CHAP. X.
She feels it—'tis her son! with rapture wild,
Bath'd in warm tears, from soft sensations prest.
She clasps him to her cheek, her lip, her breast,
And looks with eye unsated on her child.
He knows her, sure!—Sure, answering rapture his,
Leave her at least the visionary bliss!
Lo! his clear eye to her's responsive speaks,
And lo! his little mouth, that wistful seeks
Warm from her lip to suck the sweet o'erflowing kiss.
She hears the silent call—how quickly hears
A mother's heart.
Sotheby's Oberon.
Arrived at the Castle, Ellen once more began to breathe; her colour and appetite returned, and she speedily recovered her strength, and thought she had never been so happy: her Lord's renewed, and even encreased affection, Lady Juliana's sincere attachment, and the pleasing society of Laura Cecil, who remained her guest (Sir William being in Scotland with Lord and Lady Delamore), left her scarcely any thing to wish.
This little party received a very agreeable addition about a week after, by the arrival of Sir Edward Leicester, whose continued attentions to Miss Cecil seemed not ill received by her.
Soon after their return to Castle St. Aubyn, letters from Mr. Ross and Joanna arrived, filled with thanks and rejoicings for the promotion of Charles. They said not a word, nor seemed to know any thing of the late transactions; and Lord and Lady St. Aubyn were glad he had not revealed them. It appeared, that through St. Aubyn's interest, he had been made Lieutenant, and honoured with the command of a small frigate, and was gone to cruize in the Mediterranean. At this latter circumstance Ellen was not sorry; for she could not wish, after what had passed, to see Charles Ross again at present. Every thing, therefore, seemed now smooth before her; and though sometimes her thoughts would wander to the former mysterious expressions of St. Aubyn, and recollecting that the time he appointed for their elucidation was arrived, yet as she heard no more of it, and he seemed to have lost those fits of gloom, which even from the commencement of their acquaintance had been obvious in him, she hoped all was passed over, and determined by no ill-timed curiosity to revive painful ideas in his mind. But she yet fully knew not St. Aubyn, except when thrown off his guard by any sudden emotion: his command over his spirits and features was wonderful; and no one who saw him composed, cheerful, and even gay, could have suspected what at times passed in his mind, nor to what unpleasant scenes he now looked forward. Not even Lady Juliana knew what reason he had to think of the future with apprehension, though with much of what had formerly befallen him she certainly was acquainted.
The families round the Castle paid every polite attention to Lady St. Aubyn on her return: many, who had been absent when she was there before, now visited her; and though for the present she declined entering into large parties, every one seemed rejoiced to see her once more amongst them. Not the least delighted was Miss Alton, who with unfading charms, and exhaustless professions of regard, came eagerly to greet the charming Countess's return, to rejoice in her perfect recovery, and to assure her how much she had suffered at hearing she was ill in London.
"And oh! my dear Lady St. Aubyn," said she, "think how shocked I was to hear some rude wretch had annoyed you at the theatre, and that your excellent lord had like to have fought a duel about it. Oh! how thankful I am that these frightful scenes did not more materially injure your valuable health, and that you are returned to us, if possible, more beautiful than ever."
"And who, my dear Miss Alton," said Laura, who alone retained composure enough to answer her (for this familiar recurrence to scenes so painful had greatly disturbed Lady St. Aubyn and Lady Juliana), "who told you all this wonderful story?"