Chapter XXII.

The warm weather had now commenced, and Sir Edward, unwilling to be shut up in London, at a time the appearance of vegetation gave the country a new interest, and accustomed for many years of his life, to devote an hour in his garden each morning, had taken a little ready furnished cottage a short ride from his residence, with the intention of frequenting it, until after the birthday: thither then Pendennyss took his bride from the altar, and a few days were passed by the new married pair, in this little asylum.

Doctor Ives with Francis, Clara, and their mother, had obeyed the summons, with an alacrity in proportion to the joy they had felt on receiving it, and the former had the happiness of officiating on the occasion.

It would have been easy for the wealth of the Earl to procure a licence to enable them to marry in the drawing room--the permission was obtained, but neither Emily or himself, felt a wish to utter their vows in any other spot than at the altar, and in the house of their maker.

If there was a single heart that felt the least emotion of regret or uneasiness, it was Lady Moseley, who little relished the retirement of the cottage, on so joyful an occasion--but Pendennyss silenced her objections, by good-humouredly replying--

"The Fates have been so kind to me, in giving me castles and seats, you ought to allow me, my dear Lady Moseley, the only opportunity, I shall probably ever have, of enjoying love in a cottage."

A few days, however, removed the uneasiness of the good matron, who had the felicity, within the week, of seeing her daughter initiated mistress of Annerdale-House.--

The morning of their return to this noble mansion--the Earl presented himself in St. James's square, with the intelligence of their arrival, and smiling, as he bowed to Mrs. Wilson, he continued--"And to escort you, dear Madam, to your new abode."

Mrs. Wilson started with surprise, and with a heart beating quick with emotion, required an explanation of his words.

"Surely, dearest Mrs. Wilson--more than aunt--my mother--you cannot mean, after having trained my Emily through infancy to maturity in the

paths of her duty--to desert her in the moment of her greatest trial.--I am the pupil of your husband," he continued, taking her hands in his own with reverence and affection, "we are the children of your joint care--and one home, as there is but one heart, must, in future, contain us."

Mrs. Wilson had wished for, but hardly dared to expect this invitation--

it was now urged from the right quarter, and in a manner that was as sincere as it was gratifying-- unable to conceal her tears, the good widowpressed the hand of Pendennyss to her lips, as she murmured out her thanks, and her acceptance--Sir Edward was prepared also to lose his sister, as an inmate, but unwilling to relinquish the pleasure of her society, he urged her making a common residence between the two families.

"Pendennyss has spoken truth, my dear brother" cried she, recovering her voice, "Emily is the child of my care and my love --the two beings I love best in this world, are now united--but," she added, pressing Lady Moseley to her bosom, "my heart is large enough for you all; you are of my blood, and my gratitude for your affection is boundless--There shall be but one large family of us, and although our duties may separate us for a time--

we will, I trust, ever meet in tenderness and love--but with George and Emily I will take up my abode."

"I hope your house in Northamptonshire is not to be vacant always,"

said Lady Moseley to the Earl, anxiously.

"I have no house there, my dear Madam," he replied; "when I thought myself about to succeed in my suit before, I directed a lawyer at Bath, where Sir William Harris resided most of his time, to endeavour to purchase the Deanery, whenever a good opportunity offered;---in my discomfiture,"

he added, smiling, "I forgot to countermand the order, and he purchased it immediately on its being advertised;---for a short time itwas an incumbrance to me---but it is now applied to its original purpose---It is the sole property of the Countess of Pendennyss, and I doubt not you will see it often, and agreeably tenanted."

This intelligence gave great satisfaction to his friends, and the expected summer, restored to even Jane, a gleam of her former pleasure.

If there be bliss in this life, approaching in any degree to the happiness of the blessed, it is the fruition of long and ardent love, where youth--

innocence--piety--and family concord, smile upon the union--and all these were united in the case of the new-married pair;---buth appiness in this world cannot, or does not, in any situation, exist without alloy --it would

seem a wise and gracious ordering of Providence, to draw our attention to scenes void of care, and free, alike, from the infirmities and corruption of mortality.

The peace of mind and fortitude of Emily, were fated to receive a blow, as unlooked for to herself, as it was unexpected to the world.

Buonaparte appeared in France, and Europe became in motion.

From the moment the Earl heard the intelligence--he saw his own course decided-- his regiment was the pride of the army, and that it would be ordered to join the Duke, he did not entertain a doubt.

Emily was therefore, in some little measure, prepared for the blow--it is at suchmoments, as our acts or events affecting us, become without our controul, that faith in the justice and benevolence of God, is the most serviceable in a worldly point of view to the Christian; when others spend their time in useless regrets---he is piously resigned---it even so happens, that when others mourn, he can rejoice.

