"My mother!—Do I once more behold you?" said Sir Henry, hastening to meet her—but she heeded him not, her eye was fixed on Talton: nor was it till the repeated exclamation of—"Sir Henry! my benefactor!" roused her from her stupor. Franticly she threw her arms round Sir Henry; but Talton again attracting her eye, she as hastily pushed him from her, crying—"Fly—fly, my Harry; destruction awaits thee! It is Talton himself. Fly to Howard, he only can protect thee! Oh! Ellenor—Ellenor, ruin awaits us all."
The surprise which had been depicted on the countenance of Mr. Talton, now yielded to embarrassment, as his name was faintly echoed on every side: Sir Henry vainly attempted to persuade them Talton was not an enemy: Mrs. Blond still urged him to fly, till overpowered by the agitation of her mind, she sunk in a state of insensibility on the floor.
All was incoherence and confusion: the friendly Booyers had been assisting the Captain and young Howard, to restore Ellenor to life; he now ran distractedly from her to Mrs. Blond, in vain calling for help: the entrance of the servants but added to the distress which prevailed.
At last the Captain, with joy perceived the current of life re-animate the features of his Ellenor; who, in a few minutes, became conscious of her situation. With a smile of inexpressible delight, she took the hand of her son, and placing it in that of the Captain, encircled them in her arms. The action spoke more than words; nature confessed it: Edward intuitively bent his knee, and as the Captain raised, and pressed him to his heart, he felt that moment more than recompensed for all he had suffered.
A faint groan from Mrs. Blond now reached the ear of Ellenor, and, leaving her Edward, she flew to the side of this companion in her afflictions: but her attentions were equally unavailing to recall her senses, and she was therefore conveyed to her chamber, followed by her daughter and Ellen. Ellenor would likewise have attended, but was prevented by Sir Henry, who, affectionately taking her hand, was beginning to congratulate her on her restoration to the Captain, when the door was again thrown open, and the old servant-man rushed into the room.
"It is—it is Sir Henry!" he exclaimed, throwing himself at his feet. "Little did I think, when I opened the gate, it was to admit the son of my beloved master. Yet my old eyes could not distinguish you: but since the news arrived that you were drowned, they have been more dim than they were wont to be! Ah! many a tear has been shed for your loss, my master; and as often have I wished, I could have recalled your life, by resigning my own."
"I thank you, my good old friend," said Sir Henry, raising him; "sincerely thank you for your love: and may one day have it in my power to acknowledge it more effectually, than by words; though, for myself, Thomas, the tomb of my father is the only inheritance I covet!"
His head drooped on his bosom, whilst the starting tear too plainly evinced the painful recollection of the moment. With looks of the tenderest pity, Ellenor folded him in her arms.
"Forgive me," continued Sir Henry, returning her embrace. "At such a moment as this, I ought not to let a single idea of myself intrude, to cast a gloom on your happiness. For your sake—for the sake of my beloved Eliza, and her mother, I will break through those ties, which have hitherto restrained me, and act according to the dictates of justice!"
"The means are in our power!" cried old Thomas, exultingly. "The night before my Lady returned from London, with the account of your death, I entered the closet of my deceased master; the event answered our expectation: and now let the guilty beware!"