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certain, that although your saint-like disposition withholds you from giving tongue to all the painful feelings of your heart, that you are, like myself, not a little wretched that no information has reached us concerning the fate of my beloved master. The indulgence of writing to you, or to any of his friends, is, I doubt not, interdicted to him ; for under this restriction I remember that he laboured when the father of our present cruel sovereign, influenced by the evil counsels of the crafty Gardiner, condemned him to imprisonment within the same walls where he now exists an innocent captive. I have therefore resolved to proceed to London;
may be possible that I may find the means of gaining access to his presence, and consoling him with my assurances of the kind reception which has been given you under this root; at all events, I shall be able to learn, from the rumour of report, what we have to hope, what to fear, for him, and of communicating this intelligence to you." B 2
“Kind, affectionate man!” exclaimed Eleonora, pressing Cyprian's hand in her's as she spoke, “how shall I ever be able to requite you for the interest which you take in the fate of my poor father?”
“I am already requited,” replied Cyprian, “and am discharging a debt of gratitude to your father, which I owe to him, and to all who are connected with him— Did not his family rear me from my infancy ?did they not increase their kindness to me, by assisting me to support my aged parents ?-has not our worthy Bishop himself raised me to the office of confidence which I now hold under him ?-has he not condescended to let me share even his friendship ?-and is there any act of mine which is capable of lightening but a feather's weight the sufferings of either himself or you, of which it would not be a mark of the blackeșt ingratitude in me to withhold the performance ?”
The tears burst into the eyes of Eleonora at this address on the part of the old man ; and it was with difficulty that he could re
strain his from overflowing with the tide of sensibility which swelled his heart.
Eleonora passed a considerable time in conversation with her bumble friend; when he rose to quit her, “ Heaven, Heaven smile on thine endeavours !" she exclaimed. “I need not charge thee with any message to my dear parents, in case it should be thy good fortune to behold them; the heart of their Eleonora is the same as when they were torn from her; towards them it ever will be the same; agonized by their sorrows, exulting in their joys ;-0 may the season of their joys be once more permitted to return ?” Again the tears ran streaming down her cheeks, and rendered her words almost inarticulate.
Promising to convey to her the first intelligence which he should have the means of sending, Cyprian bade her an affectionate and respectful farewell, and departed. The train of Eleonora's sorrowful reflections were broken in upon by an invitation sent her from Lady Blunt, to accompany her in a morning walk. Considering that not only the refreshing air, but also the society of her gentle friend, would be of service to her spirits, she joyfully accepted the proposal, and went down to meet her.
Lady Thomasine's walks, she found, were, almost withont exception, confined to the gardens of castle Gower; she had a nursery of plants, to which it was one of her principal amusements to attend; and an aviary of select birds, which had an equal share of those hours which she devoted to relaxation : she informed Eleonora, that her time being principally passed alone, indeed almost entirely without any companion of her own sex, she experienced pleasure in having her mind occupied by these innocent recreations.
Every additional minute which Eleonora passed in the society of Lady Thomasine afforded her fresh instances of the
gentleness and amiability of her soul; and she could not be sufficiently thankful to Heaven for having given her a protectress possessed of manners so bland and virtuous.
As they proceeded along a path which ran parallel with the walls of the castle, Lady Blunt, suddenly withdrawing her arm from that of Eleonora, through which it had been passed, stopped immediately under the turret, which the occurrences of the preceding night had led Eleonora to regard as a spot of some mystery; and raising her eyes towards it, she said, “Poor fellow ! don't
hear his bewailings ?” Eleonora listened, and heard the plaintive voice of one, who appeared to be almost weeping, singing a most melancholy air. “ Who is it, Madam?" she eagerly inquired.
“ Poor Edwin, Sir Hildebrand's page,” returned Lady Blunt; "the boy whom you heard him yesterday command to be kept a prisoner in his chamber till to-day at the