Chapter V.

A day elapsed between the departure of Denbigh and the appearance of Emily again amongst her friends. An indifferent observer would have thought her much graver and less animated than usual. A loss of the rich colour which ordinarily glowed on her healthful cheek might be noticed; but the same placid sweetness and graceful composure which regulated her former conduct, pervaded all she did or uttered--not so Jane: her pride had suffered more than her feelings-- her imagination had been more deceived than her judgment--and although too well bred and soft by nature, to become rude or captious, she was changed from a communicative--to a reserved; from a confiding---to a suspicious companion. Her parents noticed this alteration with an uneasiness, that was somewhat imbittered by the consciousness of a neglect of some of those duties that experience now seemed to indicate, could never be forgotten with impunity.

Francis and Clara had arrived from their northern tour, so happy in each other, and contented with their lot, that it required some little exercise of fortitude in both Lady Moseley and her daughters, to expel unpleasant recollections while they contemplated it. Their relation of the little incidents of their tour, had,however, an effect to withdraw the attention of their friends in some degree from late occurrences; and a melancholy and sympathising kind of association, had taken place of the the unbounded confidence and gayety, which had lately prevailed at Benfield Lodge. Mr.

Benfield mingled with his solemnity an air of mystery; and was frequently noticed by his relatives looking over old papers, and apparently employed in preparations that indicated movements of more than usual importance.

The family were collected in one of the parlours on an extremely unpleasant day, the fourth of the departure of John, when the thin personage of Johnson stalked in amongst them. All eyes were fixed on him in expectation of what he had to communicate, and all apparently dreading to break the silence, from an apprehension his communication would be an unpleasant one. In the mean time Peter, who had respectfully left his hat at the door, proceeded to uncase his body from the multiplied defences the wary steward had taken against the inclemency of the weather. His master stood erect, with an outstretched hand, ready to receive the reply to his

epistle, and Johnson having liberated his body from thraldom, produced the black leather pocket-book, and from its contents a letter, as he read aloud--

Roderic Benfield, Esq. Benfield Lodge, Norfolk; favoured by Mr.--here Peter's modesty got the better of his method; he had never been called Mr.Johnson by any body old or young; all knew him in that neighbourhood as Peter Johnson---and he had very nearly been quilty of the temerity of arrogating to himself another title in the presence of those he most respected. A degree of self-elevation he had escaped from with the loss of a small piece of his tongue. Mr. Benfield took the letter with an eagerness that plainly indicated the deep interest he took in its contents, while Emily, with a tremulous voice and flushed cheek, approached the steward with a glass of wine, as she said,

"Peter, take this, it will do you good."

"Thank you, Miss Emmy," said Peter, casting his eyes from her to his master, as the latter having finished his letter, exclaimed with a strange mixture of consideration and disappointment,

"Johnson, you must change your clothes immediately, or you will take cold; you look now, like old Moses, the Jew beggar." Peter sighed heavily as he listened to this comparison, and saw in it a confirmation of his fears; for he well knew, that to his being the bearer of unpleasant tidings, was he indebted to a resemblance to any thing unpleasant to his master---and Moses was the old gentleman's aversion.

The baronet followed his uncle from the room to his library, and entered it at the same moment with the steward, who had been summoned by his master to an audience; pointing to achair for his nephew, Mr.

Benfield commenced with saying,

"Peter, you saw Mr. Denbigh; how did he look?"

"As usual, master," said Peter laconically, and a littled piqued at being likened to old Moses.

"And what did he say to the offer? did he not make any comments on it? he was not offended at it, I hope," cried Mr. Benfield.

"He said nothing but what he has written to your honour," replied the steward, losing a little of his constrained manner in real good feeling to his master.

"May I ask what the offer was?" inquired Sir Edward of his uncle, who, regarding him a moment in silence, said, "certainly, you are nearly concerned in his welfare; your daughter"--the old man stopped as he turned

to his letter book, and handed the baronet the copy of the epistle he had sent to Denbigh for his perusal; it read as follows:

Dear Friend, Mr. Denbigh,

I have thought a great deal on the reason of your sudden departure from a house I had began to hope, you thought your own; and by calling to mind my own feelings when Lady Juliana became the heiress to her nephew's estate, take it for granted you have been governed by the same sentiments; which I know, both by my own experience and that of the bearer, Peter Johnson, is a never-failing accompanimentof pure affection.

Yes, my dear Denbigh, I honour your delicacy in not wishing to become indebted to a stranger, as it were, for the money on which you subsist, and that stranger your wife---who ought in reason to look up to you, instead of your looking up to her; which was the true cause Lord Gosford would not marry the countess--- on account of her great wealth, as he assured me himself; notwithstanding envious people, said it was because her ladyship loved Mr. Chaworth better: so in order to remove these impediments of your delicacy, I have to make three propositions---that I bring you into parliament the next election for my borough---that you take possession of the lodge the same day you marry Emmy, while I will live, for the little time I have to stay here, in the large cottage built by my uncle--- and that I give you your legacy of ten thousand pounds down, to prevent trouble hereafter.

