself, and returned to a visitor whom every hour made him think more perplexing and extraordinary. Mordaunt extended his hand, and grasping Ross's within it, said, with noble frankness, "You have been, my dear Sir,—perhaps still are displeased with me: but the time is come when the mysteries which surround me shall be cleared away. If you will grant me your attention for an hour I will relate to you some circumstances upon which I must at present beg you to be silent; but to the truth of all which I pledge myself by every asseveration which can bind the man of principle and honour."
They were seated, and Mordaunt related to Ross many events, and disclosed many secrets, which we shall for the present take leave to pass over. Having finished the astonishing recital, he said, "And now, my dear Sir, having heard all I know of myself, and all I may hereafter fear, will you candidly tell me whether I may hope not only for your consent, but for your good wishes that I may marry Ellen Powis? May I, do you think, venture to make her mine, when perhaps a few months may involve me in so much vexation if not disgrace? And do you think I may hope such a share of affection from her as will reconcile her to future events, of whatever nature they may be?"—"I see," said Ross, "that my cautious fears for her peace have a little precipitated your measures. It might have been better, perhaps, to let things go on quietly till the return of that young man you have mentioned to me from abroad might have explained his future intentions: perhaps his opinions may have altered during his absence: be that as it may, if you were now to leave Llanwyllan without coming to a farther explanation with Ellen, I fear her peace would be too deeply endangered; for though I would scrupulously guard her delicacy, and leave the declaration of her sentiments to her own lips, yet it would be idle to deny my conviction that she has seen her friend Mordaunt with what I believe I must call preference. Is not that the proper word, think you, Sir?" He smiled, and added such kind professions of regard for Mordaunt, and expressed so much delight at his truly disinterested love for Ellen, as left our traveller nothing to wish from him.
It was determined that not even Ellen should know at present the circumstances Mordaunt had revealed to Ross. "If she knows them," said Mordaunt, "she will think duty calls upon her to impart at least some of them to her father, and we are sure our worthy friend Powis will make no secret of them; you cannot doubt, Mr. Ross, how greatly it would annoy me to have them known while we remain at Llanwyllan; when we are gone, the leading circumstances will not remain a secret long, for I hope for your kind interest with Ellen and her father, that I may take her with me ere long, before winter has rendered travelling over your 'staircase roads,' as some one expresses it, unpleasant, if not unsafe. I am perhaps presuming too far, but I think, I hope, from Ellen's gentle tremor and not repugnant looks, when just now I was hurried into something very like a declaration of my love, though I came purposely to consult you before I made it, that she will not be inexorable." "I think," replied Ross, "I may venture to assure you she will not even affect a hesitation which her heart disclaims. Ellen has been brought up in the most perfect modesty, but at the same time in the most perfect sincerity, and it is really out of her power to conceal her sentiments; and to me, who have known her from her infancy, they are as obvious as if her heart was open to my view; but I will not say more," said he, with a benevolent smile.—"I ought not to betray my darling little pupil: by the bye," added he, turning to the books, &c. "my office of schoolmaster will, I suppose, soon be taken from me; I might as well not have attempted to take it out of your hands." Mordaunt laughed, and asked Ross if he might not request to see Ellen then. "You may easily imagine my anxiety," added he. "Why," said Ross, "there is something so formidable in sending for the poor little girl, and seating her formally to hear what you undoubtedly are impatient to say, that if you can allow her a little time to compose herself, after the flurry she has had this morning already, I really think it will be better. Will you partake of our humble dinner to-day—can you eat at our unfashionable early hour? for the good people here, amongst other things, are amazed at your usual hours; if you can, pray favour me; and after dinner I will so far relax my late vigilance, as to permit you to speak to Ellen apart for ten minutes: will that be long enough?" "Not quite," said Mordaunt, half laughing; "but how shall we manage with Mrs. Ross, who, I believe, holds me in very serious aversion, and with Joanna, who will, I know, have her mother's commands not to stir from Ellen?" "How well you have read us all," said Ross, laughing in his turn: "but trust to me: I will remove all these formidable obstacles—yet do not fancy my good woman has any dislike to you; whatever displeasure she has shewn originated in her vexation at seeing your influence had deranged the plans she thought best for Ellen to pursue, and endangered, as we feared, her happiness; for though she may not shew it exactly according to the manner a more enlightened mind might chuse, assure yourself Mrs. Ross loves Ellen with the affection of a mother." "I doubt it not," replied Mordaunt with vivacity: "who can see and not love that exquisite creature?—what a person—what a mind she has! You may believe, after all I have told you, that 'for several virtues have I liked several women.' I may go on and add, that 'she, so perfectly and so peerless, was created of every creature's best.'"
