Ralberg made no answer, but began striking his flint:—for some moments Lauretta heard the uninterrupted jarring of the steel and flint; and, with a heart beating high with the anxious desire of seeing the joyful ray of light which was to release her from the horrid gloom in which she now trembled, she fixed her eyes upon the spot where the sound informed her Ralberg was stationed, when a flash of light drew them suddenly to the opposite side of the hall; it appeared to her to have proceeded from a lamp on the side on which she was sitting; she immediately turned round her head, and beheld a man who carried a lamp, with his back towards her, enter a door, which he immediately closed after him.
As the ruinous state of the building had not left Lauretta the least room to doubt that it was uninhabited, she immediately concluded the man she had seen to be Kroonzer, although she knew not whence he had procured the light, and again turned her eyes towards Ralberg; when, to her great astonishment, she saw them both approaching towards her with their lamp lighted. A shriek, which she endeavoured to suppress, burst involuntarily from her lips, and she immediately perceived the same door partly opened, and the arm and visage of a man, whose features she could not distinguish, appear within it. Theodore instantly recurred to her imagination; the recollection of him shot like a bolt of ice across her heart, and she sunk lifeless on the ground.
On the return of her senses, she was lying upon an uncanopied bed, and a dim lamp, which was burning in the apartment, showed her Ralberg standing by her side; she immediately cast her eyes round in search of Theodore;—the apartment was large, and the light thrown out by the lamp insufficient to convince her that he whom she dreaded was not within it;—raising herself upon the bed, she seized the hand of Ralberg, and, bursting into tears, conjured him "to save her,—to protect her from Theodore."—In as softened accents as his rough voice would permit him to articulate, he bade her be composed, and banish her apprehensions.—With a look of doubt, she again fixed on him her streaming eyes, and grasping more strictly the hand she had before held, she exclaimed, "May heaven reward you as you pity my misfortunes."
The sound of footsteps now called her attention to another part of the chamber. Kroonzer entered: he brought with him a cup of wine, some fruit, and bread; and, having taken the lamp from the ground, he placed them on a table near the bed; he then invited Lauretta to rise and taste them; she answered him only with her tears; he repeated his invitation; she endeavoured to speak, but her sobs prevented her utterance.—Springing from the bed, she threw herself at his feet, and clasped his knees; he pushed her from him, and beckoning to Ralberg to follow him, they left the apartment; and she heard the door locked and bolted after them.
The violent agitation of her spirits being somewhat abated, she took up the lamp, and walked round the apartment, in order to be certified whether any one was secreted within it.—Its form was circular; the roof high and vaulted; the walls of stone; the casements small, and many feet raised from the ground; and the entire appearance led her to conjecture, that she was now in that turret which had attracted her notice while journeying through the forest.
She then set down the lamp, and taking from her bosom a small ivory crucifix, which she placed on the table, she knelt, and, having fervently declared her gratitude for the sufferings of him in memory of whom she wore the sacred remembrancer now before her, she proceeded to implore of him fortitude, to enable her to bear up under the calamities which surrounded her, and his divine aid, against the evil designs of those whom she dreaded more than death; concluding by a declaration of her faith in his beneficence, and her unfeigned submission to his will.
Rising, and replacing in her bosom the crucifix, she felt a composure proceeding from her confidence in that power she had just addressed, which she little imagined she should have experienced; still, however, by no means sufficiently free from alarm to endeavour to compose herself to rest, she placed herself in a chair which stood near the bed, and, as from the stillness of the scene her terrors became gradually abated, she grew more collected, and better able to ruminate on the occurrences of the night.
The figure of the man whom she had seen was unremittingly before her eyes; and the feelings of her mind naturally assigning to him the person of Theodore, her fears began to return as strongly as ever; she sighed deeply, and the tears ran swiftly down her burning cheeks;—she rose, and walked slowly about the apartment, stopping at intervals and fixing her swollen eyes on the ground in mournful reflection on the past, and poignant anticipation of the future.
Faint and exhausted with fatigue of body, and anguish of mind, she again seated herself in the chair.—In a short time, the languor which hung upon her increased almost to inability, her eyes became dim, and big drops of perspiration started from her forehead;—shivering, she extended her trembling arm, and grasped the cup of wine; with difficulty she raised it to her head, and then, for some moments, her quivering lips refused admittance to the reviving cordial;—having twice swallowed a small draught of the liquor contained in the cup, the trembling which had seized her began to subside, the blood began again to circulate in her veins, and life seemed newly warmed within her heart; she again sipped a small quantity of the wine,—a glow succeeded the shivering fit, and a drowsiness, which she endeavoured in vain to shake off, stole gradually upon her, and lulled her into a profound sleep.
CHAPTER IX
Tho' plung'd in ills, and exercis'd in care,
Yet never let the noble mind despair:
When press'd by dangers, and beset with foes,
The gods their timely succour interpose;
And when our virtue sinks, o'erwhelmed with grief,
By unforeseen expedients bring relief.
