University of Virginia Library

23. CHAPTER XXIII.

The reader, whose patience has sustained him
thus far in our company, will have found little difficulty
in identifying the lady, whose envious veil
so sorely puzzled our bewildered hero. As Helen
Elwell is therefore unhooded to those of us who are
behind the curtain, it is proper to revert to the causes
which induced her visit to London, and instigated
the adoption of such bold and novel measures to
secure the affections and person of him whom she
only knew as Sydney Clifton.

After her last anonymous epistle to Thomas
Burchard had accomplished its purpose, she despatched
a messenger to that worthy, soliciting his presence
at a certain hour at her father's residence.

The summons was obeyed, and by dint of promises

and threats she induced him to disclose the
subtle scheme which accomplished the destruction
of Clifton's character, and in which De Lyle had
played so conspicuous a part. In truth, Burchard
was totally unaware of Ellingbourne's privity to the
original plan, and therefore attributed its inception,
progress, and completion, solely to the teeming brain
of De Lyle.

As will be inferred, Helen's desire to be the sole
depository of Burchard's secret, until she could avail
herself of the information, and thus secure Clifton's
hand—was cheerfully seconded by her informant,
who was more deeply implicated in the matter than
he wished the public to understand. Shortly subsequent
to this development, and while she was yet
pondering on the most feasible method of rendering
it subservient to her purpose, a letter from Julia imparted
the intention of her parents to make a voyage
to Europe for the benefit of her health; and soliciting
Mr. Elwell to secure their passage in a packet
that would sail on the following month. To the
jealous mind of Helen this visit to England foreboded
the destruction of her cherished schemes, if she
could not anticipate her cousin, by herself embarking
in a vessel which sailed previous to that in which
the Borrowdale's intended to take passage. Fortunately
for her design, an intimate friend of her
father designed, with his lady, to sail for Liverpool
in the succeeding week, and her father's consent
was obtained and her passage engaged before she

disclosed the receipt of her cousin's letter. Although
the vessel in which Helen embarked preceded that
in which her cousin sailed nearly two weeks, yet
they both arrived in London at about the same time;
and Helen's desire to anticipate Julia induced her to
seek an interview with Clifton in the manner before
related. The following morning she devoted to the
return of calls from the friends of the high-born
family at whose residence she remained while in
London.

While at the mansion of a lady of fashion at the
west and of the town, the name of Lord Templeton
was accidentally introduced, which led to some remarks
connected with the trial of the culprit who attempted
his robbery on the highway.

The introduction of this subject caused the gallantry
and prowess of Clifton to be justly lauded;
and all expressed their regret that the unfortunate
incident in the trial had compelled him to avow the
disgrace attached to his wretched parent.

Helen's recent arrival in London had prevented
her from before learning ought of the infamy belonging
to our hero's parentage; nor was she prepared
by any previous knowledge of the circumstances,
connected with Glenthorne's history, or his
relationship to Clifton, to anticipate the disgrace thus
reflected on the latter. To her chagrin and mortification
the fashionable society of the British metropolis
appeared unanimous in the decision, that our
luckless hero had forfeited all claims to consideration

by this development. To one who, like Helen
Elwell, lived and moved and had her being in the
sunshine of fashionable life, no calamity could be
more dreaded than expulsion from its charmed
boundaries. While her passion for Clifton had led
her to adopt rash and somewhat dangerous measures
to secure his affections, she was buoyed by
anticipations of ultimate success, and stimulated by
the romantic nature of the schemes which her inventive
genius had moulded to her purpose. But
now the case was materially changed. The anxieties
and hopes which preceded the success of her
plans were merged in their fruition, and the excitement
of the chase was no longer sustained by the
ardour of pursuit. With such views and feelings it
is not surprising that the anticipated union with
Clifton assumed a far less attractive aspect to her
mind, than when, flushed with the triumph of her
schemes, she had in the morning left the residence
of her friend to make the round of fashionable visits.

To increase her repugnance to so ill-assorted an
union, the fashionable male triflers, whom she met
in the drawing rooms of her new friends did not
conceal their admiration of the tall and graceful
transatlantic beauty. Their compliments were not
thrown away upon her to whom they were addressed;
and long before the arrival of the hour
for her interview with Clifton, she had determined
to refuse the nuptials she had but now so sedulously
laboured to perfect. In accomplishing her

newly formed purpose, the presence and co-operation
of Julia were requisite; as it occurred to
her mind that a most rare opportunity was presented
to affect great disinterestedness and magnanimity,
in resigning to her cousin the hand of one
whom she had rescued from infamy; and for whom
she entertained such exalted sentiments of respect.
With these views, she invited Julia to call on her for
a short period at six o'clock, as she desired to consult
her on the subject of some new dresses, and had
other arrangements to perfect which required the
presence of her cousin. Poor Clifton, as the hour
of appointment drew nigh, felt more and more the
sacrifice he was called on to make, in thus uniting
himself to a female with whose habits, dispositions
and temper he must from necessity be unacquainted.
In every view it seemed little better than moral
prostitution; nor could his judgment reconcile the
measures the incognita had adopted with the dictates
of female delicacy and decorum.

