Ferdinand was about to reply, when a servant entered with a packet for him; being a stranger to the hand, he opened it hastily, and saw the name of D'Alenberg. "Ah!" cried he, "here is a large packet from Mr. D'Alenberg; from its bulk I dare say it contains the history of the poor Louisa."
"You will then have something to amuse, or at least to engage your attention (said the Count) and I am glad of it, as I am obliged to meet two persons for an hour or two after dinner." Ferdinand's impatience, and this friend's engagement, caused them to make a hasty meal, which, when finished, the former retired to the library, and perused the following letter:
MR. D'ALENBERG TO MR. FERDINAND RENAUD.
"I do not forget, my young friend, that you seemed to feel an interest in the late occurrences that fell under your eye; and you impressed me with too favourable an opinion of your heart to doubt of your being anxious for an explanation of such circumstances relative to Louisa, as materially concerned the peace of my Theresa and her father. I have full leave to acquaint you with every particular of the villainous treatment the much-injured young woman has experienced from the most abandoned of men: Crimes like his cannot go unpunished, and it shall not be my fault if the world does not brand him as a villain. I bow with reverence to that Being, whose benign hand conducted us to the spot where the late unfortunate Mr. Hautweitzer breathed his last sigh; had it pleased Heaven to have prolonged his existence to this hour, that he might have seen his child under my protection, the last pang of nature had been stripped of half its terrors; but to regret is useless, it is our duty to think all is as it should be. To-morrow we propose to leave this place; our poor invalid thinks she is capable of taking the journey. This morning her worthy father was consigned to the grave; I trust he exists in happier regions.
"The good Dolnitz shall not be forgotten; he and his sister have hearts, and good ones too; it is the duty of those that have power to enable such persons to gratify their generous humane feelings. You know my address; I again repeat my wishes to see you and your friend; if this lays not in the chapter of possibilities at present, I request to hear from you.
"Remember, young man, that you have opened a fresh account; once more I feel an esteem, and place a confidence on a slender knowledge: Old age ought to be wary and circumspect, particularly when deception has so lately wounded an unsuspecting heart; but I have not learned the ungenerous maxims of the world, nor, because I have unfortunately been deceived by a worthless wretch, suspect each man to be a villain.—You, I hope, will justify my candour, and when I tell you that you possess my regards, will, by your subsequent conduct, give me credit with myself for my discernment.
"To see you will give me pleasure. To hear you are well and happy is the next best satisfaction you can convey to me; for well I see, and grieve to see, that you are now unhappy: But if the cause originates from no vice or folly of your own, take comfort, all may yet be well. My respects to your friend, I know him only by name, that speaks in his favour; I should be glad to know more of him. My daughter desires her compliments: Louisa scarcely remembers having seen you, but she is grateful for your attentions. Adieu, my young friend, remember my claims upon you.
C. D'ALENBERG."
This letter was very gratifying to Ferdinand; but he looked it hastily over, being impatient to read the story of Louisa, which was thus prefaced:
"By permission of her friend, and at the request of her father, Miss D'Alenberg sends this transcript of Louisa's misfortunes, in her own words, to Mr. Ferdinand Renaud."
END OF VOLUME TWO
VOLUME THREE
CHAPTER I
My father was descended from a younger branch of a Noble family: He lost his parents before he attained the age of manhood, and found his commission all his patrimony, and his sword his only friend. He conducted himself so properly in the management of both, that a Captain's commission was his reward at the age of two and twenty.
During the suspension of the next campaign, he went to Strasburg to visit a very distant relation, who had thought proper to recognize him when he was in a situation to provide for himself. With this old gentleman he staid some time, and unfortunately lost his heart to a very amiable young woman, who had every claim to admiration but one. That trifling deficiency in my father's eye, though of great magnitude in the estimation of wiser and more prudent men, was the want of fortune. My father, who had been bred up in the school of liberality, who had no selfish considerations, and paid but little attention to prudential maxims, no sooner discovered that his heart was irrevocably fixed, and that the lady's character justified his pretensions, than he openly avowed his partiality, and sought to gain her favour. In vain his relation remonstrated, soothed, allured, and threatened. He was master of himself—of his own affections—despised such paltry objections as the want of money; persisted in his endeavours to gain the lady—was successful—was transported at his promised eternal happiness, and laid up for himself a "load of cares."
Reprobated by his mercenary relation, he married, and carried his wife to the quarters where his duty called him. For a time, he was as happy as a man could be, who, in possessing a darling object, hourly expected to be torn from her. It happened, before that dreaded period arrived, peace was concluded on between the contending powers; and he had the supreme delight of remaining with the object of his affections—of looking forward to an increase of family, but had forgot, in the hour of exultation, that he was now reduced to half-pay.
The first moment this blow struck on his heart, was when some preparations were thought necessary for the accommodation of his wife. Alas! then, and not 'till then, did it occur to him, how insufficient the poor pittance he possessed would be to support the unavoidable expenses coming upon him. What he could retrench from his own little accustomed indulgences, he did, and provided, as well as it was possible, for the hour which brought me into the world, and eventually proved the death of a parent I have ever revered, though I never beheld her.
