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

by Eliza Parsons

  After the Count had repeated his negotiation with Heli, the Gentlemen all rallied Miss D'Alenberg on the conquest she had made that morning at Court.—"I have no doubt," said Baron Reiberg, "but that Mr. D'Alenberg will receive a visit from Count Dusseldoff."

  "It will be an unnecessary piece of politeness," said the young Lady, hastily; "for I hope in a few days we shall leave Vienna, and return home. Our appearance this morning I thought a work of supererogation, as our stay here will be so very short."

  "Indeed, Madam," returned the Baron, "few young Ladies would think so lightly of such a conquest. Count Dusseldoff is a very worthy young Nobleman, highly in favour with his Royal Master, a very handsome fortune in possession, and his reversionary ones."——

  "Dear Sir," exclaimed she, "neither his possessions, or reversions, can be any thing to me. I hope and believe you mistake the nature of his attentions, which certainly extended no farther than common politeness. I beg," continued she, very seriously, seeing the Baron smile, and going to speak, "I entreat you, Sir, to choose some other subject for your observations. Your present ideas are very visionary ones."

  "I beg your pardon, Madam," said he, "and have done."

  The Countess gladly availed herself of the privilege allowed her as a widow to retire from company, and therefore avoided being seen by the young Baron; but he was changed into a new man, life and animation informed his whole person, and the hope, though a distant one, that a day would arrive when he might be permitted to see his adored Theodosia, and resume his former claims upon her heart, made him submit with a tolerable grace to the rules of decorum.

  The next morning the Baron's predictions were verified; Count Dusseldoff sent in his name to Mr. D'Alenberg, his daughter was not present, and he received a visit he considered as an honour. After a very little prefatory discourse, the Count frankly avowed his admiration of Miss D'Alenberg, and requested permission to visit her.

  Her father most respectfully acknowledged the honour intended to her, told him that he had long since resigned all parental authority to dictate to her choice, having reason to be perfectly satisfied with her prudence, and assured that she would never form an imprudent attachment; that his Lordship being but little acquainted with her person, and not at all with her disposition, or understanding, he hoped he might be excused for saying, "it was rather a premature declaration."

  The Count said, 'that it became his character to be candid towards Mr. D'Alenberg; but to the young Lady he should be more reserved, and only requested, for the present, permission to pay him and his daughter that attention, which, as strangers, they were entitled to." This politeness could not be refused, and on that footing the Count was permitted to pay his respects to them in the evening.

  He had scarcely left the house before Count M*** was announced, who with great joy produced a few lines he had received from Ferdinand, the same he had written at Lintz. The Ladies were soon informed of the letter, which conveyed his best respects to them, and the whole party seemed rejoiced to hear of his safe arrival there: But this pleasure was short-lived, when Mr. D'Alenberg mentioned the visit he had received, and the permission he had granted.

  For a few minutes his daughter seemed in great agitation; she stole several looks at the Count; his countenance said nothing. She soon recovered, and only replied, "her father had a right to see whom he pleased, although she could not see the necessity of adding to their acquaintance for the very short time they should stay in that city."—No answer was made to this observation, and the Count receiving an invitation for himself and his friends, they separated soon after.

  As he walked back he recollected the secret attachment which Louisa had hinted at as the cause of her friend's disorder upon her spirits, and revolving every occurrence as they rose to his mind, he began to entertain an idea, that either Ferdinand or himself was the object of it. He was many years older than his friend, and he thought very inferior to him in every personal endowment; yet he had remarked she generally addressed herself to him, and the particular looks she had eyed him with when her father spoke of the Count's visit, had not passed unobserved then, and now, from several corroborating circumstances, seemed to proceed from no common cause.

  There is no man, at any time of life, but has some latent spark of vanity, which may be raised by accidental and concurring incidents. Count M*** had still such advantages of person, as might well warrant more than a bare supposition that he was not deficient in attraction, and from the idea once obtruding on his mind, many little trifling instances were recollected, that fixed it there, and he concluded Miss D'Alenberg had certainly entertained a decided partiality for him.