The beautiful lines of Byron, which we transcribe,
(slightly altered,) occurred to his mind; and
the aptness and force with which they illustrated
his unfortunate union with one whom he neither
loved nor esteemed, still further depressed his drooping
spirits:

To his excited mind it appeared that the avoidance
of this unfortunate alliance would bring comparative
happiness, but he saw no prospect of such
a boon, consistent with his solemn obligation. In
this sombre mood he traversed the distance between
his lodgings and the splendid mansion which his
unknown fair one inhabited; and any one not initiated
in the secrets of his visit, would have deemed
his attendance rather demanded by the exigencies of
a funeral, than the expected solemnization of his
own nuptial rites. On entering the dwelling he
was ushered into a superb drawing room, whose
rich furniture was arranged with that nice discrimination
which exhibits the highest evidence of decorative
taste. In a few moments the door opened
and exhibited to his astonished view the person of
Helen Elwell! The appearance of a near relative
and avowed friend of his adored Julia again awoke
all his more painful emotions, and it was with much
hesitation that he was enabled to tender the greeting
which circumstances rendered necessary.

“Truly, Mr. Clifton, for a gallant and courteous
young gentleman, you are, methinks, somewhat ungraceful
in paying your devoirs to your lady-love.

But never mind, you'll improve, I have no doubt, in
good time.” These remarks were uttered with what
was intended for a gracious smile; but to a scrutinizing
observer it ill-concealed the mortified vanity of
the belle, who resents a slight none the less that
the guilty party is soon to be numbered among her
rejected admirers.

“Fair and beautiful lady,” said Clifton, “forgive
me now, and consider me as I am, a sad and solitary
being, who, although grateful for your unlooked-for
kindness, am really unable at the moment
to render a suitable return. Believe me, my dear
Miss Elwell, that none can more fully appreciate
the sacrifice you have made to rescue my reputation
from undeserved reproach, nor am I either indifferent
to or ungrateful for the boon. That the lady
who thus interested herself in the fate of so obscure
an individual would be found in the person of the
high-born, accomplished and fascinating Miss Elwell,
was, I confess, totally unexpected; and my
embarrassment and hesitation are the natural
result of so great a surprise.”

“How beautiful and intellectual is his fine dark
eye, and his voice is music itself.” Thus thought
Helen Elwell; and she sighed as she reflected
on his loss of caste in the only world within whose
glittering circle she wished to move. The well-timed
compliments of our re-assured hero summoned
a more genuine smile than its ill-favoured predecessor,
and Helen replied:

“Before we proceed to extremities, it will be necessary
to consult a friend in the next room; and I
must beg of you to pay the most respectful attention
to the advice thus given.”

With these words she moved toward a pair of
folding doors, beckoning Clifton at the same time to
join her; and as he came to her side she took his
arm, threw open the doors, and exhibited to his astonished
gaze the ever-remembered and beloved
form of Julia Borrowdale! To paint the varied
emotions that rushed through the breasts of both at
this unexpected meeting, is beyond our art; nor
could we more successfully attempt to depict its
effect on their agitated countenances. With Julia indeed
all within was joy—turbulent, uncontrollable,
unspeakable delight;—but Clifton's brain reeled, and
his mind was overwhelmed with the painful conviction
that he was in the presence of one, who,
though dearer to his heart than the purple current
which controlled its beatings, and was removed from
his alliance by insurmountable barriers. The impress
of those terrible regrets was so visible on his
features, that even Helen with all her stoicism
hastened to remove what she conceived was the
cause of his sorrows, by resigning him formally to
Julia.

The only word that yet passed, were “Mr.
Clifton here!” by Julia, and “Miss Borrowdale!”
by her stricken admirer, who recoiled as if stung by
an adder as he uttered her name.

To Julia this hesitation and recoil were viewed
with dreadful forebodings, for the only circumstance
which could justify his backwardness to address her
was, she deemed, his betrothal to another!

“Come, come, my dear young couple,” were
Helen's words, “this shyness would be in the very
worst taste, if I had not by a little well-contrived
artifice been guilty of implanting it in the bosom of
Mr. Clifton. To be brief, for I really detest what
are called `scenes,' I have thrown a most beautifully
wrought net over this inconsolable lover of
yours, Julia, and he flutters dreadfully in its meshes.
Well, well, I'll be magnanimous, and release him.
There now the story is told, and if you two do not
hereafter be happy as the day is long, it will be no
fault of `mine.' ”

To the surprise of Helen, and the infinite horror
of her cousin, Clifton, instead of proceeding to clasp
Julia to his bosom, retreated into the recesses of a
heavily-cased window, threw himself on a seat, and
groaned in very bitterness of spirit.