"As I know it is nothing but delicacy which has driven you away from us, I make no doubt you will find all objections removed, and that Peter will bring the joyful intelligence of your return to us, as soon as the business you left us on, is completed.--- Your uncle, that is to be,

"Roderic Benfield."

"N.B. As Johnson is a stranger to the ways of the town, I wish you to advise his inexperience, particularly against the arts of designingwomen, Peter being a man of considerable estate."

"There, nephew," cried Mr. Benfield, as the baronet finished reading the letter aloud, "is it not unreasonable to refuse my offers? now read his answer."

"Words are wanting to express the sensations which have been excited by Mr. Benfield's letter; but it would be impossible for any man to be so base as to avail himself of such liberality; the recollection of it, together with his many virtues, will long continue deeply impressed on the heart of

him, who Mr. Benfield would, if within the power of man, render the happiest amongst human beings."

The steward listened eagerly to this answer, but after it was done was as much as a loss to know its contents, as before its perusal. He knew it was unfavourable to their wishes, but could not comprehend its meaning or expressions, and immediately attributed their ambiguity, to the strange conference he had witnessed between Denbigh and the military stranger.

"Master," exclaimed Peter, with something of the elation of a discoverer, "I know the cause, it shows itself in the letter; there was a man talking Greek to him while he was reading your letter."

"Greek!" exclaimed Sir Edward in astonishment.

"Greek?" said the uncle, "Lord Gossford read Greek; but I believe never conversed in that language."

"Yes, Sir Edward--yes, your honour--pure wild Greek; it must have been something of that kind," added Peter with positiveness, "that would make a man refuse such offers-- Miss Emmy---the lodge---£ 10,000" ---and the steward shook his head with much satisfaction at at having discovered the cause.

Sir Edward smiled at the simplicity of Johnson, but disliking the idea attached to the refusal of his daughter, said, "perhaps, after all, uncle, there has been some misunderstanding between Emily and Denbigh, which may have driven him from us so suddenly."

Mr. Benfield and his steward exchanged looks, and a new idea broke upon them at the instant; they had both suffered in that way, and after all, it might prove, Emily was the one, whose taste or feelings had subverted their schemes. The impression once made was indelible--and the party separated-

-the master thinking alternately on Lady Juliana and his niece, while the man--after heaving one heavy sigh to the memory of Patty Steele, proceeded to the usual occupations of his office.

Mrs. Wilson thinking a ride would be of service to Emily, and having the fullest confidence in her self-command and resignation, availed herself of a fine day to pay a visit to their friend in the cottage. Mrs. Fitzgerald received them in her usual manner, but a single glance of her eye, sufficed to show the aunt, that she noticed the altered appearance of Emily and her manners, although without knowing its true reason, which she did not deem it prudent to explain---Julia handed her friend a note she stated to have received the day before, and desired their counsel how to proceed in the

present emergency; as Emily was to be made acquainted with its contents, her aunt read aloud as follows:

"My Dear Niece,

"Your father and myself had been induced to think you were leading a disgraceful life, with the officer, your husband had consigned you to the care of; for hearing of your captivity, I had arrived with a band of Guerillas, on the spot where you were rescued, early the next morning, and there learnt of the peasants your misfortunes and retreat; the enemy pressed us too much to deviate from our route at the time; but natural affection and the wishes of your father, have led me to a journey to England, to satisfy our doubts as regards your conduct. I have seen you--heard your character in the neighbourhood, and after much and long search, found out the officer, and am satisfied, that, so far as concerns your deportment, you are an injured woman. I have therefore to propose to you, on my own behalf, and that of the Condé, that you adopt the faith of your country, and return with me to the arms ofyour parent, whose heiress you will be, and whose life you may be the means of prolonging. Direct your answer to me, to the care of our ambassador; and as you decide, I am your mother's brother,

"Louis M'Carthy y Harrison."

"On what point is it you wish my advice," said Mrs. Wilson kindly, after she finished reading the letter, "and when do you expect to see your uncle?"

"Would you have me to accept the offer of my father, dear madam, or am I to remain separated from him for the short residue of his life?" Mrs.

Fitzgerald was affected to tears, as she asked this question of her friend, and waited her answer, in silent dread of its nature.

"Is the condition of a change of religion, an immoveable one?"

inquired Mrs. Wilson, in a thoughtful manner.

"Oh! doubtless," replied Julia, shuddering, "but I am deservedly punished for my early disobedience, and bow in submission to the will of providence--I feel now all that horror of a change of my religion, I once only affected--I must live and die a protestant, madam."

