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

by Eliza Parsons

  "Agonized by this conviction, I might perhaps have silently submitted to his wishes, assured that his name, without his regard, could give me no happiness, had I not considered that with his unhappy mother the son of St. Julian must also sink; maternal tenderness urged me therefore to make some effort to counteract his cruel and unjust intentions.

  "I accordingly formed the resolution of flying to Dauphine, to throw myself at the feet of his father, and implore his protection for the deserted wife and offspring of his son. Alas! it was a resolution which despair and ignorance of the world only could have prompted; for a heart occupied by avarice and ambition, as was the Marquis's, is ever dead to the nobler softer claims of justice and humanity.

  "As St. Julian departed, he told me he would give me a day or two to consider of what he had said; if at the expiration of that time he found me inclined to accede to his wishes, he would at once secure to me the provision he had promised; but if, on the contrary, he found me still inclined to dispute them, he would, without farther hesitation abandon me to a world which would laugh at all the allegations I could make against him.

  "I saw no time was to be lost; the moment therefore he had left me I stole from the house, and hired a carriage, which I ordered to meet me at an early hour, the next morning, at the end of the street. Faint, trembling, oppressed with a thousand horrors, I commenced my journey with you in my arms.

  "Fearful of being pursued, I made the driver, as night approached, turn into an obscure village, some leagues from the road. Here a violent illness, brought on by the dreadful agitation I suffered, detained me two days, and when I recommenced my journey, I was more dead than alive.

  "Oh! how impossible to describe the emotions which shook my frame as I approached the mansion of Montmorenci; as I stopped before those gates which I once hoped I should have entered as the acknowledged wife of St. Julian! for many minutes my feelings prevented my declaring to the astonished domestics the purport of my visit; at length I summoned sufficient resolution to desire to be shown into the presence of their Lord. I drew near his apartment more like an unhappy criminal about deprecating vengeance, than an injured sufferer going to implore justice: the moment I beheld his countenance, where pride and sternness only were visible, the faint hope of obtaining his protection, which had hitherto cheered my heart, died away; like the drowning wretch, however, grasping at every straw, I determined to essay every thing which had a chance of procuring me relief—I therefore cast myself at his feet, and poured forth my sorrows; but scarcely had I concluded my sad tale, scarcely had I raised my tearful eyes to his to try if I could perceive one gleam of pity in them, ere a door burst open, and St. Julian entered. He entered with a countenance inflamed by rage and every direful passion. Oh! had a dagger pierced my breast I could not have suffered greater agonies than I experienced when I beheld those eyes which had once beamed unutterable tenderness, now darting the keenest glances of resentment on me.

  "'You see, my Lord, (said he, addressing his father) that I was not mistaken with regard to this unhappy woman. I was well convinced of the lengths her artifice and ambition would carry her.'

  "'Such artifice in one so young is really astonishing, (replied the Marquis) and renders it absolutely necessary that we should prevent her having another opportunity of trying to deceive.'

  "I attempted to speak, but was interrupted by St. Julian, who directly called in two servants, and ordered them to bear me to a remote apartment. Thither, shrieking with despair, and with you in my arms, I was carried and locked in. A kind of madness seized me—I could not weep—I could not speak—by cries, by groans I could alone express my misery.

  "Night approached ere any one came near me; a young female then appeared—I merely cast a glance at her, and then averted my eyes, as a trembling wretch would have done from his executioner; for every heart in the mansion of Montmorenci I fancied steeled against me. She came to me and entreated me to take some refreshment.

  "Surprised by the entreaty, and by the gentleness with which it was delivered, I looked at her, and beheld a tear stealing down her cheek; it was a sacred tear, which pity had engendered, and operated more powerfully in calming the violence of my feeling than any arguments could have done. Oh! how sweet, how soothing, when we believe ourselves utterly abandoned, utterly friendless, to be surprised by finding a heart that compassionates us!—

  "My tears immediately began to flow, the fever in my brain abated, and I stretched out my hand to press her's to my bosom.

  "'Alas! unhappy lady, (she exclaimed) I pity you from my soul, and wish it was in my power to save you from the fate that awaits you.'

