Mystery & Confidence. Elizabeth Sibthorpe Pinchard

could say Mordaunt ever directed himself but with the most entire respect towards Ellen, and politeness towards Joanna. Amongst other wonders which Mordaunt shewed to Ellen, such as beautiful drawings, trinkets for gentlemen, &c. and which were to her entirely new, was one which excited in her, not only admiration, but delight. This was his own miniature picture, beautifully painted, and a striking likeness. Ellen had literally never seen a portrait, except some old faded family pictures, which hung in the hall and staircase of her father's house, and represented some of the former proprietors: but these dull miserable daubs hardly conveyed to her an idea of the delightful art of portrait painting; and when she saw this speaking and elegant resemblance of her fascinating friend, she was so enchanted and enraptured, that Mordaunt, contrary to his first intention, requested her to keep it; and she, ignorant of its value, or the construction the world would have put on her accepting the picture of a gentleman, as readily received it as she had done two or three books and drawings he had given her; but different were the sensations with which she looked at this, to her, most desirable gift: it was the companion of her solitary hours, and, when not actually before her eyes, was ever present to her imagination: and when Mordaunt was absent, his picture was laid by her side; yet a sort of intuitive feeling made her snatch it up, and conceal it when any one approached. It is obvious how greatly this indulgence must have increased those sentiments of tenderness which now so irresistibly assailed her young and innocent heart. As the autumn advanced, and the evenings grew longer, Joanna and Ellen were still left less together. Mordaunt was understood to be continually at the Farm; and even the unobserving farmers' wives began to conclude his attentions into love, and to conclude the match between him and Ellen Powis determined on. A slight cold gave Ellen a reason, or rather an excuse, for staying at home, when at the end of a week Mrs. Ross determined to go herself to the Farm and see how Ellen's work went on. In the road she met Powis, and asking if his daughter were at home, he said, "Yes," and added, "I don't think she is well; she has a cold, and looks pale. How is it you and Joanna have not been to see her these two days?" "Nay," said Mrs. Ross, "I have not seen her for nearly a week. Joanna called the other day, but I fancy Ellen is better engaged than to want our company." "How do you mean," said Powis, looking surprized, "why is not Mr. Mordaunt with her every day?" "Why yes, I believe so—part of every day—but what need that hinder your coming? He says she is a clever girl, and she is so anxious to learn what he calls geography, or something like it, that they spend a good deal of their time at their books and such like, and I can't but say I relish my newspaper twice as well now Mr. Mordaunt and Ellen sometimes shew me whereabouts the armies are, and have made me understand whereabouts France, and Spain, and England, and so on are, upon the great maps he has brought to our house."

      "'Tis all very well, neighbour Powis, all very well, if you like it: I hope you will have no reason to repent it; but I am afraid, when your shirts and stockings want mending, you will not like these new-fangled ways quite so well." "Why, to be sure, if Ellen neglects her business, that won't do at all; but I assure you she is very industrious, and tells me she rises an hour the earlier every morning, to get through her work, and have time to attend to her books." "Well, neighbour, as long as you are satisfied, I do not wish to make mischief; but certainly Mr. Ross never approved of her or Joanna's learning such things; if he had, he could have instructed them, at least as well as Mr. Mordaunt." "Very true; I did not think of that—well, we will talk to Ellen about it: you will find her at home; I left her busy at work: do speak your mind to her a little; I shall be guided by you and Mr. Ross in all things, seeing you understand such matters better than I do." They then parted, and Mrs. Ross a few minutes after arrived at the Farm; and on walking into the usual sitting-room, instead of finding Ellen at work, she found her surrounded with books and maps, and Mordaunt seated by her side, one arm rested on the back of her chair, while the other was engaged in tracing with the end of his pencil some lines on the map on which Ellen was looking: she was too intently engaged to observe Mrs. Ross's entrance, who stood suspended a moment, while she heard Mordaunt say, "And here, Ellen, here is Northampton—this is the road to Aubyn Castle; and just here——" "What here?" said Ellen, eagerly placing her finger on the spot she supposed to be that on which Mordaunt's habitation stood. "Is it here your house stands?" "Very near that precise spot," replied Mordaunt, drawing her hand gently away, and retaining it in his own, while his expressive eyes were fixed on her face: "very near it is my residence; but it is so far from Llanwyllan, that I begin to detest it, and to dread the thoughts of returning to it.—But what am I doing?" said he, with a deep sigh: "Oh, Ellen, I dare not tell you all my thoughts!" Ellen blushed, sighed, withdrew her hand, and accidentally glancing her eyes upwards, saw Mrs. Ross standing in the door-way, with astonishment, anger, and vexation, painted on her countenance. Ellen started, half screamed, and rose so hastily, she almost overset the table before her. "Bless me, Ma'am," she exclaimed, "I did not see you—I did not know—" "No, I dare say not, Miss Ellen; you were a great deal too much engaged to see or think of me: your servant, Sir. I beg I may not keep you standing; at least I shall sit down, for I am not going yet."

