[figure description] Page 146.[end figure description]

The next morning Edward and Charles Martin
called on the Recluse, with the Lord Lieutenant's
letter. They found M'Nelvin with him; and both,
especially the Recluse, seemed to be much dejected.

“My friend,” said Edward, as he approached the
latter, “I have taken the liberty of introducing into
your habitation, a friend whom I believe you have
never seen, but of whom you have often heard.
This is the only son of your correspondent Sir
Philip Martin.

“I am happy to see your father's son,” said the
Recluse to Charles. “You bear a near resemblance
to what he was before my misfortunes began. Ah!
you recall those days to my recollection, when your
father and I were college class-mates. The same
was our age, the same were our studies, the same
were our pursuits, and nearly the same were our
opinions and principles. But different, far different
has been the tenor of our lives. His has been
smooth, calm and unruffled; for he was never the

[figure description] Page 147.[end figure description]

victim of those fierce passions which have brought
on my head the storms of misfortune.”

“Your misfortunes, sir,” replied Martin, “are I
believe now at an end; and, I hope, that my father
and you, have, in the evening of your lives, a long
period of tranquillity and happiness before you.”

“My friends,” observed the Recluse, “I will
never distrust the kindness of Providence. But
you will pardon my present seriousness, when I inform
you that I have received news of a melancholy
nature. You know, Mr. Martin, that I never had
a sister, and but only one brother; now I have
neither.”

“What!” interrupted Martin, “is Sir John Hamilton
dead?”

“Yes; and the manner of his death, is what, at
present, so much afflicts me,” answered the Recluse.
“M'Nelvin has just brought me a letter, which he
received last night from the post office, written by
your father, in which he mentions that my brother
who had, as you know, never been married, and
had for a number of years past become a perfect
sot, and associated with none but jockies, huntsmen
and profligates of every description, was found
dead a few mornings since in a ditch at the road
side, about two miles from his own house. There
were no marks of violence on his person. His
watch, his money, and every other article about
him, remained undisturbed. But it was known
that he left a neighbouring public house at a late
hour the preceding night, in a high state of intoxication.
These, and some other circumstances, induced
the coroner's jury to return a verdict on the
case, of “Death by drunkenness;” a death which I
consider to be in no respect less horrible than suicide.
Oh! I feel it awful to reflect that my only
brother, who, however exceptionable his character
might be in other respects, was always kind to me,

[figure description] Page 148.[end figure description]

should come to the termination of his existence in
such a manner.”

“Sir Francis Hamilton!” cried Martin, extending
his hand to the Recluse, “permit me to address
you by your proper title. You are now a free man.
I hold the document in my hand which absolves
you from the effects of your unfortunate duel, and
restores you to society. May you long enjoy your
freedom, friends and property!”

M`Nelvin's eyes sparkled at this intelligence.
“God Almighty be praised for this addition to his
other signal mercies!” he ejaculated, while Sir
Francis hastily glanced at the signature of the letter.

“I expected this,” said he, from his excellency's
friendship. “I see that it is his own hand writing.”

“I sincerely congratulate you,” said Edward.
This is a turn of Providence from which, I trust, will
proceed many years of happiness to us all.”

“But my poor brother!” said Sir Francis, his
mind still full of his catastrophe. “O! that he had
died a less sudden death!”

“Sir,” said M`Nelvin, “in the midst of so many
blessings, we ought not to repine, if the great Ruler
of all, does not send them unmixed. His ways are
inscrutable; his dispensations are frequently mysterious;
but they never fail, in some shape, to redound
to the advantage of his creatures. That your brother's
death has answered some kind purpose of Providence
both to himself and to others, it would be
impious to doubt.”

“My friend,” cried Sir Francis, catching M`Nelvin's
hand, “your words to me have ever been wisdom.
I shall endeavour to grieve no more. God
has removed him in the way he thought best. His
will be done.”

It was proposed that Sir Francis should without
delay, relinquish his disguise and resume his

[figure description] Page 149.[end figure description]

proper appearance and station in society. To this he
agreed, adding that he had the means at hand, and
should, in a few hours, meet them at the Castle,
free, fearless and undisguised.