"Indeed," said Ross, "I have ever highly appreciated Ellen, but I believe not highly enough, for I never thought of her making a conquest so important: the little gipsy is not aware of the power of her charms." "Ah," said Mordaunt, shrinking, "do not lead my thoughts that way, do not let me suppose, if she knew them better, my success with her might be less to be hoped; that when the world shall have taught her to estimate them more highly—" "Ah, beware of jealousy," said Ross. "Name not the horrid word," cried Mordaunt, with some emotion; "too much reason have I to know its misery; but with your virtuous, with your pious Ellen, I shall surely be secure." "Doubt it not," replied Ross, gravely; "if ever human being might be relied on for truth, for sincerity, for singleness of heart, that being is Ellen Powis; yet the world is a dangerous school, and you, I hope, will watch with unceasing care over your inexperienced pupil, whose very virtues may betray her, if not into error, into the appearance of it."
A few more words passed between them, and then Mordaunt retired to dress for dinner, a custom from which he never departed even in this retired spot.
During this long conference, poor Mrs. Ross had been in a complete fidget (to use her own word) to know its subject: her curiosity had long since reached its highest point, and she repeated almost incessantly to Ellen and Joanna, who sat at work beside her,—"Well, what in the whole world can Mr. Mordaunt have to say to Mr. Ross—well, what can they be talking of all this time? Dear, I hope they won't quarrel." "Quarrel!" repeated Joanna, while Ellen's work dropt from her fingers, and she looked amazed and terrified: "quarrel! my dear mother, what should they quarrel about? Besides, did you ever know my father quarrel with anybody?" "No: true enough, he has a very fine temper; but then, that Mr. Mordaunt seems so hasty, and sometimes looks so strangely, that—besides, I thought he seemed quite angry when we went away last night." She then opened the parlour door, which was exactly opposite to that of the study, and stood a minute as if to catch the sound of their voices.
"Well, I declare they are talking still, but not loud: bless me! I actually heard one of them laugh." "So much the better, mamma," said Joanna; "I always like to hear people laugh; it shews there is no mischief going on." "Not at all, not at all, Joanna," said Mrs. Ross, whose irritated curiosity disposed her to contradiction. "I am sure I have often thought, when I have heard you two girls chattering and laughing, that you were planning some mischief." "Well, mamma, I am sure we never executed it, for you know we were always the best girls in the world." "Pretty well, pretty well sometimes," replied Mrs. Ross, half smiling in the midst of her bustle.
At length the study door opened, and Mordaunt was seen to pass through the little garden before the house, to which Ross attended him: they shook hands at parting. "You see, mamma, they have not quarrelled," said Joanna; "so far from it, I have a great notion they are better pleased with each other than they have been lately;" and she glanced slily at Ellen, for Joanna had little doubt what subject had employed, at least, part of the time they had been together.
As soon as Mordaunt was gone, Ross came into the parlour, and said,—"What have we for dinner to-day, my dear?" "Well, Mr. Ross, I don't think I ever heard you ask before in all my life." "Possibly not, my dear; but I wish to know, because Mr. Mordaunt dines with us." "Mr. Mordaunt!" repeated Mrs. Ross: "well, of all things, that is the last I should have expected. Why, now I am surprized indeed:—then we have such an odd dinner to-day;—nothing but——" "Never mind, my dear, never mind, you can easily make a little alteration: come with me, and I will tell you more; in the meantime, girls, go and make yourselves very smart. Mr. Mordaunt is only gone home to dress, and will be here again soon; of course, as he is so nice in his own appearance, he will expect to find you lasses dressed to receive him." "Dear Mr. Ross," said the good woman, staring at him, "I do not know you to-day! What in the world is come to you? First you inquire about dinner, and then you tell the girls to go and dress themselves; two things which I never knew you take the slightest concern in before."