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

by Eliza Parsons

  He was so lost in thought, and absorbed in attention towards them, that Mr. D'Alenberg was obliged to remind him that he had not once asked for the lovely Countess.

  "Forgive me," said he: "I have the highest respect for that estimable woman, but I have my excuse before me. When looking at those ladies, is it possible to recollect any others.—I hope, however, you left that amiable lady well."

  "Perfectly so," said Reiberg; "and 'tis only in this company that I can pardon your omission."

  Ferdinand had always so carefully avoided saying even a gallant thing to a lady, that the little compliment he uttered caught the attention of Miss D'Alenberg; she looked at him; he withdrew his eyes, and fixed them on Louisa, to whom he addressed some trifling question, that called the blood from the cheeks of the other, and she again turned towards the Count.

  He was a minute observer of the scene, and instantly thought he understood the recesses of Ferdinand's heart better than he did himself. Nor was the Count mistaken.

  The very first day Ferdinand had seen Miss D'Alenberg, he was charmed with her humanity, and generous compassion for Louisa. The sentiments she uttered were so congenial to his own feelings, that her character was instantly decided in his breast to be a worthy one. He felt exceedingly for the base duplicity of Count Wolfran's conduct, and rejoiced that such a woman had not fallen a victim to it.

  When at her father's house, she seemed still more worthy of admiration; the study, the chief pleasure of her life, was to obey and contribute to his amusement.—She was sensible without affectation; cheerful without levity; attentive to every part of domestic management, without the least ostentation: Added to which, her polite kindness to Louisa denoted a mind above the idea of conferring favours, but was herself the obliged person, in being permitted to offer them.

  Such was the character of Miss D'Alenberg.—He admired, he revered her; but at that time, the recent unaccountable troubles that hung over him; his affection for Claudina, which, though weakened, was not extinguished, and his peculiar situation, impeded every thought of Miss D'Alenberg, otherwise than as a most estimable young woman.

  But when the Count and himself had so fortunately met with Louisa, the story she related of her friend's melancholy and secret attachment, the dormant admiration of her person and mind, again blazed forth; he felt the sincerest concern for her situation, not entirely unmixed with envy, for the man who was the object of her preferable regard.—This object, his sagacity at length discovered to be Count M***, and he also was convinced the unfortunate partiality was a mutual one. Here then he sighed in silence, as he thought in pity to them, and in that pity stifled his own regrets.

  When he received an account of Claudina's death, he was greatly affected; her ill conduct, though plainly avowed, had not effaced her image from his heart, or eradicated the tenderness which was once reciprocal.—He lamented her death; he grieved for her depravity; but his sorrow was not of that deep heart-felt kind, which he must have felt in other circumstances, because reason whispered to his mind that she had proved unworthy.

  When Mr. D'Alenberg and his daughter arrived at Vienna, and he waited upon them, he saw, as he judged, a confirmation of his suspicions of the unfortunate preference that young lady entertained for the Count, and without being sensible of it himself, he certainly exhibited some little petulance in his conversation, which did not pass unobserved.

  He was then sent for to his brother, and his agitations on that account superseded all other ideas. The subsequent events pretty much engrossed his mind; and it was not until his present arrival at the Count's, when he saw Miss D'Alenberg with circumstances so much altered in his own favour, that the sentiments he had long suppressed, and was scarcely conscious of, now burst full upon him, mingled with the painful regret that his friend possessed that invaluable heart he thought above all price; and from his unfortunate situation, was precluded from even a wish to profit by the preference he was honoured with, and of course both must be unhappy.

  Thus have we accounted for the workings of Ferdinand's mind, and for those sentiments which now, for the first time, were no longer concealed from himself.

  Louisa made her own observations in silence.—Her friend, who saw the direction of Ferdinand's eyes, and felt the little compliment that had escaped him, immediately gave Louisa the credit of it.

