“Hopeless, therefore, of bringing about a reconciliation between you at that moment, I informed him of my necessary and immediate departure for the continent, and proposed his accompanying me; I thought, by that means, the fatal connexion which seemed the bar to your mutual happiness might be broken; and, knowing well your heart, and certain that affection would, with you, get the better of every other feeling, I trusted that time and circumstances would restore you to each other. Fitzhenry directly with eagerness caught at the idea of leaving England: ‘it is the best thing for us all,’ said he: ‘and it will break to Florence what at present I cannot say—cannot write to her.’
“On our way to town, however, being still unwilling to give up all hope, and still thinking it was incumbent on Fitzhenry to make the first advances to you, I formed a little plan to decoy your husband to Charlton on our road to Dover, and I pleased myself with thinking that I might, by this very allowable artifice, be the means of bringing about your mutual happiness; but something betrayed my scheme; and, as soon as he suspected my intention, he was thrown into a state of violence and irritation of temper, in which I had never before seen him, and which really alarmed me. It was Mr. Benson’s presence which he dreaded, I believe: he could have laid his pride, (that stumbling-block of his,) at your feet Lady Fitzhenry, but he could not humble himself before others.”
“Indeed, Emmeline,” said Fitzhenry, interrupting him, “again Pelham barely does me justice; it was not pride that made me dread encountering you. On the contrary, it was shame, fear, humility, and all those perfectly contrary feelings.”
“Poh! poh! don’t let him take you in with all that pretty sounding humbug,” continued Pelham, laughing. “However, the real truth was, that he was as unlike his real self then, as, I am sorry to say, he is in many respects now. As we proceeded, I became more and more convinced that he was far from well. During the journey, I made little progress with my headstrong companion in my attempts to bring him to reason, and at last his answers became so strange and incoherent, that I was really alarmed; and, on our arrival here, I immediately sent for a physician. He found him, as I had suspected, in a high fever; and I am convinced his illness (brought on probably by agitation) had attacked his brain even before it showed itself visibly in his health; as at Arlingford, he certainly was in a state of irritation perfectly unnatural to him. Fortunately, the letters I here found enabled me to delay my further journey for a short time, in order to devote myself to him.
“You now know all,” continued Pelham; “and whatever my future lot in life may be, it will be one gratifying recollection that I was the means of uniting two beings so formed for each other, and whom I love so entirely.”
Mr. Pelham seized Emmeline’s hand as he uttered these words, and pressed it to his lips. “Reward my friend for his services to me and to yourself, Emmeline,” said Fitzhenry, “by letting him kiss that varying cheek of yours. Can I give a stronger proof that my delirious fever has quite left me?”
Pelham waited not for further leave; he pressed her to his heart, and, as he printed a fond kiss on her forehead, “God bless you, Emmeline,—God bless and protect you both!” he cried, with emotion; “and in your future hours of happiness remember me.” Then resuming a more cheerful tone, he added: “And now, my dear friends, that my mind is at ease about you both, (for I do not now apprehend a relapse of any sort,) and that I can leave you, Fitzhenry, in the care of so good a nurse, I must repair to my post, and set off to-morrow morning for Vienna, in case any longer delay should bring me to disgrace—as politics have little respect for the feelings of friendship.”
CHAPTER VII.
“In vain may art the couch of sickness tend,