  He was too noble and generous not to lament that he was so distinguished, because he still retained a warm affection for Eugenia, and had that affection been cooled, yet his honour and feelings never would suggest him to pay particular attention to any woman whilst she existed; he therefore concluded it would be most prudent and proper for him to relax in his visits, and, if possible, to avoid being a companion in their journey when they should return into Suabia.

  Count Dusseldoff made his visit, and was still more charmed with Miss D'Alenberg than at first. The little she did say, and that was as little as was consistent with politeness, gave him the highest opinion of her understanding and cultivated mind. She was above assuming any consequence from his partiality to her, and being perfectly indifferent to him, she treated him as a Gentleman chance had thrown in her way, and whom possibly she might never see again; for she took an opportunity of saying they should soon leave Vienna, and that she was so devoid of fashion, as to prefer the country to all the amusements a gay and crowded city could hold out to her.

  In the course of a week his visits were several times repeated, and at length he took courage to avow his admiration in very explicit terms. Her answer was short, but decided: "I am truly sensible of the honour of your good opinion; but, my Lord, there are insuperable obstacles to any union between us. My father has the goodness to permit me in this important business to decide for myself; therefore I am not accountable to any other person. My Lord, I never can be your's: I respect you, I am grateful, but I can entertain no other sentiments for you, and I beg that I may never more hear a word on this subject."

  The Count, mortified and disappointed, appealed to the father, he absolutely declined any interference, though he acknowledged the Count's proposals were highly honourable both to himself and daughter; but he was convinced her resolution was unalterable.—Thus ended the hopes of Count Dusseldoff, and he ceased to importune her farther.

  Whilst this affair was pending Count M*** very seldom called, and when he did his visits were short, his behaviour cool. The Ladies noticed this alteration, but supposed it was occasioned by his uneasiness in not hearing from Ferdinand; indeed all grew impatient at his silence, as they only waited to hear of his arrival and situation to fix on a day for following him.

  Baron Reiberg had received a letter from his steward that the valet was safe with him, and appeared to be a very good sort of a man. This indefinite term was not misapplied to him, for he had a few good traits in his character, which, if he had belonged to a better master, might have made him a valuable servant; for he was strictly faithful to him, and made his inclinations and conscience subservient to what he thought was his duty to his employer; unfortunately he had not understanding, or strength of mind, to distinguish between that duty, and what he owed to himself and society, the consequence of that slavery and vassalage, which the German Lords exact from their poor tenantry and servants.

  Ferdinand had been gone now ten days, no news was received, and they were extremely uneasy; when one day an express arrived to Baron Reiberg from Count Rhodophil, requesting to know "if any servant of his had appeared at the Baron's house to attend on his brother, he had dispatched a messenger more than a fortnight since to implore Ferdinand's return, as he supposed himself then at the point of death; that although much recovered, he was still in a weak state, and very
unhappy from not seeing or hearing of his brother, or whether the messenger had reached Vienna or not."

  Never was consternation greater than what the Baron and his friends felt on the receipt of this letter; from the date Ferdinand ought to have been there several days preceding it. This, with his silence to them, gave unspeakable apprehensions to the whole party, and accelerated their resolution to quit Vienna. The messenger was sent back with an account of Ferdinand's arrival at Lintz on his way to Baden, since which they had heard nothing of him.

  Mr. D'Alenberg declined acquainting the Ladies of the cause which hastened their journey, and Miss D'Alenberg was so desirous of returning, that she readily fell in with her father's opinion, that it was unnecessary to wait for letters from Ferdinand, as they were going to him, and letters could be dispatched after them. Louisa had no will but her friends, and the Countess was anxious to see her son, and had much business to go through at Ulm. Thus the whole party made up their mind for the journey, and the second day after the next was fixed upon for their departure. Here then we leave them to follow Ferdinand.

