Poor Julia fortunately found, for her horror-stricken and terrified feelings, the only relief of which they were susceptible, in a passion of tears, as profusely shed as those of a child.
She clung to Fitz-Ullin with an alarming convulsiveness of grasp. In his endeavours to sooth and calm her, and the bewilderment of his exaggerated fears, for the possible consequences of the state in which she was, he, from time to time, addressed to her incoherently, all the endearing expressions he had habitually used towards her in her childhood, calling her, in low breathings that no other ear could hear, his own beloved one, his own darling Julia, his own precious one, thus as it were enforcing each entreaty to her, to check the excessive trembling to which she had given way, and which, as it seemed rather to increase than diminish, alarmed him so much, that the arm with which it was necessary to support her, drew her, as each verbal persuasion to still her tremor failed, closer to the bosom in which she herself seemed to seek a shelter; while she, unknowing what she did, pressed his hand with both of hers to her heart, still beating tumultuously from the horrors of the scarcely past scene, and her sobs, for the few seconds it still took to reach the ship, continued audible and convulsive.
A scene of so much emotion was, fortunately, shrouded by the total darkness that prevailed.
Fitz-Ullin carried her himself up the side of the Euphrasia, and to the cabin of Lady Oswald; where, with the assistance of that lady and her maid, he laid her on a sofa, still wrapped in the already mentioned boat-cloak.
The consciousness of light and witnesses calmed in some degree her agitation, or at least checked those demonstrations of it into which she had hitherto been betrayed. She became passive, and lay, for a time, motionless and silent, with her eyes closed. Fitz-Ullin knelt beside her, and watched her countenance with an expression of the most serious solicitude. Lady Oswald, after the first stare of amazement, offered every kind attention in assiduous silence; only from time to time looking the wonder which would have been expressed on any occasion less surprising: so that our heroine was received, to all appearance, with as much composure as though she had been expected. She shewed tokens of life, only by gently waving from her every offered restorative. She wished for stillness; she wished to yield to a consolatory feeling which had already, notwithstanding all the horrors she had so lately both witnessed and escaped, stolen over her heart; for who can, under any circumstances, receive proofs of affection from those they love, and not experience consolation? She felt that she was still dear to Fitz-Ullin; and though, apparently, scarcely alive, became capable of a train of reasoning on the subject. Her friendship, then, was not, as she had feared, valueless in his eyes! The brother-like affection he had always had for her was regaining its ascendancy. As a sister, she should once more become the first object of his tenderness, the source of his happiness, and she would be happy—yet she sighed. Lady Oswald seized the opportunity of entreating her to take some restorative. She was obliged to open her eyes, obliged to raise herself, and in so doing, to withdraw the hand Fitz-Ullin had till then retained. He stood up, assisted Lady Oswald, and spoke to her ladyship, which he had not done before. The spell was broken! Julia spoke too; she thanked Lady Oswald languidly. She had no leisure to be surprised in her turn, at seeing her ladyship where she was. She tried to express to our hero her gratitude for her preservation. He begged she would not speak of his merely accidental service; requesting her to remember, that he could not be aware to whom he was rendering his assistance, whether welcome or unwelcome.
“Unwelcome!” she repeated. He had spoken with unnecessary strength of emphasis. Even Lady Oswald looked surprised.
A short silence followed; when Julia, again raising herself, began to express uneasiness about the fears and anxiety of her friends at Lodore; giving at the same time a hurried and incoherent account of how she had been carried away from thence. Lady Oswald naturally expressed her wonder, as to who could have been the author of so daring an outrage.
Julia, looking down, said, she herself was at a loss whom to suspect. She would have added, that the only person to whom she could have attributed such an outrage, she had not once seen, or heard of, during the whole transaction; and that, therefore, it was that she was at a loss. But a natural feeling of modesty made her hesitate and blush. Fitz-Ullin viewed her with a searching look, which gave her uneasiness, though she could not comprehend its meaning. There was severity in his eye when he first fixed it upon her; yet, there was pity ere he removed it. During her whole recital, the gloom of his brow had deepened every moment; yet he did not express the deep resentment that might have been expected against the perpetrators of such a violence. At one time, after a long reverie, he made a very irrelevant remark: observing, that Mr. St. Aubin had been to blame, in not joining before the Euphrasia sailed; for that his being too late, could not have been accidental.