How long he would have remained there it is impossible
to say, if Helen had not insisted on his
instantly explaining his extraordinary conduct.

“This,” said she, “is a most unaccountable and
unpardonable affront to my charming cousin, and
were I a man you should answer it with your life.
No one with a drop of my blood in their veins shall
be thus treated with impunity; and I tell you Mr.
Sydney Clifton, that you will forfeit all claims to the

character of a gentleman, if you do not this moment
explain the cause of this coldness.”

This spirited remonstrance had the desired effect,
and rising, Clifton, with extreme pallor of countenance,
said:

“Miss Elwell you are right, and I submit to the
reproof, conscious that it is apparently deserved.
When my traitor tongue shall sufficiently return to
its allegiance to explain the barrowing nature of my
reflections, and their distressing cause, I trust that
my offence will be considered more venial. That I
love Miss Borrowdale madly, devotedly, you I presume
well know. That I can never wed her you
will learn when I divulge a secret that it was my
intention never to communicate while we were both
in one hemisphere. The present crisis however, demands
the disclosure at my hands, and I will essay
its revelation. It is probably known by this time
to you both, that I was compelled recently in open
court—in the presence of a large auditory—to avow
my belief that I was the offspring of Glenthorne
the murderer. This circumstance has attained
great notoriety; and if it had been confirmed by the
event, would have banished me from the society of
a large circle of the respectable portion of this community.

“Unhappily for my peace, this is not the case. I
am not the child of disgrace and infamy; but what
is to me infinitely more to be deplored, I am the son
of Mr. Borrowdale and the brother of Julia!

“If fate has in store for me hereafter any exquisite
misery—such as mortal never yet endured without
flinching—believe me it will fail to extort one
token of regret. The present calamity is, in its
ocean-like boundary, destined to engulph all present
and future pangs.”

During this astounding recital, the countenance
of Helen unconsciously brightened, as she reflected
that now the barrier was removed—the goal in view
—the triumph achieved!

“He is mine—mine for life—mine for time—mine
for eternity,” were her thoughts. At the close of
Clifton's address Julia swooned, and it was some
time before she revived. As soon as her returning
animation permitted she feebly said,

“My dear cousin, and you, Mr. Clifton, excuse
my emotion. I have for months been ill—very ill
—and am now but partially recovered, and my
nerves are sadly shattered. The extraordinary disclosure
of Mr. Clifton, as I will yet call him, overcame
me; but happily he labours under an error of
which probably my good cousin has herself yet to
learn the correction; as her residence at a distance
from us, and the desire of both my respected more
than parents to conceal the fact, have caused all our
friends to consider me as their daughter, which I am
only by adoption. When Mr. Borrowdale lost his
only son and child, he was on the eve of removing
to his residence near Boston; and although his intimate
friends were aware of his loss, yet they all

were ignorant of the fact that a couple in Boston
died leaving me in the care of my kind foster parents.
With all our friends, therefore, I pass as their
child, but I will say it—although it is almost unmaidenly
for me to utter it—I now rejoice that I am
capable of returning the love of my ever-loved and
fondly-cherished Sydney. That my dearly-loved foster
parents will hail this development with rapture,
is a better cause for my rejoicing, as it is less selfish.”

At this explanation being given, the enraptured
Clifton caught his intended bride to his arms, and we
much fear that their embrace was more ardent, and
continued a greater length of time, than would be
sanctioned by the arbiters of taste in fashionable society.

While this happy denouement was in progress,
the crest-fallen Helen could not conceal her mortification,
and made several ill-natured remarks, calculated
to injure the feelings of Julia. Clifton, she
insisted, was still bound by his promise to her, not
to wed another; and she thought the opinion of the
world ought to be respected, even if it were true,
that Julia was not the daughter of Mr. Borrowdale;
although she must say she looked with some little
suspicion on a disclosure which lacked proof, and
was uttered just at the critical moment.

To these evidences of chagrin, Clifton mildly replied,
that he partook of Julia's evident surprise and
regret that Miss Elwell should so far forget herself as
to venture the ill-natured remarks that had fallen

from her lips. If Miss Elwell had, when he was
considered the child of disgrace, continued to claim
the fulfilment of his promise, he would certainly
have kept it to the letter. But she had released him
from it, and he regretted to find her apparent magnanimity
mere pretence.

The entrance of Mr. and Mrs. Borrowdale caused
a suspension of this by-play. Mr. Borrowdale, on
recognizing Clifton with great frankness and affability
offered him his hand.

