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lady. Though we carry her not with us, by right she should not go entirely free.’
" ‘Silence!’ said the captain. ‘I admit of no such thing.’
"Oh, my dear aunt, how little did I think the preceding night, when I listened to the robbers, how deeply I was interested in the fate of the lady spoken of by them. It was my mother! Ah, how nearly did she verge on destruction.
" ‘You are perfectly right, captain,’ said another man, ‘and I will adhere to your opinion; provided you destroy the carriage, so as to prevent its being of further use to Count Durlack, against whom I have a mortal aversion, on account of his destroying my friend Osman.’
" ‘With all my heart,’ returned the chief; who, desiring my mother to alight, thrust into it a lighted torch. His example was followed by some, while others, more mischievous, set fire to the house. Thus was the villany of the count frustrated for the present, and he became, in some measure, the cause of the destruction of his newly acquired property.
"As the banditti were retiring, one of them observed, that as she had obtained her liberty, it was nothing but just that my mother should pay her ransom. Accordingly, he stripped her of her diamond rings, which I dare say you well remember, and of which I have frequently heard her lament the loss. They then left her, though almost dead with the terrors she had sustained. In the meantime the wife of Gildas, being unable to raise her hus-
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band, was wringing her hands, and exclaiming that he would perish in the flames. This aroused my mother, she ran to her assistance, and with their united efforts, they dragged him to a place of safety. Her story had nothing more remarkable in it. They received at day break the help of some neighbouring peasants, although too late to save the building, to whose cottages they retired.
"You must imagine what we each felt on this recapitulation. We lost not a moment in prosecuting our journey, which afforded nothing extraordinary, unless I were to mention the sensations of both, as we passed the place where hung the body of the execrable Bandonin. It was surrounded by carnivorous birds, who made it their prey. We could not refuse our pity to the fate of the captain, as we saw by the newly turned up turf, where he lay, for he had been my mother’s preserver, had mixed humanity with rapine, and, therefore, might have proved valuable member of society, had not bad example, and vicious companions, tempted him to quit the path of rectitude.
"On our arrival at Presburg, we were much surprised, to find the house in the possession of three ill-looking fellows. My mother asked me who they were, but I could give her no information. She did not long remain in suspense. While I went to inform my father of our arrival, they gave her to understand, that they were placed there by the creditors to prevent any of the furniture being embezzled, as it was shortly to be sold on their account.
"I found my father very weak and low. As soon as he saw me, he held out his hand, which I took and kissed. ‘Where is my wife?’ said he.
" ‘She is here,’ I replied, ‘and has sent me to know if you would now be pleased to see her.’
" ‘Ah, Caroline,’ said he, ‘I dread to meet her eyes. How, reduced as I am, shall I be able to support the reproaches of that virtuous woman. Alas! much as I long for the interview, it shocks me as it approaches.’
" ‘Be not mistaken, my father; my mother comes with no reproaches. She has already forgiven you; and wishes only to convince you of the unalterable regard she has ever felt for you.’
" ‘But every look of kindness will remind me of my former cruelty, every expression of affection will be as a dagger to my breast. Bring her, however; and as she comes along tell her I am impatient to hear her forgiveness pronounced by herself.’
"I introduced her without delay. Their meeting was very affecting. My mother advanced to his bed-side. She had resolved to be firm, but struck with the wan countenance of my father, her fortitude gave way, and she wept bitterly. Still she was silent. She forgave, it is true; but, ah! my dear aunt, was it possible she could forget?
"My father spoke. ‘Ah, my Maria! are you indeed returned? Is it possible your nature has indeed so much divinity as to pardon barbarity like mine? Say, do you indeed forgive your Ferdinand?’
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" ‘Think no more, I entreat you,’ returned she, ‘of what has passed. The recollection only unhinges your mind, and increases the anguish of your wounds. Could I see you restored to health, your present conviction would make me ample recompense."
" ‘Of that,’ replied he, ‘there is no probability. I feel that I can never recover, and angel as I know you to be, I ought to have expected this behaviour to a dying husband.’
"After some soothing expressions my mother proposed to retire, observing that too much conversation must be injurious, and was forbidden by the physicians. My father, who for a moment had fallen into a reverie, now suddenly exclaimed with vehemence, ‘What are the physicians to me? Their skill cannot restore me—or, if it could, is life worth preserving? No, Maria; hate me—detest me—and when I am no more, heap curses on my memory! You know not yet the excess of my guilt! You know not that I have involved you in all the horrors of poverty. Yes, Maria—yes, Caroline—when I die, I leave an helpless orphan, and unprotected widow, whose fortunes I have dissipated, and whose reputation I have blasted.’ Then as if gasping for breath, he muttered in a low voice—’but ere this I am at least revenged!’
