"My aunt and Mrs. Blond immediately rose on hearing who it was; and after a short conference, I prevailed on them to receive part of the money I had obtained, as their income was then reduced to little more than one hundred pounds; for Blond possessed too benevolent a disposition ever to think of amassing money. He had truly regarded his parishioners as his children; as such their wants ever found the readiest relief; and to the stranger his heart, his hand, and his door had ever been open!
"After an affectionate adieu, I hastened to the church, where, for some time, I indulged in an unrestrained sorrow over the ashes of my father and Blond.
"The appearance of day at length warned me to retire; and tearing myself from their sacred remains, I ran to the village, where I procured a horse, and thence directed my course toward London.
"St. Ledger was from home; but I was received with the greatest cordiality by his amiable wife, your beloved sister Françoise, Louise—."
"Sister Françoise, my brother!" cried Louise with vivacity. "Ah, pardon my interruption: but tell me—satisfy my curiosity respecting her."
"In a few words, Louise. St. Ledger, the man she was privately united to, was in his youth the bosom-friend of my father: on his travels, he saw and became enamoured of the amiable Françoise; and on her father's refusing him her hand, prevailed on her to consent to a private marriage. Their intercourse had continued some time, when he was discovered by Monsieur de Colline, and the consequences which followed were as you recited them, from the words of Sister Brigide. Françoise was delivered of a son, who was doomed by the grandfather to an early grave; but was preserved and secretly conveyed to St. Ledger, by the old confident. This soon reached the knowledge of Monsieur de Colline, who in the first paroxysm of passion, would have sacrificed her life, for the innocent one she had preserved. He spared her, but on condition of her taking an oath, never to divulge the retreat of Françoise to St. Ledger, or to undeceive his daughter respecting the death of her infant; for he well knew that whilst she supposed her child living, she would not consent to retire from the world. Poor Françoise was deceived, and imagining herself bereaved of both husband and offspring, gladly took shelter from the anger and reproaches of her father and sisters, in the Convent of St. Ursule. St. Ledger, in the mean time, after vainly demanding his wife of her father, searched the country for some miles round; till, imposed on by a fabulous tale of her death, he, in a state of mind truly disconsolate, returned with his infant son to England.
"My father went to France at the time of Monsieur de Colline's death. The circumstances attending the liberation of Françoise were too publicly discoursed of to escape his knowledge, and he immediately proceeded to Rennes, where, introducing himself as the intimate friend of her husband, she joyfully accepted his offer of escorting her to England.
"Françoise had written to St. Ledger, who, with an impatience equal to his regard for this amiable woman, was hastening with his son to France, to meet her, when my father unexpectedly presented her to his embrace at Portsmouth, where St. Ledger was waiting for a favourable wind, to convey him to the opposite coast.
"Since that time their happiness has never had the least interruption; except from the hymeneal expedition of my friend Henry. They are, however, perfectly satisfied with his choice of a bride, who, on her part, appears sincerely attached to the parents of her husband.
"The elder St. Ledger, on his return in the evening, received me with his usual friendship. To him my father had never divulged the secret of his unhappiness; nor could I reveal it: but on his inquiring the reason of my journey to London, I related what had passed between me and my mother since the death of my father, and the means she had used to make me appear insane. St. Ledger listened to my tale with complaisance; but regarded my conduct as proceeding from youthful folly; and plainly told me, he should sooner credit the idea of my insanity, than any thing to the prejudice of Lady Corbet, who, he was well assured, loved me too well, and was too just, wilfully to injure me or any one! He, however, requested I would make his house my home as long as I remained in town; and, at my entreaty, forbore to inform my mother where I was. The precaution, however, was useless, as Lady Dursley accidentally saw me, and wrote to my mother, who immediately came to London.