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

by Eliza Parsons

  In little more than an hour Jacques returned, accompanied by a brother of the monastery, who, in addition to his holy office, was skilled in the art of physic.

  Count Byroff met him at the door of Alphonsus's apartment, and leading him to the bed, solely informed him, that the senses of the youth, for whom he requested his assistance, had been deranged by some recent and aggravated calamities, which his state of mind had rendered it impossible for him to explain.

  The friar requested him to name what he thought to be the cause of his malady; count Byroff declared himself ignorant of it.

  The holy man took Alphonsus's hand in one of his, and placed the fingers of the other on his pulse: Alphonsus raised his eyes, and fixing them steadfastly on the countenance of the friar for some moments, he exclaimed, "Who art thou!—Thy garb bespeaks thee a comforter:—dost thou bring me pardon?—Has she pronounced my forgiveness?"

  "Compose thyself, my son: confide in heaven, and hope the best," was the answer.

  "Shame, shame!" returned Alphonsus: "thou art a deceiver: thy outward garb speaks hope to wretchedness, and thy false tongue belies his expectations.—Away, away! in pity do not torture me."

  Alphonsus placed his hand before his eyes, and sunk on his pillow. The friar turned to count Byroff and Lauretta;—"There is some concealed sense even in this seeming madness," he said; "has he been ever thus before?"

  "Never," said Lauretta.

  "The cause was sudden then?" said the holy man, addressing Lauretta.

  "And unknown to us," she returned.

  "I will lull awhile his imagination by a draught of a healing and composing nature, and trust its powers will add much to recall his wandering senses."

  He then knelt, and prayed devoutly to the divine power to assist his earnest endeavours for the restitution of mental and bodily health to his patient.—Lauretta joined fervently in the prayer.

  The friar then departed, and Jacques accompanied him to the monastery, to bring back the medicine he had recommended for Alphonsus.

  CHAPTER XXIV

  Now o'er the one-half world

  Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse

  The curtain'd sleep; now witchcraft celebrates

  Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder,

  Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,

  Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,

  With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design

  Moves like a ghost.

  -MACBETH

  When Jacques returned, count Byroff immediately saw by his countenance that he was brimful of some intelligence which he wished to communicate to him; and accordingly, a few minutes after he had left the chamber, he followed him out.

  "Ah, monsieur," cried Jacques, on beholding him, "I am glad you are come down, I have got something so unaccountable to tell you, and I did not know whether I might mention it before madame."

  "To what does it relate?" asked the count anxiously.

  "Why, monsieur, you shall hear. When I got to the monastery, the old friar desired me to wait in the refectoire, in one corner of which was a door a little way open, and behind it I could hear glasses jingling, and people talking and laughing; so, when the friar was gone, I crept a little nearer to the door to listen what they were after, for my curiosity was a good deal raised, I must confess: when I first overheard them, one was telling a story about the pope, I fancy; for it was a man that they said was a good deal like an old woman, and the cardinals wished him dead; so when it was done, says another, 'Come, father Francisco, give us a toast.' 'I will,' says he:—'Here's the ghost at the castle, and wishing it may ring as long as we all live.' Well, monsieur, they all laughed, and I could hear them pouring out the liquor, and then they repeated what father Francisco had said, and then I could hear them set down the empty glasses. 'I wonder where the young count is,' says another, after a minute or two's silence. 'Why, as to that,' said another—and just then I heard the old man coming back with the draught; so I stepped forward to meet him, and when I had got it he let me out, and so I heard no more."

  Count Byroff having told Jacques to wait within Lauretta's call, walked out upon the green before the little inn, to indulge the reflections for which the conversation Jacques had overheard, had given him a subject.

  It appeared to him evident beyond a doubt that the midnight bell at the castle was tolled by the friars belonging to the monastery of the Holy Spirit, as a confirmation of the castle's being haunted, which report they had probably been the first to circulate, to promote some private interest: thus he conceived also that the black figures which Jacques had seen issuing from the postern gate of the castle, were three of the fraternity, who had been to the castle for the purpose of raising the nightly alarm by sounding the bell, and were returning to the monastery when Jacques beheld them; that they had gone into the castle at first unseen by Alphonsus and Jacques, and the open gate by which the former had entered the castle had doubtless been left so by them, whilst they were in the castle, unsuspicious of any one having ventured to approach so near a place of such general horror as that building was described to be by all that knew it. But how was he to account for Alphonsus's excessive alarm, which could not have been produced by the appearance of three friars, if even he had seen them, which circumstances seemed to contradict that he had, or they him?—for his getting out of the castle, as Jacques had said that the last figure had locked the gate?—and above all for Alphonsus's assertion that he had seen his mother's shade?—Might it not have been the work of priestcraft? he asked himself; but his knowledge of Alphonsus's manly courage, which, though his eyes might have been a moment deceived by any false appearance, would have led him to have investigated the truth, ere he gave himself up to those feelings which alone could have reduced his faculties to the state he was now in, instantly contradicted the idea. Lengthened conjecture tended but to perplex him, and he determined, if the potion administered by father Nicholas had not the desired effect, at all hazards to himself to attempt the solution of the mystery which clouded the castle equally with the real cause of Alphonsus's present state of mind, by personal investigation.

