During my confinement this sad occupation was my only delight;
and at that time Worlds should not have bribed me to give it up.
Even when released from my prison, I brought away my Child in my
arms. The representations of my two kind Friends,''--(Here She
took the hands of the Marchioness and Virginia, and pressed them
alternately to her lips)--''at length persuaded me to resign my
unhappy Infant to the Grave. Yet I parted from it with
reluctance: However, reason at length prevailed; I suffered it
to be taken from me, and it now reposes in consecrated ground.
I before mentioned that regularly once a day Camilla brought me
food. She sought not to embitter my sorrows with reproach: She
bad me, 'tis true, resign all hopes of liberty and worldly
happiness; But She encouraged me to bear with patience my
temporary distress, and advised me to draw comfort from religion.
My situation evidently affected her more than She ventured to
express: But She believed that to extenuate my fault would make
me less anxious to repent it. Often while her lips painted the
enormity of my guilt in glaring colours, her eyes betrayed, how
sensible She was to my sufferings. In fact I am certain that
none of my Tormentors, (for the three other Nuns entered my
prison occasionally) were so much actuated by the spirit of
oppressive cruelty as by the idea that to afflict my body was
the only way to preserve my soul. Nay, even this persuasion
might not have had such weight with them, and they might have
thought my punishment too severe, had not their good dispositions
been represt by blind obedience to their Superior. Her
resentment existed in full force. My project of elopement having
been discovered by the Abbot of the Capuchins, She supposed
herself lowered in his opinion by my disgrace, and in consequence
her hate was inveterate. She told the Nuns to whose custody I
was committed that my fault was of the most heinous nature, that
no sufferings could equal the offence, and that nothing could
save me from eternal perdition but punishing my guilt with the
utmost severity. The Superior's word is an oracle to but too
many of a Convent's Inhabitants. The Nuns believed whatever the
Prioress chose to assert: Though contradicted by reason and
charity, they hesitated not to admit the truth of her arguments.
They followed her injunctions to the very letter, and were fully
persuaded that to treat me with lenity, or to show the least
pity for my woes, would be a direct means to destroy my chance
for salvation.
Camilla, being most employed about me, was particularly charged
by the Prioress to treat me with harshness. In compliance with
these orders, She frequently strove to convince me, how just was
my punishment, and how enormous was my crime: She bad me think
myself too happy in saving my soul by mortifying my body, and
even threatened me sometimes with eternal perdition. Yet as I
before observed, She always concluded by words of encouragement
and comfort; and though uttered by Camilla's lips, I easily
recognised the Domina's expressions. Once, and once only, the
Prioress visited me in my dungeon. She then treated me with the
most unrelenting cruelty: She loaded me with reproaches, taunted
me with my frailty, and when I implored her mercy, told me to ask
it of heaven, since I deserved none on earth. She even gazed
upon my lifeless Infant without emotion; and when She left me, I
heard her charge Camilla to increase the hardships of my
Captivity. Unfeeling Woman! But let me check my resentment:
She has expiated her errors by her sad and unexpected death.
Peace be with her; and may her crimes be forgiven in heaven, as I
forgive her my sufferings on earth!
Thus did I drag on a miserable existence. Far from growing
familiar with my prison, I beheld it every moment with new
horror. The cold seemed more piercing and bitter, the air more
thick and pestilential. My frame became weak, feverish, and
emaciated. I was unable to rise from the bed of Straw, and
exercise my limbs in the narrow limits, to which the length of my
chain permitted me to move. Though exhausted, faint, and weary,
I trembled to profit by the approach of Sleep: My slumbers were
constantly interrupted by some obnoxious Insect crawling over me.
Sometimes I felt the bloated Toad, hideous and pampered with the
poisonous vapours of the dungeon, dragging his loathsome length
along my bosom: Sometimes the quick cold Lizard rouzed me
leaving his slimy track upon my face, and entangling itself in
the tresses of my wild and matted hair: Often have I at waking
found my fingers ringed with the long worms which bred in the
corrupted flesh of my Infant. At such times I shrieked with
terror and disgust, and while I shook off the reptile, trembled
with all a Woman's weakness.