"We thought that certainly his intellects were disordered, and that the so much dreaded fever had seized him. Much alarmed, therefore, with many entreaties we besought his silence. At length he promised to be more composed, and desired that we would leave him for the present. At night he was evidently worse, being both feverish and restless. About nine o’clock, he desired if any one enquired for him, that he might be admitted. At eleven we were alarmed by a violent knocking at the door. It was immediately opened, when several armed men entering, filled the hall. They desired to be shown to my father’s chamber. We told them it was impossible for them to see him as he was then extremely ill; but he who had the command, replied that was of little consequence, as he had the governor’s warrant for his apprehension. By this time they had forced their way into the room, and surrounded the bed; when my father demanded on what account they came to apprehend him. The officer answered that he did not precisely know, but that an attempt had been made on the governor’s life, and he surmised it was in consequence of that. At those words my father’s countenance, already sufficiently pale from sickness, assumed a ghastly hue. He bit his lips convulsively, and concealed his eyes under his knitted eyebrows. After a moment’s pause he felt beneath his pillow, and drawing forth a poniard, attempted to sheath it in his breast. It was easily wrested from his grasp by the people around, who loudly desired him to arise, and threatened to compel him to do so. On this my mother interposed, and besought that he might be allowed to remain in his own house, observing, that if it was necessary to guard a man unable to quit his bed, they had possession of him, and might retain it. The officer answered, that if it rested with him, he would willingly
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comply, but that he had express orders to convey M. Mecklenburg to the public prison. We threw ourselves on our knees. We wept—we prayed—we offered him our most valuable jewels; but, alas! in vain. He continued inexorable. At length my father, seeing it was useless to resist, suffered himself to be carried away in a litter.
"Ah, my beloved aunt, think of the distress in which he left us! Think of the horror and agony which filled our souls, and pity us. But, alas! the ensuing day brought with it an aggravation of our sorrows. We presented ourselves at the prison gates, but were refused admittance. We were informed by the keeper that M. Mecklenburg was not allowed to see any one—that his confinement was to be close and rigid until the next day, when he was to take his trial for an attempt to assassinate the governor.
"Neither myself or my poor mother could comprehend the meaning of this. That my father should have attempted to assassinate the count, lately, seemed impossible. Their former rencounter could not be considered in that light. It is true they had fought, but on fair terms; and the count had escaped without injury. Neither honour or custom allowed of further revenge on such an occasion. After all our conjectures we were left in the boundless ocean of doubt; and could only conclude, that hating the man he had injured, he was determined to make away with him at any rate.
"The next day cleared tip the mystery.
"To our confusion and dismay, it appeared on the trial, that Count Durlack had been attacked in the street by two bravoes; but that being a man of strength and courage, and extremely well skilled in the use of the sword, he had defended himself, until some persons passing that way, and observing the inequality of the combat, came to his assistance. One of the bravoes was soon killed, and the other wounded and taken. The count was going to destroy him with his own weapon, when the wretch trembling for fear of that death, which he had doubtless inflicted on many others, deprecated the count’s wrath, by promising, on condition that his life was spared, to discover the instigator of so great a crime.
"The count, who wished to discover his enemy, and take his revenge, promised the fellow, if his confession was sincere, and his employer discovered and brought to justice, that he would spare his life, and remit any other sort of punishment. The bravo, therefore, hesitated not to name my father.
"At that name, now so much detested, the count’s heart bounded with joy. He immediately secured the bravo, that he might appear as evidence, and dispatched a party to seize the person of my father.
"Neither my mother or myself were able to attend the trial, which we had afterwards sufficient cause to repent.
"The judges declaring themselves entirely satisfied with the proofs they had heard, remanded my father back again to his dungeon, without allow-
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ing him the conversation of a single friend. And the next day—do I live to repeat it?—he was brought out, covered with his wounds, and emaciated by sickness, to lose what little remained of life on the wheel."
The baroness shrieked aloud.—"Stop, Caroline," cried she, "stop your melancholy tale; for neither can you bear to relate, or I to hear more at present."
