Blackbeard | Page 6

to share his banishment. The baronet was a fine
specimen of the old English cavaliers, who had freely spent the greater
portion of a handsome fortune in the service of the Stuart family, and
now, when nearly at the close of a long and eventful life, he with his
twin sons (whose poor mother had died in giving them birth,) had left
their own dear and native soil, to live, and perhaps to die in a foreign
land.

These twin sons and brothers, Henry and Arthur Huntington, had
arrived (at the time of which we are speaking,) to the age of twenty-two,
and in personal appearance they might have been considered as correct
models of manly beauty. Their forms were tall, erect, and muscular,
and thus far, each was the exact counterpart of the other, but here the
resemblance between the brothers ended. In temper and disposition,
Henry was mild, generous and forgiving, whilst Arthur was sanguine,
violent and irascible. Although they had both been educated alike, they
differed very widely in strength of mind and capacity of intellect, for
the mind of Henry was strong, and undeviatingly based on the
principles of right, while that of his brother was weak and vacillating.
The affections of the former when once fixed, were immoveable as the
solid rock, whilst the passions of the latter, although more violent, were
not capable of remaining fixed for any length of time on any particular
object. These two brothers had both felt a partiality for Mary Hamilton,
and so far as Henry was concerned, the partiality was fully reciprocated,
but she looked coldly upon Arthur, which caused him to turn from her
in disgust, and transport his vacillating affections to sweet Ellen
Armstrong, whom, as being our principal heroine, we must now
proceed briefly to notice and describe.
At the time of her introduction to the notice of our readers, she was to
all outward appearance a bright and joyous being, who seemed to think
of nothing but the happiness of herself and those around her. Although
but fourteen summers had then passed over her head, and her fair form
was slight and fragile as the first pale flower of Spring, her high and
noble thoughts, as they escaped from her vermillion lips in soft and
musical words, gave sufficient evidence that her mind and intellect was
far beyond her years. She was, in very fact and deed, a singular and
uncommon being, such an one as is rarely to be met with in the daily
walks of life. Her form, though slight, was faultless in its proportions,
her countenance was intelligent and highly expressive, whilst in her fair
complexion, the pure red and white, seemed to have been most
judiciously combined. To all these embellishments, permit us to add, a
head of luxuriant hair, of a golden auburn color, with a pair of large and
sparkling blue eyes, shaded by long, dark, silken eye lashes, and the
personal portrait of our heroine is complete. Her character, also, in

many of its traits was as good as her person was beautiful. The bland
sweetness of her disposition and the apparent mildness of her temper,
had even in the years of her childhood, endeared her to all who
happened to be within reach of her acquaintance, but still she had faults,
for there are none perfect, no, not one. Ellen Armstrong was fanciful,
wayward, and highly romantic, a being of strong and ardent passions
which would sometimes, in spite of the watchful vigilance which she
always endeavored to keep over them, get the better of her right
judgment, and high sense of rectitude.
Presuming, kind reader, that you may have inferred that sweet Ellen
Armstrong, as the Earl was wont to term her, was his daughter, we
must now undeceive you, stating that such was not the case. The
history of her connection with the earl was as follows:
As he returned home from an exciting session of the House of Peers,
late on a cold night in December, 1703, (nearly 14 years previous to the
date of the commencement of our story,) he was greatly surprised, upon
entering the drawing-room of his elegant mansion, to find his wife
busily employed in fondling and carressing a beautiful infant,
apparently not more than two or three weeks old.
'What does this all mean, Lady Armstrong?' exclaimed the earl, as soon
as his surprise had in a measure subsided.
'Listen, and I will tell you,' replied the lady, 'About two hours ago, the
street-door bell rang violently, which caused me to despatch a serving
maid to ascertain from whom this loud summons proceeded. She
immediately went to the door and opened it, but found no one there.
Upon turning back again into the entry, her ears were assailed by the