Mystery and Confidence: A Tale. Vol. 1Pinchard, Elizabeth Sibthorpe
General
Mystery and Confidence: A Tale. Vol. 1
Pinchard, Elizabeth Sibthorpe
Fiction
Terror had, indeed, robbed her charming countenance of some of its
graces; but a bright blush, springing to her cheeks as she caught the
traveller's glance, restored its native lustre. Oh! such a face!--so
fair--so bright--so spotless!--eyes so full of soul!--a smile of such
inimitable beauty! Every feature expressing a native delicacy of
sentiment, unsoiled by the world, unruffled by passion, yet giving
assurance that its possessor owned a heart of 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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