"No circumstance could have made him believe that any neglect came from you," cried Alice, "but we never heard of that frightful Duke being there; and so my uncle thought nothing about your stay, only as he regretted your losing so much of the society of these noble Spaniards." On the first intimation of their being Spaniards, Louis had eagerly enquired whether they came from his father; and Cornelia having answered no; that their errand was the young man's health; he listened with benevolent interest to Alice's questions, of what was become of Don Ferdinand. Cornelia shook her head; and describing how he had left her, had just finished her account of his strange behaviour, when they arrived at the garden wicket. Louis entered the house by a side-door, that he might rid himself of his disordered cloaths before he saw the family; and Cornelia went to communicate his arrival to her mother and uncle.
Being satisfied of the safety of her cousin, Alice felt her anxiety re-awaken for another object. She lingered in the garden behind her sister; she returned to the wicket, and stood gazing through it; then stepping up the sun dial mound, looked from side to side over the boundaries of the garden. Ferdinand was no where to be descried. The treacherous footing among the rocks, the perpendicular cliffs, his abstracted eye, and hurrying step, again presented themselves to her thoughts; and alarmed and agitated, she turned wistfully towards the hill beyond the little gate. "From that spot, I might certainly see him.—But if he were to see me, how strange he would think it! And Cornelia too, that I should absent myself from dear Louis, after such danger!"
Just as with blush succeeding blush, she made these comments, the object of her anxiety appeared from the opposite side on the top of the hill, leaning on his father's arm. Joy, confusion, a sense of shame she had never felt before, overwhelmed her; and springing from the mound, she ran hastily across the garden. She darted into the house, as if fearful of pursuit; and stopped, panting, before the door of her uncle's library. Supposing it vacant, and glad to recover breath unobserved, she opened the door, and found herself in the presence of her uncle. He was bending before a table, and leaning his head upon his clasped hands. On hearing a step, he looked up. Alice stood confounded.
"My child," cried he, "come hither, and with me thank the giver of all good for the virtuous firmness of your cousin! He has not only preserved that bloom Of truth unimpaired, which, if once lost never is regained; but he has risqued his life this morning, to avoid a man who, I know, he loves, but whose society he relinquishes because he believes him to be as full of vices as of charms. Come Alice, and bow with me before his Almighty guardian!"
Alice sunk on her knees by the side of her uncle. She bent her face upon his fervent hands, and pressed them with her lips as her heart breathed with devotion the thanksgiving his eloquent piety pronounced.
Cornelia, having been the glad messenger to Mr. Athelstone, and afterwards to her mother, of the safe return of Louis, accompanied Mrs. Coningsby to the general sitting room. It was that in which they had welcomed the travellers the preceding night, and where they found them now. Ferdinand had cast himself into a chair, fatigued and gloomy. His father stood by the window, gazing on him in anxious silence. Mrs. Coningsby had not time to address either, before the Pastor entered. He advanced immediately to Santa Cruz; and his aged eyes not discerning the peculiar sadness of his guest, "My Lord Marquis," cried he, "Louis de Montemar is returned. And I take shame to myself for having doubted the integrity of his word."
"My son has told me sufficient of the manner in which Mr. de Montemar has kept it, to fill me with respect for his principles, and to inspire me with something more than admiration for the determination with which he has asserted them."
Before the Marquis had ceased speaking, a quick step was heard in the passage.
"Here is my dear nephew," cried Mrs. Coningsby, and the next moment he opened the door; but perceiving the strangers, he checked the buoyant gladness with which he was coming forward, and with a graceful bow advanced into the room. Alice glided in after him, and took a seat behind her mother's chair. Mr. Athelstone immediately named to him the Marquis Santa Cruz, and Don Ferdinand d'Osorio. The Marquis scanned for a moment the son of Ripperda, and the comparison he could not but draw was wormwood to the heart of a father. Nature had given Louis a passport to almost every bosom; a countenance and a figure which needed no addition to complete the perfect form of youthful nobleness.
"Mr. de Montemar," said Santa Cruz, addressing him with a sigh he could not smother, "you have this day proved how worthy you are of the name you bear. I shall be proud of your friendship for my son."