From the day which gave me birth, although she seemed to recover as well as most women do in the like situation, and at the expiration of a proper time, resumed her family employments: whether she caught cold, had any inward complaints or uneasiness of mind; whatever was the cause, I know not, but she fell into a rapid decline, and her pure spirit fled to Heaven five months after she had given me life.
'Tis needless to repeat my father's sufferings; a feeling heart may conceive them; when time and necessity compelled him to struggle with his grief, and remember the pledge his darling wife had left him, he resolved to retire into a distant part of the country, that he might devote his whole time to the care of his child. With this dear father I past my life, until near twelve years of age; and to his unwearied care, I owe more than life, in the good and virtuous principles he instilled into my mind. Unhappily he was but little acquainted with mankind;—bred up in the school of adversity, with a narrow income, and few connexions, his spirit had kept him from engaging in habits of company and expense, which he knew his small income could not support; and therefore he had avoided society, and mixed but very seldom among young men of his age and rank, consequently knew but little of their vices, or general profligacy.
I had nearly completed my twelfth year, when my father one day told me, that tho" it would be almost death to him to part with me; yet it was his duty to prefer my interest to his own satisfaction. He had lived in obscurity, and, with the most rigid economy, that he might save a sum sufficient to pay for my pension in a convent for two or three years, that my education might be completed. "The time is now come," said he, "when my intention must take place; I am again called upon in the service of my country; I have inquired for a situation where I can entrust the only treasure Heaven has given me; and where you will acquire such accomplishments and female knowledge, as must be necessary for your future provision."
I shall not dwell on the sorrow which pervaded our bosoms, when the hour came that annihilated all my happiness for ever.—Our little humble dwelling was
disposed of; my good old nurse, who had been our only domestic, my father got received into a hospital; and I accompanied him to that convent, where I most fortunately was distinguished by the friendship of Miss D'Alenberg.
I pass over the years I resided in the convent, as nothing material took place in my affairs, until I was one day suddenly called from the refectory, and informed my father waited for me in the parlour. Surprise and joy almost overcame my senses; I flew to my dear parent, and shed tears of unbounded transport; his eyes also overflowed. After the first expressions of joy were a little abated, he told me, he had quitted the army, was arrived to take me from the convent, and desired I would be prepared to quit it the following morning, when he should call and settle for my pension.
I cannot even now forget, nor yet account for, the universal tremor which seized me when I heard of my father's intention: I had many agreeable companions; I loved Miss D'Alenberg, and was honoured with her friendship, except which, I had nothing to regret: And surely my affection for her bore no proportion to the duty and love I owed to my father: Strange, therefore, that I should be shocked—should feel a repugnance, and even horror, at the thoughts of quitting the convent with a parent so dear to me. Alas! it was too sure a presentiment of all the evils that awaited me, and the moment when I left that peaceful abode, was the last of my tranquillity. When I gave my last embrace to my loved Theresa, and the gates closed between us, I gave a faint shriek, and threw myself back in the chaise more than half dead.
My kind, my considerate father, gave way to the first emotions of my grief, and soothed me with so much tenderness, praising the sensibility of my heart. (Ah! he knew not then how dearly we should pay for, how bitterly we should deplore, that fatal sensibility) that I grew ashamed of indulging a sorrow that reproached me with ingratitude to so good a parent. This consideration assisted me in the recovery of more composure, and at length enabled me to recollect our situation, and to ask, where we were going to reside? My dear father heaved a deep sigh.
"I will not attempt to deceive you, my dear Louisa; I can no longer afford to pay for your pension; an unfortunate circumstance has compelled me to leave the service of the Emperor, and obliges me to seek a situation in the army of another Prince; I might have left you ignorant of this compulsatory arrangement; I might have suffered your pension to have run on for another year; but my dear girl, your father cannot stoop to even a negative imposition, and in the incertitude of the success my present plan may lead to, I could not subject you to receive obligations, to be indebted for your support, whilst I had a doubt upon my mind that I might possibly fail in the power of making the just returns due for your maintenance.
"I grieve only for you, my child; but I trust Heaven will give you strength of mind to encounter with the evils of poverty, when unaccompanied with guilt or remorse. I have sought for a retirement where you may not be absolutely excluded from society, but where you may live unknown, and free from observation, without the danger of being subjected to the triumph of insolent prosperity over indigent merit. Louisa, you was nursed in obscurity; to that obscurity you must return. I had flattered myself with far better hopes for you; but those are no more, and we must submit to the fate that controls us: All that remains is, to bear adverse fortune with patience and fortitude, than we are superior to the evils that befall us.
"You are young, my child, to hear and profit by a lesson so painful to practise as adversity; but you have good sense; you are the daughter of a soldier, and a man of honour." My father pronounced these last words with a peculiar emphasis, and with an animated countenance, that surprised and interested me; but I expressed no curiosity, and contented myself with assuring him, that "my mind should be directed by his precepts, and my conduct deserve his approbation." My answer pleased him, and he endeavoured to rally his spirits, by giving a cheerful turn to our conversation.
