"Marry our daughter?" exclaimed the good wife, in amazement. "What, to a fine gentleman! No, indeed!"
"Yes, marry her," added the husband, "he shall marry her, for she likes him. Has he not house and land, too, and plenty of money to keep her?"
So the rustic beauty was married, and it was not long afterwards that her husband found it necessary to repair to town on account of the Earl of Exeter's death. Setting out, as the young bride thought, on a pleasure trip, they stopped in the course of their journey at several noblemen's seats, where, to her astonishment, Cecil was welcomed in the most friendly manner. At last they reached Burleigh, in Northamptonshire--the home of the Cecils. And on driving up to the house, Cecil unconcernedly asked his wife, "whether she would like to be at home there?"
"Oh, yes," she excitedly exclaimed; "it is, indeed, a lovely spot, exceeding all I have seen, and making me almost envy its possessor."
"Then," said the young earl, "it is yours."
The whole affair seemed like a fairy tale to the bewildered girl, and who, but herself, could describe the feelings she experienced at the acclamations of joy and welcome which awaited her in her magnificent home. But it was no dream, and as soon as the young earl had arranged his affairs, he returned to Shropshire, threw off his disguise, and revealed his rank to his wife's parents, assigning to them the house he had built, with a settlement of £700 per annum.
"But," writes Sir Bernard Burke, "if report speak truly, the narrative must have a melancholy end. Her ladyship, unaccustomed to the exalted sphere in which she moved, chilled by its formalities, and depressed in her own esteem, survived only a few years her extraordinary elevation, and sank into an early grave," although Moore has given a brighter picture of this sad close to a pretty romance.
You remember Ellen, our hamlet's pride, How meekly she blessed her humble lot, When the stranger, William, had made her his bride, And love was the light of their lowly cot. Together they toiled through wind and rain Till William at length in sadness said, "We must seek our fortunes on other plains"; Then sighing she left her lowly shed.
They roam'd a long and weary way, Nor much was the maiden's heart at ease, When now, at close of one stormy day They see a proud castle among the trees. "To night," said the youth, "we'll shelter there; The wind blows cold, the hour is late"; So he blew the horn with a chieftain's air, And the porter bow'd as they pass'd the gate.