"To another"—said he.
At this instant an approaching step was heard, and in the next, the shrill voice of Floretta, calling upon Madeline.
Provoked by this interruption, de Sevignie attempted to lead Madeline amongst the trees which bordered the path; but though as much disappointed as he could be, she resisted the effort.
"No, (said she) I cannot go, 'tis the Countess, I am convinced, that has sent after me, and she would be terrified if I could not be found; besides if her servant discovered me trying to avoid her, what might she not say. Some other time must do for the explanation which you were about giving, and which I will confess, you could scarcely be more anxious to utter than I to hear."
"What time, (asked de Sevignie) I shall be all impatience, all suspense, till we meet again; to-morrow evening you may surely come hither."
"Perhaps," said Madeline.
"No perhaps, (cried de Sevignie) you must give me a positive answer."
"Well then, you may be confident, if in my power I will come."
"Adieu, then," cried he; again pressing her hand to his lips, then suddenly darting into the nearest path, he was out of sight in a moment.
Madeline paused on the spot where he had left her, to reflect on all that he had said, and congratulate herself on the prospect of felicity which was now opening to her view.
Her pleasing meditation was soon, however, interrupted by the appearance of Floretta. "Well, I am sure, (cried she, ) I am glad I have found you. Lord bless my soul, Mam'selle, how can you venture into such lonely places by yourself. I am sure nothing but compulsion could make me do so."
"I hope none has been used to-night," said Madeline, as she proceeded with her towards the chateau.
"That there has, indeed, nothing but the absolute commands of my Lady could have made me come hither; I wonder, I am sure, what could make her fix on me to look for you. She might have known it was not proper to send any girl by herself into such wild places."
"Your Lady knew there was no danger, (said Madeline, ) as none but her own peasants and servants are about them."
"Why, I don't say Mam'selle, there is any danger of meeting thieves, but there is of meeting much worse. Ah, Mam'selle, you know well enough what I mean; and you must be either very incredulous or very hardy, to venture near the grotto, after the horrid stories you have heard in the chateau about it; besides those stories, I could tell you others of it, which if you heard, would frighten you so much, that I dare say you would not be able to move."
"If you think they would have that effect upon me, pray don't tell them at present, (said Madeline, ) for I want to make haste to the chateau."
"Indeed I don't intend to do so, (cried Floretta, ) the very telling them would frighten me, and I am sure I am sufficiently terrified already."
"Why did you not get some one to accompany you," asked Madeline.
"A likely thing indeed, that any one would accompany me in the dark to such places; not but I tried, I can assure you. The butler was the first I asked; but no truly, he was getting his knives and spoons ready for supper. Then I entreated Mr. Jacques, the coachman, but he was just going to visit the horses; and as to the footmen, I know I might as well try to bring the pillars of the hall along with me. I tried the maids also, but one was going to settle the chambers, and another wanted to help the cook to get supper ready; and another—but in short they had all some frivolous excuse or other."
"Well, (said Madeline, ) though you did come alone, you met with nothing to frighten you."
"That shall never prevail on me, however, to venture again to such a place by myself, if I can help it."
By this time they had reached the chateau, and Madeline being informed by a servant, whom she met in the hall, that the Countess was in the supper parlour, directly repaired thither.
CHAPTER II
Let my tears thank you, for I cannot speak,
——————————And if I could,
Words were not made to vent such thoughts as mine.
-DRYDEN
"You have taken a long walk to-night, my dear, (said the Countess, as she entered, ) I really was beginning to grow a little uneasy."
"I am concerned I caused you any uneasiness, Madam, (cried Madeline, ) I hope you will forgive my doing so. I shall take care in future not to stay out so late."
The Countess answered her with her usual gracious sweetness, and they both sat down to supper, which was served immediately after her return.
The revived hopes of Madeline had re-animated her countenance with all its usual vivacity. The glow upon her cheek, the lustre of her eye, the smile that played about her mouth; the ready cheerfulness with which she entered into conversation, and the unusual length of her walk; altogether contributed to convince the penetrating mind of the Countess, that in this walk, something uncommonly interesting had occurred; and what she believed that something to be, may easily be imagined. Considering Madeline as she did,—a sacred deposit, and exclusive of that consideration, deeply interested about her from her innocence and sweetness, she deemed it absolutely necessary, to enquire into what had past in the interview, which she was convinced had taken place between her and de Sevignie. Well knowing that the eager eye of youth and passion, too often overlooks those dangers, which strike the cooler and more experienced one of age.
"Your walk to-night, my dear Madeline, (said she with a smile, after the things were removed and the servants withdrawn) was as pleasant, I hope, as it was long."
Her smile, and the expressive glance which accompanied it, assured the conscious heart of Madeline, that the Countess suspected it had not been a solitary one; and her face was immediately crimsoned over: yet Madeline never had an idea of carrying on any proceedings against the knowledge of the Countess. She had determined within her own mind, the moment she was acquainted with the plan of de Sevignie, to unfold to her every circumstance, every hope, relative to him. The reason therefore of her present agitation, was a fear, that a premature discovery might make the Countess imagine she had meant to carry on a clandestine correspondence, and, consequently lessen her in her esteem.