Such was my situation, when Camilla was suddenly taken ill. A
dangerous fever, supposed to be infectious, confined her to her
bed. Every one except the Lay-Sister appointed to nurse her,
avoided her with caution, and feared to catch the disease. She
was perfectly delirious, and by no means capable of attending to
me. The Domina and the Nuns admitted to the mystery, had
latterly given me over entirely to Camilla's care: In
consequence, they busied themselves no more about me; and
occupied by preparing for the approaching Festival, it is more
than probable that I never once entered into their thoughts. Of
the reason of Camilla's negligence, I have been informed since my
release by the Mother St. Ursula; At that time I was very far
from suspecting its cause. On the contrary, I waited for my
Gaoler's appearance at first with impatience, and afterwards with
despair. One day passed away; Another followed it; The Third
arrived. Still no Camilla! Still no food! I knew the lapse of
time by the wasting of my Lamp, to supply which fortunately a
week's supply of Oil had been left me. I supposed, either that
the Nuns had forgotten me, or that the Domina had ordered them to
let me perish. The latter idea seemed the most probable; Yet so
natural is the love of life, that I trembled to find it true.
Though embittered by every species of misery, my existence was
still dear to me, and I dreaded to lose it. Every succeeding
minute proved to me that I must abandon all hopes of relief. I
was become an absolute skeleton: My eyes already failed me, and
my limbs were beginning to stiffen. I could only express my
anguish, and the pangs of that hunger which gnawed my
heart-strings, by frequent groans, whose melancholy sound the
vaulted roof of the dungeon re-echoed. I resigned myself to my
fate: I already expected the moment of dissolution, when my
Guardian Angel, when my beloved Brother arrived in time to save
me. My sight grown dim and feeble at first refused to recognize
him; and when I did distinguish his features, the sudden burst of
rapture was too much for me to bear. I was overpowered b
y the
swell of joy at once more beholding a Friend, and that a Friend
so dear to me. Nature could not support my emotions, and took
her refuge in insensibility.
You already know, what are my obligations to the Family of
Villa-Franca: But what you cannot know is the extent of my
gratitude, boundless as the excellence of my Benefactors.
Lorenzo! Raymond! Names so dear to me! Teach me to bear with
fortitude this sudden transition from misery to bliss. So lately
a Captive, opprest with chains, perishing with hunger, suffering
every in convenience of cold and want, hidden from the light,
excluded from society, hopeless, neglected, and as I feared,
forgotten; Now restored to life and liberty, enjoying all the
comforts of affluence and ease, surrounded by those who are most
loved by me, and on the point of becoming his Bride who has long
been wedded to my heart, my happiness is so exquisite, so
perfect, that scarcely can my brain sustain the weight. One only
wish remains ungratified: It is to see my Brother in his former
health, and to know that Antonia's memory is buried in her grave.
Granted this prayer, I have nothing more to desire. I trust,
that my past sufferings have purchased from heaven the pardon of
my momentary weakness. That I have offended, offended greatly and
grievously, I am fully conscious; But let not my Husband, because
He once conquered my virtue, doubt the propriety of my future
conduct. I have been frail and full of error: But I yielded not
to the warmth of constitution; Raymond, affection for you
betrayed me. I was too confident of my strength; But I depended
no less on your honour than my own. I had vowed never to see you
more: Had it not been for the consequences of that unguarded
moment, my resolution had been kept. Fate willed it otherwise,
and I cannot but rejoice at its decree. Still my conduct has
been highly blameable, and while I attempt to justify myself, I
blush at recollecting my imprudence. Let me then dismiss the
ungrateful subject; First assuring you, Raymond, that you shall
have no cause to repent our union, and that the more culpable
have been the errors of your Mistress, the more exemplary shall
be the conduct of your Wife.
Here Agnes ceased, and the Marquis replied to her address in
terms equally sincere and affectionate. Lorenzo expressed his
satisfaction at the prospect of being so closely connected with a
Man for whom He had ever entertained the highest esteem. The
Pope's Bull had fully and effectually released Agnes from her
religious engagements: The marriage was therefore celebrated as
soon as the needful preparations had been made, for the Marquis
wished to have the ceremony performed with all possible splendour
and publicity. This being over, and the Bride having received
the compliments of Madrid, She departed with Don Raymond for his
Castle in Andalusia: Lorenzo accompanied them, as did also the
Marchioness de Villa-Franca and her lovely Daughter. It is
needless to say that Theodore was of the party, and would be
impossible to describe his joy at his Master's marriage.
Previous to his departure, the Marquis, to atone in some measure
for his past neglect, made some enquiries relative to Elvira.
Finding that She as well as her Daughter had received many
services from Leonella and Jacintha, He showed his respect to the
memory of his Sister-in-law by making the two Women handsome
presents. Lorenzo followed his example--Leonella was highly
flattered by the attentions of Noblemen so distinguished, and
Jacintha blessed the hour on which her House was bewitched.
On her side, Agnes failed not to reward her Convent Friends.
The worthy Mother St. Ursula, to whom She owed her liberty, was
named at her request Superintendent of 'The Ladies of Charity:'
This was one of the best and most opulent Societies throughout
Spain. Bertha and Cornelia not choosing to quit their Friend,
were appointed to principal charges in the same establishment.