  The draught given by the friar was of a somnific nature, and in a short time after its being swallowed by Alphonsus, produced the intended effect.

  Towards midnight count Byroff with much difficulty prevailed on Lauretta, who had not tasted rest the preceding night, to retire to bed.

  With the dawn Alphonsus awoke; he raised himself on the bed, and drawing back the curtain, seemed to listen,—"Hark!—was it not she that spoke?"

  "Who, my friend?" said count Byroff, advancing to the bed.

  "My mother."

  A pause ensued.—Count Byroff wished to pursue the discourse, but knew not in what manner to continue it.

  "Will you go with me to the castle?" said Alphonsus.

  "Why do you wish it?—Is she there?"

  "Not now, I fear," replied Alphonsus, raising his eyes to the casement, as indicating that day-light was beginning to appear. "It was in the dead of the night that I saw her; did I not tell you that she had a burning lamp in her hand?"

  "No."

  "But she was dead: her cheeks were pale and sunk; my disobedience called her from the grave: I would fain see her once more, and kneel for her forgiveness: and would she then but calm her angry looks, I should die happy."

  "Did she speak angrily to you?"

  "I know not whether she spoke at all, my eyes and heart ached so I could not bear her sight;—feel how my temples beat even now."

  Count Byroff raised his hand in compliance with Alphonsus's request; he grasped it. "Do not ask me to go to the castle; indeed I will not, I shall double my crime; I must not go, I dare not see her again. If you should see her, tell her—; but you will not see her; you have not disobeyed her; she will not frown on you; think you no more of it; I must bear with it." He hid his face on the pillow, and the count forebore to interrogate him farther on a subject which he saw was beg
inning to overpower him.

  This short conversation, which tended not to enlighten the subject discussed, strengthened however count Byroff's resolution of visiting the castle on the first opportunity offered to him, and endeavouring to gain some light on this strange mystery.

  A few hours after sunrise father Nicholas visited his patient; he pronounced him to have been much benefited by the composing draught, and gave the most encouraging hopes of a speedy amendment. Lauretta was not in the chamber when the holy man arrived, but being informed by Jacques that he was visiting her husband, she immediately entered the apartment, and eagerly inquired of him after the health of her Alphonsus.

  The name seemed to produce a momentary surprise in the countenance of the friar, but immediately regaining his former composure, he answered to her inquiry: count Byroff alone perceived the effect which had been produced on father Nicholas, nor was he mistaken in imagining that the friar's a second time approaching the bed under pretence of feeling his patient's pulse, was an excuse for more closely investigating Alphonsus's features than he had yet done. Promising to visit his patient in the afternoon, and to bring with him such medicines as were necessary, the father left the chamber, and count Byroff accompanied him to the door of the inn, in order to prevent his holding any discourse with the landlord; and immediately on the old man's departure, he warned the host against acknowledging to any one that Alphonsus had visited the castle, being as yet uncertain whether benefit or harm to Alphonsus was to be expected from such an avowal.

  Towards evening the friar returned. Alphonsus's mind was still in a state that baffled count Byroff's most ingenious attempt to draw from him the cause of his disorder. The friar seated himself by the side of the bed; he again inquired in a more exact manner than he had before done, whether they could form no remote conjecture of the cause of the malady under which his patient was labouring; he received the same answers from the count and Lauretta which had before been given him. He remained for some moments silent, his countenance by no means exhibiting a strong conviction of the veracity of their words. "Have you travelled far?" he then said.

  "Many leagues," answered the count.

  "And is the place whither you are going far from hence?"

  "As soon as my friend is sufficiently recovered to proceed, he will determine our route."

  "You are then on an excursion of pleasure!"

  A slight inclination of the head on the part of count Byroff, was the answer to this demand.

  Many other questions, answered with as little satisfaction to the friar's curiosity, were advanced by him, and he departed for the night.

  Lauretta, who was not acquainted with the conversation which Jacques had overheard at the monastery, looked upon what the old man had said to have been dictated by a no more than common curiosity, excited by the situation of her husband; count Byroff, though he did not undeceive his daughter in this point, considered it in a very different light, and he even began to conceive that the solution of the mystery would prove count Frederic Cohenburg to have retired to the monastery of the Holy Spirit, to enjoy, unmolested, possessions criminally acquired. Still, however, as it was certain that if his conjecture was a true one, all the friars were privy to the plot, he saw no means of effecting the discovery but by ascertaining by whom the bell at the castle was nightly rung, and this he determined if possible to learn that very night.