  "Yes," said she, mentally, "I see the attraction, and now there exists, on either side, no obstacles to impede their union.—Well, then, I will teach my heart to rejoice in their happiness, and henceforth draw only on my dear father for my future tranquillity." Impressed with this idea, she turned her eyes tenderly towards her father, and saw an expression of joy in his, that greatly surprised her, but which she immediately attributed to the pleasure of seeing his friend.

  In the evening, the company walked into the gardens, and strolling through the shrubbery, they accidentally fell into small parties.—Louisa designedly led her friend from the company, and seemed to be in very uncommon spirits; Miss D'Alenberg thought it was not quite so decorous; but she allowed for the human heart; and a conquest, such as Ferdinand, justified the little breach of delicacy towards a friend.

  "You are more than usually cheerful, my dear Louisa?"

  "Indeed I am; the arrival of our friend has gratified my warmest wishes."

  "May every wish of your heart be realized; you may suppose I do not feel less pleasure, though his presence is not of that immediate consequence to me, as to my dear Louisa."

  "Indeed," cried the other, at once penetrating into the nature of her feelings, "indeed, have you then changed your favourable opinion of Ferdinand, since he is become a widower and a Count?"

  "No," said Miss D'Alenberg, a little piqued; "but I hope I have fortitude and generosity sufficient to change the nature of my sentiments in favour of my friends."

  "I see," returned Louisa, 'that you suspect the new Count has a partiality for me."

  "It was a suspicion," said the other; "but his behaviour this day amounts to a confirmation; and believe me, my dear Louisa, weak as you have seen me in many instances, I have acquired that command over my feelings, now that I see him alive and happy; that I am enabled to partake in your mutual felicity, though, for a time, perhaps I should not choose to be an eye-witness of it."

  "Generous friend," exclaimed Louisa, kissing her hand, "I know the sincerity of your heart, and doubt not but that the nobleness of your mind would support you under the most painful disappointment, if productive of happiness to those you love: But undeceive yourself, my beloved Theresa, Ferdinand respects me as the friend of Miss D'Alenberg; but my amiable Theresa is the sole possessor of his heart."

  "Impossible," cried she, "impossible, dear Louisa; you must be mistaken."

  "Indeed I am not," returned she; "an attentive observer can translate the looks of a lover, and is not often mistaken; at least suspend your conclusion against him for a day or two.—I will be answerable for the events."

  "Against him!" repeated Miss D'Alenberg; "his supposed preference of you does credit to his judgment."

  "I shall not dispute that point with you," answered she, smiling, "because it gratifies my self-love; but here they come, and I only beseech you to open your eyes, and disperse the mist that clouds your judgment."

  The gentlemen, who had joined in different walks, now approached the ladies, the eyes of Ferdinand meeting those of Miss D'Alenberg's. She blushed excessively, from thinking of the preceding conversation; she turned to Louisa, the archness of whose looks more greatly disconcerted her; her disorder was very visible, which, when Louisa remarked, she drew the attention off from her friend by a sprightly sally, that brought Mr. D'Alenberg upon her: He rallied her upon her gaiety, for which he was indebted, he said, to the company of their beaus. This passed off the confusion of his daughter, and she recovered her spirits.

  CHAPTER IX

  The next morning Mr. D'Alenberg and Ferdinand happened to meet in the avenue before the house, where the latter was strolling appar
ently lost in thought.—"My good friend," said the old Gentleman, "I have scarce had an opportunity to speak my perfect satisfaction at the termination of your troubles: I know not indeed all your story, but I know enough to interest me warmly in your happiness."

  "You do me great honour, Sir," replied Ferdinand; "but though the veil is withdrawn from the mystery, which so long rendered me wretched, yet the disclosure has been attended with the knowledge of so many painful circumstances, that at times I feel my spirits sink under the recollection of them."

  "Time, and a variety of objects," said Mr. D'Alenberg, "will, I hope, by and bye, have its usual effects, and blunt the remembrance of former sorrows. I thank Heaven, there is much alteration in the disorder that affected my daughter's spirits, from the very remedy I prescribe for you; do you not think her complexion and cheerfulness are returning?"

