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 faint
cries of this dear babe, whom she soon after discovered, esconced very
comfortably in a large wicker basket.
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