Edward and Charles now left the cell, and with
joyous hearts turned down the glen towards the
shore; while M`Nelvin set off for Jemmy Hunter,
in order to send him express to the sheriff of the
county with information of the pardon his friend
had received. Jemmy was soon on his journey;
and that very evening returned with the following
note from the sheriff, addressed to Sir Francis
Hamilton:

“Dear Sir—It is with great satisfaction that I
acknowledge the receipt of your's of this morning,
covering the commands of his excellency, the Lord
Lieutenant, respecting you, which, of course, it is
my duty, as well as my pleasure, to obey. I shall
make the agreeable communication known without
delay to all the justices of the peace, jailers, and
other officers, whom it concerns, so that you will
be in no danger of personal molestation; and may
appear in public whenever you think proper.

Edward and his friend having reached the beach,
“Do you behold yon rock” said the former, “at
the foot of the precipice to the right hand. It was
from its summit, I first beheld the mistress of my
heart.”

“And it was there too,” observed Martin, “I understand,
that you were kept in durance for about
four months, without once seeing the light of the
sun.”

“But,” returned Edward, “it was there, I was
more than compensated for that privation, by the

[figure description] Page 150.[end figure description]

light of her lovely countenance visiting me, and
showing me the way to liberty.”

“You are a happy man, I acknowledge,” said
Martin. “O! that my sweet brunette were to render
me such a service.”

“It is remarkable,” observed Edward, “that we
have been both doomed to loose our hearts in this
bewitching country. After the warning I gave
you of its Circean influence, I think you displayed
but little prudence in venturing to visit it.”

“Ah! my friend,” replied Martin, “I confess I
am indeed caught. But I rejoice at it. If I am a
captive, I have, at least, the grace to be content
with my chains. Methinks I would not fly from
my charmer, even if my flight were to deliver me
from a rocky prison.”

“Your's is the superlative of love, I admit,” said
Edward. “I could wish we had the proof of its
sincerity. But shall we explore the interior of the
rock?”

“Yes,” replied his friend; “I am full of curiosity
to view that nest, in which so many ill-formed projects
of rebellion have been hatched.”—

“But, not so fast”—interrupted Edward. “I see
our two enchantresses yonder. It will, methinks,
be pleasanter to join them. On some other occasion,
we may visit the curiosities of this rock.” As
they walked towards the ladies, Martin observed,
“Since you have the key to my feelings, Edward,
you cannot but know that I am unhappy; for, I
perceived that my little sly tempter looked rather
askance on me last night. Whenever my eye
caught her's she suddenly looked in another direction,
and, as I imagined, attempted to appear sulky;
and if her countenance was not too pretty to
be ill-natured, I fear it would wear a perpetual
gloom in my presence.”

“Have courage,” said Edward; “you must have

[figure description] Page 151.[end figure description]

your day of trial as well as others. I underwent
a long heart-burning season of suspense. I indured
insults, threats, ran the risk of assassination,
and suffered under a long deprivation of the light of
day, before I became certain that my fair one
loved me. My sufferings at length softened her,
and she confessed”—

They had now advanced within hearing of the
ladies. After the first salutation, “If it will not
be intrusion” said Edward, “we should wish to
share the pleasure of your ramble.”

“We do not intend going far,” replied Ellen.
“We were just about returning when we saw
you approaching.”

“Could we prevail on you to extend your
walk,” said Martin, looking timidly at Miss Agnew,
“we should be much gratified.”

A pause ensued, each lady expecting the other
to reply. At length, Ellen said, “if our company
could indeed be of any service to you, gentlemen,
we should cheerfully afford it.”

“I assure you, ladies!” replied Edward, “there
can be no species of recreation which we would
prefer to your company.”

“Nor,” added Martin, fervently, “would we exchange
that company for any other under the
sun.”

“You, Dublin gentlemen,” said Miss Agnew,
“have a bold knack at complimenting. Is such
language frequent in your city?”

“I protest, Miss Agnew,” said Martin, with simplicity,
“I only speak what I feel to be true.”

“Ah! young man,” she returned, “you are now
fallen from the sublime. I should like you to take
another flight towards the sun—but no, the clouds
will be high enough; for I should not wish you to
be overcome with fatigue, if you are to be our companion
when you descend.”

[figure description] Page 152.[end figure description]

“I am, indeed, too much overpowered by my
present feelings to venture on any flight,” replied
Martin.

“Our presence is, perhaps, oppressive to you,”
said she. “We had better, therefore, separate.”
So saying, she affected to turn away from him, but
with a smile of such sweet good nature as threw
him totally off his guard.

“Oh! no, Miss Agnew,” he exclaimed, “do not
leave me until I lay my heart open before you.”

