As she ended these words she rose. "Stop one moment, madam," exclaimed the Count; "unless you would drive me to madness, afford me one gleam of hope, distant as it may be: your cruel vow precludes me from bliss, yet tell me, too lovely Matilda, that you do not hate me, that if -"
"Ah ! Sir," said she, involuntarily, "hate you ! Heaven is my witness, that did my birth and rank equal yours, it would be my glory, to accept your hand; but as there exists not a possibility of that, I beseech you to spare me and yourself unnecessary pain; from this instant determine to avoid me, and I will esteem you as the most exalted of men."
Without giving him time to reply, she darted like lightning towards the house, leaving him overwhelmed with admiration, grief, and despair.
"What are the advantages of birth and rank," cried he, "which this sweet girl does not possess? A dignity of sentiment, a rectitude of heart; -how greatly superior to that wretch Fontelle, whose malicious stories have so much injured her reputation, and whose birth and fortune only render her the more despicable; as mine must be to me of no value, when considered as bars to happiness and Matilda."
He walked slowly to the house and met the Marquis. "Dear Count," said he, "what have you done or said to my amiable protégée; I met her running up stairs, out of breath, and tears trembling in her eyes?" The Count, without the least reserve, repeated the preceding conversation. "And did you really make such an offer," cried he, "and did she refuse it?" " 'Tis very true," replied the Count. "Why then," said the Marquis, "you are two of the noblest creatures under heaven; that you, my worthy friend, should step beyond the prejudices of your country -that you should resolve to brave the censure, the malevolent whispers and contemptuous neglect of your equals, and support the insolent derision of your inferiors, in favour of a young woman under such peculiarly distressing circumstances, excites my wonder and admiration but I scarce know any words that can do justice to my sentiments, when I reflect that this very young woman, without friends or fortune, from a sense of rectitude, and a loftiness of sentiment which would do honor to the highest rank, could peremptorily refuse a situation and prospects so brilliant -do violence to her own heart, and prefer a dependence her soul is much superior to, rather than incur self-reproach for your degradation. Indeed, my Lord, I know not any language sufficiently expressive of my feelings: you must admire her more than ever." "Doubt not," answered the Count, in a melancholy tone, "of my more than admiration -my adoration; but, alas ! she is inflexible -she has sworn never to be mine -she has charged me to see her, to think of her, no more." "Do her justice my Lord and obey her; prove your esteem for such an extraordinary exertion of virtue and prudence, imitate an example so deserving praise, and be assured the trial, however severe at present, will afford you satisfaction hereafter, in subduing love, though your highest esteem she has a right to challenge." "Say no more, Marquis," cried the Count; "I must cease to think of her before I can cease to love, for this day has riveted my chains more firmly than ever. I will not however be an inmate of your house; though I cannot relinquish the charms of her society altogether, yet I promise you I will indulge in no more dangerous tête-à-têtes but I must see her sometimes." "Ah! Count," said the Marquis shaking his head. "Trust my honour and discretion," replied he, to his significant looks; "you may, for that angelic girl will never put them to the proof."
They proceeded to the house, and the carriages drawing up, the party was collected together. Matilda contrived to accompany the Marquis, his Lady, and Mrs Courtney. The two latter kept up a sprightly conversation with the Marquis, and but once or twice broke in upon her reveries; yet she appeared easy and cheerful; in truth, the delight of being dear to the amiable Count, and a consciousness of having performed her duty, gave that peace and serenity to her mind which never fails of communicating itself to the countenance.
On their arrival in Harley-street the party separated, and the Count was compelled to accept an invitation from Lord Delby, to reside with him. "The Marquis," said his Lordship, "has his family party, but I am alone, and therefore you will do me particular honor and pleasure in complying with my wishes."
As the Count could not reside with the Marquis, this was certainly the next best situation, for his Lordship was himself too fond of the "family party" to be long absent from them; he therefore gladly accompanied him to Cavendish-square.
They had been now near a fortnight in town, enjoying its variety of amusements, and preparing for their journey to Scarborough, which was now to take place in four days. The birth-day being arrived, the Marquis, his Lady, and the Count proposed paying their compliments at court, with Lord Delby: the Count had been previously presented. The Countess (still known even by the Count only as Madame Le Roche) Mrs Courtney, and Matilda, contented themselves with attending the ball, at night, in the Lord Chamberlain's box. They were accordingly accommodated with an excellent situation, and were extremely charmed with the beauty and splendor of the British court.
Matilda's eyes were so intently fixed on the Royal Family, she had scarce thought of looking round her, until some audible whispers in French reached her ear; turning her head quickly, her eyes met those of Mademoiselle De Fontelle. A stranger to the malice of that young lady, she bowed with a smile, being rather too distant to speak; the lady gave her a look of contempt, and speaking low to the person next her; before Matilda could recover from her surprise and confusion, she observed three or four persons look full at her, with scorn and disdain strongly marked in their features. Shocked beyond measure at this to her unaccountable behaviour, she turned sick and faint, was obliged to have recourse to her salts, and heard a laughing whisper on one side of her, whilst the Countess on the other was eagerly enquiring the cause of her illness. Her salts, and natural dignity of mind soon enabled her to recover. She evaded the curiosity of her friend, by complaining of the heat, and declaring herself better. She then turned her head towards Fontelle and her companions; she viewed them with a steady air of the highest contempt and indifference, "till even the eyes of that malicious girl fell under hers, and she was evidently confused. Matilda then returned to the amusements below her, and, though her mind was not easy, she appeared to enjoy uncommon satisfaction.