She spoke to one who had no occasion for the injunction. Caroline was unable to proceed; and vainly did she endeavour to suppress those convulsive sobs, which nearly choked her. The tears of affliction which had long glistened in her eyes, at length flowed copiously down those cheeks, on which bloomed the tint of the rose, except where sorrow like the present burst from her wee fraught bosom. Ah! how early had she been initiated to grief! And how could she have survived the dreadful fate which severed her from two beloved parents, had she not been innocent and virtuous? For over such Providence bountifully throws a panoply, which not only shields from danger, but supports the sufferer under affliction.
CHAPTER XI.
" ‘Tis conscience that makes cowards of us all."
SHAKSPERE.
WHILST the baroness was endeavouring by every soothing argument she could think of, to allay the poignancy of her niece’s feelings, Namine hastily entered.
"For the blessed Virgin’s sake," cried she, "take care of yourselves, or you will be burnt to death."
"What is the matter, Namine?"
"Oh, my lady baroness, the castle is on fire!"
She stayed to say no more, but rushed into the corridor and down the stairs. She was followed by the baroness and Caroline, to the lower terrace, where they found the baron, Roland, and Francisco, with horror and consternation painted in their countenances.
"Tell me," asked the baroness, with terror, "is the castle on fire?"
"I should laugh to see stone walls such as these burn," replied the baron.
Notwithstanding what he said, volumes of smoke issued through the apertures which admitted air to the vaults within. These apertures were of that kind which are not more than two or three inches wide, and which rising in the middle of the wall, descend on each side in such a manner as to permit the entrance of air, but effectually to exclude the least particle of light. The air was strongly impregnated with the smell of sulpher, and at intervals, such hideous noises were heard, as could not be supposed to be
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made by anything of earthly nature. While each looked inquisitively in the face of the other, as though for an explanation of those things, suddenly a deep and hollow voice was heard pronouncing the following words:—
"Rash mortal! forbear to penetrate the secrets of our prison! desist, or the uplifted hand of divine vengeance, which is now suspended over thee, falls, and will crush thee beneath its weight. Desist! lest this moment thou shouldst receive the punishment of thy crimes."
The baron started back, his countenance indicating the extremes of rage and terror! At length perceiving the amazement of all around, he recollected himself, and assuming courage, called aloud, "damned spirit, for such it would seem thou art, I conjure thee to declare by what right thou takest possession of my castle? Answer me even if thou art Satan himself!"
Several voices, more terrible than those they had yet heard, now answered one after the other. "I," said one, "am the shade of thy murdered uncle, Hector de Zindorf."
"And I, of thy murdered kinsman, Hersin."
"And I of Vileroy."
"Unhappy mother that I am, of a wretched offspring, in me thou hearest the voice of the murdered Constance."
"Let thine heart fail thee, and thy nerves shake, when thou hearest the voice of the hapless Sophia!"
These names acted as so many thunderbolts on the appalled baron. "Oh! Roland," cried he, as he sunk senseless on the earth!
Roland, whose face was nearly as pale and ghastly as his lord’s, hastened to his assistance. The baroness and Caroline did the same, while Francisco and Namine fell on their knees, and crossing themselves, began to repeat the Pater Noster aloud.
With some difficulty they removed the baron to his chamber, and his swoon continuing, Roland thought it expedient to bleed him. Perceiving that he recovered a little, he left him to the care of the baroness and Caroline, whilst he went to watch the progress of the smoke in the mysterious vaults; but by the time he got there, it had entirely ceased.
The baron’s swoon continued for a considerable time, and when at last animation returned, it returned unaccompanied by reason or reflection. He was quite delirious; and in his ravings he called alternately on his uncle, cousin, Sophia, and Vileroy, Roland, and Arnaud. Sophia was his former wife, and the horror of the baroness increased, when he said, looking at her, "Charlotte, beware! Lo! there is the black and disfigured countenance of Sophia!"
The baroness, her niece, and Namine, watched in the chamber of the baron the whole of that night. As the morning dawned, they were preparing to take a short repose, when they were alarmed by the shrill note of the horn, which hung suspended by the side of the drawbridge. The baron, who distinctly heard the sound, insisted it was the last trumpet calling the
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world to judgment; and under this persuasion, was with difficulty prevented from acting many extravagancies. Roland, in the meantime, hastened to learn the meaning of the summons.