“Mr. Clifton,” said he, “I trust you will pardon
me for not tendering you a friendly salutation at the
review a few days since.

“The honest truth is, that some circumstances connected
with your history required satisfactory elucidation,
before I felt warranted in resuming our former
intimacy; and I did not conceive either the
time or place of our casual meeting proper for that
purpose. To convince you, however, that I was not
disposed to condemn a friend unheard, I will state,
that I yesterday made inquiry at the office of the
American minister for your residence, and have this
moment returned from your lodgings. Whether
your version of the late difficulties which so deeply
involved your moral character is acceptable or otherwise
will, of course, influence my future conduct towards
you; although I will freely confess, that my
prejudices were somewhat enlisted in opposition to
the belief of your innocence.

“The facts connected with the late avowal of your

unfortunate descent, have caused me to doubt the
truth of my former suspicions; as a frank disclosure
of circumstances, where concealment was attended
with no hazard, and their avowal cast unmerited
obloquy, could not be the emanation of a corrupt heart.

“From these remarks you will perceive, that you
can now venture your explanations, with the certainty
that they will meet an impartial judgment.”

“I will not,” replied our hero, “conceal my
gratification at this unlooked-for condescension and
friendship. That the slanders heaped on my reputation
in New-York were the foul emanations of a
guilty wretch, who hoped thereby to screen himself
from the consequences of his crimes, Miss Elwell
will inform you. To her, indeed, I owe more than
language can express—and I trust, notwithstanding
the unkind words which inadvertently dropped from
me in a moment of forgetfulness, that she will not
refuse me the privilege of hereafter addressing her
by the endearing title of friend.”

“All is forgotten that can in any way affect our
friendly intercourse,” replied Helen, with a ghastly
smile. The artful girl saw, on a moment's reflection,
that she occupied a false position, and hastened
with the best grace she could assume, to regain the
ground she had lost.

“Mr. Clifton,” she resumed, “is innocent of every
charge brought against his character, and at a more
fitting period, I will explain the manner in which
suspicion was made to fall upon him.”

As she concluded, Mr. and Mrs. Borrowdale both
clasped Clifton's hand with great cordiality, and
expressed their joy at the result of this brief conference.

“But,” said Clifton, “I have still farther developments
to make, and as the evening is wearing
apace, must hasten to the denouement of my history.
Does Mr. Borrowdale recognize these childish
ornaments?”

Here he produced the bracelets which he had
kept about his person from the period of his learning
their importance in establishing his identity. As
Mrs. Borrowdale caught a sight of them, she rushed
forward with the most intense anxiety depicted in
her countenance, exclaiming,

“Oh, Mr. Clifton! say—where, oh where did you
procure these bracelets? For heaven's sake speak,
or I shall sink at your feet.”

“They are mine, dearest mother! they are my
own!” he replied, and rushed to her embrace. To
describe the rapture of all, if we except the mortified
Helen, requires a more graphic pen than ours. Suffice
it, that the overjoyed parents would not permit
their long-lost son to sleep, even for a night, beneath
any other roof than that which sheltered themselves
and Julia; and after Sydney had related the interview
with Lord Templeton, in which that nobleman
claimed relationship with his new found parent and
himself—and the detail of which still further vexed
and chagrined the crest-fallen Helen—his parents,

Julia, and himself, ordered the carriage, and returned
to the hotel of the former.

Were it honourable to disclose the movements of
lovers in a star-light evening—when they both occupied
the same seat in a coach—we might relate
how Sydney, as soon as they were seated, threw his
arm around the slender waist of his mistress—how
she neither chided him for his boldness, nor endeavoured
to moderate the warmth of his embrace—
how, by some magnetic influence, their lips were
mutually attracted, until they united in a long, long
kiss!—how Julia's head, becoming weary, fell, unconsciously,
on her lover's shoulder—how he lost
what little senses were left him, and imagined it was
all a dream—and how his fond parents, finding they
could make nothing of his incoherent replies to their
questions, smiled and were silent.

All this and much more than this, passed on their
return to Mr. Borrowdale's hotel; but we will not
imitate those busy-bodies, who appear born to meddle
with matters in which they have no concern,
and are forever setting the world at odds by their
tattling propensity. All, therefore, that we shall
narrate is, that after they had arrived at their destination,
Julia and Clifton became mysteriously
enamoured of gazing at the stars; and, standing at
an open window, continued to watch those burning
orbs that hang like diamonds in the azure sky—until
their parents reminded them that it was past the hour
of midnight, and that if they expected to view the sun

on the next day, it would be advisable to leave the
stars for a season to their accustomed solitude. This
reasonable advice was followed, and we leave them to
enjoy that repose which the eventful scenes through
which they had so rapidly passed rendered not unwelcome.