We arrived at length to our place of destination, a very small village in the vicinity of Heilbron, romantically and beautifully situated. At the extremity of a few scattered houses, was the residence of a good priest, inhabited by himself, his mother, and a peasant girl as a servant: We were expected, and therefore received with kindness. To one accustomed from childhood to retirement, this solitude had nothing in it so frightful as to create terror or disgust. I was charmed with the mildness, the placid content that pervaded the countenance of my new friends, and not only strove to appear pleased, but really felt a degree of pleasure in my mind, that I might hope to have cheerful companions. My father watched my looks with visible anxiety; and when he saw me enter into conversation with a lively unembarrassed air, I observed the instantaneous effect it had upon him: Every feature was illumined with satisfaction; he seemed as if a weight had been removed, which had before heavily oppressed his spirits, and from which he had scarcely an expectation of being freed.
In the evening, when we were for a few minutes alone, he asked me, "if I could reconcile myself to reside with the Abbe Bouville and his mother?" I answered in the affirmative, without the least hesitation. He affectionately embraced me:—"Then, my dearest girl, more than half of my sorrows are done away, and I will no longer conceal my situation from you. A general officer, whose arrogance far exceeded his rank, and whose fortune enabled him to support an appearance, that threw every one else at a distance from him by the superiority he assumed. This meanly proud man affected to treat his inferiors in rank and fortune with a supercilious contempt that was insupportable. It happened, that on a particular service, I was subjected to his command; I did my duty, but scorned to flatter his pride by mean flatteries or condescensions unbecoming my character. Provoked, I believe, by my conduct, yet unable to complain of any deficiencies in the services he commanded, he one day gave me three contradictory orders, before I had time to perform either, and consequently I was obliged to apply to him in person, for an explanation of the orders delivered to me.
"The moment I appealed to him, he flew into a violent rage, and accused me of disobeying command. Irritated as I was, I yet suppressed my feelings, and respectfully, though firmly, represented the impossibility of obeying orders which had been in the same instant contradicted by others entirely opposite. He threw himself into a paroxysm of rage, and insulted me in a manner beyond all endurance: My indignation, hardly repressed, now burst forth—I defended my conduct, as became a man of spirit, and retorted upon him for his frivolous and indeterminate proceedings. In short, he bore hard upon me—threw me off my guard—and I vented some menacing expressions, which were instantly caught hold of. I was ordered into custody; shortly afterwards brought to a court-martial, and dismissed from the service for 'disobedience of orders, and insulting my commanding officer.'
"I heard the sentence with a disdainful silence. But as soon as I had obtained my liberty, I sent a challenge to my ungenerous enemy. I have no doubt but that he expected it; for on the breaking up of the court, he had set off to other quarters, to 'confer,' as he gave out with other general officers respecting a secret expedition. I was persuaded, by the whole corps, to present a petition to the Emperor; but my spirit rose repugnant to the idea of a petition. I therefore wrote a plain narrative of facts, which I sent to my royal master, and quitted the army immediately.
"Alas! my child, when the hurry of tumultuous and indignant passions had subsisted, your image swam across my sight; and how was my Louisa to be supported? The first idea that occurred to my reason. What my feelings were, I will not describe. Providence graciously recalled to my mind the Abbe Bouville, whom I had known in early days, and on whose benevolence and wisdom I thought I might repose confidence. I knew his residence, although I had not visited him in his retirement; nor indeed was then certain of his existence, but to seek him, was my only resource; most fortunately I found him; the man my heart could be laid open to, and from whose piety and goodness I could derive comfort. The result of our conference was my journey to the convent; the rest you know; and now, my dear child, here you may reside in safety, whilst I seek in another se
rvice that fame, and that recompense, of which I have been unjustly deprived."
CHAPTER II
Thus my father finished the painful recital of his injuries, and I assured him of my perfect sensibility of his affectionate cares for me, and my resolution to improve my small talents, that I might be enabled to provide for my own maintenance, without being a burden on so good a father. It would be tiresome to repeat our conversations that evening when he gave me to the care of his good friends. As he had not determined what Prince he should apply to, his journey was undertaken without being able to point out for us any channel of information, until we could hear from himself. The hour of separation was dreadful; but I sought to acquire fortitude, that my father might not have my sufferings to contend with, added to his own.
The next day he left us. It was three weeks before we heard from him, and learnt, he was in the service of the King of Poland. Four months past in a quiet uniform manner, that had tranquillized my mind; and as we had heard several times from my father, whose spirits appeared to return with a ray of hope, from the nature of his employment, my mind naturally partook of the complexion of his, and I grew cheerful and easy, in proportion as his letters breathed content and returning vivacity.
It was about this period when I had been near five months with the good Bouvilles, when we heard that a small hunting seat, situated in a most beautiful park about two miles from the village, was repairing for the reception of a young nobleman, just returning from his travels. This information seemed perfectly immaterial to me; nor had I the least curiosity respecting our neighbour, when told of his arrival.
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 174
