He left Jane with her lady, not wishing to be present at the explanation. Ellen explained to the astonished girl, that she had, for particular reasons, concealed her title while in London, and did not wish her to say to the other servants that she had ever known her under any other name. Jane very willingly promised obedience, and was not a little elated to find herself own woman to Lady St. Aubyn, instead of waiting-maid to plain Mrs. Mordaunt. Indeed, Mrs. Birtley had had some scruples about suffering her to follow the mysterious couple at all, and charged her, if she did not find all right, to leave her place, and return to London immediately, all which her unguarded hints betrayed to Ellen, who felt a little confused at hearing her situation had been so misconstrued. "And there, Ma'am—beg pardon—my lady—there your Ladyship;" (for Jane was willing to make amends for her former ignorance, by using Ellen's title as often as possible)—"there your Ladyship left a book at Mrs. Birtley's—I forget the name of it; some poetry book it was, and in it was written, in one place, 'C. F. M. to Ellen P.' and I was to have brought it with me, but Mrs. Birtley was not at home when I came away, so I could not have it, and it was a great pity, for it is very handsome, in a fine binding, and with beautiful pictures: one of them was a man jumping off a rock, like into the sea, and with a sort of a clergyman's gown on, and with a musical instrument in his hand, something like a guitar, but not quite." "I know the book you mean," said Ellen; "it was Gray's Poems. I am sorry I left it behind." "Yes, Ma'am—my lady I mean, that was the very book; but I dare say your Ladyship can have it by sending to Mrs. Birtley; and in one part, my lady, there was a print of a church-yard, and over the print was put, 'Dear Landwilliam,' or some such name." "Yes, Jane, yes; that's the book—that will do: now give me my hat, and step down and inquire if Lord St. Aubyn is waiting for me."
It was the first time Ellen had framed her lips to say Lord St. Aubyn, and she wondered whether she should ever become accustomed to the sound. Jane was met at the door by one of the men servants, who came to know if her lady was ready, as his lord bade him say the carriage was come round. Jane, astonished at her own greatness, in being called Ma'am, and so respectfully addressed by such a fine gentleman, returned to Ellen with redoubled respect, and a new reinforcement of "my ladies." Ellen said she was ready, and ran down. "Come, my love," said St. Aubyn, "we shall be late at home."
Ellen's heart throbbed, as she thought of a home so far above her utmost ideas of splendour, and of being called to a situation to which she feared herself unequal; yet she composed her spirits as well as she could; for she saw, that to please her lord she must assert herself, and behave with a degree of dignity and self possession: she gave him her hand, therefore, with tenderness, but with a certain air of calmness, as if not too much elated with her new honours, or childishly delighted with her new carriage: he saw, and was charmed with her just discrimination, and encouraged her by saying, "Ever, my Ellen, all I wish." He then placed her in the carriage, and leaving Jane to follow with the luggage in a hack chaise, they were speedily on the road to Castle St. Aubyn. As they drew near it, they passed a neat little mansion, standing on a small lawn, surrounded by flowering shrubs, which St. Aubyn told Ellen was the house of the real Mr. Mordaunt. "Exactly such a place," said she, "had I figured to myself as your habitation, not indeed in Wales, for there my imagination did not soar to a pitch so high; but since we have been in England, and I saw what the smaller houses of genteel people were, such I fancied your's." "In a few minutes, my love," he replied, "we shall approach my real home, and most happy am I to say, my Ellen's home also; though in a different style, it will, I hope, be as much to your taste as this pretty place appears to be."
As he spoke, one of the out-riders passed the carriage, and ringing at a porter's lodge, the large and elegant iron gates were thrown open, and they turned into a noble park of no common dimensions. Here the hand of art had followed, not impeded that of nature: large trees, disposed in clumps, or singly, as the purest taste directed, shaded and ornamented the verdant lawn. A fine piece of water, almost bearing the aspect of a fine lake, with an elegant pleasure barge at anchor on its bank, skirted one side of the road which led to the house. Its pure waters were enlivened by various aquatic fowls, and on the shelving edges were light and tasteful cages for gold and silver pheasants and other foreign birds; while in picturesque groups under the trees, or bounding away at the approach of the carriage, herds of the finest deer gave new animation to the scene.
Ellen, enchanted, enraptured, though the closing twilight hardly afforded her light sufficient to see half the beauties round her, was every moment uttering exclamations of delight, with which St. Aubyn was highly gratified: but as they approached the immense pile of building which he told her was the house, she gradually assumed a more composed demeanor, determined not to betray to the servants that such things were totally new to her.
CHAP. XII.
A happy rural seat of various view,
Groves whose rich trees wept od'rous gums and balm.—
——Betwixt them lawns, or level downs and flocks
Grazing the tender herb, were interspersed;
Or palmy hillock, or the flow'ry lap,
Of some irriguous valley spread her store,
Flow'rs of all hue.——
Meanwhile murmuring waters fall
Down the slope hills, dispersed; or in a lake
——Unite their streams—
The birds their choirs apply, airs, vernal airs,
Breathing the smell of field and grove attune,
The trembling leaves——
Paradise Lost.