She became the admiration of the whole community; every one was desirous of her favor, but Matilda, blessed with uncommon penetration, and capable of the nicest discrimination, was at no loss to distinguish the selfish and fulsome attentions of the officious, from the approbation of the worthy and humble few who looked on her with eyes of kindness, but never intruded; from these few, to whom she payed particular civility, her heart selected mother St Magdalene; she was about eight and twenty, and had been a nun nearly ten years; she was one of those very elegant forms you cannot behold without admiration; her face was more expressive than beautiful, yet more engaging than a lifeless set of features without animation, however perfect or blooming, could possibly be; she was pious without ostentation, kind and affectionate to her sisterhood, and courteous, without design or meanness, to the pensioners.
This charming woman soon attracted the notice of Matilda, -she sought her company and conversation -she received her attentions with particular complacency.
Mother Magdalene was sensible of her civilities -she plainly comprehended the value of them, but from peculiar notions of delicacy, and to avoid giving umbrage to the sisterhood, she rather repressed than encouraged her particular kindness. Matilda, however, would not be repulsed, and Magdalene was at length compelled to be her "Dear Mother".
They were frequently together, and by her example Matilda was encouraged to the perseverance in every moral and religious duty. Letters from her two friends, the Marchioness and Countess, were the only things she permitted to break in upon them, and those letters were a continual stimulation to a sense of gratitude and generosity, which she found herself called upon to exert. Whilst Matilda had thus happily reconciled her mind to her situation, her friends were enjoying the amusements that Scarborough afforded.
The Count was always the attendant on Mrs Courtney; and though his passion was as fervent as ever, and his regrets as powerful for the loss of Matilda, he could not be always in company with an amiable woman, who paid him such particular attention, without being gratified by it, and sometimes showing those little marks of gallantry which all women expect.
The Count, though he had a more than common share of solidity and stability, with the most refined understanding and integrity of heart, yet he was still a Frenchman -still possessed a natural gaiety of heart, the greatest politeness and attention to the fair sex, and sometimes fell into the hyperbolical compliments so natural to his countrymen, when addressing the ladies. Mrs Courtney, too ready to believe every thing to be as she wished, gave him every encouragement, and contrived frequently to draw him into situations and expressions which were rather equivocal, but by which he meant nothing, though the lady thought otherwise.
They had been near three weeks at Scarborough; the ladies had heard twice from Matilda, but as she requested her name might never be mentioned to the Count, but from necessity, they only answered his eager enquiries, by saying she was well, and appeared to be much pleased with her situation. He saw there was a reserve in their manner, and justly supposed it owing to her restrictions: he did justice to her greatness of mind, which only served to increase his love and regrets.
One morning Mrs Courtney, entering the Marchioness's dressing room, flung herself into a chair, "Bless me! said she, "what shall I do with your friend, the Count? he has drawn me into a pretty scrape, -I never intended marrying again, but he is so pressing, so irresistible -" "Who," cried the Marchioness, surprised, "the Count? he pressing?" "Why, yes," answered she; "surely you must have observed his particular devoirs for some time past." "Not I, upon my honor," answered the Marchioness; I never supposed his attentions to you wore the face of particularity." "Then you can have observed nothing," said she, peevishly. "Pray, what think you, my dear madam?" turning to the Countess. "Upon my word, I am equally surprised," replied she; "but if you can settle the matter agreeably between yourselves, I shall certainly rejoice at it, because I am very sure Matilda will keep her resolution, in refusing his addresses."
Those last words, which were spoken undesignedly, piqued Mrs Courtney a good deal. "I do not think 'tis of much consequence," said she, haughtily, "whether she keeps her resolution or not; -I believe by this time he is very sensible of the impropriety of his offer -but I forget, I appointed him to meet me at a friend's, in the next street, -bon jour, ladies," said she, with a forced gaiety, and ran out of the room, leaving them looking at each other with astonishment.
"Can this be Mrs Courtney?" cried the Countess, "my God, what a change!" "But is there, can there, be any truth," said the Marchioness, "in the Count's attentions?" "Heaven knows," said she, "but if it is so, I shall never depend upon man again."
