"You?--why next day after us, or a day later were better; you and Musgrave can travel together--he is a nice fellow--and that will give me time to arrange with Bill Stacy, who has gone north to hire Cessford's Peel, an old tower in the south of my brother's estates, which will be your barracks, my fair one, and nice quarters too! And now, Juana, sing us a song, whilst we pitch into this iced punch."

The young lady opened a richly-chased case, from which she took a Spanish guitar, and sitting on an ottoman commenced tuning it--holding it in the most elegant manner, which showed off the exquisite shape of her arm and the full contour of her form. Then running her fingers over the strings, she played a wild prelude to the following song, which she delivered in a fine contralto voice--

SONG.

No, let me smile no more! there are No joys in store for me, And I grow like some erring star In dark profundity; Which, shorn of every ray, Still rolls its wonted course, And, shrouded in remorse, Hangs unseen night and day!

No, let me smile no more! the hour Of early bliss is past, And I grow like some faded flower That drooped before the blast; Which wears the selfsame form, Although by blight consumed, With which it brightly bloomed Before that withering storm!

No, let me smile no more! the beam Of joy would be but gla.s.sed In the cold bosom of the stream That froze in winter's blast; Which, though it look above, Gains not those starry heights, And but reflects the lights Whose warmth it cannot prove!

"Very pretty," said L'Estrange,--"but how melancholy all your songs are."

"How could they be else than melancholy, when the heart is sad?"

answered the lady.

"I must teach you some more lively airs,--for, by Heaven! you have a rare voice," said the Captain. "One like this"--but ere he began, a loud ring announced the arrival of the carriage with Sir Richard Musgrave--"I'll sing it another time. Ha! old fellow, how are you?--well, it is all planned, at least L'Estrange has got everything cut and dried! He and I start for the Towers to-morrow, and you and Juana must follow in two or three days."

"I am sure I am flattered by being the guardian of this lady," said Sir Richard, regarding Juana with undisguised admiration. "This, then, is the young lady of whom I have heard so much, and hope soon to know better than I do now."

"I forgot she is a stranger to you," said the Captain. "Juana, let me introduce you to Sir Richard, the best fellow who ever wooed fair lady!"

"And now," said Sir Richard, "I will drink success to our plan, and then we had better be off."

After the toast was drunk the three young men left Juana, and proceeded probably to some place of amus.e.m.e.nt in town. When they were all gone, Juana,--who had held up so well all the evening, and plied her guests with the brightest of smiles,--threw herself on the nearest sofa, clasped her two hands together, and burst into an unrestrained flood of tears. All her affected gaiety could not cheat the heart, and when alone she was but a woman--a fond but deserted woman!

CHAPTER XIV.

"And how the knight, with tender fire, To paint his faithful pa.s.sion strove."

_Lay of the Last Minstrel._

"Fare thee well! thus disunited, Torn from every nearer tie, Seared in heart, and lone, and blighted, More than this I scarce can die."--_Byron._

On the afternoon following her arrival at home, Ellen Ravensworth was sitting alone in her drawing-room, when Lord Wentworth was announced. As he entered, unable to restrain her natural and full feelings, the young girl flew to meet him, as though she welcomed a brother.

"How glad I am to see you looking so well, and so like yourself, Ellen!"

said the Earl, as he took both her hands in his own; "come let me look at you, little unbeliever! I could not have told you had been ill! And how came you to doubt my pledge, Ellen, or think my ring spoke falsehood?"

As he spoke the Earl still held her hands, and the lovers gazed on each other with an expression of unspeakable delight.

"Oh welcome, welcome, Lord Wentworth! How happy I am to meet you again.

Come, sit down by me on the sofa. I have so much to tell you."

"First answer my question," said the Earl, as he seated himself beside her; "tell me, Ellen, how came you to doubt my ring,--how to doubt a peer's word?"

"Oh ask me not," said Ellen, smiling; "I cannot tell why. I know not how I could doubt you one moment; but it is past now, and you forgive me; see, I wear your ring on my hand still!"

"Forgive you, dearest! nay, I should ask your forgiveness,--at least you have proved yourself a dear, faithful girl. Ah! Ellen, you little know how pained I was to hear you were so ill, and then I did not know the cause. Oh! that I could find the author of that villainous paragraph!

How you must have suffered!"

"I forget it all now,--it has pa.s.sed away like a cloud; and this meeting seems all the brighter for it, as summer seems all the brighter when contrasted with the wintry snows."

"Yet those snows are sacred to me, Ellen. Do you forget that it was on the snows our love was born: may it resemble them in purity, and not, like them, fade away in summer's sunshine."

"It will not fade,--it cannot; and oh! how shall I ever pay the debt of grat.i.tude to dear Lady Arranmore? I love her as a sister; it was owing to her that all this happiness was mine."

