The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror)

by Eliza Parsons

  When she was alone she began to reflect on her situation; a recollection of past distresses impeded the satisfaction she must otherwise have felt for the fervent reception she had met with. An unhappy orphan, thought she, without a single claim on the world, from affinity or natural affection - a dependent on the bounty of friends, even for my daily subsistance, and of which I am liable to be deprived by a hundred accidents; is it possible any one can be more unfortunately circumstanced than myself? Yet, when I left my uncle's house, could I have hoped for such a protection as I am now under? O, I will not despair, heaven will preserve me, if I persevere in virtue and integrity; if I can acquit myself of wilful error, and dare appeal to the rectitude of my sentiments, when misfortunes and distresses befall me, I will kiss the rod of correction, and submit with resignation to the Almighty will.

  Composed a little in her mind, she dropped asleep for above three hours, and then rose, refreshed and with recruited spirits. She was received by her good friends with the greatest and most flattering marks of kindness, and her grateful heart impelled her to return them by every attention in her power. The Marquis said, it was time, from Albert's age, that he should be laid up to rest; his honesty and affection to Miss Weimar deserves reward, I shall therefore allow him something above the wages he has had, and only request he will superintend my stables, and see that they take proper care of my horses, but on no account to take an active part in the business. Matilda most gratefully acknowledged this kindness to her old friend, whose wellfare was very near her heart. The Marchioness told her they had intended leaving Paris in about ten days, now, said she, "I shall feel great reluctance to quit France without obtaining some knowledge of my poor sister's destiny; but as you expect to hear from Joseph, I will still try to flatter myself he will give you some information concerning her." Matilda encouraged the hope as it appeared to compose her, but she thought it a very slender one.

  Two days passed swiftly away. The Marchioness carried her young friend round the city, pointed out every place worth observation, or that could afford amusement. Matilda was in a new world: the polite and sensible conversation she now enjoyed was so different from every thing of the kind to which she had been accustomed, that she was mortified at her own deficiencies, and most assiduously endeavoured to profit by the good sense and elegant manners of her protectoress.

  The third day after her arrival the Marchioness was to have an assembly. Matilda requested that she might not appear, as the clothes she had were by no means suitable to such an occasion. "Indeed my love, I cannot excuse you; that objection shall soon be done away," said her friend. And presently some elegant silks, laces, linen, &c., were produced for her acceptance. "These things are for my younger sister; she must not presume to refuse a small testimony of affection from her elder one." Before Matilda could reply several trades people came in, and the Marchioness gave orders everything must be ready that evening; which was promised. When they were alone she kissed the hand of her benefactress, O, madam, in what a gracious manner do you confer favors, without wounding the feelings of the person obliged." "A truce, if you please," said her friend, "to your - Oh! and Ah! the favor, if any, is conferred on me by your acceptance; but once for all, I beg it may be understood I acknowledge you as my sister by adoption; I have no children, therefore, in the rights of a sister, you have a claim to participate with me in every thing; you must only bring yourself to submit to the commands of eldership, and let the words favor and obligation be blotted from your vocabulary." Saying this, she hastened from her, and left Matilda overwhelmed with grateful emotions. Before she had recovered Albert appeared, "Pardon me, madam, for coming up, but I longed to tell you what a blessed family we are got into; such kindness as I am treated with! such good servants, all doting on their Lord and Lady! O, it was a happy day when we entered the gates of Paris! I hope, my dear young lady, you think so too?" "I do indeed, my friend; I have a thousand obligations to this noble family; and 'tis not the least of them, that they have provided for you, to whom I shall always think myself indebted for every good I enjoy." Albert, overcome by this acknowledgement, hurried from her, tears of joy running down his cheeks.

  In the evening Matilda's clothes were brought home: the servant, who was ordered particularly to wait on her, dressed her in the most fashionable style. When the Marchioness came into the room, she was charmed with her appearance. "My love," said she, "you will cause variety of emotions this evening; I foresee an abundance of admiration and envy, when I introduce my lovely relation, for such you are remember; but there are two families I wish you to like; the Countess De Bouville and her daughter, and Madame De Nancy and her sister Mademoiselle De Bancre. You will receive a hundred professions of admiration and esteem from every one, but these ladies will speak from their hearts, and I trust they will thank me for the acquisition of a friend for their select parties." "You leave me nothing to say, my dear madam, but a repetition of the same words, and the same feelings for your uncommon goodness; I will study to deserve your recommendation, and to render myself agreeable to the ladies, as the only proof I can give of my sensibility."

  The Marchioness conducted her to the saloon, and soon after a crowd of ladies and gentlemen made their appearance; to whom she was severally introduced, and a buzz of admiration, with a hundred audible compliments circulated through the room: at length two ladies addressed the Lady of the house with an affectionate freedom that told Matilda they were the persons she was bid to love; nor was she mistaken. "My dear Countess," said the Marchioness "for this young lady I bespeak your friendship; not only because she is a relation of mine, but because I am persuaded Miss Weimar has merit of her own to recommend her to your esteem, and that of your charming daughter." "You could not have paid us a greater compliment," answered the Countess, saluting Matilda; "this young lady's mind is legible in her countenance. Adelaide," said she, turning to her daughter, "I present you an amiable companion, whose esteem you must endeavour to merit." She joined their hands. "You could not, my dear madam," replied the young Lady, "have given me a command more agreeable to my inclinations." "You do me great honour, ladies," said Matilda, "in your approbation. it must be my care to merit the distinction which I already perceive will be necessary to my happiness. The young ladies were indeed mutually struck with each other. Mademoiselle De Bouville was an only daughter, and, contrary to the general fashion in France, had been educated at home, under the eye of a respectable mother, who, though she submitted to the frivolities, the gaities, and round of trifling amusements which engage the attention of that lively nation, yet found time to superintend and direct the education of her child, by which she avoided the stiff monastic air of a convent, and was equally unacquainted with the follies and vices which too generally prevail in those seminaries of education; for though they do not always incur general censure, yet it is extremely difficult to discriminate, as too often it is the punishment of profligacy to be confined in a cloister; and what injury a person of that description may do amongst a number of young people, some with weak heads, and others with bad hearts, cannot be expressed nor thought of without horror.