Some company coming in, prevented further conversation; but at dinner, when they all met, the ladies observed the Count appeared to be thoughtful and uneasy, Mrs Courtney gay and lively, Lord Delby rather attentive to both; in short, it was the first dinner in which the party seemed collected within themselves, and forgot their friends, except Mrs Courtney, who behaved with remarkable politeness and sweetness to all.
When the ladies retired to the drawing-room the Count addressed the Marquis in the following manner. "I believe, my dear Sir, you are sufficiently acquainted with me, to know that I am equally incapable of a dishonourable thought or action to any one, much less towards a lady for whom I entertain the highest respect, and the sister of my hospitable entertainer." "For heaven's sake," cried the Marquis, "what is all this, -who dares accuse you?" "A misapprehension only, I hope, said the Count, in a calm tone, "not an accusation. Both you and all our friends are perfectly acquainted with my attachment to the amiable Matilda, -an attachment, added he, raising his voice, "that will be as lasting as my life, for I never shall love any other woman but unhappily the respect and attentions I have paid to the merits of Mrs Courtney, have been misconceived; I have been upbraided with seeking to gain her affections, and with having given colour to suppose mine were also devoted to her: the highest respect, nay, even admiration of her many amiable qualities, I have undoubtedly expressed, but not one word beyond what friendship would warrant, from a man who made no scruple to own his love for another, though perhaps that other never can be his. My heart, my honor, does not reproach me with the least duplicity or mean design. Can you, my dear Marquis, from the whole tenor of my conduct, suppose I could be a trifling coxcomb, much less a deliberate villain, for I must hold any man as such who could seek to gain the affections of an amiable woman, to gratify his vanity only? I am equally surprised and concerned," said the Marquis, "that such misapprehensions should have taken place -" "And I," interrupted Lord Delby, "equally displeased and mortified, at being made a party in the business; but there is no accounting for the vanity of women, and how very readily they entertain ideas they wish to indulge. I am very sorry, Count, I have been drawn into this foolish affair, for I observed at first it was very unaccountable, that a man should make his court to one woman, and avowedly profess his admiration of another; I shall however talk to my sister, and I beg the subject may drop and go no further." "I feel myself extremely at a loss how to behave," said the Count; "I think I had better leave Scarborough." "By no means," said his Lordship, hastily; "behave as usual to Mrs Courtney, in public, but avoid tête-à-têtes; if she is wise, she will herself approve this method, to escape observation."
The Count reluctantly submitted, knowing after what had passed, he must appear very awkward in his civilities, which had been so misconceived.
They attended the ladies in the drawing-room, and it being proposed to go to the theatre, the Count, as usual, offered his hand to Mrs Courtney, though with a look of confusion and reserve; she accepted it with a polite and tender air.
Lord Delby, not knowing she had exposed herself to the ladies, requested the Marquis would not mention the affair to them.
The evening past off very well, and at supper they were more cheerful and talkative than usual. The following day however Mrs Courtney appeared with a new face; she looked pensive and unhappy, comp
lained of a pain in her breast, ate little, sighed frequently, and in short, engaged that particular attention we naturally pay to those we love, and see indisposed. The Count looked the image of despair; he addressed her one moment, with an air of tenderness, the next he studiously seemed to avoid her; his behaviour was unequal, confused, and evidently perplexed. Things continued in this state for some days, -Mrs Courtney more melancholy. the Count more distressed; when one day, as they were at table, the Marquis received an express from London. Every one was alarmed; it came from the German Ambassador, requesting the Marquis would instantly come to town, the Count of Wolfenbach being there dangerously ill, and desirous of making all possible reparation to the Countess.
