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

by Eliza Parsons

  Lauretta's spirits returning with her strength, she voluntarily gratified the hermit's curiosity in regard to such particulars as led to account for the situation in which he had found her.

  "A veil of mystery," cried the old man, as Lauretta ended her account, "has many years clouded that castle. The coward peasantry report it to be the residence of spirits: your words confirm me in the suspicion I have long entertained, that it is infested by a banditti. The castle formerly belonged to the family of Byroff, whose circumstances falling into decay, they have left this country; and their once stately mansion is now mouldering into a pile of ruins."

  "Have they ever committed any depredations hereabout?" asked Lauretta.

  "Never," answered the hermit. "If they are robbers, as I conjecture, caution would doubtless teach them not to assail the passenger near their haunt, lest it should be detected. But let us hope that the baron Smaldart, whom you represent as your friend, will find some measure for bringing them under the lash of justice."

  "But how came Theodore connected with them?" said Lauretta.

  "Time will develop that mystery," replied the venerable man: and he added, "However artifice may for a while conceal his guilt, rest assured that providence in its own time will expose the machinations of the wicked, and turn their evil actions on themselves."

  "The will of heaven be done," cried Lauretta. "But let me entreat your assistance in devising some method for my returning to my husband."

  "We must be cautious in our steps," said the hermit, "lest they lead to the discovery of your retreat, and you again should fall into the power of your malicious enemies."

  "By your counsel I will be guided," replied Lauretta.

  "Thus then I advise," answered the solitary man. "I will provide thee with implements for writing unto whomsoever it shall best suit thy purpose; and on the morrow I will seek a trusty peasant, residing on the skirts of this forest, who shall convey what thou hast written to the baron Smaldart; and he may then concert some measure for thy safe return to thy husband."

  Lauretta gladly adopted this proposal; and, having addressed a brief account of her sufferings and present concealment to her beloved Alphonsus, she enclosed it in a cover directed to the baron; she then drank a second cup of the cordial prepared for her by the hermit, and again retired to his pallet, which he kindly insisted on resigning for her accommodation, having prepared for himself a bed of dried moss and leaves in the outward part of his cell.

  Early in the morning Lauretta arose, with a heart lighter than she had for some time felt it; and, having joined her kind host in his accustomed devotions, they sat down to an humble repast, and the hermit then sallied forth in search of the peasant who was to be Lauretta's messenger to the castle of Smaldart.

  On his departure, Lauretta again habited herself in her own garments, which a constant fire had now rendered fit for wearing; and, not daring to venture without the cell, she sat ruminating on her happy and unexpected escape from her prison, and anticipating the pleasure of again beholding her Alphonsus.

  The hermit, on returning, informed her that the peasant had willingly undertaken the journey; and that, in about five days, she might expect the arrival of her husband, or at least to receive some intelligence of him by the return of the messenger.

  Lauretta expressed to him her gratitude for his kindness in the warmest terms; but he silenced her by observing that what he had done was but the debt of man to man, and that it were better not to know than not to perform it. She raised her hands to heaven, in thankfulness for the kind protector she had found; and at the same time dropped a tear for the sorrows of her Alphonsus.

  In the course of that day, Lauretta ventured to inquire of her venerable host, what could have induced him, who, from his knowledge of the world, and the exalted sentiments of his heart, seemed to be so well calculated for the offices of society, to have secluded himself from all intercourse with men.

  "Canst thou, daughter," he replied, "attend with patience to the tale of a careworn old man?"

  Lauretta immediately expressed her anxious wish to be made acquainted with the history of her newly-gained friend.

  The hermit heaved a sigh, and thus began.

  CHAPTER XI

  When sorrows come, they come not single spies,

  But in battalions.

  -HAMLET

  THE HERMIT'S TALE.

  "In me you behold the victim of a supposed crime; suffering where I had never erred, and denied the justification which, after years of misery, I was tantalised by having placed fruitlessly in my view.