"She deserves your love, Ellen; and I hope you will shortly see her again. Edith and the Marquis join us at the Towers on the day after to-morrow; we have quite a gay a.s.sembly there; and I was almost forgetting my chief object in calling here to-day,--which was to ask you all out next week to join our party. I shall take no refusal, Ellen; so tell that to your father when you give him this note," said the Earl, handing her an invitation.

"How kind of you! the country must be looking so pretty now,--the Towers must be in all their beauty."

"They are. After all, no place like home,--when the weather is as propitious as it has been this season,--an important item in this climate. I hear you had charming weather for your tour, and enjoyed it much."

"Oh, lovely! I do not think I saw a cloud hardly the whole time. The Alps were splendid, and we toured the whole of the Oberland; but Leman, blue Lake Leman, is my pet! I shall always look back on the days spent there as the happiest in my life yet; for it was there I met your sister, and there----"

Ellen paused, but the Earl finished her sentence--

"There you found I was still true,--is not that it?"

Ellen blushed a.s.sent.

"It is curious," she continued: "at first I preferred the desolate grandeur of the Alps,--the brawling torrents, rent rocks, and giant pines; but now I seem to love rather the still lake, the river, the woodland, and plain."

"I fancy, Ellen, we always like the scenery that corresponds with our prevailing tone of mind. When we are misanthropic and gloomy, we love the dark woods, the gloomy gaps of rivers, the naked rock, and cold avalanche; but when we are happy we turn to sunny plains, and the bright greenwood,--a double reason why you should bend your steps to the Towers, where all is haymaking, sunshine, and merriment; at least if you are now in a happy state of mind."

"Be sure I shall only be too glad to look on the rustic scenery of the Towers," said Ellen.

"And now tell me, Ellen, all about your travels; I shall be able to enter into it all the better as I know every inch of ground in Switzerland. You know the Captain, Frank, and I only toured it last year. Which did you think the most grand scenery?"

"I think almost the wildest was on the road to Hospenthal; night overtook us as we were near Pont du Diable. I shall never forget the terrific grandeur of that dark torrent as it thundered below."

"Nor I either," said Lord Wentworth; "for it was on that very road that a most ridiculous _contretemps_ occurred."

"Do let me hear it," said Ellen. "I shall have all the more interest from knowing the ground."

"We started, then," said the Earl,[E] "a party of six strong, from Fluellen, after lunching there. I remember it was a fiercely hot day in the end of August, and the sun shot down on our heads with tropical heat as we drove along the valley. Our party consisted of my two brothers, young Scroop and Musgrave, and a naval officer, Wilson. I hope you will meet them all next week, and you can ask them if they remember it. When we got near the Devil's Bridge, even some time before it, night came on, and the stars twinkled out one by one; the road also became very steep, and we proposed that some should get out of the carriage and walk.

Accordingly Wilson descended, and soon forged ahead, and was lost in the darkness. He had a bugle, on which he blew hunting blasts, and we heard him from time to time blowing his horn high above. Meantime Frank and Scroop and the Captain also began walking on, and hoped soon to overtake him. When they had pa.s.sed the bridge, Scroop began to think it was rather a dangerous place, and remarked it was imprudent in Captain Wilson, who was our purser, to walk on unarmed. They saw two dangerous-looking fellows creeping up towards them from the river, but it was too dark to recognise who or what they were. They said, '_Bon soir_,' but received no answer. Suddenly one of the two commenced walking on fast, as if to catch them up; but, determined they should not be done, they too quickened their pace. The guide, however, pa.s.sed them, and two or three whistles were interchanged. They now began to feel sure they were robbers, but being armed, determined to fight if attacked.

However they reached the Hospenthal without being called on to defend themselves, and at once inquired for their friend, whom they felt sure they had not pa.s.sed, and were not a little alarmed to hear he had not arrived. Meantime Wilson, who had been one of the two dangerous-looking customers, the other being a guide he was speaking to, fell back and rejoined us in the carriage, declaring that neither Scroop nor my brothers had pa.s.sed him. We were much alarmed in our turn, fearing they had lost their way; and when we found them safe, I shall never forget the laugh we had in the hall, nor the way we welcomed each other. The _maitre d'hotel_ was quite furious at the row, as tourists go to bed early."

"How amusing!" said Ellen. "I shall be sure and ask the Captain about it, when I see him."

"Well, I have been telling my tour instead of you; but I shall have plenty of time to hear all about it when we meet at the Towers,--that is if you can make up your mind to be contented with my company. Do you think with me you could really own a happy mind?"

"Can you doubt it?--can you then think I could be unhappy, with you so near me?"

"And how could you doubt me?" said the Earl, rising. "And now, Ellen, I must say adieu for the present. Don't forget the note, and we shall meet again next Monday; and ere I go, Ellen dearest, I must claim the first kiss of affection to seal my promise!"