This news suspended all the new schemes. The Countess could scarcely be kept alive; she was apprehensive of some fresh plots, and dreaded the idea of being again within his power. "Fear not, madam," cried Lord Delby; "the monster shall never see you without your friends to protect you." "Besides, sister," urged the Marchioness, "the Ambassador is himself a pledge of your safety, and tells us he is dangerously ill, -perhaps the poor wretch cannot die in peace without your pardon." "O, my God!" said she, starting up, "let me go this instant! -alas ! he has need of forgiveness; his crimes are great, yet if they were the consequence of his love for me, 'tis my duty to speak peace and pardon; grant heaven!" cried she, lifting up her hands, "I may not come too late ! I will set off this very hour." "Be composed, my dear sister," said the Marquis, "we will go this evening; the Marchioness and I will attend you." "And I," ex claimed the Count. "We will all accompany you," said Lord Delby. "Ah! my Lord," answered the Countess, "why should I so suddenly call you from the amusements of this place: you proposed staying three months, we have only been here a little better than one." "Wherever my friends are," replied Lord Delby, "is to me the desirable place; I have no local attachments without their presence; and I dare answer for my sister, she has no objections, as I think the air of Scarborough has been of little use to her health." "You judge very right, my Lord, I shall certainly accompany our friends," said she, in a languid tone, adding, "their happiness must constitute mine."
The Count, who took every thing literally which betrayed generosity of sentiment, could not help saying," 'Tis impossible to doubt Mrs Courtney's concurrence in every scheme productive of pleasure to those she honors with her esteem." This compliment made her eyes dance with pleasure.
Their women were called and desired to set about packing immediately. Every thing was hurried on, and at five the next morning they were all on their return to London.
About a week previous to this Matilda received a letter from an unknown hand, and without a name, signifying that the Count De Bouville was paying his addresses to Mrs Courtney; that he was extremely fond of her, but that she hesitated on account of his vows to Matilda, which made him very unhappy.
She read this letter with composure, -she felt some pangs at her heart, she tried to overcome them: "Why should I be uneasy," said she, "have not I wished the Count might make a suitable alliance? - did I not release him from his vows? Alas! I have neither claims nor expectations, -let him marry, I can then renounce the world, and settle here for life, -when lost to him I have only this asylum to bury myself in for ever." The tears would flow, but she quickly dried them. "From whence this sorrow," said she again, "had I any hopes O, no! all is despair and bitterness on my side, but I will rejoice in the happiness of the amiable Count, whatever befalls myself."
Within three days after this, she received a letter from Mrs Courtney; these were the contents:
MY DEAR MISS MATILDA,
Honor, sentiment, and generosity impel me to address you; I am well acquainted with the nobleness of your heart, and can confide in its integrity. You have refused the Count De Bouville, publicly refused him: was there a shadow of hope you ever could be his, I would have been silent; but as I deem that impossible, I trust to your generosity and fortitude, when I tell you, he has for some time past paid his addresses to me, with the warm approbation of all our friends. I at first made objections on your account; he pleaded, you had publicly rejected him; and, as I did not feel satisfied, he offered to write you, and procure his release but knowing men have great duplicity, when they wish to carry a point, I declined his offer and chose to write myself; and I conjure you, my dear Matilda, to believe I will not consent to what he calls his happiness, without your permission. If you have any hopes or expectations; if you think his love may ever return to you, and that different situations may give a countenance to his addresses, and admit of your claims upon him, depend upon it I will dismiss him, however unhappy he may be; for I would not wound your peace, by acceding to his wishes, be the consequence what it may. Your friends, who are mine also, choose to be entirely silent on the subject; nor will they take notice of it, until settled between you and me. Look on me as your friend, dear Matilda, -be explicit -do not consider the Count or myself; speak your wishes, your hopes, and be assured that your felicity is my first wish, whatever it may cost me. I am my dear Matilda's sincere friend And obedient servant,
MARIA COURTNEY
Prepared as Matilda had been, by the anonymous letter, to expect such intelligence, no words can express her feelings at receiving this letter; overcome with grief, she retired to her apartment and gave loose to the painful emotions that oppressed her. After a little time she grew more composed: "Is a heart like his worth regretting?" cried she. "Could he, if his love had been founded on esteem, so soon have offered his addresses to another? O, no! it was only a transient affection, not imprinted on the heart, but vanished with my person: how fortunate then our hands were not joined; how miserable should I have found myself, if united for life to so fickle a disposition."