      This gentle hint was intended to tell Mordaunt that she meant to outstay him; but she looked at Ellen with "eyes so full of anger," and Ellen turned so pale, and looked so alarmed, that Mordaunt thought he would at least give Mrs. Ross time to cool a little, before he left them together. Ellen began, in much confusion, to gather the books and maps together. "I am sorry to disturb you, but I did not expect," said Mrs. Ross, "to find you engaged in this manner, at this time of day, whatever you might chuse to do in an evening. I met your father, and he told me you were busy at work, or in the dairy: but," added she, in a low voice, "those things are not thought of now." "Indeed, Ma'am," said Ellen, blushing, while the tears started in her eyes, at being so lectured before Mordaunt, "indeed, I had just finished what I had to do in the dairy to-day, and had begun the work you desired me to do, when Mr. Mordaunt accidentally came in, and the maps we had been looking at last night lying in the window, he was just shewing me—" "Oh, it is all mighty well," interrupted Mrs. Ross; "I have no authority to interfere, I am sure, and do not wish to be impertinent. Pray, Sir," added she, turning to Mordaunt, "do you stay much longer at Llanwyllan?" "So," thought Mordaunt, "my turn is coming next. I hope, Madam," added he, smiling, "I shall not stay long enough to tire my friends." "Oh, I dare say not, Sir; I dare say you are pretty sure of that." This coarse and cruel hint covered Ellen with the deepest crimson; and Mordaunt, while his face was scarlet, and his eyes sparkled with an indignation he with difficulty repressed, said, in a lofty tone, "I have not, at least, Madam, been accustomed to incur such a misfortune, and therefore flatter myself I have now done nothing to deserve it." He rose with dignity, and approaching Ellen, who sat almost motionless, he took her trembling hand, bowed respectfully upon it, and said, "I shall do myself the honour of attending your father and yourself, Miss Powis, in the evening." Then slightly bowing to Mrs. Ross, he departed. "Good lack, good lack," said Mrs. Ross, who, awed by his manner, had been silent a moment, "what a dainty speech! The honour of attending Miss Powis! well, what will this world come to! Why, Ellen, child, you are spoilt for a farmer's wife, and will soon begin to fancy yourself a lady indeed." Ellen, whose spirits were now totally subdued, wept bitterly, and said, "I am sure, Madam, I do not know how I have deserved to be treated thus."

      Softened by her distress, for with all her sharpness, Mrs. Ross loved Ellen, and really had her welfare at heart, she began to relent, and said more softly, "Why now, Ellen, child, hear me. Do you think it is right or creditable for a young girl like you to be constantly receiving the visits of such a man as Mr. Mordaunt? Tell me, Ellen, will he make you his wife?"

      This was a question Ellen had never dared to ask herself. In the beautiful language of Shakespeare, which Mordaunt had lately given her, and with which she was so enchanted, she often allowed herself only three hours sleep in a night, that she might find time to read, she had often repeated to herself—

      —— It were all one,

       That I should love a bright particular star,

       And think to wed it: he is so above me;

       In his bright radiance, and collateral light

       Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.

      This question from Mrs. Ross, therefore, struck her heart with a pang of unutterable anguish, and she felt almost dying, while she owned, that so far from offering her his hand, Mordaunt had never spoken one word of love to her. Mrs. Ross,