He returned with an account that a gentleman who had been desperately wounded in attempting to escape from robbers, requested admittance into the castle, and assistance from the hospitable cares of its possessors. As the baron was incapable of giving orders, the amiable baroness, whose soul was alive to all the calls of humanity, after a short consultation with Caroline, desired that he might be admitted, and Roland and Francisco were, therefore, dispatched to let down the drawbridge. The gentleman was instantly brought into the castle in a state of insensibility, but the servant who accompanied him gave the following information:—He said that his master, who was called Signor Claudio, travelling towards Prague, and losing his way in the waste paths and trackless forests of the country, and being benighted, that he, his servant, had many times endeavoured to persuade him to alight and wait for morning, but in vain. That at length, after much wandering about, they had found a path, in which they had not proceeded far before they were met by a gang of banditti; that as they saw but two at first, they prepared for resistance, actually discharged their pistols at, them, but that several others instantly appearing, they were constrained to seek for safety in flight. That from this resource they had many hopes, being extremely well mounted; which hopes would have been crowned with success, as they gained ground of the robbers, had not his master’s horse, which was fiery and untractable, thrown his rider, whose head striking against a tree, he fell as though dead. That perceiving this accident, and that the villains halted when they came up with his master, he consulted his own safety, and concealed himself under the umbrage of the trees, whence he could understand they intended his master no personal injury, believing him already dead. They however, rifled his pockets, and then departed in quest of his horse, of which they expressed a great desire to be possessed.
"That they were no sooner gone, then he hastened to his master, and by putting his ear to his mouth, and feeling his pulse, he found life was not wholly departed. He laid him, therefore, across his horse, which he led gently in search of a human habitation; and had just before found himself near Zindorf Castle."
Signor Claudio was immediately put to bed, and every possible care taken of him; but as the care of two persons in the dangerous situation in which both the baron and the signor lay, required some further assistance; the baroness directed that Alithee, the mother of Namine, should be immediately summoned to the castle.
As the baroness was too fatally convinced that her lord’s disorder arose solely from the stings of a guilty conscience, she adopted the prudent resolution of endeavouring to conceal his sufferings, and watch herself for the recovery of his reason. She, therefore, assigned the good old Alithee and
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her niece, those cares which were necessary to be bestowed on the stranger, and confined herself to the baron’s chamber.
Revived by the warmth of the bed, and the cordials which bad been poured down his throat, the stranger slowly recovered his recollection; but he gazed round him in surprise, scarcely remembering the events of the night, or being able to account for his present situation. For a moment he was tempted to think himself translated to the mansions of the blessed, and that the beautiful figure who stood beside him was the angel appointed to administer comfort to him; but the painful feelings of his body soon convinced him that he was still an inhabitant of the world, although how he came in his present situation, or who the lovely nurse was, who looked with so much pity and anxiety upon him, he could not possibly imagine.
Caroline was rejoiced to perceive these indications of convalescence, and taking a medicine which Alithee bad prepared, she besought him in the gentlest accents to swallow it. He obeyed, but seemed not yet to possess the power of articulation.
"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed Alithee, as she fixed her eyes steadfastly upon him whilst be swallowed the draught.—"Holy Virgin! what a resemblance!"
Caroline asked in a whisper what she meant; but the old woman mournfully shaking her head, only said,—"of a dead friend of mine."
At length, by their care and attention the stranger grew better, and exerting himself to speak:—
"Tell me, madam, I beseech you," said he, to Caroline, "where I am, and to whom I am indebted for those benevolent cares, which, like a pitying angel, you bestow upon me?"
"Indeed, sir," replied she, "you are with persons, who, though sorry for the occasion, feel happy in rendering you every assistance in their power and who will think themselves abundantly repaid by your recovery for whatever trouble they may have been at."
"Since the accident, and the escape I have met with," said Signor Claudio, "are of so extraordinary a nature, I am tempted to believe that Providence intended to bless me, by introducing me through such means to the knowledge of such excellence as yours."
Caroline replied to this compliment by begging him to remain silent, and not exhaust himself by conversation, which, in his present state, must be very injurious to him. Adding that she had another invalid in the castle to whom her enquiries must now be directed, but that she should soon return, and in the meantime should leave him in charge of an excellent nurse, and his own servant. Incapable of taking his eyes from her until she quitted the room, he was almost unconscious of the approach of the good Maurice, who expressed the overflowings of his heart on finding his beloved master, thus far recovered. And indeed the joy of Claudio was little less, on perceiving his faithful servant beside him, whose escape from the banditti he believed impossible.
Alithee at length believing her patient inclined to sleep, left the room,