“It has enabled me to discover my child, whom I had fruitlessly sought for years, and whom I longed to embrace!” added Mrs. Sefton, wiping away the tears of joy that started to her eye-lashes. “Oh! my lord, you may conceive my surprise—my joy, when I beheld that portrait in your portfolio. Although I had never seen my child since her infancy, yet it seemed as if a heavenly inspiration imparted to me the conviction that I was then gazing on her likeness. At all events I murmured to myself, while contemplating it, ‘Such must Agnes now be: tall, beautiful, and with innocence depicted in her countenance, even as this portrait.’ And then I wept as I thought that the dear girl was lost to me for ever—buried in some seclusion by one who cruelly kept us separated! I closed the portfolio—rose—and mechanically approached the mantel. There I beheld the letter—and the address immediately rivetted my attention. ‘Miss Agnes Vernon!’ Oh! yes—it was my own dear daughter whose portrait I had been contemplating; and I was not mistaken! For I may be allowed to say, without incurring the imputation of vanity, that in the countenance of the portrait I traced my own lineaments; and then—on discovering the letter—I felt assured that nature’s promptings had not been misinterpreted by me! Because I knew that Agnes passed under the name of Vernon: that fact I accidentally learnt years ago, through my husband’s solicitor, who was permitted from time to time to give me the assurance that my daughter was alive and in health. You can now conceive, my dear friend, how strong were the emotions which agitated within me, and which influenced me in seizing upon the letter—tearing it open—and devouring its contents.”
“And your first impression was doubtless one of indignation against me for having dared thus to address your daughter?” said Lord William Trevelyan.
“Far from it, I can assure you!” returned Mrs. Sefton, in a tone of the deepest sincerity. “I already knew enough of your character to be well aware that you were honourable in principle and generous in heart! and the whole tenour of the letter was respectful and delicate, though earnest and decided,” added the lady, with a smile, as Trevelyan’s cheeks were suffused with a deep blush. “Besides, my dear friend,” she continued, in a serious tone, “I have acquainted you with the history of the crushed hopes and the blighted affections of my own early years—and I should be the last person in the world to raise an obstacle in the way of a pure and honourable attachment on the part of those in whom I felt interested.”
“Then you approve of my suit in respect to your daughter?” exclaimed Trevelyan, his handsome countenance becoming animated with joy; “and you will not refuse me her hand?”
“When she attains her twenty-first year, my lord,” replied Mrs. Sefton, in a solemn tone. “Until then I dare not dispose of her hand in marriage. She is now nineteen——”
“Two years to wait!” exclaimed Trevelyan, mournfully: “and in the mean time how many adverse circumstances may occur to separate us!”
“Yours is the age when Hope smiles most brightly,” said Mrs. Sefton; “and if your affection for my daughter be as strong as you represent it, believe me, my dear friend, that time will not impair—but rather strengthen and confirm it.”
“Were years and years to elapse, ere Agnes could become mine, I should not love her the less!” exclaimed Lord William. “But this may not be so with her: indeed, I have no reason to hope—much less any assurance—that she in any degree reciprocates my passion.”
“Agnes will not prove indifferent to your lordship’s merits,” said Mrs. Sefton, encouragingly. “But we must postpone any farther conversation on this subject until another occasion. Behold the confusion that prevails in the house,” she continued, in a more cheerful tone, as she glanced round the room at the various boxes and packages on which she had been busied when the arrival of Trevelyan and her daughter had compelled her to desist from her occupation. “I am about to remove this morning to a beautiful little villa which I have taken at Bayswater. By those means I hope to destroy all trace of my new abode, in respect to those who might seek to tear Agnes from my arms. But I have the law with me:—yes, the law is in my favour,” she added, in an emphatic tone; “and I will not surrender up my daughter to him——”
She checked herself, and hastily advancing to the window, opened the shutters.