  "My father was a man of some small rank and eminence in the city of Berne, in Switzerland: he had been twice married; my sister was the fruit of his first marriage, myself of his second; and we were his only children.

  "My sister was adorned with every beauty and grace that is captivating in a female form: a German count, to whom she by accident became known, grew enamoured of her, asked her hand of my father in marriage, and, as you may readily suppose, was not denied his request.

  "About a year after the marriage of my sister, my father died: my mother I never had known; I succeeded to the property of my father, and, in a letter of condolence written me on his death by count Harden (for such was the name of my brother-in-law), he earnestly entreated me to pass over into Germany, and visit my sister.

  "The property which had devolved on me by my father's death, being sufficient to maintain me in a comfortable though not in an affluent style of life, I had not turned my thoughts to any vocation, and consequently had no bar to my accepting the kind invitation of the count.

  "I accordingly wrote to him, with thanks for his kind remembrance of me, and informing him that I should with pleasure visit my sister at her new abode.

  "A few days after, I set out on my intended journey, having resolved to travel on a favourite steed I possessed, for the benefit of the better enjoying the fineness of the country through which I should pass; and, strange as it may seem to you, this resolution was the foundation of a series of misery which has known no abatement.

  "You will doubtless think my tale an improbable one;—oft do I myself look back on past occurrences, hardly able to convince myself they could ever be: but I have learnt, from sad experience, that the most trivial accidents may carry in their train a complicated and inexplicable string of misery.

  "Let the words which I shall now relate, teach mankind not rashly to fix the stamp of guilt upon that brow on which unproved suspicion hangs, nor to shut the ear of compassion against the voice of him that is accused, because he may seem guilty.—Let my tale be known to all: to the wretched it will teach that he has a brother in affliction; and he on whom fortune has smiled, may gather from the misfortunes of another, a lesson of thankfulness and content.

  "My first day's journey was prosperous; on the second, towards evening, when I was within two leagues of the village where I meant to pass the night, having carelessly let my bridle hang upon the horse's neck whilst I eagerly gazed at the delightful prospects which the country afforded, the animal having set his foot on a rolling stone, fell, and so severely wounded his knee, as to render it impossible for him to proceed.

  "Perceiving at a short distance from me a neat mansion, I dismounted, and repaired towards it; the door was opened by a man who appeared to be between forty and fifty years of age; I told him the accident that had befallen me, and requested him to direct me to some person who might give assistance to my horse. He immediately called to him a lad of about fourteen years of age, who was working in a garden adjoining to the house, and ordered him to lead the horse to the stable. I was too much in need of assistance, to be very particular in my apologies, and thus willingly accepted his offer.

  "It required much persuasion, and even force, to conduct the animal to the stable which had been so kindly offered for his reception.

  "Having safely lodged him, my kind inviter himself administered to the wound, and then requested me to follow him into the house. A neatly
dressed woman, who, he informed me, was his niece, rose at our entrance, and welcomed me, as did two beautiful little girls, her daughters.—My late accident served to commence our conversation; and the natural questions of whence I came, and whither I was journeying, with their subsequent answers, followed.

  "The lad, whom I had left in the stable with my horse, presently entered, and, shaking his head, said, 'Ah, sir! this is a bad job; it will be some time, I doubt, before your beast will be able to set a foot to the ground.'

  "I looked melancholy;—my host, whose name was Dulac, observed it, and thus addressed me:—'Nay, sir, don't let this account of your horse distress you; I hope the boy may be mistaken in his conjecture: at all events; if you can pass a few days with comfort to yourself in this humble dwelling, your company will be very acceptable to its inhabitants.'

  "I bowed a look of thanks, for an offer by which I felt myself obliged, but hardly thought myself entitled to encroach upon the politeness of a stranger by accepting.

  "'Well, well,' continued Dulac, clearly perceiving, I believe, what passed within my breast, 'I must insist on your staying with us to-night; and to-morrow we will talk farther on the subject.—Come, let us step into the stable, and see if our opinion coincides with Peter's.'