Whilst this impression was strong upon her, she took up her pen and wrote the following answer: DEAR MADAM, Accept, I beseech you, my warmest acknowledgements for your very friendly and obliging letter: your candid communications and consideration for my peace, I feel in the most sensible manner; but I beg leave to assure you, madam, neither my happiness nor peace depend now upon the Count De Bouville. I shall always think myself obliged for the affection he offered me, but as it is impossible we should ever meet on those terms, I hope reason has entirely subdued an improper sentiment, and if we ever should meet again, which is not likely, we shall behold each other with the indifference of common acquaintances. I am exceedingly happy here, and, if at the expiration of the twelvemonth Mr Weimar allowed me, my friends will accede to my wishes, and permit my stay in this convent, I trust I shall be happy for the remainder of my life. I hope this will prove satisfactory to your very friendly offers respecting the Count, who has my sincerest wishes for his happiness, with any other woman but her who is, my dear madam, Your much obliged humble servant, MATILDA .
After she had sealed and sent off this letter her spirits grew more tranquillised; she tried to conquer her feelings, and consider only the fickleness of men's dispositions. "Yet why should I upbraid him," thought she; "he has a family, a name to support, and ought to marry: Mrs Courtney is amiable, has a large independent fortune, respectable friends, and a noble origin to boast of; -what am I in a comparative view with her? Ah!" cried she, bursting into tears, "the retrospection humbles and subdues both my pride and regret: what have I to do but to submit to the lowly state I am placed in, and bless at a distance those generous spirits that have enabled me to procure such an asylum as this."
Mother Magdalene entered as she was wiping the tears from her cheeks; taking her hand affectionately between hers, "My dear young lady, why those tears? spare me the pain of seeing you unhappy; remember this is but a short and transitory life; our pilgrimage through it is painful, no doubt thorns are strewed in our paths, sorrows planted in our bosoms; but if planted and strewed by others, where is the sting to afflict our own hearts? Believe me, dear lady, reason can subdue every affliction but what arises from a condemnation within; with a self-approving conscience we can look forward with hope; and if turbulen
t and ungracious spirits are too powerful for us to contend with here, we can trust to our Heavenly Father, that our sufferings and patience will meet with a recompence hereafter, far superior to the brightest expectations that can be formed in this life." "My dear friend and comforter, said Matilda, kissing her hand, "be you my monitress if I grieve for temporal evils; yet, alas! my misfortunes are not common ones." "You think so," answered Mother Magdalene; "we are all apt to magnify our own troubles, and think them superior to what others feel; but, my dear child, you are yet a novice in affliction; when you know more of the world you will know also that there are varieties of misery which assail the human frame, -and 'tis our own feelings that constitute great part of our distress."
Matilda sighed, and after a little pause, "That I may not appear impatient, nor grieved at trifles, I will unbosom myself to you, and perhaps from you obtain that consolation I have hitherto sought in vain."
She then related every part of her story, except the name of the Countess and situation of the castle.
Her gentle friend sympathized with her, and confessed, for so young a woman, her trials were very great. "But still, my dear lady," said she, "I bid you hope; you have a Father and Protector, trust in him, and you will one day assuredly be happy. Another time you shall know my sad story, and will then confess, of the two, I have been most wretched; and, though I cannot entirely exclude a painful remembrance sometimes, yet I am now comparatively happy - my troubles no longer exist, and religion has restored peace to my mind. Adieu, my dear child, -take hope to your bosom and compose your spirit." "Yes," cried Matilda, "I will at least try to conquer one cause of my distress, and in destroying this fatal letter of Mrs Courtney's, lose all remembrance of the Count: surely after having so solemnly renounced him, I have no right either to complain of him or grieve for myself, -tis an unpardonable folly, for every way he is dead to me." She threw the letter into the fire and walked into the garden.
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 18