  Adelaide De Bouville had a very pleasing person, great sweetness of temper, and a cultivated understanding; she was near twenty, and had been for some time addressed by Monsieur De Clermont, son to the Marquis of that name, an amiable and accomplished young man; and it was expected by their friends the union would take place when the young Count De Bouville returned from his travels: Adelaide being particularly fond of her brother, made a point of waiting till she could have his presence at an affair on which her happiness must entirely depend. She was charmed with the introduction of Miss Weimar to her acquaintance, and sought, by the most polite attention, to obtain her esteem. Matilda was equally delighted with her companion, and they soon after had an additional charm to their party by the arrival of Madame De Nancy and Mademoiselle De Bancre; the latter was near two and twenty, very handsome, a great share of good humour, and a most enchanting vivacity; her si
ster being sacrificed very early in life to an elderly man, every way unworthy of her, except by his immense fortune; he used her extremely ill, always out of humour and suspicious: she suffered under his tyranny five or six years; he then died, and left her mistress of a large independence, the expenditure of which did her great honor. Her sister, who had witnessed her bad treatment from an unworthy husband, determined never to marry; they resided together, equally beloved and respected.

  Matilda was charmed with her new acquaintance; a swarm of beaus surrounded them, but she thought their conversation, their fopperies, and fulsome compliments truly disgusting, on a comparison with the sensible and elegant manners of her newly-acquired female friends.

  When the company separated Matilda received numerous invitations, every one professing themselves delighted with the charming Miss Weimar; but those professions were not equally sincere. A Mademoiselle De Fontelle beheld her with envy and dislike: she was a young woman of family and large fortune, had been taken about two years from a convent, where she was placed on the death of her mother; and soon after that period her father also died suddenly, and left her solely to the care of an aunt, an old gay coquet, whom every body despised, yet every body visited, because she had large parties, elegant entertainments, and high play. Under the care, if it can be so called, of this ridiculous old woman, Mademoiselle De Fontelle had acquired all the follies and vanities incident to youth and beauty, when under no restrictions no proper precepts or example. She detested handsome women, was desirous of engrossing universal admiration to herself, had a malignant heart, yet as far as a coquet's affections could be engaged, hers were devoted to the young Count De Bouville; but as her attractions were not powerful enough to detain him from pursuing his travels, she flirted with every one that came in her way, to the utmost extent that French manners and customs would allow among young persons, where there is certainly more reserve than in any other country (Spain excepted.) Therefore 'tis no uncommon thing for girls gladly to marry the man pointed out by the parents, if he is ever so old, ugly, or little known; the restraint laid upon them is so strict, and their conduct so narrowly observed, that to enjoy liberty they marry; from hence proceeds that levity for which the married ladies in France are so remarkable, and which has given rise to an almost general censure, which they do not always deserve: for those who have studied the characters and manners of the French ladies declare, there is more the semblance than reality of vice in them; and though many are profligate, like some of their neighbouring kingdom, who apparently carry more modesty and reserve in their outward deportments; yet there are very many amiable French women, who, under their national gaiety of heart and freedom of manners, are most truly respectable in every situation in life. But the old aunt of Mademoiselle De Fontelle was not one of these, nor had she instilled any such sentiments of respectability in her niece, consequently the young lady ventured to the utmost bounds custom or courtesy would allow: she no sooner saw Miss Weimar than she dreaded and hated her; being a stranger, beautiful and engaging, she obtained universal admiration; but when she observed the decided preference and selection of Mademoiselle De Bouville for her companion, she was outrageous. The Count was soon expected home; he would doubtless be attracted by this hateful stranger - the idea was dreadful, and from that moment she was the declared enemy of Miss Weimar, though resolved to cultivate the most violent intimacy with her; consequently when the party broke up, she advanced and solicited the young lady's acquaintance, in the politest manner possible.

  When the company had left the rooms Matilda thanked the Marchioness for the pleasure she had procured her, in the introduction to such charming young women as Mesdemoiselles De Bouville and De Bancre. "There was another lady, said she, "who paid me much attention, and invited my acquaintance." "Yes," answered the Marchioness, "Mademoiselle de Fontelle; but beware of her, my dear Matilda she is far from being a desirable intimate - I neither like her nor her aunt, Madame de Roch; but I know not how it is, one meets with them every where, and cannot avoid seeing them sometimes in public, but they are never of my private parties, therefore let common civility only pass between you."

  The young lady promised to observe her advice, and they separated to their respective apartments.

  On Matilda's table lay a letter, which the servant placed there, not to disturb her whilst in company. She hastily broke it open; it was from Joseph: he related the incident respecting the horse, mentioned the gentleman's enquiries, and described his person. It was her uncle. She was terrified and shocked beyond measure, she sunk into a chair, and burst into a flood of tears: "Good heavens!" said she, "if he should trace me here yet so many days before him, I think I may be safe; Bertha was not in the secret, and Joseph I can, I know, depend upon not to betray me." Under the most painful reflections, she retired to rest, but sleep forsook her pillow; the dread of falling again into the power of a man so abandoned gave her the most poignant affliction "O, that we were in England," said she, "I should then, I think, be safe from his pursuit."

  She past a restless night, and in the morning met her friends, with a pale countenance and uneasy mind.