  CHAPTER VI

  The comforts of a bed, and the prospect of being soon able to pursue his journey, gave him some hours of quiet rest at the castle of Danhaet; he awoke refreshed, and in spirits.—The steward and his wife were worthy people; advanced rather above the middle age, plain in their language and habits, but with excellent hearts, and an honest frankness that engaged confidence.

  Ferdinand was extremely desirous to write to his brother and friends; the steward furnished him with materials for writing, and advised his taking a passage in one of the boats that took passengers between Lintz and Ulm. This advice the other readily agreed to follow, as the most easy way of proceeding for a person whose limbs had not yet recovered their strength and pliability. The steward told him they were about seven miles from a post town, but he would get his letters conveyed thither, and also inquire about his passage.

  Ferdinand was charmed with the situation of this castle; it was built on the side of a hanging wood, which rose gradually to the top of a high hill, and sheltered it from the keen blasts of the north.—Large plantations of chestnuts seemed to surround it, among which were cut several beautiful walks and narrow vistas, terminated by some picturesque views. In front was a hanging garden of large extent, from whence there was a declivity down to the banks of the river. The castle itself was old and out of repair, but the apartments were noble, and the furniture, though faded and decayed, yet perfectly clean and commodious.

  Talking with the steward, he observed the situation was so romantic, and the environs so beautiful, that he was astonished his lord never came to it.

  "Why, Sir," answered he, "it is the general opinion of the country, that the left wing of the castle, or rather a detached pavilion, which you see is almost enveloped by the trees, is haunted; and the reason is this; a state prisoner was once confined there, and, as the story goes, was murdered; one of my lord's ancestors had the care of him; 'tis an old and a foolish story, I think—but so it is, our old lord never permitted any one to live in it, and they do say that the present lord was once much frightened, for he and his lady disagreed, and he confined her for a time in that place, only going to her by day himself; how it was, I don't know, but he was frightened, as they say; so he took her away, and put her into a convent, and since that time never returned here."

  "A strange story," said Ferdinand; "but did you ever hear or see any thing to terrify you."

  "Why, Sir," replied he, "I never go there, because 'tis shut up; but some of the peasants, who have come here of a night, or early in a morning, swear that they have heard strange noises.—For my part, I had no concern in the business, whatever it was; I do no harm to any one, and therefore I live here very quietly; and if there are ghosts there, why I never disturb them, nor they me; I have often wished that strange old man of the rock to live here with us, because the more the merrier; but whether he is afraid of ghosts, or likes his hole in the rock better than a good chamber, I can't tell, but here he won't live, because he says he likes to be alone.

  "Here is a fine library—I offer him what books he likes; but two or three will serve him for months; he likes nothing but fishing, and lives upon very little."

  "He is a strange worthless being, I think," said Ferdinand, "and altogether such a character as I had no idea of; for he is not a religious man, a man of knowledge, or in any shape desirous of obtaining useful information; a poor pusillanimous idle creature, that crawls upon the earth, insensible to every thing.

  "However, if he has no curiosity, I have, and should like of all things, to examine this pavilion."

  "You may walk to it, if you can, with all my heart," said the man; "'tis but a little way detached from the building you see;—there is a private communication below stairs, but that has long been nailed up.

  "By day, Sir, I am sure you may go, because I often pass it, and never heard any thing in my life."

  "Well, then," said Ferdinand, "I will take an opportunity to look at it; you have the keys, I suppose."

  "I have, Sir; but the doors have never been opened for more than twelve, aye, more than fourteen years, I believe; therefore I don't suppose the keys will turn now; they hang in the hall, with a ticket to them."

  "I shall try them to-morrow," said Ferdinand.

  "As you please, Sir," answered he.

