"I need not," said St. Aubyn, "say much on the subject of my first acquaintance with Lady Rosolia de Montfort. You have heard, I believe, that her father was a near relation of mine, and that her mother was a Spanish Lady of a high noble family, and were Roman Catholics. The lady's friends were exceedingly averse to the match, and at length consented only on condition that the sons of the marriage should be bred Roman Catholics; and after the father's death, should he die during their minority, be placed under the care of the mother's relations. Rosolia would probably also have been a Catholic, but her mother died young, and she was placed in the care of my mother and Lady Juliana Mordaunt. In the vacations she was generally here, where my mother constantly, and my aunt frequently, resided; and here also Edmund almost always spent the time of his school recesses, though twice they went to Spain with their father, and spent a few months amongst their mother's connections.
"Rosolia grew up very handsome, but the character of her beauty was not such as suited my taste: there was too much hauteur in her countenance; too much pride in the mind which informed it to please me; yet from our early youth the friends on both sides were anxious to unite us. I had at that time no particular predilection for any of her sex, nor could I object any thing against her, though certainly not exactly the sort of woman I should have chosen; her partiality in my favour, however, appeared evident, and was too flattering to be resisted by a young man like me, from a young woman who had crowds of admirers, most of them my superiors in fortune and quality.
"We were married, therefore, when I was about five-and-twenty, and Rosolia six years my junior. For two years that my mother lived, we remained a great deal with her, and in the country, under her eye and that of Lady Juliana. Rosolia did not discover those unpleasant traits, which, though they lay dormant, were not conquered.
"On my mother's death, we removed for a time to London, and there Rosolia lay in of a son, the only child we ever had. But, ah! how different a mother was Rosolia from you, my Ellen! No care for her infant subdued the excessive vivacity she now began to display, no maternal tenderness subjugated, or even softened, the levity of conduct which now became manifest, and ultimately was her bane. The society of every idle coxcomb was preferred to mine: my remonstrances, and those of my respectable aunt, nay, even of her own father, were unheeded. My disposition, naturally inclined to jealousy, took fire at the lightness of her carriage; but she held me in contempt, often in derision; and as the tongue of slander had not yet fixed on the name of any particular person to connect with her, I was obliged to submit to see her flirting, as it is called, first with one admirer, then another, and the last fool as welcome as the former. My aunt, wearied and vexed at our domestic unhappiness, in a great measure forsook us, and contracted a dislike of Lady St. Aubyn, which, in some degree, extended to all her family. Edmund was still our frequent guest, but his partiality for his sister would not allow him to see a fault in her, and indeed his extreme youth made me conceal from him, as much as possible, the uneasy terms on which we lived together. We had been married about three years, and our little boy was six months old when Rosolia's father died: by his will, he appointed me the guardian of Edmund's estates, till he should attain the age of twenty-four, and requested that I would see him placed under the care of the Duke de Castel Nuovo, in agreement with the terms of his own marriage-contract with the daughter of that nobleman.
"This request I could not refuse, yet knew not how to leave my wife in England; for if her conduct were so reproachable while we were together, what had I to expect if I left her solely to her own guidance? Yet such was the perversity of her temper, I doubted whether she would accompany me abroad: to that, however, she consented, prompted, I believe, more by a wish to be as much as possible with her brother, than to oblige me. But nothing could induce her to leave the child behind, though my aunt offered to take it solely under her own care during our absence, although Rosolia herself never saw it, except for about five minutes, once or twice in the day.
"This singular obstinacy inspired my aunt with an idea (which I confess I partly shared) that Rosolia's intention was to leave the babe with her paternal relations; for though she called herself a protestant, she certainly had much inclination towards the ceremonies of the Catholic Church, and, I grieve to say, held all religious principles so lightly, that to distress me and vex my aunt, she was but too capable of placing her child in the hands of Catholics, that it might be bred up in a religion she knew my aunt abhorred, and I had no good opinion of. To counteract this, or any other scheme which might be formed to take the child from me, as well as to ensure its being well taken care of, Lady Juliana insisted that our good Bayfield should accompany us, and made her promise never to let the child be absent from her sight. But these precautions, in the event, proved useless; for the poor babe caught the small-pox soon after we landed at Cadiz, where we remained a short time, and died in my arms, attended with undeviating care by the worthy Bayfield: for, oh, my Ellen, your tender nature will recoil when I tell you its unfeeling mother refused to see it from the time the disorder came to its height, though she herself had had it, because its appearance was too shocking to her delicacy! Every care, however, that could be obtained, was lavished on it, but in vain.
"Poor Edmund grieved sincerely at this event, and shared my lonely and sorrowful hours; for he had been attached to the infant with excessive affection, and always felt for me the sincerest regard, while I considered him as my own brother, and thought no attention too much to serve or please him.
"Soon after the death of the child we proceeded to Seville, and, in the gaiety of that city, the attentions she received from her mother's relations, and the flattering compliments paid to her beauty by the crowds of gentlemen who now surrounded her, Rosolia soon lost whatever traces of sorrow remained for the loss of her infant. She was handsomer than ever, and shone in all the elegance of dress and the blaze of unnumbered jewels, with which my lavish fondness, in the early part of our marriage, and the liberality of her Spanish relations, had profusely supplied her. Her grandfather, the Duke de Castel Nuovo, at whose palace in Seville Edmund was to be placed, happened to be absent, having been suddenly called to Madrid on some important state business, and wrote to beg I would remain a month or two at his palace, when he hoped he should return thither to receive his grandson from my hands, to see his granddaughter, and thank me for the kindness with which I had taken so long a journey. Having nothing immediately to recall me to England, I was not sorry to see more of this interesting country; and hearing of a beautiful villa to be let on the bank of Guadalaxara, I removed thither with my family, preferring it to a residence in the Duke's palace.
"Nothing could exceed the beauty of our little domain, or the rich luxuriance of the country in which it stood. This villa was only two miles from Seville, where at that time several regiments were stationed, and all the officers of rank eagerly sought an introduction to me and the beautiful Rosolia. Amongst them was a man of the name of De Sylva."
At this name Ellen started, for she had heard it from Edmund, in his wild wanderings the night before; though, till that instant, she could not recollect it.