"I see, Madam, (said she, after the pause of a minute, bashfully raising her eyes from the ground) I see that you suspect something, and I acknowledge you are right in doing so; but oh! dearest madam, do not think me ungrateful, do not deem me imprudent, do not suppose to chance alone you owe the discovery of my thoughts or situation; I only deferred acquainting you with both; I only delayed opening my heart to your view, till I had something more satisfactory than at present to inform you of."
"Unbosom it now, (said the Countess) and trust me, my dear Madeline, I would not desire the communication, did I not mean to take as great an interest in your affairs as a parent would. Unbosom your heart to me as to a Mother; and be assured, if my advice, my assistance, my friendship, can in any degree forward your happiness, I shall derive real satisfaction myself from doing so."
Thus kindly urged, Madeline rather rejoiced than regretted being surprised into the relation; for she had long sighed, though withheld by diffidence from desiring it; for the counsel of a person more conversant, more experienced than herself in the intricacies of the human heart. To elucidate every circumstance which had happened in her interview with de Sevignie, it was requisite to mention those which had past at V——.
She began, but it was with the involuntary hesitation of modesty; and from the same impulse she tried to pass over, as lightly as possible, the pain she had experienced on de Sevignie's account; but though her language might be unimpassioned, her looks plainly indicated what her sufferings had been.
Her relation ended, the Countess sat many minutes without speaking, as if absorbed in profound meditation. She then broke the silence, by thanking Madeline with the most gracious benignancy for the confidence she had reposed in her.
"Your narrative, my dear Madeline, (she cried) confirms the opinion I entertained, since the evening I saw you together, of the strength of your att
achment for de Sevignie;—nay, do not be confused, my dear; love, excited by merit, we have no reason to be ashamed of.
"It will please you, no doubt, to hear, that I think his attachment as tender as your own; but it is one, with which his reason is evidently at variance. Why it is so, the latter part of his conversation this evening seems to me to explain. A distressed situation has hitherto pointed out the necessity of his trying to conquer his passion; but I own it appears to me strange and mysterious that a man of his elegant appearance and enlightened education, should be in narrow circumstances and obscurity. If however, he can properly account for this obscurity and want of fortune; if the one proceeds neither from ignoble birth nor dishonourable conduct; and the other from no idle extravagance, no degrading folly, we will not wait for the realization of his plan, be it what it may, to realize his happiness. You are perhaps surprised (she continued) to hear me speak in this positive manner, as if I had an absolute power to dispose of you; but know my dear, that in me your father vested such a power. As soon as I understood your situation with regard to de Sevignie, I communicated to him all I thought concerning it, and requested his advice; he answered me immediately, and begged in future, I might never apply to him on the subject, but depend entirely on my own judgment; he entreated me to do this, he said, from a firm conviction that I would watch over you with as much solicitude and scarcely less tenderness than he would himself. His confidence was not, I trust, misplaced."
Madeline would have spoken in the fullness of her heart, but the Countess motioned her to silence.
"To contribute (she resumed) to the happiness of his child, will, as I have already said, impart the truest satisfaction to me; should we therefore, receive from de Sevignie the satisfactory explanation we desire, I shall immediately give to the adopted daughter of my care, that portion, which from the first moment I took her under my protection, I designed for her; a portion, which though not sufficient to purchase her all the luxuries, is amply so to procure her all the comforts of life; and, to a soul gentle and unassuming as is my Madeline's, those comforts will, I think, yield more real felicity than all its luxuries or dissipations could do. Should the little portion I can give her, be a means of procuring for her that felicity which she deserves and I wish her;—blessed—thrice blessed, shall I consider the wealth consecrated to such a purpose."
She stopped, overcome by her own energy; Madeline was many minutes before she could speak; but she took the hand of her benefactress, she pressed it to her quivering lip, her heaving heart, and dropped upon it tears of gratitude, affection, and esteem.
"Oh, Madam! (she at length exclaimed) well might you bid me unbosom my heart to you as to a mother; sure, had I been blessed with one, I could not have experienced more tenderness; language is poor, is inadequate to express my feelings."
"Then do not attempt expressing them, (said the Countess, with her usual benignant smile) but let us resume our, to you to be sure, very uninteresting conversation. You say, to-morrow evening you promised to meet de Sevignie."
"Yes, Madam, (replied Madeline) with some little hesitation."
"Inform him then, (continued the Countess) that you have made me your confidant, also what I said concerning him, and my intentions; if he can give the required explanation; but remember Madeline, you tell him, that it must be an explanation so clear,—so full, that not a shadow of doubt shall remain after it; that, except every thing mysterious is fully elucidated, Madeline Clermont and he, must in future be strangers to each other."
"I shall obey you in every respect, Madam, (replied Madeline) and indeed (unable to conceal the high opinion she entertained of de Sevignie's virtues) I have not a doubt but we shall receive as satisfactory an explanation as we could desire."
