"The same reason, my dear uncle," said Frederick, advancing, "I find, has separately brought us to this spot, that of taking a last farewell of the ashes of our worthy young friend, before we bid adieu to this part of England."
"Such was my intention," answered the Captain, "though remembrance at the moment has hurried me into greater weakness."
"Regret it not," said Frederick, affectionately taking his hand. "Sir Henry was deserving of the tear you have shed!—Peace to his spirit!—Nor need we doubt it: the God to whom he is gone, will condemn or acquit us according to the rectitude of our hearts, not the frailties of our words or actions."
"That reflection may conduce more toward restoring peace to my bosom," said the Captain, "than all the sophisms of philosophy!
"But come, Frederick, you have witnessed my weakness, let me retire from this spot, or I may relapse."
He took the proffered arm of Frederick, and, giving a last look at the grave, dejectedly retraced his steps from the church-yard.
A few days after, he received his expected orders to sail for Weymouth, previously to his convoying a fleet of Indiamen to the coast of China.
A sigh swelled his bosom as he passed the cliffs of Brighthelmstone, and beheld the spot where he had once resided with his Ellenor, now lost to him, he feared, for ever. Remembrance, with keener powers, recalled her perfections; the sweetness of her manners, her chaste affection; each look, each tender endearment, dwelt on his memory, and was cherished in his heart as all that remained to him of her whom he loved. The idea of Mrs. Howard involuntarily obtruded—
"Weak man!" he softly sighed, "ever to listen to the futile reasonings of resentment! Had I not yielded to thee, Ellenor might honourably have been mine; her arms my haven, her smiles the reward of my toils and anxieties! But now—no welcome ever greets my arrival to my native shore, no offspring bless my return; Ellenor and her son are lost to me; and he who only could have restored them, has resigned his being to the God who gave it!"
Frederick, with concern, observed the increasing melancholy of his uncle, and his anxiety on that account was considerably augmented by the arrival of Mrs. Howard! That lady, whose hatred to the Captain increased with her years, no sooner gained intelligence of his being at Weymouth, than she hastened there, well knowing her presence was a far greater punishment to him than any the law could have inflicted; and as such, it proved more gratifying to her revenge than any it could afford! The Captain bore her wayward humour with apparent composure; yet it preyed on his heart, and, by forcing a comparison with the happy period he had passed with Ellenor, rendered each moment as secretly unhappy as the rancour of his wife could wish.