“Lay your heart open before me!—what a sight
it would be!” she exclaimed. “Why this must be
another of your Dublin customs.”

During this conversation, Edward and Ellen had
proceeded some distance in advance of their
friends, so that Martin perceived that he had an
opportunity of expressing himself more freely and
explicitly on the subject of his new born love.

“I shall now speak plainly to you, my lovely
banterer,” said he. “The language of feeling and
of love is every where the same. It does not consist
so much in the words, as in the manner and
looks of the speaker. Ah! have you not perceived,
from the confusion of my eyes, the agitation of my
manner, that you have become too interesting to
me, too essential to my happiness.”—

“Sir,” said she, interrupting him, “this is
strange discourse;—but we must follow our companions.”

“Ah! let us imitate them too?” said he, “by loving
each other.”

“They know each other better than we do,”
she replied, “and are consequently more excuseable
in yielding to the impulse of mutual affection
with which their virtues have inspired them.” While
speaking this, she hastened so rapidly forward,
that they had nearly overtaken their

[figure description] Page 153.[end figure description]

companions, before he had time to ask, “When I am
better known, may I hope?”

“Perhaps so,” was the only reply he received;
but it was accompanied with a look that gave pleasure
to his heart.

Ellen, conscious that the state of her feelings
were too well known to permit an over-strained reserve
to appear natural, had without hesitation accepted
her lover's arm as they walked forward.
Her gentle pressure communicated a thrill of delight
to his whole frame, and he could not help exclaiming—
“Ah! life of my heart! when shall I have
a legal and exclusive claim to call thee my own, and
to support thee thus in our walks, careless of observation,
in the face of the world?”

“In that respect, I am not at my own disposal,”
she replied. “My father must act for me, or rather
his wisdom must show me how to act; but my father
dares not now act openly; and I should very
much question the propriety of giving away my
hand, while he lives, unless he appeared publicly
on the occasion, to sanction the deed.”

“And publicly he will appear,” replied her lover.
“His danger is over, and his disguise will be
thrown off this very day. The new viceroy is his
friend; and has reversed his outlawry.” “Oh, Edward,
do you indeed speak the truth?” she exclaimed.
“But why do I doubt? This consummates the
blessings which Heaven has so graciously, so abundantly
showered on us of late. Lead me to my
father, that, in his presence, I may thank my God.”

Miss Agnew, who had heard her last expression,
was astonished at her fervency, but on learning
the cause, she partook warmly of her joy, and earnestly
joined in her thanksgiving.

Edward now informed Ellen, that he expected
her father had, by this time, thrown aside forever,
his disguise; and that in his own proper person, he

[figure description] Page 154.[end figure description]

would very soon appear at the Castle to confirm
the intelligence with his own lips. “Even at this
moment, he may be there,” said he, “anxiously
waiting to gladden the heart of his daughter with
the certainty of his safety.”

As the party approached the Castle, they were
overtaken by M`Nelvin, in company with a stranger
of a genteel appearance, who seemed somewhat
beyond the middle age of life. He advanced
towards them with a firm step and an air of courtesy,
with a smile playing on his countenance,
while M`Nelvin introduced him to them by the
name of Sir Francis Hamilton.

Ellen startled, supposing that it might be her
uncle, of whose death she had not been informed.
“Sir John Hamilton, I rather suppose,” said she.

“No; I have made no mistake. Sir Francis is
his name,” returned the poet.

“Yes, my daughter,” exclaimed Sir Francis,
“and I am thy father, the old Recluse, who have
for six years been content to live as a hermit, because
you were near him. He saw you all he
wished you to be, and he was happy, although
covered with the garb of poverty.”

“You are indeed my father!” cried she. “That
you are now safe, thank Heaven;—but how have
you become Sir Francis Hamilton. Has the Lord
Lieutenant also given you a title?”

“No, my daughter. I have my title by inheritance.
My brother, your uncle, is dead.”

“Dead!” she exclaimed.

“Yes,” replied her father. “He was a kind
relative; and I cannot but feel much for his fate,
it was so unexpected.”

“But, I trust, he has gone to a better world,”
said Ellen, heaving a sigh; “the same journey is
destined for us all.”

They soon arrived at the Castle, where

[figure description] Page 155.[end figure description]

O'Haloran and his sister being informed of the revolution
in the affairs of the Recluse, partook of
the general thankfulness; and the whole party enjoyed
several days of more felicity than usually
falls to the lot of mortals.

Previous section

Next section