Ellen, not altogether satisfied with this explanation, still felt somewhat hurt at St. Aubyn's extraordinary reserve: she asked Mrs. Bayfield several questions; such as whether the late Countess was handsome; who she was before her marriage; how long she had lived after it; where she died—and to all which Mrs. Bayfield answered with some appearance of reserve, and as if she felt impatient to dismiss the subject; that she was very handsome and very young when my Lord married her; that she was a distant relation of his own; and that all the family were anxious for the match; that they were married about three years; had only one child, a son, who had died at a few months old, and that the Lady had died abroad. "And what was the cause of her death, Mrs. Bayfield?" "Indeed, Madam, I do not exactly know," answered Mrs. Bayfield, looking a little confused: "she died, as I have told your Ladyship, abroad, and suddenly."
Ellen said no more, for she was above the meanness of attempting to learn from a servant what her Lord apparently meant to conceal from her knowledge; yet she felt even a painful degree of curiosity to learn some farther particulars of her predecessor, whose early death she thought must have caused that gloom of countenance and manner which sometimes even yet appeared in St. Aubyn.
The boudoir within was fitted up in the same style as the drawing-room, but with rather more simplicity, and contained a light bookcase, with gilded wires, and some elegant stands for flowers, &c. Mrs. Bayfield seemed so anxious for Ellen to hasten from these apartments, that she took only a cursory survey of them, determined to take a more accurate view of the paintings and ornaments some other time, when she should have learned to go about her own house without a guide. The boudoir being the last of the suite of apartments on that floor, they next ascended the noble staircase, and visited the bed-chambers, &c. and a large saloon filled with specimens of the fine arts: capital pictures, busts, models, &c. here met the eye in every direction, and here St. Aubyn joined them, and dismissing Mrs. Bayfield, took Ellen's arm within his own, and pointed out those objects most worthy of her notice. Charmed with all around her, and delighted with his attention and the perspicuity of his explanations, Ellen felt as if she had gained a new sense within the last few hours, so little idea had she before of the wonders of art, selected by the hand of taste. From this room they went to the library, where they had supped the night before, at the other end of which was a green-house, divided from the library by folding doors, filled with the choicest plants and flowering shrubs, and round the walls of which a gilded net-work served as an aviary for some beautiful canary and other birds. This green-house, kept constantly warm by concealed stoves, in the midst of winter gave an enchanting prospect of perpetual spring. Beyond the green-house noble hot-houses and conservatories ensured a constant succession of the finest fruits and more tender flowers.
In the library St. Aubyn and his grateful Ellen sat down together, and there he explained to her his wishes as to their manner of living for the next half year: he told her, that undoubtedly she would, for a time, be somewhat engaged with the few neighbouring families who remained in the country for the winter, and whom he expected, of course, to visit her: "But that once over, my love," said he, "let us propose to ourselves some rational mode of happiness, which shall not be dependent on the whim of others; you are so young, and have powers of mind so extensive, that it will be easy to supply those defects in your education which the retired situation in which you lived rendered unavoidable; and this may be done without any parade or eclat of any kind, as it is by no means unusual for ladies to take lessons by way of finishing, even at a more advanced age than your's; drawing and music-masters shall therefore be engaged to attend you, if you do not object to this disposition of a part of your time. In French, I will myself be your instructor, and we will mutually improve each other, my love, by reading together those authors you have so long desired to be acquainted with. If you wish to take a few lessons in dancing, that may be done in the spring, when we are in London, and they may perhaps be desirable to give you a little more confidence in yourself; for, in my eye, no acquired action, or fashionable attitude whatever, could compensate for the loss of one simple natural grace, already so conspicuous in my sweet Ellen: and as to dancing, I am so strange a being, that I cannot bear the idea of a married woman's ever exhibiting herself in public, and being exposed to the impertinent whispers and hateful familiarity of a set of coxcombs." "I wonder," thought Ellen, "whether the former Lady St. Aubyn was fond of dancing." "In the spring, then," continued St. Aubyn, "we will go to London for a month or two, just to see a few of its gaieties, and if I can prevail on Lady Juliana Mordaunt, a very stiff, haughty old aunt of mine, to forgive the dereliction she fancies I have made from my consequence, by marrying, as she supposes, below me, she will be your best guide and most respectable chaperon." "Ah," sighed Ellen to herself, "what shall I do with these stiff proud people: I wish I had remained what I supposed myself, plain Mrs. Mordaunt."
A slight trace of anxiety passed over her countenance, which St. Aubyn perceiving, for in quickness of apprehension and ready penetration no one ever exceeded him, he said:—
"Fear nothing, my love; I am by far too happy, and too proud of my choice, to pay the least attention to the suggestions of either Lady Juliana or any other person: if they come forward handsomely, and as they ought to do, they shall be indulged in the happiness of visiting you; if not, never will I, or shall you, make the slightest concession to them. I will have you support your dignity, even your pride, if pride be necessary, and look down with contempt on such insignificant beings. There is one family near us, Sir William Cecil's, where I hope we shall be very intimate: he is a widower, and has three daughters: the eldest, Laura, from a disappointment in the early part of her life, has remained single, and is now I suppose nearly thirty: the second, Agatha, is married to Lord Delamore, and is gone to live in Scotland: the youngest, Juliet, is still a child, and has bad health: she is a most amiable creature, and has extraordinary talents, but is so unfortunately delicate that she scarcely passes a day in tolerable health. Laura Cecil devotes herself to her entirely, scarcely ever leaving her: she has superintended the whole of her education, as she did that of Lady Delamore, who is some years younger than herself, and to whom Laura was most tenderly attached. Agatha was eminently beautiful, and Laura is a handsome woman, with a great deal of dignity in her air; yet without hauteur of affectation. I hope you will be on very friendly terms with her." "Indeed, my Lord, from your account of Miss Cecil," replied Ellen, "I most sincerely wish it. Next summer, I hope, we shall go into Wales, and then perhaps you will permit Joanna to return with me." "Of that we will talk hereafter," said St. Aubyn, rising hastily. "Let but the spring pass over and all be well, and my Ellen's wishes shall be my law; but beyond the spring, at present, I dare not look." "And may I not yet inquire——"
"Ask not, inquire not," interrupted St. Aubyn: "let me, if possible, forget the dreadful, the hateful subject.—And lives that being!" he exclaimed, in an agitation which mocked restraint—"lives that being who has the power to shake the soul of St. Aubyn; whose vindictive pursuit may yet deprive me of——"
He stopt: his pale countenance was instantly flushed to scarlet, and he hastily left the room; while Ellen, amazed, confounded, seemed as if every faculty were suspended; yet in ten minutes this mysterious man returned to her, composed, and even cheerful, neither his countenance nor manner bearing any traces of the emotion which had so lately shaken his frame: he solicited Ellen, as if nothing extraordinary had passed, to ring for her hat and pelesse, and to go with him into the pleasure-grounds. She readily complied, and was, if possible, more surprized and delighted by the grandeur and beauty of the shrubberies, gardens, &c. than she had been with the interior of her magnificent abode.