As to the Nuns who had aided the Domina in persecuting Agnes,
Camilla being confined by illness to her bed, had perished in the
flames which consumed St. Clare's Convent. Mariana, Alix, and
Violante, as well as two more, had fallen victims to the popular
rage. The three Others who in Council had supported the Domina's
sentence, were severely reprimanded, and banished to religious
Houses in obscure and distant Provinces: Here they languished
away a few years, ashamed of their former weakness, and shunned
by their Companions with aversion and contempt.
Nor was the fidelity of Flora permitted to go unrewarded. Her
wishes being consulted, She declared herself impatient to revisit
her native land. In consequence, a passage was procured for her
to Cuba, where She arrived in safety, loaded with the presents of
Raymond and Lorenzo.
The debts of gratitude discharged, Agnes was at liberty to pursue
her favourite plan. Lodged in the same House, Lorenzo and
Virginia were eternally together. The more He saw of her, the
more was He convinced of her merit. On her part, She laid
herself out to please, and not to succeed was for her impossible.
Lorenzo witnessed with admiration her beautiful person, elegant
manners, innumerable talents, and sweet disposition: He was also
much flattered by her prejudice in his favour, which She had not
sufficient art to conceal. However, his sentiments partook not
of that ardent character which had marked his affection for
Antonia. The image of that lovely and unfortunate Girl still
lived in his heart, and baffled all Virginia's efforts to
displace it. Still when the Duke proposed to him the match,
which He wished to earnestly to take place, his Nephew did not
reject the offer. The urgent supplications of his Friends, and
the Lady's merit conquered his repugnance to entering into new
engagements. He proposed himself to the Marquis de Villa- Franca,
and was accepted with joy and gratitude. Virginia became his
Wife, nor did She ever give him cause to repent his choice. His
esteem increased for her daily. Her unremitted endeavours to
please him could not but succeed. His affection assumed stronger
and warmer colours. Antonia's image was gradually effaced from
his bosom; and Virginia became sole Mistress of that heart, which
She well deserved to possess without a Partner.
The remaining years of Raymond and Agnes, of Lorenzo and
Virginia, were happy as can be those allotted to Mortals, born to
be the prey of grief, and sport of disappointment. The exquisite
sorrows with which they had been afflicted, made them think
lightly of every succeeding woe. They had felt the sharpest
darts in misfortune's quiver; Those which remained appeared blunt
in comparison. Having weathered Fate's heaviest Storms, they
looked calmly upon its terrors: or if ever they felt Affliction's
casual gales, they seemed to them gentle as Zephyrs which
breathe over summer-seas.
CH
APTER V
----He was a fell despightful Fiend:
Hell holds none worse in baleful bower below:
By pride, and wit, and rage, and rancor keened;
Of Man alike, if good or bad the Foe.
Thomson.
On the day following Antonia's death, all Madrid was a scene of
consternation and amazement. An Archer who had witnessed the
adventure in the Sepulchre had indiscreetly related the
circumstances of the murder: He had also named the Perpetrator.
The confusion was without example which this intelligence raised
among the Devotees. Most of them disbelieved it, and went
themselves to the Abbey to ascertain the fact. Anxious to avoid
the shame to which their Superior's ill-conduct exposed the whole
Brotherhood, the Monks assured the Visitors that Ambrosio was
prevented from receiving them as usual by nothing but illness.
This attempt was unsuccessful: The same excuse being repeated
day after day, the Archer's story gradually obtained confidence.
His Partizans abandoned him: No one entertained a doubt of his
guilt; and they who before had been the warmest in his praise
were now the most vociferous in his condemnation.
While his innocence or guilt was debated in Madrid with the
utmost acrimony, Ambrosio was a prey to the pangs of conscious
villainy, and the terrors of punishment impending over him. When
He looked back to the eminence on which He had lately stood,
universally honoured and respected, at peace with the world and
with himself, scarcely could He believe that He was indeed the
culprit whose crimes and whose fate He trembled to envisage.
But a few weeks had elapsed, since He was pure and virtuous,
courted by the wisest and noblest in Madrid, and regarded by the
People with a reverence that approached idolatry: He now saw
himself stained with the most loathed and monstrous sins, the
object of universal execration, a Prisoner of the Holy Office,
and probably doomed to perish in tortures the most severe. He
could not hope to deceive his Judges: The proofs of his guilt
were too strong. His being in the Sepulchre at so late an hour,
his confusion at the discovery, the dagger which in his first
alarm He owned had been concealed by him, and the blood which had
spirted upon his habit from Antonia's wound, sufficiently marked
him out for the Assassin. He waited with agony for the day of
The Monk - A Romance Page 47