The sound of the bugle, wildly winding its notes, broke on the stillness of the morning, in the little village in which was situated the cottage tenanted by Sir Edward Moseley ---almost concealed by the shrubbery which surrounded its piazza, stood the forms of the Countess of Pendennyss, and her sister Lady Marian, watching eagerly the appearance of those, whose approach, was thus announced.

The carriage of the ladies, with its idle attendants, were in waiting at a short distance, and the pale face, but composed resignation of its mistress--

indicated a struggle between conflicting duties.

File, after file, of heavy horse, passed them in all the pomp of military splendour, and the wistful gaze of the two females had scanned them in vain for the well-known-- much-beloved countenance, of their leader-- at length a single horseman approached them, riding deliberately and musing--their forms met his eye--and in an instant, Emily was pressed to the bosom of her husband.

"It is the doom of a soldier," said the earl, dashing a tear from his eye;

"I had hoped the peace of the world would not again be assailed in years, and that ambition and jealousy would yield a respite to our bloody profession; but, cheer up, my love--hope for the best---your trust is not in the things of this life, and your happiness is without the power of man."

"Ah! Pendennyss---my husband," sobbed Emily, sinking on his bosom,

" take with you my prayers---my love---every thing that can console you---

every thing that may profit you---I will not tell you to be careful of your life---your duty teaches you that---as a soldier, expose it--as a husband, guard it--- and return to me as you leave me---a lover --the dearest of men, and a christian."

Unwilling to prolong the pain of parting, the Earl gave his wife a last embrace, held Marian affectionately to his bosom, and mounting his horse, was out of sight in an instant.

Within a few days of the departure of Pendennyss---Chatterton was surprised with the entrance of his mother and Catherine. His reception of them, was that of a respectful child, and his wife exerted herself to be kind to connexions she could not love, in order to give pleasure to a husband she adored---their tale was soon told---Lord and Lady Herriefield were separated; and the Dowager alive to the dangers of a young woman in Catherine's situation, and without a single principle, on which to rest the assuranceof her blameless conduct in future--- had brought her to England, in order to keep off disgrace, by residing with her child herself.

There was nothing in his wife to answer the expectations with which Lord Herriefield married--she had beauty, but with that, he was already sated---her simplicity and unsuspicious behaviour, which had, by having her attention drawn elsewhere, at first charmed him, was succeeded by the knowing conduct, of a determined follower of the fashions, and a decided woman of the world.

It had never struck the Viscount, as impossible, that an artless and innocent girl would fall in love with his faded and bilious face --but the moment Catherine betrayed the arts of a manager, he saw at once the artifice that had been practised upon himself--- of course, he ceased to love her.

Men are flattered, for a season, with the notice of a woman, that has been unsought, but it never fails to injure her in the opinion of the other sex, in time---without a single feeling in common, without a regard to any thing but self, in either husband or wife, it could not but happen that a separation must follow, or their days be spent in wrangling and misery.

Catherine willingly left her husband--her husband more willingly got rid of her.

During all these movements, the Dowager had a difficult game to play-

-it was unbecomingher to encourage the strife, and it was against her wishes

to suppress it--she therefore moralized with the peer, and frowned upon her daughter.

The viscount listened to her truisms, with the attention of a boy, who is told by a drunken father, how wicked it is to love liquor, and heeded them about as much; while Kate, mistress, at all events, of two thousand a year--

minded her mother's frowns as little as she regarded her smiles--both were indifferent to her.

A few days after the ladies left Lisbon, the Viscount proceeded to Italy, in company with the repudiated wife of a British naval officer; and if Kate was not guilty, of an offence of equal magnitude, it was more owing to her mother's present vigilance, than to her previous care.

The presence of Mrs. Wilson was a great source of consolation to Emily in the absence of her husband; and as their abode in town any longer was useless, the Countess declining to be presented without the Earl, the whole family decided upon a return into Northamptonshire.

The deanery had been furnished by order of Pendennyss immediately on his marriage; and its mistress hastened to take possession of her new dwelling. The amusement and occupation of this movement ---the planning of little improvements-- her various duties under her increased responsibilities, kept Emily from dwelling in her thoughts, unduly upon the danger of her husband. She sought out amongst the first objects of her bounty, the venerable peasant, whose loss had been formerly supplied by Pendennyss on his first visit to B--, after the death of his father; there might not have been the usual discrimination and temporal usefulness in her charities in this instance which generally accompanied her benevolent acts; but it was associated with the image of her husband, and it could excite no surprise in Mrs. Wilson, although it did in Marian, to see her sister, driving two or three times a week, to relieve the necessities of a man, who appeared actually to be in want of nothing.

