Mystery & Confidence. Elizabeth Sibthorpe Pinchard
such fine frame as seldom can be met with, either in court or cottage. And when with sweet confidence, which, intending no harm, feared none, she accepted Mordaunt's offered arm, he felt a degree of pleasure to which he had long been a stranger: he scarcely noticed that Joanna had taken the other arm: yet Joanna was not a plain girl; but who could look at her when Ellen was present? As they descended the mountain, the storm having by this time blown over, the girls laughed at their vain terrors, and made light of those which Mordaunt expressed, lest their wet clothes should give them cold, saying, they were so accustomed to take exercise in all weathers, they were not likely to be injured by a sudden shower: "Though I must acknowledge," said Joanna, with a smile, "we do not much like thunder-storms." Every thing that either said was expressed in the plural; and "We" was always the term, whichever spoke. Mordaunt admired the good sense and propriety with which each seemed endowed; but in Ellen he distinguished an elegance of expression, a superiority of mind, which, in so young a girl, and one who could have had so few opportunities of improvement, completely surprised him. This lovely creature seemed yet hardly seventeen; and when he talked to her on various subjects, he found, that although Mr. Ross's library had furnished her with the works of Addison, Pope, and a few more of our best English authors, yet her acquisitions had not gone beyond a tincture of English literature, in a general way; that she was tolerably well instructed in English History, knew scarcely any thing of Geography, and could neither play on any instrument nor draw; so that she certainly was much inferior to the heroines of some modern novels, who learn all these things by intuition: her voice, however, in singing, was as harmonious as in speaking, and she could sing many of the simple Welsh airs with natural taste, and in a very pleasing manner. Mordaunt escorted the girls to Llanwyllan Farm, where he was immediately recognized by Powis, who, hearing from his daughter the attention he had shewn to her and Joanna, was cordial in his acknowledgments, and insisted on the traveller partaking their supper. Mordaunt could not refuse; and it was accordingly spread, not as usual in the porch, the late storm having left a dampness in the air, but in a large hall, the farm-house having formerly been a capital mansion.
Joanna and Ellen, having hastily changed their wet garments, soon joined them; and this little party sat down to supper pleased with each other, and without any of that cold formality which strangers so generally feel; confiding hospitality on the one hand, and something, at least, very like good breeding, on the other, rendering them all easy and pleasant to themselves, and to each other.
During this little repast, though no ill-timed curiosity demanded the explanation, Mordaunt thought proper to mention his name, and, in some degree, declare his situation in life. He had, he said, been educated with the Earl of St. Aubyn, who was his distant relation, and had a few years before appointed him his steward for his estate in Northamptonshire, where he had a comfortable house, not far from St. Aubyn Castle, the noble residence of the Earl himself, who had been for sometime on the Continent; that he himself, having met with some domestic vexations, which had injured his health, the Earl had permitted him to appoint a deputy, and travel into Wales, as he had done the summer before into the Highlands of Scotland; of which he gave a most animated description. His patron, he added, had also a fine estate on the borders of Westmoreland, with a very noble old seat called the Abbey, which, though extremely ancient, still retained its former magnificence. Mordaunt's manners were so pleasing, his voice so impressive, and his countenance so fine, that the little party who were his auditors hung upon his words with almost breathless admiration.—The moments flew, and they were surprised when the hall clock struck eleven, an hour unheard of among the sober inhabitants of Llanwyllan. "God bless me," said Powis, "why it's eleven o'clock: I have not been up so late these ten years!" "Dear father!" said Ellen, with a reproving accent, as she glanced at Mordaunt, who hastily rose from his chair. "Excuse my rudeness, Sir," said Powis; "I did not mean to turn you out uncivilly, but fear neighbour Jones may be gone to bed." Mordaunt smiled, and said he ought to apologize for keeping them up. Then extending his hand, he shook the farmer's rough one with great kindness, and said, "If I should not see you again——" "Not see us again!" interrupted Powis: "why to be sure you are not going away! Lord bless me—why, I thought you would stay a day or two at least; for my share, if you don't, I wish you had never come at all; for