"Heaven grant you may, (cried the Countess) but till you do—till there is some certainty of your being united to de Sevignie, I shall not again mention him to your father, who now imagines from a late letter of mine, that every hope relative to him is over; and I will not undeceive him, except I can do so with pleasure to him and myself."
They soon after this separated for the night; but not to rest did Madeline retire to her chamber: joy is often as wakeful as sorrow; and joy of the most rapturous kind she now experienced; alternately she traversed her apartment, alternately seated herself to repeat all that had past between her and the Countess, to ruminate over her felicity; felicity which now appeared insured; for that de Sevignie could give such an explanation as would rather raise than lessen him in the estimation of her friend, she did not harbour the smallest doubt of.
So sanguine is the youthful heart—so ready to believe that what it wishes will happen. Alas, how doubly sharp does this readiness render the barb of disappointment.
Oh, how great was the raptures of Madeline, to think she should be enabled to put de Sevignie in possession of a competency; every feeling of generosity of sensibility, was gratified by the idea, and she implored the choicest blessings of heaven for the benevolent woman, who had been the means of occasioning her such happiness. "May heaven (she cried, with uplifted hands) remove from her heart all sorrow, as she removes it from the hearts of others."
How light was the step—how bright was the eye—how gay was the smile of Madeline when she descended the next morning to the breakfast parlour, where she already found the Countess seated; the appearance of every thing seemed changed, the awful gloom which had so long pervaded the apartments, was banished; and in the landscape before the windows Madeline now discovered beauties which had before escaped her notice. The weather had been remarkably fine for some weeks, yet Madeline thought the sun had not shone so bright for many days as on the present.
Such is the magic effect of joy, which, like the touch of an enchanter, can raise a thousand charms around us.
With her friend she took a delightful ride about some of the most delightful parts of the domain after breakfast; and the remainder of the day was past in social converse together.
As soon as twilight began to shroud the earth, the Countess dismissed her to her appointment. "Do you think, Madeline, (cried she with a smile, as she was retiring from the room) it would be amiss if I ordered Jerome to lay an additional plate on the supper table tonight."
"Perhaps not, Madam," replied Madeline, blushing. She thought indeed, it was probable that de Sevignie would immediately wish to express his gratitude to the Countess.
CHAPTER III
My lab'ring heart, that swells with indignation,
Heaves to discharge its burden, that once done
The busy thing shall rest within its cell.
-ROWE
Expecting every moment to behold him, she took the path to the grotto; but reached it without having that expectation fulfilled. Surprised and disappointed she stopped before it, irresolute whether to return to the chateau directly or wait a few minutes there; she at last resolved on the latter, and seated herself on the moss covered stone at its entrance. The deep gloom of the grotto made her involuntarily shudder whenever she cast a glance within it, but in spite of terror she continued on her seat, till the dark shades of night began to involve every object, and warned her to return home: as she arose for that purpose an idea darted into her mind, that illness or some dreadful accident, had alone prevented de Sevignie from keeping an appointment so eagerly desired, so tenderly solicited, and regretting the time she had wasted in expectation, she now rather flew than walked to the chateau, in order to entreat the Countess to send a servant to V——, to enquire about him; she had not proceeded many yards, however, when her progress was impeded by the object who had caused her apprehensions and solicitude. So little did she now expect to see him, that as he slowly emerged from amidst the trees, she started back, as if he had been the last creature in the world she had thought of seeing. Ere she could recover sufficiently from her agitation to speak, de Sevignie, rather negligently bowing, said, "he hoped he had not been the means of keeping her out to so late an hour."
"The officers (continued
he, but without looking at her) to whose hospitality and politeness I have been so much indebted, since my residence at V——, insisted on my dining with them to-day, and though I wished and tried to leave them at an early hour, they would not suffer me to do so, nor to depart at the one I did, had I not promised to return immediately to them."
The coldness of his manner, the frivolous excuse he made for his want of punctuality, and the intention he avowed of quitting her directly, without any reference to their conversation of the preceding night, all struck Madeline with a conviction, that his sentiments were totally changed since that conversation had taken place: for a change so sudden, so unaccountable, tenderness suggested an enquiry, but pride repeled it, and she would instantly have quitted him with every indication of the disdain he seemed to merit, had her agitation permitted her to move.
"Will you allow me, Mademoiselle Clermont (cried de Sevignie, still looking rather from her) to attend you to the castle, 'ere I bid you adieu; and also to hope, that at some other time, I may have the honour of seeing you."
"Never—(said Madeline, recovering her voice, and summoning all her spirits to her aid) never—no sir.—No, de Sevignie, except in the presence or the house of the Countess de Merville, never more will I permit you to see me."
"In her house, (repeated de Sevignie with quickness, and turning his eyes upon her.) How could I attempt seeing you in the house of the Countess, unacquainted as I am with her."
"The Countess (replied Madeline) would never be displeased at my seeing any one in her house whom I considered as my friend. Besides—besides—(added she, hesitating, doubtful whether to stop or to go on) besides—(after the pause of a minute) she gave permission to have you introduced to her."
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 292