Sir Edward was again amongst those he loved, and his hospitable board was once more surrounded with the faces of his friends and neighbours. The good-natured Mr. Haughton was always a welcome guest at the hall, and met, soon after their return, the collected family of the baronet, at a dinner given by the latter to his children, and one or two of his most intimate neighbours--

"My Lady Pendennyss," cried Mr. Haughton, in the course of the afternoon, "I have news from the Earl, which I know it will do your heart

good to hear."

Emily smiled her pleasure at the prospect of hearing, in any manner, favourably of her husband, although she internally questioned the probability of Mr. Haughton's knowingany thing of his movements, which her daily letters did not apprise her of.

"Will you favour me with the particulars of your intelligence, sir?" said the Countess.

"He has arrived safe with his regiment near Brussels; I heard it from a neighbour's son who saw him in that city, enter the house occupied by Wellington, while he was standing in the crowd without, waiting to get a peep at the duke."

"Oh!" said Mrs. Wilson with a laugh, "Emily knew that ten days ago; could your friend tell us any thing of Bonaparte, we are much interested in his movements just now."

Mr. Haughton, a good deal mortified to find his news stale, mused a moment as if in doubt to proceed or not; but liking of all things to act the part of a newspaper, he continued--

"Nothing more than you see in the prints; but I suppose your ladyship has heard about Captain Jarvis too?"

"Why, no," said Emily laughing, "the movements of Captain Jarvis are not quite as interesting to me, as those of Lord Pendennyss--has the duke made him an aid-decamp?"

"Oh! no," cried the other exculting in his success in having something new, "as soon as he heard of the return of Boney,--he threw up his commission and got married."

"Married!" cried John, "not to Miss Harris, surely."

"No, to a silly girl he met in Cornwall, who was fool enough to be caught with his gold lace. He married one day, and the next, told his disconsolate wife, and panicstruck mother, the honour of the Jarvis's must sleep, until the supporters of the name became sufficiently numerous to risk losing them, in the field of battle.

"And how did Mrs. Jarvis and Sir Timo's lady relish the news?"

inquired John, expecting something ridiculous.

"Not at all," rejoined Mr. Haughton; "the former sobbed, and said, she had only married him for his bravery and red coat, and the lady exclaimed against the destruction of his budding honours."

"How did it terminate?" asked Mrs. Wilson.

"Why, it seems while they were quarrelling about it, the war office cut the matter short by accepting his resignation. I suppose the commander in chief had learnt his character; but the matter was warmly contested--they even drove the captain to declare his principles."

"And what kind of ones might they have been, Haughton?" said Sir Edward dryly.

"Republican."

"Republican!" exclaimed two or three in surprise.

"Yes, liberty and equality, he contended,were his idols, and he could not find it in his heart to fight against Bonaparte."

"A somewhat singular conclusion," said Mr. Benfield musing. "I remember when I sat in the house, there was a party who were fond of the cry of this said liberty; but when they got the power, they did not seem to me to suffer people to go more at large than they went before--but I suppose they were diffident of telling the world their minds, after they were put in such responsible stations-- for fear of the effect of example."

"Most people like liberty as servants, but not as masters, uncle," cried John, with a sneer.

"Capt. Jarvis, it seems, liked it as a preserver against danger,"

continued Mr. Haughton; "to avoid ridicule in his new neighbourhood, he has consented to his father's wishes, and turned merchant in the city again."

"Where I sincerely hope he will remain," cried John, who since the accident of the arbour, could not tolerate the unfortunate youth.

"Amen!" said Emily, in an under tone, heard only by her smiling brother.

"But Sir Timo---what has become of Sir Timo---the good, honest merchant?" asked John.

"He has dropt the title, insists on being called plain Mr. Jarvis, and lives entirely in Cornwall. His hopeful son-in-law, has gone with his regiment to Flanders, and LadyEgerton, being unable to live without her father's assistance, is obliged to hide her consequence in the west also."

The subject became now disagreeable to Lady Moseley, and it was changed. The misfortune of such conversations, which unavoidably occurred, was, that it made Jane more reserved aud dissatisfied than ever.

She had no one respectable excuse to offer for her partiality to her former lover, and when her conscience told her of this mortifying fact, her jealousy was apt to think others remembered it too.

The letters from the continent, now teemed with the preparations for the approaching contest, and the apprehensions of our heroine and her friends to increase, in proportion to the nearness of the struggle, on which hung not only the fate of thousands of individuals, but of adverse princes, and mighty empires. In this confusion of interests, and jarring of passions---

there were offered prayers almost hourly, for the safety of Pendennyss, which were as pure and ardent, as the love which prompted them.