Ah! what avails the cradle's damask roof,
The eider bolster, or embroidered woof,
Oft hears the gilded couch unpitied plains,
And many a tear, the tassel'd cushion stains!
No voice so sweet attunes his cares to rest,
So soft no pillow as his mother's breast!
Thus charm'd to sweet repose, when twilight hours
Shed their soft influence on celestial bowers,
The cherub, Innocence, with smile divine,
Shuts his white wings, and sleeps on beauty's shrine.
Darwin.
Incessantly anxious about the babe, Lady St. Aubyn could not soon permit it to be removed from her apartments, it lay therefore with its nurse in a smaller room within that where Lady St. Aubyn slept.
It was about six weeks after this event, so interesting to all parties, had taken place, and Ellen had for some time been returned to the society of her own family, that one day, just as they had finished dinner, St. Aubyn was told two gentlemen in a chaise and four had just arrived, and requested to speak to him immediately. He changed colour, but conquering his purturbation, desired they might be shewn into his study, and he would go to them. "Who are they?" said Lady Juliana. "I did not know, nephew, you expected any company." "Perhaps," said St. Aubyn, evading her questions, "they may not remain here an hour, perhaps till to-morrow morning." He hastily left the room, and Ellen was convinced these strangers were the persons at whom St. Aubyn had often hinted as connected with the mystery which hung around him: she trembled, and felt dismayed, but endeavoured to be as composed as possible. In a few minutes after St. Aubyn had left the room, Mr. Mordaunt was sent for; and as he had been some time an invalid, St. Aubyn desired a carriage might be dispatched to bring him to the Castle. Ellen passing soon after up stairs to the nursery, crossed him in the hall, followed by his assistant with a quantity of papers and parchments: they bowed, and went into the study. "Oh, I know now," said Lady Juliana, who was with her, "who St. Aubyn has with him: it is I suppose Lord De Montfort, and his guardian and tutor, Mr. O'Brien, a Catholic priest, who has the entire management of the young man, and will I suppose now have the entire direction of his estates, which have till now been under the care of my nephew, who was appointed by his father's will the young Earls guardian, as far as related to his English property, till he should be twenty-four, though his Catholic relations have had the care of his person. Rejoiced shall I be when St. Aubyn has finally concluded all his concerns with that family. Heaven knows they have given him trouble enough already! and this young man I know hates him. I don't suppose he will stay an hour after the accounts are settled, indeed he would not have come at all, only Mordaunt having all the affairs in his hands, and being too unwell to go from home, it was I conclude necessary: this I know, if these people stay here to-night, I shall remain in my own room."
Ellen carefully and anxiously attended to all she said, yet this discourse gave her no clue by which to unravel the mysterious speeches of St. Aubyn. After spending an hour in the nursery, both ladies returned to the drawing-room, and sent a servant to know if coffee should be carried into the study, or if Lord St. Aubyn and his guests would join the ladies. Orders were given for tea and coffee in the study; and Lady Juliana could not restrain her curiosity enough to refrain asking who was with Lord St. Aubyn: from the servant she learned that the party consisted of his Lordship, Mr. Mordaunt, his clerk, and two strange gentlemen, one elderly, the other young, and apparently in ill health. This confirmed her surmises, and soon after tea, not wishing to see Lord De Montfort, should he make his appearance, she retired to her own room, leaving Ellen and Laura together, with a strict injunction to the former not to be kept up too late.
Ellen's anxiety made her somewhat silent; and Laura, never very talkative, easily fell into her present humour, so that for some time very little conversation passed between them. Laura was netting, and Ellen attempting a drawing; but her hand was unsteady, and her attention divided, therefore finding she should not succeed, she threw down her pencil, and listened in silence to a loud equinoxial wind, which howled around, and shook with "murmur not unlike the dash of ocean on his sounding shores" the ancient trees which grew near the mansion. A chilling sensation insensibly stole upon her, and at length, to break the melancholy silence of the apartment, rather than that she wished to speak, she said, "'Tis a rough night, and cold."
"Yes," said Laura; and they both drew nearer the fire.
"Do you know Lord De Montfort?" asked Ellen.
"I have seen him when a boy," replied Laura, "and think I should know him again, though six or seven years make a great alteration at his age."
"Was he handsome?"