  But the wife was not quite so easy; she besought him not to go; told several strange stories; declared she had heard odd noises sometimes, when down stairs near the communication passage, and though she trusted in Heaven, and injured no one, yet she would not go into the pavilion for any money.

  Ferdinand, who had no fears of supernatural beings, and much curiosity, waited impatiently for the next day; and taking the keys, which the steward had cleaned a little from the rust, he walked to the pavilion;—he was yet but feeble, and when he came to a flight of steps, which led up to the apartments, he seated himself to take breath.

  This sequestered spot was surrounded by high trees, at the foot of which were a profusion of shrubs and wild flowers; it seemed formed for retirement and contemplation;—but being long and totally neglected, the outside was decaying; the weeds almost obscured the lower apartments; the glass, in many places, was broken; and in short, the whole bore the marks of desolation.

  After having rested for some time, Ferdinand prepared to view the inside of this forlorn place; he tried his keys, but found it impossible to turn them.—Vexed and disconcerted, he descended, and walked round among the weeds, when he discovered another small door with a padlock to it, but he had no key that looked likely to open that; he drew near to it, and taking up the lock in his hand with a sort of quick pull, the staple fell out, and directly he heard the sound of a bell, and saw a string was fastened to the staple.—Surprised, he waited a few moments, to see if any consequence followed the sound of the bell, but all remained still.

  This is very singular, thought Ferdinand; and looking round, he observed the weeds seemed to be more broken, as if trodden down; he turned to pull open the door, which resisted his endeavour, and he found must be fastened inside.—He took up the staple, and pulling the string, the bell sounded a second time, and presently a hollow voice was heard, that muttered some inarticulate words, and then groaned.—Though extremely startled at the moment, yet he was convinced the voice was human; that some mystery was attached to the building, and that something more substantial than ghosts or shadowy forms resided there; else why the bell to alarm, and inside fastenings.

  Revolving these circumstances in his mind, he made no reply for the present, but determined to watch near that place in the evening. He returned to the steward, repeated the strange account, and his own conjectures; but he found it impossible to encourage him in the idea of its being inhabited by living persons; and instead of deriving any help from him to elucidate the mystery, he had only strengthened the steward's apprehensions, and confirmed the report which he had often been inclined to d
oubt, and think proceeded from the superstition and credulity of the peasants.

  No persuasions, therefore, could induce him to accompany Ferdinand in the evening to hide among the trees and make observations; he then applied to the two men who looked after the grounds and cattle, but they were still more terrified.—One of them declared, that oftentimes he had heard groans, and had seen smoke ascending among the weeds, which, however, were never burnt, and therefore it must come from 'the old one's" house under-ground, where he would take good care never to disturb him.

  It was in vain to combat against ignorance and cowardice; therefore Ferdinand saw he must make his own discoveries; and his strength not admitting of much exertion to force his way, or even to escape, if such a step should be necessary, he felt extremely perplexed how to proceed.

  After several schemes formed and rejected, it suddenly darted into his mind, to wrap himself up in a sheet, outside of which he would throw the steward's great coat, and having a dark lantern with him, he could conceal himself among the trees, and if in danger of being discovered, by throwing off the coat, and presenting himself with the light, he had little doubt but that he might frighten those who had endeavoured to terrify others. This plan he prepared to put in execution, heedless and deaf to the prayers and remonstrances of his host and hostess, who gave him up for lost.

  Towards the close of the evening, Ferdinand, properly habited with a tinder box and a dark lantern, placed himself among the trees, opposite to this small door, where he could see every transaction without being observed.

  Night came on; every thing was still and silent; he began to grow weary of his situation; the castle clock had gone eleven, when suddenly he espied the figures of four people coming through the trees; he could not distinguish their persons, there being no moon. It must be observed, that Ferdinand had replaced the staple and padlock; they made towards the door; he saw them stand, and heard a faint sound of the bell, and in a moment he lost sight of them, and was convinced they were let in through the door.