"Certainly, I hope so, my dear," said Mrs. Wilson, "I am not a bigot, and think it unfortunate you were not, in your circumstances, bred a pious catholic. It would have saved you much misery, and might have renderedthe close of your father's life more happy; but as your present creed, embraces doctrines too much at variance with the Romish church, to renounce the

one, or adopt the other, with your views, it will be impossible to change your church, without committing a heavy offence, against the opinions and practice of every denomination of christians; I should hope a proper representation of this to your uncle, would have its weight, or they might be satisfied with your being a christian, without becoming a catholic."

"Ah! my dear madam," answered Mrs. Fitzgerald, despairingly, you little know the opinions of my countrymen on this subject."

"Surely, surely," cried Mrs. Wilson, "parental affection is a stronger feeling than bigotry."

Mrs. Fitzgerald shook her head, in silence, and in a manner which bespoke both her apprehensions and filial regard.

"Julia, ought not---must not---desert her father, dear aunt," said Emily, as her face glowed with the ardency of her feelings.

"And ought she to desert her heavenly father, my child?" asked the aunt, mildly.

"And are the duties conflicting?" said Emily.

"The Condé makes them so," rejoined Mrs. Wilson; "Julia is, I trust, in sincerity a christian, and with what face can she offer up her daily petitions to her creator, while she wears a mask to her earthly father; orhow can she profess to honour doctrines, that she herself believes to be false, or practice customs she is impressed are improper."

"Never, never," exclaimed Julia, with fervour; "the struggle is dreadful, but I submit to the greater duty."

"And you decide right, my friend," said Mrs. Wilson, soothingly; "but you need relax no efforts to convince the Condé of your wishes; the truth and nature will finally conquer."

"Ah!" cried Mrs. Fitzgerald, "the sad consequences of one false step in early life."

"Rather," added Mrs. Wilson, "the sad consequences of one false step in generations gone by; had your grandmother listened to the voice of prudence and duty, she never would have deserted her parents for a comparative stranger, and entailed upon her descendants a train of evils, which yet exist in your person."

"It will be a sad blow to my poor uncle, too," said Mrs. Fitzgerald, "he who loved me so much once."

"When do you expect to see him?" inquired Emily--Julia informed them, she expected him hourly, as fearful a written statement of her views,

would drive him from the country without paying her a visit before he departed, she had earnestly intreated him to see her without delay.

On taking their leave, the ladies promised to obey her summons whenever called to meet the general, as Mrs. Wilson thought she might be better able to give advice to her friend, in future, by knowing more of the character of her relatives, than she could do with her present information.

One day intervened, and was spent in the united society of Lady Moseley and her daughters; while Sir Edward and Francis rode to a neighbouring town on business; and on the succeeding, Mrs. Fitzgerald apprised them of the arrival of General M'Carthy. Immediately after breakfast, Mrs. Wilson and Emily drove to the cottage, the aunt both wishing the latter as a companion in her ride, and believing the excitement would have a tendency to prevent her niece from indulging in reflections, dangerous to her peace of mind, and at variance with her duty.

Our readers have probably anticipated, that the stage companion of John Moseley, was the Spanish general, who had then been making those inquiries into the manner of his niece's living, which terminated in her acquittal in his judgment. With that part of her history which relates to the injurious attempts on her before she arrived at Lisbon, he appears to have been ignorant, or his interview with Denbigh might have terminated very differently from the manner already related.

A description of the appearance of the gentleman presented to Mrs.

Wilson is unnecessary, as it has been given already, and the discerning matron thought she read throughthe rigid and set features of the soldier, a shade of kinder feelings, which might be wrought into an advantageous intercession on behalf of Julia. The General was evidently endeavouring to keep his feelings within due bounds, before the decision of his niece might render it proper for him to indulge in that affection for her, his eye plainly shewed existed under the cover of his assumed manner.

It was an effort of great fortitude on the part of Julia to acquaint her uncle with her resolution; but as it must be done, she seized a moment after Mrs. Wilson had at some length defended her adhering to her present faith, until religiously impressed with its errors, to inform him such was her unalterable resolution;--he heard her patiently, and without anger, but in visible surprise; he had construed her summons to her house, as a preparatory measure to accepting his conditions; yet he betrayed no emotion, after the first expression of his wonder; he told her distinctly, a

renunciation of her heresy was the only condition her father would own her, either as his heiress or his child. Julia deeply regretted the decision, but was firm---and her friends left her to enjoy uninterruptedly for one day, the society of so near a relative. During this day, every doubt as to the propriety of her conduct, if any yet remained, was removed by a relation of her little story to her uncle, and after it wascompleted, he expressed great uneasiness to get to London again; in order to meet a gentleman he had seen there, under a different impression as to his merits, than what now appeared to be just;--who the gentleman was, or what the impressions were, Julia was left to conjecture--taciturnity being a favourite property in the general.