  The medicine last administered by the friar to Alphonsus, count Byroff perceived to possess the same quality, only in a less potent degree, as the former one he had taken, and this lessened his anxiety at the idea of leaving Lauretta for so long a space of time as was necessary to his purpose: he determined, however, not to inform her of the plan in agitation, and when she entreated him to retire in his turn for the night, which he well knew she would do, he pretended to comply with her request, on condition that Jacques might be her companion in watching over her husband. The landlord having provided him with a lantern, and implements for striking a light, reluctantly, as he trembled for the safety of the count, conducted him as far on his way as the intricacy of the road made it necessary for a stranger to have a guide; and then, with injunctions to secrecy on the part of the count, and prayers for the count's protection from evil spirits, on the part of the landlord, they parted,—the host returning home, and count Byroff proceeding along the road leading to the castle.

  Count Byroff had advanced only a few yards when the distant sound of the bell fell on his ear; he regretted that necessity had obliged him to set out later than he had intended, but still resolving to pursue his enterprise, he proceeded forward with an increased speed.

  Arrived at the castle, natural curiosity, which the shining moon favoured, induced him to eye it in every part as he walked round it, in search of the postern-gate: for an instant he thought he caught the glimmering of a light from a window in the second range of apartments; he stopped and looked, but it did not return, and he passed on, believing his imagination had deceived him.

  At length he arrived at the postern-gate; it was shut; he pushed against it, and it yielded heavily to the pressure of his arm; he entered a few steps; he looked round; all was silence and darkness.

  He stepped back without the gate, and having lighted the wick within his lantern, which he held in such a manner as to be able in an instant to conceal it in the skirts of a mantle which he wore over his shoulders, he again entered, and closed the gate after him as he had found it.

  He proceeded along a vaulted passage, at the extremity of which a turn to the left conducted through a door into the great hall of the castle. He stepped forward a few paces, and raising his lantern, the better to view surrounding objects, nothing met his sight but cumbrous pillars of fluted marble, which were ranged on each side of the hall; and at the extremity, the dark iron-gates which seemed to form a blot in the azure-coloured wall. He turned himself round; facing the gates was a spacious flight of stairs, on each side of which was a high and narrow door; by one of them he had entered the hall.

  He ascended the stairs; to the right and left lay an extensive gallery; he again held up his lantern, and directed his eyes first to the extremity of that on the right; he perceived doors on either side, and that it ended in a blank wall. He then turned to the left; the extent of the gallery was greater than that on the right, and as he viewed it, a figure seemed to flit quickly through the shade at the extremity.

  He advanced swiftly along: at the end of the gallery was a turn to the right, which led, by the descent of a few steps, into another gallery, much resembling that he had just left: at the extremity of this a door, partly open, attracted his notice: hiding his lantern he looked in, and perceived that all was dark: he uncloaked his lantern, and entered a chamber richly furnished: there were no apparent signs of its having been lately inhabited, nor was there a second door in it: he returned to the gallery. The shutting of a door at some distance from him next attracted his attention; he could not determine exactly from what part of the castle the sound had proceeded, but he conjectured it to have issued from the gallery on the right of the flight of stairs which had conducted him from the hall: he followed the sound, and the gallery terminated, as the other had done, by a descent of a few steps into a passage of equal size.

  After debating in his mind for some moments what plan to follow, he descended the steps: arrived at the end he found a door as on the other side: he used the same precaution with his lantern as he had before done, and was just grasping the handle of the door, with an intent to open it, when he heard a long groan, which seemed to be uttered by a person not far distant from him: he turned round his head; but nothing was to be seen: he was willing to imagine his senses had been deceived, and was again applying his hand to the door, when his action was arrested by what seemed a stifled shriek in the apartment to which that door led. He listened, the same kind of sound was twice more repeated; he was convinced that it had issued from behind the door, close by which he now stood. For a few moments all was still, and he was a th
ird time on the point of entering, when several voices seemed to break out together into tones of supplication: his astonishment was now wound to a higher pitch than before: suddenly the voices changed their tones into the notes of a solemn chant; in this he immediately recognised the work of priests, and determining at once to unravel the mystery, with his lantern still concealed, he pushed open the door and entered.

  Nearly opposite to where he had entered, was a small arched door-way, from which issued a faint light; he proceeded a few steps towards it, and on looking forward, immediately found that he was now in a small vestry behind the altar of a chapel, into which the arched door before him led. He ventured cautiously forward to a spot where he could command a view of the greater part of the chapel; at a short distance from the steps leading to the altar, knelt, by the side of a coffin, a figure of a pale and emaciated countenance, in whose left hand was a cross, and in the right a knotted cord.

  On the other side of the coffin knelt three friars, who were singing the chant which count Byroff had heard begun, whilst standing by the outer door: the chant being finished, the friars crossed themselves, and began a prayer, in which they supplicated mercy for the guilty. Upon this the figure, whose sex the sable and loose garments it wore, tended not to declare, rose, and began to lash its shoulders with the cord, the pain occasioned by which caused it to send forth sounds of lamentation, such as the count had before heard: this done, the friars offered up another prayer, in which the penitent figure joined, and they then together left the chapel by a door opposite to the altar, taking with them a lamp which during their devotions had been placed on the coffin round which they had knelt.