-PHILIPS
Lauretta, on waking, started from her chair, and cast her eyes wildly about, totally ignorant where she was; and, entirely forgetful of all that had passed the preceding evening. But busy recollection swiftly burst upon her with all its sorrows: she sighed, and raised her eyes to the high casements: the rays of the sun shone hot and full into her apartment; she conjectured it to be noon-day, and marvelled that she had slept so long and soundly; she moved towards the door; it was still fastened; and, from what she remembered of the disposition of the little furniture her prison contained, she saw not the smallest cause for suspecting that any one had visited it during the night. She examined the lamp; it was burnt out in the socket, and the cup of wine stood on the ground where she herself had placed it.
Towards evening, the creaking of the locks announced Kroonzer: he entered with a fresh supply of provisions; which, together with a flask of wine, and another of water, he placed upon the table; and, having trimmed the wick of the lamp, and replenished the wasted oil, he lighted it, and left the apartment, without uttering a single word.
The artificial light produced by the lamp tended swiftly to dispel the declining day; and, with the increasing gloom, the horrors of her situation were greatly accumulated in the imagination of the unhappy Lauretta.
Night had assumed her sablest form; when the fair prisoner, shivering from the inaction in which she had passed the solitary day, and still feeling a reluctance to commit herself to the oblivion of sleep, began slowly to perambulate her chamber:—languid and feeble she stopped, and, reclining her arm against the flinty wall, her head sunk insensibly upon her hand, and she stood wrapped in painful thought. Suddenly, the trampling of horses struck her ear—she started, and listened—a shrill tucket was shortly after sounded, and she indistinctly heard the sound of voices. Burning with the cheering hope of rescue, her heart beat high within her breast, and her respiration became suspended. "The kind baron," she exclaimed, "has lent his aid to my Alphonsus, and they now come to my relief!"
An interval of dead silence ensued:—she moved towards the door, and, trembling with expectation, doubted whether or not she already heard footsteps. But sad conviction proved her agitated senses had deceived her.
Another interval longer than the first passed away, but no sound met
her attentive ear. Delusive hope, however, raised in her harassed brain the flattering possibility, that her friends might be searching for her in some distant part of the building, and would still arrive at her prison.
A confusion of footsteps and voices seemingly approaching towards her apartment, now raised in her panting bosom a tumult of passions, amongst which fear was predominant. Till this instant, the pleasing expectation of enlargement, and restoration to her beloved Alphonsus, had solely occupied her imagination: now the hated Theodore recurred to her, and every footstep seemed to increase the dreadful probability, that she might the next moment be destined to fall a victim to his unruly passion, or breathe her last beneath his injurious arm.
The noise increased, and the persons seemed still to advance. "This way, this way," exclaimed an unknown voice; "follow me, this way." Lauretta breathed with extreme difficulty. A blow against the door thrilled her heart, and the same voice cried out, "The key is not here; ask it of Kroonzer."
Lauretta stood motionless: several voices now spoke at the same time, but so confusedly, that she could not distinguish a word they uttered. Suddenly, all the persons seemed to recede from her prison as swiftly as they had advanced towards it; and the sounds dying gradually away, an awful silence again prevailed.
Trembling lest they should return, Lauretta still continued near the door: she knew not how to account for what she had heard; and the more she ruminated, the more she was bewildered in her conjectures.
A length of time having elapsed, and not the minutest sound met her ear, her alarm began to subside; and the power of reflection returning, she felt in its fullest force the mortifying disappointment she had sustained: at that moment every future prospect of liberty seemed to have vanished in the present; she burst into a flood of tears, and, sinking upon the bed, gave way to the strongest paroxysms of despair.
Oh hope! thou cheering shadow of each desired object! why does the blackening gloom of disappointment so often cloud the sunny path through which thou leadest us, glowing at every anxious step with warmer expectation? while fancy, strengthening with desire, seems the reality, and makes us in imagination blessed; until the dream-dispelling dawn of reason opens our eyes, and shows us the wished-for goal, as distant still, as when we first began the imaginary course!
The mind, harassed beyond its bearing, seeks insensibly the balm designed by nature for its restoration. Thus the fair prisoner, on again opening her eyes to her solitary room, found she had tasted its efficacious sweets, although she had not courted its powers.
During the greatest part of the day, she continued upon the bed, lost in weeping and meditation. The approach of evening again introduced Kroonzer into her apartment: he had brought with him more fruit and another flask of water. He expressed great surprise at her not having tasted what he had set before her the former evening, and asked her to partake of what he had now brought. She paid little attention to his invitation; but besought him to explain to her the occurrences of the preceding night. He did not answer her; but, having prepared the lamp, he lighted it, and left the chamber; repeating the entreaty he had before urged, for her to eat some of the fruit and bread.
Not in compliance with the request of Kroonzer, but the calls of Nature, Lauretta eat of the fruit and bread, and drank a large cup of water: the wine she determined not to taste, concluding, from the effect it had produced on her the first night of her imprisonment, that its nature was somniferous; and, although she wished for an oblivion of her cares, she had not sufficient resolution to act herself towards the production of it; apprehensive of what might befall her in a state of insensibility.