  "What fate? (cried I, gazing on her) have they planned my death? Ah! no—they would not be so merciful as to terminate the anguish they have inflicted."

  "'About the middle of to-night (said she) they mean to put you into a carriage, and send you to a house of penitents near Paris, where you will for ever be confined from the world, and separated from your son.'

  —"Horror for some time took from me the power of speech.

  "Oh! St. Julian, (I at length exclaimed) is this the fate you have decreed for Madeline?—Is this the destiny you have doomed her to, whom but a few short months ago you wooed to your arms with vows of never-changing love?—Oh, never let my sex again confide in man!—Oh, never more let them gaze with pleasure upon the beam of tenderness, nor listen with delight to the language of love!"—

  "Not on my own account (cried I) do I plead; stripes, dungeons, or perpetual imprisonment, could give little pain to her who has experienced the so much greater pain of being deserted by the man she loves; but on the account of him, who, if deprived of me, would surely be deprived of his only earthly friend; for those who exercised such unprecedented cruelty upon his mother, would no doubt but ill protect his helpless youth: By the God, then, which you worship; by that heaven which you hope to attain, assist me to fly with my son to some solitary gloom, where I may rear his youth with tenderness, or see him, while unconscious of calamity, laid within his grave."

  "She raised me, and told me, if I would be calm, and thought I could brave the horrors of travelling through lonely woods at such an hour as the present, she would try to assist me in escaping. I gave her every assurance she desired, and she lost no time in conducting me down a flight of back stairs terminated by a door that opened into the forest. I gave her, at parting, almost all I had to bestow, my thanks, and put a little fancy ring upon her finger to bring me sometimes to her mind, and make her now and then offer up a prayer for me and my babe.

  "My mind was too much disturbed to suffer me to arrange any plan for my future destiny: all I could think of was to seek some lonely cottage, where I might sequester myself till the heat of that pursuit, which I supposed would be made after me, should be over.

  "Without knowing whither I went, or how far I had wandered, I found myself, as if instinct had guided me thither, about the middle of the night as well as I could conjecture, the hour which was to have borne me to endless confinement, near the habitation where I had resided with my mother, and which, since her death, had been unoccupied. Gently the moon dispensed her silvery light, and gave a perfect view of all the dear and lovely scenes of early youth: Oh! how agonizing were my feelings as I contrasted my present misery with the happiness I had enjoyed amongst them a happiness of which, like a bright vision, no trace remained but in my memory:—Oh! how excruciating my pangs as I gazed upon the cottage where I had experienced the care, the tenderness of a parent, and reflected that I was now a wretch forlorn, without one friend to protect me, without any covering for my head but the canopy of heaven, without any pillow to repose it on but the cold sod; nothing but religion, which had been early and strongly implanted in my mind, could have prevented my raising the hand of despair against a life, which from being no longer valuable to others, was hateful to myself.

  "But I will not (said I) I will not, by any act of rashness forfeit that heaven, where only I can be recompensed for my sorro
ws."

  "Exhausted by my sufferings, I threw myself upon the ground, and as I lulled you upon my bosom, sleep insensibly stole upon me.

  "The horror of my waking thoughts tinctured my sleeping ones, and I suddenly awoke in terror: as I started from the ground I beheld a lady and gentleman standing by me, for the morning was far advanced; I gazed upon them wildly, and in the features of the female at length recognized those of the Countess de Valdore, who had married a few months previous to my mother's death, and with whom, from having resided both before and after her union near our cottage, I was well acquainted; she expressed the utmost astonishment at the situation in which she had discovered me, and with a degree of pity that quite overcame me: for as a profusion of viands will overpower the famished wretch, so will unexpected compassion the sad heart that has deemed itself utterly abandoned.

  "A total weakness seized me, and I could only answer her inquiries with my tears. She seated herself on the ground, and supported my head on her lap, while the Count hastened to the chateau for a carriage to convey me thither. There I lay a week before I had power to disclose my unhappy story; when I concluded I had the comfort of finding I had secured two friends for my child, who would never desert him; and this comfort was surely requisite to save me from distraction, for I now learned that St. Julian had been married four months to the rich and beautiful heiress of Charette.

