John and old Ben, carrying his personals in a pair of saddle bags, were on their way to Glen-Morgan the next morning before sun-rise. Ben was an excellent guide across Welch moors and mountains, and did not confine himself to the roads, that were in use, but had the art of steering to his point with great œconomy of time and distance. It was a gleam of joy to poor old Morgan to behold his grandson, for he was fond and John was affectionate. Every body in the house ran to pay him their respects: the green and red liveries were taken off their pegs, and dinner was served up in state as to the heir-apparent. The parson, lawyer and apothecary were in their places, the old butler in gala, and Mrs. Richards with her attendant housemaids in high requisition.
After an early breakfast the next morning John set off for Denbigh, and presented himself at the door of Mrs. Jennings, who received him with all possible courtesy: when informed of the matter he was charged with, and of his wish to see Amelia, she was summoned, and ready at the call, ran down stairs, and was instantly in the room: upon seeing a stranger, she stopped short, fixed her eyes upon him and made a curtsey: John rose, bowed, and seized at once with admiration and surprize, (not expecting to be encountered by an object of such striking beauty) seemed to have lost all recollection of his errand, and stood as if he had no other business but to gaze in silence. As the embarrassment was now becoming reciprocal, Mrs. Jennings thought it was high time to remind him of the commission he had imparted to her. Having lost the words, with which he meant to preface the delivery of the little pacquet, he produced it at once, and having delivered it to Amelia, endeavoured to relate what it was, and how he came by it. His narrative was not very distinctly given, and as soon as he perceived the effect it was likely to produce, he stopped short, and looked to Mrs. Jennings for relief. The lovely girl received it with a trembling hand, and whilst she murmured out her thanks, opened the pacquet, snatched a momentary glance upon the relique it contained, and would have sunk upon the floor, had not John eagerly interposed, and throwing himself on one knee, supported her in his arms, her head reclining on his shoulder.
When she had recovered, Amelia followed by Mrs. Jennings left the room, and John remained in solitary meditation for a few minutes, till the lady of the house returned and made the joint apologies of Amelia and herself for having left him so abruptly. As soon as he was certified that there was no further cause for alarm, he began to describe to Mrs. Jennings how much he was enchanted and surprised by the uncommon beauty of her lovely charge, who, when he had prepared himself to see a little girl running into the room, had presented herself to him with all the graces of a finished woman, elegant in her manners and charming in her person.
Perhaps, said Mrs. Jennings, you were not aware that my poor orphan is but two years younger than yourself. As to the beauty, which you are pleased to notice, I rather think it is more a promise than an actual possession; but of her more essential good qualities I can confidently speak; for a better disposition, greater modesty of nature and benevolence of heart I never yet contemplated in human creature. To these virtues she was born; these at least, poor child, she inherits from her parents, and I think that portrait fronting you, which you are now looking at, conveys no slight impression of an amiable and noble character; it is a striking likeness of her father, taken by an eminent artist, who was a visitor at Glen-Morgan, when Captain Jones passed a few days with your grandfather, before his embarking for the West Indies, which I well remember he did on the very day that you were born at Kray Castle.
And to the very day, on which I cease to live, exclaimed our hero, raising his voice, and directing his eyes to the portrait, I swear I will devote myself to the protection of his orphan daughter. Unhappy, gallant man! I have his history from his faithful soldier. Would he could hear me! I almost can believe he does; for mark, how tenderly his eyes are turned upon me. Ah sweet Amelia, what I may be I know not, but yours in every faithful service I shall be. Our first acquaintance has commenced in sorrow; Heaven grant, it may grow up and ripen into joy.
This said, he turned his eyes from the picture, and behold they lighted on Amelia, standing by his side. Surprised, confused, and doubting whether he beheld a vision or reality, he threw his arms about her, clasped her to his heart, and in his transport pressed his glowing lips upon her blushing cheek. Then rushing to the door—Pardon me, he cried—and vanished with love’s arrow in his heart.
Ah madam, ah my friend, exclaimed the trembling girl, succour me, save me, or I am undone. If this young heir of two such rich and ancient families does not at once resolve never to waste a thought on me, what will become of me? What will his grandfather, whose bread I eat, what will his mother say? The house of De Lancaster will rise against me, and I must fly to labour for my living, or involve you in my ruin.
It is even so, my child, and you discern your danger rightly. He is a noble, generous youth, but he never can be yours in any time to come, and you must cautiously avoid him. As for what passed just now, you must think no more of it. Young spirits, taken by surprise, will break out unawares, and you must forgive him.
Forgive him! cried Amelia; yes, it is easy to forgive him, but when shall I be able to forget him? Never.
Whilst this conversation was carrying on, a note was delivered to Mrs. Jennings, in which she read as follows.—