I never saw a man in all my days I liked so well." "Upon my word, Sir," said Joanna, "you have not yet seen half the beauties of Llanwyllan; has he, Ellen?" "No, indeed," replied Ellen. "I assure you, Mr. Mordaunt, there are many charms—" "I know it, I feel it!" interrupted Mordaunt: "there is every charm which the most beautiful nature, the kindest hospitality, can bestow! But to stay at the village without visiting the Farm of Llanwyllan would be impossible, and, stranger as I am, would it not be intruding?" "Not at all," said Powis; "we should rejoice to keep you amongst us; the girls will shew you the fine views, as they call them, and I shall be proud to see you at my table, if it be not too plain for you, at all times." "You are too good! but, will Miss Ross, will Miss Powis, accept their share of the agreement? Are there no more agreeable engagements, no more amiable friends to claim their attention?" He took a hand of each, but fixed his penetrating eyes on Ellen: she blushed, but the lightest emotion made Ellen blush, so that though Mordaunt had "Charles" in his head when he spoke, he could judge nothing by her blushing; and her eyes met his with a look of confiding sweetness, which seemed to speak a heart unconscious of any secret sentiment. Joanna answered, "If we were to tell you, Mr. Mordaunt, we had nothing to do but to walk about, you would think we were very idle girls, or said what was not true: we are very busy all the day till five in the evening, when we drink tea either here or at my father's, who will be happy to see you: after that, if it is fine we walk; if not, amuse ourselves within, till ten o'clock, when we go to bed, that we may rise at five the next morning; from five in the evening till ten we shall be glad of your company."
In consequence of this frank statement, and the secret inclination he felt to see more of Llanwyllan, and its art-less inhabitants, Mordaunt determined to pass a few days there; and the next day, after attending their early tea-table, walked two or three hours with Ellen and Joanna, equally delighted with Powis's kind hospitality, and the unsuspicious confidence of the two innocent girls, who, stranger as he was, saw nothing extraordinary or improper in allowing him a degree of friendly intimacy, which, in a situation of more publicity, he would hardly have attained under some weeks of acquaintance, even with the assistance of a proper introduction. Still more was he charmed with their affectionate manner towards each other, and the beauty of Ellen, as well as her unaffected simplicity, united with an extraordinary share of good sense and information beyond her apparent opportunities. When they parted in the evening, Joanna said, "To-morrow, you know, Ellen, Charles will pass at home; and as he goes away entirely the next day, I think we must not make any engagement for to-morrow." "Very true," said Ellen, in a low voice, and a slight shade passed over her expressive features; but whether it arose from regret that she must relinquish the society of her new friend, with whose spirited and sensible conversation she appeared much pleased, or from concern for Charles's approaching absence, our traveller had no means of judging. He had discovered, in the course of conversation, that Charles was Joanna's brother, and was now absent for a day or two preparatory to his leaving home for some time, being in the navy: a few more particulars relative to him he felt anxious to ascertain as soon as possible; and he took leave of his new friends, after engaging to spend the next evening but one at Mr. Ross's.
The landlord at the Prince of Wales understood and spoke English; but it was with so much of the Welsh accent, that Mordaunt, with difficulty, comprehended his meaning. The curiosity which he felt, however, to learn more about Charles Ross, induced him, once again, to attempt a conversation with "neighbour Jones," as Powis called him, though, in general, Mordaunt's patience, which was by no means inexhaustible, and an ear refined by living much in his early days with people of fashion and learning, were severely tried by provincial dialects, and he avoided, as much as possible, any conference with those who spoke what he termed a barbarous jargon: for humour of any kind, or odd characters, whether natural or acquired, he had no taste; sentiment, elegance, and refinement of language and manners, were to him indispensable requisites of those be regarded; and above all things he detested that mixture of familiarity and obsequiousness which the landlord of a country inn shews to one, who, though his guest, he fancies his equal; yet there was some paramount feeling in Mordaunt's mind, which forced him to dispense with all these niceties, and seek intelligence even from a man whose language and manner were equally distasteful to him. From Jones, then, he learnt that Charles was the son