Thus passed on six melancholy days, in a course of sad reflection, perplexed by a variety of conjectures, and cheered only by the idea that Alphonsus was ignorant of her sufferings.
No human being entered her prison save Kroonzer, who never failed at the accustomed hour; but observed an impenetrable silence to every interrogatory made him by Lauretta, relative to her situation.
No sounds similar to those she had heard on the second night of her imprisonment returned: she concluded herself a prisoner for life, and despair began to subside into calm melancholy.
Towards midnight of the seventh day, she was awakened from the soundest sleep she had for some time enjoyed, by a violent crash of thunder, which shook the turret: she sprang from the bed, and stood a moment in wild alarm, scarcely recollecting where she was, or knowing what she had heard; when a flash of lightning struck that side of the turret against which she was leaning; the wall instantaneously fell, and carried along with it the shrieking Lauretta.
END OF VOLUME ONE
VOLUME II
CHAPTER X
Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote
And inaccessible, by shepherds trod,
In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand,
A hermit liv'd; a melancholy man.
-HOME
Stunned by the fall, Lauretta lay a length of time amidst the ruins, insensible of her situation, till reason, beginning again to dawn, brought along with it a recollection of the accident that had befallen her. The tempest was abated, but it still rained violently: her head and right side were much bruised, and her left arm was burnt by the lightning: but, having fortunately dropped upon the wet earth, her body had sustained no other material injury. She lifted up her head, and cast her eyes around; but the twilight, obscured by the thick rain, was insufficient to show her any object but the ruined turret close by which she lay.
Resolved, however, if possible, to profit by an opportunity which seemed providentially given her for effecting her escape, she with difficulty raised herself upon her feet, and, although very weak, she determined to proceed from the castle as quickly as she was able, hoping perchance to arrive at some convent before she was missed—at least could be overtaken—by her guards, who had probably not heard the fall of the turret.
She had proceeded nearly a league without stopping, when the dawn of day, beginning to break, showed her that she was entering upon the precincts of a wood. The ground over which she had passed was heathy and uneven:—heated and panting for breath, she supported herself against the trunk of the first tree; her head ached violently; her arm and side were extremely painful, and her garments, drenched with the continued rain, clung round her, dripping with water. The inaction of a few moments produced a shivering chillness less tolerable than the fatigue of proceeding, and she again endeavoured to walk; but exhausted nature supported her trembling frame only a few paces, ere she sunk upon the rough ground: no prospect but that of a lingering death, or again falling into the hands of Kroonzer and his companion, now presented itself to her melancholy view: a flood of tears came to the relief of her full heart; she closed her eyes, and sobbed bitterly.
In this situation she had lain a considerable time, when she heard a voice articulate some words which she understood not. She raised her dim eyes, and beheld standing by her side a hermit of a benign aspect and venerable mien, on whose arm hung a flagon, and in whose hand was a staff, on which he supported his aged limbs.
"Praised be the saints!" cried he, as Lauretta opened her eyes, "I am deceived; I thought thee dead." Lauretta extended her feeble hand, which the hermit taking in his, knelt down by her side. "My strength is wasting fast," said Lauretta. After a short pause, she added, "Kind heaven hath sent thee to close my dying eyes."
"Rather do thou hope," returned the hermit, "it has sent me to succour thee from death: thy nature seems exhausted with fatigue; let me conduct thee to my cell hard by, and trust to providence and my endeavours to renovate thy strength."
"Alas, father!" replied Lauretta, "I fear I cannot reach it; I am too faint to walk."
"Let me entreat thee to essay it," cried the hermit.—The old man was feeble, and it required his utmost exertions to assist Lauretta in rising from the ground: he then put the staff into her right hand; and, encircling her waist with his arm, he held the other arm in his, and thus led her tottering steps throu
gh a winding path to his rude cell.
Having seated her on a bench covered with moss, the hermit laid a faggot and some dried leaves on the hearth; and, having kindled them, he warmed a small quantity of a restorative cordial he possessed, and gave it to Lauretta to drink. Somewhat revived by the medicine she had swallowed, the old man placed her before the fire, and, having given her a skin mantle, he left her to exchange her wet garments, whilst he went to fill his flagon at a neighbouring spring; which had been his errand abroad when he discovered Lauretta, but which he had left unaccomplished.
On his return, he found his fair guest in some measure refreshed, but still weak and ill. She complained much of the bruises on her head and side, and her arm also was extremely painful:—to this the hermit applied an assuasive balm; and, having given her a healing balsam with which to anoint her head and side, he conducted her into the inner division of his cell; and, having recommended to her to compose herself to sleep on his straw pallet, he left her to repose, whilst he broke his own fast in the outward division of his humble dwelling.
Soft sleep quickly visited the couch of Lauretta, and she embraced it as a friend whose caresses she was unwilling to forego; for she rose not till mid-day had been some hours gone by.
The kind hermit had baked for her some apples on his hearth; and of these, together with some brown bread, she made a sufficient repast, and drank plenteously of the water from the spring.
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 261