When the Royal Family had withdrawn, and they were about to quit their seats, they perceived Lord Delby and the Count making way to assist them in getting out. The latter had no eyes but for Matilda, "till a sudden exclamation, and his name, caught his ear in the moment he had presented his hand to her; quickly turning, he saw Mademoiselle De Fontelle and her aunt Madame Le Brune. Surprised and vexed, he darted at them a look of scorn, and with an air of the highest respect and attention, assisted Matilda into the room, joined her friends, and they were safely conveyed through the crowd to their carriage, -Lord Delby and himself following in theirs.
When they alighted in Harley-street, Matilda, who had suppressed her feelings in the ball-room, and had been likewise deeply affected by the Count's attentions, scarcely entered the drawing room before she fainted: every one was alarmed, but the Count as distracted; his behaviour discovered the secrets of his heart to all the company, and when she recovered, she saw him on his knees, holding one of her hands, whilst his air of distraction was but too expressive of his feelings; she withdrew her hand, and he arose; she apologized to the company, and imputed her disorder to the heat of the room, and the sudden chill she felt in getting out of the carriage. Her friends, glad to see her recovered, enquired no further, but the Count drew the Marquis out of the room, and in much agitation, cried out, "That persecuting fiend, in a female form, is the cause of her illness." "Who do you mean?" demanded the Marquis. "Who should I mean," answered he, warmly, "but that malicious Fontelle; I saw her not far from Matilda, and I dare say she insulted her; but, by heavens! if she propagates her infamous falsehoods here, she shall repent it, however she may trust to my honor."
The Marquis was a little surprised at this sally, but without appearing to observe it, said, "You know, Count, we shall leave town three days h
ence, and consequently be out of her malice. I wonder what brought her to England." "Spite and envy," replied he; "but does the amiable girl know how much Mademoiselle De Fontelle is her enemy?" "No certainly," answered the Marquis; "you do not suppose we would wound her feelings, by repeating the disagreeable reports spread among our acquaintance at Paris." "I am glad of it," said the Count, "yet I cannot but think the other affronted her." "We shall know to-morrow, but let us return and eat our supper now."
They went down to the supper-room, and were much pleased in beholding Matilda cheerful and perfectly well.
When the company separated, and she was retired to her apartment, she gave way to her own reflections; she could not otherwise account for the impertinence of Mademoiselle De Fontelle, but by supposing she was acquainted with her birth; "Ah!" said she, "I doubt not but Mr Weimar published it at Paris, from motives of revenge and she, who as a relation to the Marchioness, received a thousand civilities, is now despised as an imposter; an orphan, and a dependent on charity; nay, even my benefactors may suffer in the opinion of their friends for introducing me! Good heavens!" cried she, "why should I continue in the world -why assume a character and appearance I have no pretensions to? What blamable pride, what meanness, in accepting gifts which draw upon me contempt and derision -I will no longer support it."
Tormented all night by the distress of her situation, she arose unrefreshed, pale, feeble and agitated.
The Marchioness, alarmed at her appearance, insisted upon sending for a physician; the Marquis was going to pull the bell. "Stay, my dear friends," cried she, "I beseech you; 'tis my mind, not my body, that is disordered, and you only have the power to heal it." "Speak your wishes, my dear child," said the Marchioness; "be assured, if in our power, you may command the grant of them." "On that promise, my dearest benefactress, your poor Matilda founds her hopes of peace." She then repeated the affronts of the preceding evening, and her own conjectures upon it. "I am humbled, my dearest madam, as all false pretenders ought to be," added she: "I can no longer support the upbraidings of my heart; a false pride, a despicable vanity induced me to lay hold of your sentiments in my favour, which, after the discovery of my original meanness, I ought to have blushed at your condescension, and sought some humble situation, or retired to a convent, where, unknowing and unknown, I might have pursued the lowly path Providence seems to have pointed out for me. I have been punished for my presumption and duplicity -it has made me look into myself; doubtless, out of this family, every one beholds me with the scorn and contempt I have justly incurred from Mademoiselle De Fontelle, and all who know my doubtful origin. O, my beloved friends," cried she, wringing her hands, tears running down her cheeks, "save me from future insults, save me from self-reproach! complete your generosity and goodness, and let me retire to a convent. My poor endeavours to amuse you as a companion are no longer necessary; the Countess is restored to you, and I have only been a source of vexation and trouble ever since the hour you first condescended to receive me; -a convent is the only asylum I ought to wish for, and there only I can find rest." Here she stopped, overwhelmed with the most painful emotions.