  "I hope so," replied Ferdinand, "most fervently I hope it; every one must feel interested for a young lady so truly excellent, that the beauty of her person is her least perfection."

  "I thank you for the warmth of your sentiments," said Mr. D'Alenberg, "which encourages me to speak freely to you; there is only one man in the world that I am desirous of calling son, that man is a friend of your's."

  "A friend of mine!" repeated Ferdinand, starting in great confusion, adding, in a tremulous voice, "any man must be highly honoured by such a distinction; but I am at a loss to guess who you mean."

  "The Count's unfortunate situation sets him entirely out of the question," interrupted Mr. D'Alenberg.—"Indeed, Sir! the young Baron's predilection in favour of the Countess is not unknown to you."

  "No," returned he, 'that's a point settled. The Gentleman I mean has now, I believe, neither a prior engagement or attachment, he is one who engaged my esteem the first day I saw him, from particular traits of humanity and honour that I observed in him, and from the conversations, short as they were, that gave me a perfect good opinion of his head and his heart. Unfortunate circumstances at that time stepped between me and my wishes, which are now, I believe, all done away. Are you at a loss now to know my man?"

  During this speech Ferdinand had been violently agitated; at the conclusion he caught the hand of Mr. D'Alenberg: "Ah! Sir, how flattering is your kindness; I will not affect to misunderstand you, but can that happy distinguished man presume to hope Miss D'Alenberg views him with the partial eyes of her father? No, he cannot, he dares not, flatter himself with an idea, his own observation convinces him would be erroneous."

  "You would not then decline the connexion, should Theresa be more discerning than you are so ready to suppose?"

  "Decline! dear Sir! to call you father; to contribute to the happiness of your lovely daughter, would indeed be to ensure my own, and render me the most enviable of mankind. Your kindness has dragged a secret forth from the inmost recesses of my heart, and by its palpitation convinces me, that heart is entirely engrossed by Miss D'Alenberg."

  "Well," said the old Gentleman, infinitely delighted, "you shall not at any rate bear the torture of suspense, you shall speak to her this day, if she sees with her father's eyes, you have nothing to fear. If I am mistaken, and her inclination is not in your favour, I shall be sorry and disappointed; but—you shall ever be the son of my affection."

  Ferdinand was so entirely overcome by this kindness, that words were denied to him, and, confused at his emotions, he turned abruptly from him.

  The party assembled at breakfast, all seemed gay and happy except the two lovers. After the repast Mr. D'Alenberg asked the Ladies and Ferdinand to view a small pavilion the Count's steward had lately erected in a beautiful shrubbery.—The name of a pavilion caused his daughter to shudder.—She remembered a conversation which had passed in a similar place that had given her the most poignant grief; but no objection being made, they readily accompanied him, and were highly pleased with the steward's taste.

  "There is another spot, not far off," said Mr. D'Alenberg, "where a small building may be erected to an advantage. Come hither, Louisa, I will have your opinion first." She started up, took his arm, and they were out of sight in a moment.

  Miss D'Alenberg was rooted to her seat in breathless terror; Ferdinand was little less discomposed, but recovering himself—"I know not, Madam, whether you will have the goodness to pardon my temerity in seizing this opportunity of opening to you my whole heart, a heart long tortured by the most painful events.

  "Ever since I had the honour of knowing Miss D'Alenberg I have considered her as the most amiable of women, and respected her accordingly. My unhappy situation precluded every selfish wish, and her happiness was my first concern, independent of my own.

  "That situation is now changed, and though perhaps I may err against the common rules of decorum, yet I hope Miss D'Alenberg will not condemn me if I am solicitous to know whether my future destiny is to be happy or wretched; if my kind stars ordain the former, then my anxiety is removed; if on the contrary I am to be unfortunate, the sooner I fly from hence the better.

