It was nearly seven when the young party returned, delighted as usual with their afternoon's amusement; and Percy, shouting loudly for his mother, giving vent to an exclamation of impatience at finding she was still invisible.
"I shall wish Morris and all his concerns at the bottom of the Dart, if he is so to engross my mother when I want her," he said, as he flung himself full length on a couch in the music-room, desiring Emmeline to make haste and disrobe, as he must have an air on the harp to soothe his troubled spirit.
Herbert, to look for a poem, the beauty of which he had been discussing with Miss Harcourt during their sail, entered the library, but perceiving his mother, would have retreated, thinking her still engaged; but she looked up as the door opened, and perceiving him, smiled, and asked him if they had had a pleasant afternoon. He looked at her earnestly, without making any reply; then approaching her, took one of her hands in his, and said, fondly—
"Forgive me, dearest mother; I ought not, perhaps, to ask, but I am sure something is wrong. You are ill—anxious—may I not share it? Can I do nothing?"
"Nothing, my Herbert; bless you for your watchful love—it is such comfort." And the long pressure of the hand which so warmly clasped hers, the involuntary tenderness with which these few words were said, betrayed how much she needed such comfort at that moment, but she rallied instantly. "Do not look so anxious, dear boy, I am not ill—not quite happy, perhaps, but we know where to look for strength to bear trial, Herbert. Wait tea for me till eight o'clock; it is probable I may be engaged till then;" and, satisfied that she did not wish to be more explicit, Herbert took his book, and somewhat sorrowfully left her.
Ten minutes more, and the massive door unclosed again, but no step advanced, for the intruder remained rooted where the door had closed. It was a very large and lofty room, with an arched and Gothic roof, of black and fretted oak, the walls and chimney-piece of the same material and most elaborate workmanship. A sort of dais, remnant of olden times, divided the upper part of the room, by two or three steps, from the lower. On this dais was the raised reading-desk of superbly carved oak, at which Mr. Hamilton officiated morning and evening, and two library tables of more modern workmanship stood on each side, but rather lower down. Except the massive oaken chairs and couches, and three or four curious tables scattered about, and the well-filled book-cases, forming, to the height of five feet, the border, as it were, of the fretted wood-work of the walls, and filling up the niches formed by the windows; the lower part of the hall, two-thirds of the length, was comparatively unoccupied, showing its vast space and superb roof to still greater advantage. The magnificently stained windows, one on the dais—a deep oriel—threw such subdued light into the room, as accorded well with its other appointments; but as evening advanced, gave it that sort of soft, holy light, which always impresses the spirit with a species of awe.
We do not think it was that feeling alone which so overpowered the second intruder, as to arrest her spell-bound on the threshold. Mrs. Hamilton was seated at one of the tables on the dais nearest the oriel window, the light from which fell full on her, giving her figure, though she was seated naturally enough in one of the large, maroon velvet, oaken chairs, an unusual effect of dignity and command, and impressing the terrified beholder with such a sensation of awe, that had her life depended on it, she could not for that one minute have gone forward; and even when desired to do so by the words—
"I desired your presence, Ellen, because I wished to speak to you; come here without any more delay,"—how she walked the whole length of that interminable room, and stood facing her aunt, she never knew.
Mrs. Hamilton for a full minute did not speak, but she fixed that searching look, to which we have once before alluded, upon Ellen's face; and then said, in a tone which, though very low and calm, expressed as much as that earnest look—
"Ellen! is it necessary for me to tell you why you are here—necessary to produce the proof that my words are right, and that you have been influenced by the fearful effects of some unconfessed and most heinous sin? Little did I dream its nature."