"Yet, before I commence my narrative," said Sir Henry, "let me explain the meaning of a sentence, you say has occasioned you so much anxiety—the secret to which your Ellenor in her letter alluded.
"In Ellenor Worton, then, give me leave to introduce the daughter of Sir Horace Corbet—the sister of my father! Worton was the name she received from her god-mother, and which she wholly assumed, when the harshness of Sir Horace drove her from her paternal roof; and when she discovered, that her Howard had been previously married, she regarded it as a punishment for her breach of filial obedience. Suspend your surprise a moment.—In Mrs. Blond, behold the youngest daughter of Sir James Elvyn:—another victim of my grandfather's cruelty and injustice!"
"Good God!" cried Mr. Talton: "And does your mother, Sir Henry, know of these circumstances?"
"She does, Mr. Talton," answered Sir Henry, with a sigh. The Captain's looks likewise testified his surprise.—"But wherefore, my Ellenor," he said, "the necessity of concealing your name from my knowledge?"
"With the character of my father, Howard," answered Ellenor, "you have already been made acquainted. Proud, vindictive, and avaricious, every consideration yielded to the gratification of those passions. On account of her fortune, he married my mother, to whom he proved literally a tyrant: nor did his children experience greater affection or indulgence. When I was seventeen, old Lord Aberford, who had accidentally seen me, declared himself my admirer; and as his offers were highly gratifying to my father, he little regarded sacrificing my happiness. In vain were my tears, my mother's intreaties, or the supplications of my brother: fury took possession of his bosom, at our daring to dispute his will; and in the first paroxysm of rage, he sent my mother to a ruinous seat he possessed in Cornwall, ordered my brother back to college, and confined me to my chamber; which he vowed I should never leave, till he resigned me to the arms of Lord Aberford. The being separated from my mother, was the severest punishment he could inflict, as her tenderness ever compensated for the harshness of his behaviour.
"His increasing severity, every time he visited my apartment, had nearly reduced me to compliance, when Thomas returned from Cornwall, and secretly delivered me a letter from my mother. She advised me, if my father still persisted in forcing me into an union with Lord Aberford, to leave the Hall, and seek an asylum at Mrs. Radnor's, the bosom friend of her early days. The means of escape were easily effected by Thomas, who at night placed a ladder at my window, and conducted me in safety to the park-gate, whence Owen, the gamekeeper, who was waiting with horses, escorted me to Radnor Moor.—Mrs. Radnor received me with open arms, and, fully aware of the violent temper of my father, advised my taking the name of Worton; and, to screen me more effectually from his knowledge, a few days after left the Moor for Brighthelmstone.
"I there, Howard, became acquainted with you. The sentiments we entertained for each other, were reciprocal; and freely should I have communicated the secret of my family, but Mrs. Radnor strenuously opposed it. Her detestation of my father, daily increased, and as he had declared that he no longer regarded me as his daughter, I should not, she said, with her approbation, ever acknowledge him as a father. The favourable opinion she entertained of you, encouraged the passion I had imbibed, and, regarding her councils as those of a parent, I early avowed my affection and consented to plight my faith to you for ever.
"At this time, my brother privately visited us. My father, he said, continued inveterate against me, and having discovered that my mother had been the instigator of my elopement, he still confined her at his estate in Cornwall, though he occasionally allowed my brother the liberty of seeing her. Henry brought me a letter, the last I ever received from my beloved mother. It was dictated by maternal tenderness. The happiness of her children, she said, constituted hers: Henry's, she thought, would be established in his expected union with Miss Elvyn; and mine, she hoped, would be equally secured, in the choice I had made. She added a blessing on our nuptials; and the morning after Henry left us, to join his friend Booyers, previously to his intended marriage, I gave my hand to you at the altar.
"Happy, indeed, were the days which succeeded our union, till the illness of Mrs. Radnor; which was occasioned by the sudden disclosure of my mother's death: her own followed in a few days, and I had to mourn the loss of both, and the knowledge I then first received of a brother's unhappiness.
"Gladly would I have flown to the bosom of my Edward, for consolation; but Mrs. Radnor had extorted a promise from me, not to undeceive you.—'If Crawton, my child,' she said, 'should find that you have acted disingenuously by him, it may implant suspicion in his mind, and destroy the tenderness you at present experience. Rest satisfied, then, my love, with the happiness you enjoy, nor hazard its destruction by that which cannot possibly increase it. If I advise wrong, may Heaven forgive me; but I speak from the best of motives.'