The Marquis was affected, the Marchioness drowned in tears. "My dear, but too susceptible girl," said she, when able to speak, "why will you thus unnecessarily torment yourself; what is Fontelle and her opinions to us? We are going to Scarborough; you have friends who will protect you from every insult, -who will treat you with increased respect, from a conviction that your mind is superior to all the advantages which birth and fortune has given to Mademoiselle De Fontelle, or a thousand such: besides, depend upon my assertions, -you sprung not from humble or dishonest parents, the virtues you possess are hereditary ones, doubt it not, my dear Matilda; if nobleness of birth can add any lustre to qualities like yours, you will one day possess that advantage."
'Tis impossible to express the agitations of Matilda, on hearing such kind and consoling sentiments; but her resolution to retire from the world was unconquerable; she found her heart too tenderly attached to the Count she knew the impossibility that she should ever be his; she was convinced her story was known, her friends had not attempted to deny it; in whatever public place she might visit, it was very possible to meet persons who had heard it, and she might be exposed to similar insults, which her spirit could not brook.
The Marquis and his lady made use of persuasions, arguments, and even reproaches, but she had so much resolution and fortitude, when once she had formed a design, approved by her judgment, as could not be easily shaken; and though her heart was wounded with sorrow, and her mind impressed with grief, in being obliged to resist the kindness of her friends, yet she still persevered.
Well, Matilda," said the Marchioness, in a reproachful tone, "since you are inflexible to our wishes, I must insist upon your going with me to Mrs Courtney's: what will she, what will my sister think, but that I have treated you ill, and you can no longer remain with one you have ceased to love."
"Kill me not," cried she, in an agony, "with such reproaches; let me fly to the Countess and disclose my reasons -ah! surely she will do more justice to my heart: oh! madam, that you could see it - that you could read the love, the admiration, and respect indelibly imprinted there, with your image, never, never to be erased whilst it beats within my bosom."
Overcome with these sensations, she wept aloud; the Marchioness embraced and soothed her.
The carriage was ordered, and they drove to Mrs Courtney's. the Marquis setting them down, and going on to Lord Delby's.
It is needless to repeat what passed at Mrs Courtney's, since it was only a repetition of every argument and persuasion which her protectors had before used in vain. Nothing could shake her resolution; and all the favour they could obtain, was to permit Louison and Antoine to accompany her to Boulogne, and remain in a convent there, "till her friends returned to France, and the twelvemonth expired Mr Weimar had allowed her to remain under the care of the Marquis.
Whilst every countenance spoke pity, grief, and admiration, the gentlemen suddenly entered the room, the Count with an air of wildness and distress. The moment Matilda saw him she trembled violently, and could with difficulty keep her seat. "Ah! madam," said he, "what is it I hear -is it possible you mean to abandon your friends, to distress the most affectionate hearts in the world, to give up society, and, from romantic notions, bury yourself in a convent? Hear me thus publicly," cried he, throwing himself at her feet, With a frantic look, "hear me avow myself your lover, your protector, and if you will condescend to accept of me, your husband; yes, that is the enviable distinction I aspire to; plead for me, my friends, - soften the obdurate heart that would consign me to everlasting misery. Oh ! Matilda, cruel, unfeeling girl, has a proud and unrelenting spirit subdued every tender and compassionate sentiment. - has neither love nor friendship any claims upon your heart" His emotions were violent.
The ladies, "till now, strangers to his sentiments, sat mute with wonder.
Matilda had covered her face with her handkerchief; when he stopped she withdrew it; it was wet with tears: he snatched it from her trembling hand, kissed it, and thrust it into his bosom. "I beseech you, Sir, to rise," said she, when able to speak, "this posture is unbecoming of yourself and me. The resolution I have formed is such as my reason approves, and my particular circumstances call upon me to adopt; I ought to have done it long ago, and blush at my own folly in delaying it." "But, good God! madam," interrupted the Count, "can the ridiculous behaviour, or unjust prejudices of one worthless woman weigh against the affections, the esteem of so many respectable friends? What have we done to deserve being rendered miserable through her envy and malice?" "Could the warmest love, gratitude and respect, which I owe to every one here," answered she; "could the arguments of the most condescending kindness, deeply imprinted here" -putting her hand to her heart - "could these avail to alter my purpose, I might not be able to withstand your persuasions; but, my Lord, when I have had fortitude sufficient to deny those who are dearer to me than li
fe, you cannot be offended, that 'tis impossible for me to oblige you; and here, in the presence of those who have been witnesses to the honors you have offered me, I release you from every vow, every obligation your too ardent love has conferred on me, and from this hour beseech you to think of me as a friend, zealous for your honor and happiness, for your fame, and the respect you owe to your family; but equally jealous of every duty I owe myself, and therefore deter mined to see you no more." She rose quickly from her chair, and ran into Mrs Courtney's dressing-room, giving way to a violent burst of tears. The astonished Count, who had not the power to prevent her departure, threw himself into a chair, without speaking. The Countess had followed Matilda.
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 16