  "Need I add, Madam, that you are the arbitress of that destiny, that on you must rest all my hopes of future bliss? If you will deign to admit me a candidate for your favour, if no happier man has superseded me, and rendered all my hopes of felicity successless, if you will permit me to dedicate my future life to the delightful study of rendering your's happy, then indeed I may congratulate myself on being the most fortunate of mankind; the wounds which have been given by the hands of those I loved and trusted, and which yet rankle in my bosom, you only can heal, and from you I would derive that peace which the world has hitherto denied to me."

  Whilst Ferdinand was speaking with an earnestness and solemnity in his manner that was truly touching, Miss D'Alenberg had time to recall her fleeting spirits, and compose her mind sufficiently to answer him, tho" not without some emotion.

  "This address, Sir, is so unexpected, so opposite to the idea that I had entertained of your sentiments, that surprise has no small share in my too visible emotions; the love of candour, and a strict adherence to truth, were the first lessons I received from the best of mothers: Her precepts and example have governed every action of my life, I will therefore frankly confess."—She stopped.

  "Ah! Madam, speak, go on, keep me not in suspense."

  "I scarce know what I ought to say, yet I will confess, such is my esteem for your character, that I am persuaded, if I have really the power of contributing to your happiness, I cannot fail of insuring my own."

  The moment she had pronounced the last words, Ferdinand threw himself on his knee, and kissed her hand:—"Forgive me," was all he could utter. She raised him, and for a moment both were silent.

  "Your generous frankness, my dear Miss D'Alenberg, has overwhelmed me with rapture; my future life must speak my gratitude; joy is not eloquent when so complete as mine."

  She arose—"If you please we will seek my father."—He took her hand, and obeyed in silence. They saw Mr. D'Alenberg and Louisa advancing.

  "Heyday!" said the latter, "what are you both speechless? Have you exhausted all your stock of ideas, that not a single word is left to ask our opinion of the intended plan for building?"

  "You are malicious, Louisa," returned her friend, blushing.

  "Sorrow, my dear Madam," answered Ferdinand, "often makes people plaintive, and the overcharged heart sometimes finds relief in complaining; but joy is a miser, and I feel at present too happy to be communicative."

  "Extremely well explained, I must own," said Louisa, "a few words has done the business. Come, my silent friend, you shall give me your opinion of our judgment!"—Saying this she drew Miss D'Alenberg away, leaving her father and Ferdinand together. The latter instantly embraced Mr. D'Alenberg. "I am the happiest of men!"

  "One only of the happiest," replied he, returning the embrace, "for I share with you."

  The party did not meet together till the dinner hour, but Mr. D'Alenberg had seized an opportunity to inform Count M*** and the young Baron of the completion of his wishes, and
they very sincerely rejoiced in the promised happiness of Ferdinand.

  At table Louisa was the most talkative of the company.—"I cannot help remarking, with an infinity of pleasure," said the Count, "on the agreeable change there is in your health and spirits, Madam."

  "I am sure," answered she, 'the intention of your remark is friendly, but not at all calculated to increase my cheerfulness, by reminding me of the alteration. Retrospections are not always pleasing, and I owe much of my health and spirits to a resolution henceforth to look forwards."

  "I beg your pardon, my dear Madam," returned he, very seriously, "your reproof is very just, and I take shame to myself for the rudeness of my observation, which I entreat you to believe arose entirely from the real delight I felt in the charms of your conversation."

  "It must be owned," said she, with a returning smile, 'that you know how to extricate yourself from an error extremely well, and my self-love accepts of the apology."

  They had scarcely dined when an express came from Ernest with letters to Ferdinand. He retired to read them, and was surprised to find one from the steward of the Castle of Danhaet, with information, that 'two days after his departure, the hermit had called there for his customary allowance, and informed him, that he had been alarmed the preceding day by seeing some men come out of one of the caves in the rock; he was not discovered himself, but he supposed they were some proscribed persons, or banditti.

  "This intelligence," continued the steward, "I instantly conveyed to the Magistrates, who sent a party of men that same night to the rocks, and they remained concealed in the hermit's cave to make their observations.