  "I rose to follow him out, but he stepped back from the door, and, with an inclination of the head, waved his hand for me to precede him; I returned his salutation, and passed on as he directed me: he was then behind, and I heard his niece rise, and call him back. I entered the stable, and found, on examining the condition of my steed's wound, what Peter had said to be but too true. In a few minutes Dulac joined me; smiling, he said, 'My niece, sir, was fearful we should not be able to give you accommodation that you would like; for we have only one unoccupied bed, and my nephew Bertrand is gone to the next town, where he expects to meet his wife's sister and her husband, who are coming back with him to pass a few days here: but I told her not to be uneasy about that, for you were my guest, and if you would condescend to accept half of my pallet, you were heartily welcome to it.'

  "I thought this a bad time to apologise for my intrusion; for if I did, it might seem as if I was dissatisfied with my accommodation; and I accordingly accepted his offer with as great warmth as he had made it.

  "My frankness seemed to please him; and I could not fail being gratified with his kindness; as his words and actions plainly showed themselves to be such as proceeded from a warm and benevolent heart.

  "In about an hour's time, Bertrand and his friends arrived; and Dulac presented me to his nephew, who welcomed me as cordially as his uncle had done. Shortly after, we sat down to supper: good humour presided, and I was happy to see that the party appeared by no means displeased with my society.

  "At a late hour we parted; I believe, with mutual regret.

  "From their conversation, I learnt that Dulac rented the farm on which he lived, and superintended the management of it himself; while Bertrand and his two sons performed the offices of tillage and husbandry.

  "My first business in the morning was to visit my horse; and I was happy to find it in a much more salutary condition than my fears had led me to expect I should.

  "Breakfast ended, Dulac invited me to walk with him; an invitation which the beauty of the surrounding country made me eager to accept. Through the most romantic scenery imagination can figure, my host, whose conversation was at once entertaining and instructive, led me to the margin of a small lake, on whose bosom the sun shining in its meridian of splendour, cast the most vivid gilding I had ever beheld; on the other side of the lake, a forest of various trees presented itself to our notice; on our right hand lay the ruins of an ancient monastery, with its decayed bridge, forming a hazardous pass over a bubbling rivulet; on the left, the open country afforded a prospect of many leagues in extent, speckled at intervals with clusters of trees; straggling cottages, easy hills, and browsing cattle; add to this, that the ground on which we rested was the extremity of a gentle declivity of greensward, on whose summit nodded tall and majestic pines, and that, as we reclined on the velvet turf, the falling of a neighbouring cascade met our ears; and you will not wonder that I was entranced by the scene.—At that moment I felt sensations of the most exquisite happiness; or, perhaps, I think them the greatest I ever experienced, because they were the last pleasing moments my heart ever knew.—With the setting of that sun, whose glories I then admired, set my felicity on earth.

  "I left the spot of enchantment with regret; on our return home, I expressed in the warmest terms the delight I had experienced in the ravishing scenes I had just been beholding. Bertrand seemed to enjoy the praises I had bestowed on his situation; and promised he would in the evening accompany me to the same place, which he doubted not, he said, that I should view with increased pleasure, as the scene would be in some measure varied by the hour. I gladly accepted his offer, and about sun-set we reached the lake, a short time before the glories of nature in their full perfection had drawn forth my admiration.—A part seemed now to be vanishing, for the ingenious purpose of fixing the attention more strongly on that which was visible.—Bertrand threw himself on the grass; I stood by his side, gazing at the rising moon, who, courting splendour from the departing sun, faintly silvered those waves her rival orb had before deeply gilded, and listened with a melancholy pleasure to the falling of a neighbouring cascade, the view of which I had now so placed myself as to command, till the scene softened me into that ecstasy of sorrow, which must be exquisite if felt at all, and must be felt to be described.

