"Come, don't hurry her spirits with your raptures," said Lady Juliana. "She is a good girl, and we shall be very happy together, I dare say. But I find, Sir, you have been waiting for me, of all people, to chaperon your Lady about to all the fine places: I have had enough of them, and at my time of life I do not know any business I have at operas, balls, and plays: however, to oblige you and my niece, I will go wherever you wish me. I do not think she is one who will tire me to death: I shall dine with you to-day, and if you choose to let one of your people go to Drury-lane, and inquire if there are places, we may hear the oratorio to-night."
Charmed with this speech, for St. Aubyn knew his aunt well enough to be sure if she had not been thoroughly pleased with Ellen, she would neither have called her niece, nor have staid to dine with them, he most readily accepted the kind offer.
They dined rather earlier than usual, that they might be in time for the opening of the oratorio, which Ellen was anxious to hear. Laura Cecil, in compliment to Lady Juliana, dined with them, and was quite delighted to see the affection, and even respect, with which she treated Lady St. Aubyn: for Lady Juliana was not a person to do things by halves; and having once conquered her own prejudices, was determined to give her niece all the consequence in her power with every other person, and would have been extremely angry with any one, who had dared to treat her with half the contempt she herself had done the day before. Once a friend, she was a friend for life, unless the object of her affections proved really undeserving, and then she hated with as much warmth as she had loved.
Miss Cecil could not be persuaded to go with them to the theatre; and indeed Ellen was afterwards glad of it, for many of the songs were those which the sainted Juliet used to sing with so much sweetness and expression: and exquisitely as they were now performed, yet Ellen still felt something wanting. The soul that used to animate the eyes of Juliet, while she sung, was not there. The lips that had breathed those sacred strains, were so pure, so hallowed, that all the wonders of voice and science, now lavished for her entertainment, could not compensate to Ellen's mind for the pang she felt in recollecting that those eyes, those lips, were closed for ever.
"Mute was the music of her tuneful breath,
And quenched the radiance of her sparkling eyes."
After this evening, Ellen's engagements became more frequent; but she was never seen in public, except with Lady Juliana, and seldom without her Lord. In vain did fashion dictate, or ridicule assail: the sly glance, the pointed sarcasm, alike were vain: she knew herself safe, her reputation secure, with protectors so respectable; yet there was nothing obtrusive or formal in St. Aubyn's attention to his lovely wife: he was neither inseparable from her side, or incapable of attention to any other lady, or expecting Ellen never to speak to any other gentleman. But it was obvious, without being intrusive, that each was the first object of the other, and that their mutual honour and happiness were the most interesting care of both.
Hence no bold and disgusting flattery assailed the ears of Ellen; no forward flirting woman dared dispute with her the heart of St. Aubyn; so pure, so spotless was her character, that, raised as she had suddenly been to a rank which might easily excite the envy of those who thought they had a better claim to it, not even the bold license of the age we live in had dared to breathe one syllable against her.
Thus passed the time till the latter end of April, which was the period fixed for Lady Meredith's famous fête, about which all the great world was going mad. The persons who were invited were expected to wear masquerade dresses, and the house appeared in masquerade, as well as the company. The whole had been new furnished in a fanciful style, and at an enormous expence, for this one evening; and her Ladyship's own dress was literally covered with jewels: she wore the habits and ornaments of an eastern beauty, and her attire was exactly copied from that Lady M. W. Montague describes for the fair Fatima, only, if possible, still more rich and splendid; and, if possible, still more calculated to display as well as to adorn the figure. No words can do justice to the magnificence and splendour of the whole entertainment: the Bow-street officers at the door, and Mr. G—— and his men serving ices and other refreshments in a room fitted up to represent a casino at Naples, with a panorama view of its beautiful bay, &c. gave it all the characteristics of a modern fête; and the number of gay dresses, shining decorations, lights, and music, made the whole appear to Ellen more like a palace in a fairy tale than any thing "which the earth owns." She wore a black domino, but with a very fine set of diamonds, which Lady Juliana had given her the night before: amongst them was a sort of coronet, or chaplet, set to represent sprigs of jessamine and small vine leaves, in commemoration of that which St. Aubyn had woven of those simple materials the day he discovered to her his real rank; for Lady Juliana had heard the whole story, and was much pleased with that little incident.
Their party consisted of Lord and Lady St. Aubyn, Lady Juliana, and Sir Edward Leicester, a particular friend of St. Aubyn's, a very amiable young man, who appeared much charmed with Laura Cecil, and paid her great attention, whenever he had an opportunity of being with her. They spent a very agreeable evening: it concluded with a splendid supper, at which all the company appeared unmasked, and the super-eminence of Lady St. Aubyn's beauty was allowed by all.
A few nights after this, Lord and Lady St. Aubyn, Lady Juliana, Lady Meredith, and her favourite beau, Colonel Lenox, went to the Opera: the entertainment for the evening happened to be the beautiful opera of Artaserse. Ellen, lost in delight at the superb stage decorations, the exquisite beauty of the music, and the interest of the story, which, by the help of the action, and having read it in English, she understood very well, was scarcely sensible of any thing around her, till the scene in which Arbace is accused of the murder of the king. Turning then to speak to St. Aubyn, who sat behind her, she saw him pale, agitated, and trembling: "What is the matter?" asked she, in a voice of alarm; but pressing his hand on her arm, he said, in a low voice, "Be silent—do not notice me."