  "I had often indulged similar sensations on spots equally inviting, but they had never produced in me feelings so refined as I that evening felt:—how often have I since thought they were too surely the sorrowing omens of my future hapless lot!

  "Bertrand made the signal for our departure, and I reluctantly complied with it.

  "The exercise I had that day taken had somewhat fatigued me; Dulac observed it, and producing a skin of his old vintage, I drank with pleasure of the cup as it went round, and found myself refreshed and exhilarated.

  "The evening passed off with the same harmony and satisfaction that the former one had done: at about the same time as the preceding night, we retired to rest, and sleep quickly overcame me.

  "During the day, the heat of the weather had been unusually great; and the warmth of our chamber was oppressive, insomuch that, waking towards the dawn of the morning, I found it had caused me to bleed violently at the nose; I endeavoured in vain for some time to stop the flowing blood; and my restlessness awoke my companion, who, learning my situation, advised me to go and wash at the well, in a small yard adjoining to the garden: I immediately rose, and, having slipped on some of my clothes, was leaving the chamber, for the purpose of following his directions, when he called to me, asking me 'If I had ever opened the door which led out of the house into the garden?' I answered, 'that I did not recollect that I ever had.'—'Then,' said he, 'take this pocket-knife,' drawing one as he spoke from the pocket of his waistcoat which lay by his bed-side, 'and stick the blade under the latch with one hand, while you lift it up with the other, or you will find a difficulty in getting out.' I thanked him for his attention to me, and taking the knife from his extended hand, ran down stairs, and found it of much service to me in opening the door, the latch of which seemed to have been broken, and not yet mended; I then entered the yard, and, having drawn up a bucket of water, the cold soon produced the desired effect of stopping the blood; and having washed myself, I returned to the chamber. Dulac, who heard me come up, asked me, 'If I had shut the outward door?' I told him I had; and having got into bed, I turned on my side, and was quickly composed to sleep.

  "On waking, I found Dulac was risen; I accordingly dressed myself, and went down, where I found the family assembling at breakfast. After the usual salutation of the morning, Bertrand inquired of me for his uncle: I told him, I had not seen him that morning; 'No more have I,' replied Bertrand; 'he has probably strolled down to the lake.'
<
br />   "'He will return, I dare say, before we have finished our meal,' added Martha; (for so was Bertrand's wife called) 'it is a very usual custom with him to walk early in a morning.'

  "Bertrand's two daughters, the one about eleven, and the other about nine years of age, had finished each her cup of milk, before we had completed our meal, and immediately went up stairs, as Martha informed us, to attend to the duties of the house.

  "Dulac did not return.—Bertrand began to wonder that he exceeded his accustomed time, and Peter went out to look for him,—as the family now conjectured he had mistaken the hour.

  "In a few minutes the girls came running down stairs, with terror painted on their countenances, and the elder of them exclaimed,—'that her uncle's bed was all over blood!'

  "Bertrand and his wife cast a look of surprise at each other—I blushed, and began immediately to apologise for what had happened; informing them also, that I had risen, by the advice of Dulac, and gone to the well, where washing had proved the remedy of my complaint.

  "'I saw a stain of blood upon the side of the well this morning,' said Bertrand, 'as also in the passage leading to the garden; but I had forgotten to inquire into the cause.'

  "'All my uncle's clothes are lying by the bed-side,' said one of the girls.

  "'How!' exclaimed Bertrand, and immediately ran up stairs.

  "A general silence prevailed till Bertrand returned.

  "'What Nicola told us is too true!' said he. 'All his clothes, except his waistcoat, are in the chamber;—in that, he always wore his purse,' added he, at the same time darting at me a look of suspicion and scrutiny.

  "Bertrand went on: 'He received thirty louis-d'ors for his trees the day before yesterday: did he give them to you'—looking at Martha—'to lock away?'

  "'No,' answered Martha: 'he was counting them to me, when this stranger knocked at the door; and being interrupted, put them all into his pocket again.'