  "'To attempt now, therefore, to redress your wrongs, would be unavailing, (said the Count); whilst St. Julian is intoxicated with love and the attainment of his wishes, any effort to do so would in all probability expose you to his vengeance, and perhaps occasion your final separation from your son: we must therefore leave him to the workings of conscience; though sometimes slow, it is always sure in its operations, and will yet raise its scorpion stings within his breast.'

  "With his amiable Countess the Count united in assurances of friendship and protection; the Countess told me of the high esteem and regard she had always felt for me, and that at the death of my mother both she and the Count would gladly have offered me an asylum in their house, had they not naturally supposed I preferred my uncle's; from the period of my quitting Dauphine, she had never heard concerning me.

  "'Had I sooner known your fate, (she said) I should sooner have tried to alleviate it.'

  "Certain that St. Julian would make diligent search after me, in order to try and get me into his power, which if he once discovered me, it would be impossible to prevent his doing, from his having represented me as an artful woman, who had seduced his youth and endeavoured to ruin his character; it was deemed expedient that I should in future be secluded from the world: for such a purpose no place appeared so eligible as the deserted monastery in the valley; thither I was accordingly conveyed without the knowledge of any of the family but a confidential servant of the Countess. A few months after my retirement, I resigned you to the arms of my friend, for the purpose of having you conveyed to her house, as the orphan of an esteemed acquaintance of her Lords.

  "Two years have elapsed since that period, during which I have heard of St. Julian's attaining his paternal title, of his having a son, born to his wishes, and of his leading a life of unbounded gaiety and pleasure—-Ah! how different from the one he has doomed me to!

  "The attentions of the Count and Countess have been unremitted; could kindness, could compassion have healed the wounds of my heart, they would long since have been closed.

  "In their visits to me you are often brought:—Ah! how does my breast heave with mingled pain and pleasure as I clasp you to it, and hear your lisping accents. Fair is the promise of your infancy, but never, my son, will your unfortunate mother see it fulfilled; affliction has undermined my health, I daily, hourly grow weaker; I fade like an early flower, o'er which the desolating blast has past, ere half its beauties are expanded; and long, long before the blossoms of your youth are blown, I shall be laid within my cold grave.

  "From that grave, as you peruse this narrative, Oh! think the spirit of your mother speaks, and charges you to attend to the advice which it contains—charges you never, in resentment for her wrongs, to forget the respect due to your father; she wishes you to plead for your rights, to vindicate her character, and prove to the world, that the descendant of St. Paul, the daughter of St. Foix, never disgraced the noble families from which she sprung, but she wishes you to plead with calmness, and, if unsuccessful, to be resigned.

  "She also charges you, if only acknowledged as the son of an illicit love, to fly from any overtures of kindness which may be made you.

  "The Count and Countess de Valdore have promised never to withdraw their protection. Generous pair! may Heaven recompense their kindness to me and mine.

  "They have also promised, ere they put this narrative into your hands, to prepare you in some degree for my unfortunate story: Sad and painful has been my task in writing it—Oh! agonizing in the extreme to divulge to my son the crimes of his father.

  "Oh! St. Julian, beloved, though perjured from every mortal eye, I would have concealed those crimes, had not justice to your child compelled me to disclose them.

  "farewell, my boy—my child, farewell! I leave you all I have to bestow, my blessing—may your conduct ever entitle you to that of Heaven, may your mind be fair as your person, may your heart ever glow with fervour in the cause of virtue, and your hand never lie idle by your side when misery or innocence call for assistance!

  "In happy ignorance and childish gaiety often perhaps will your light steps bound o'er the sod which covers my remains; but the period I trust will arrive when tenderness and sensibility shall guide you to it, to drop a tear to the memory of her whose last prayer will be breathed for your felicity, to bedew with the sacred drops of filial affection the grave of your mother.

  "Madeline St. Julian."

  The tears of Madeline fell as she perused the narrative of her unfortunate grandmother, which (too much affected by it to speak), she returned in silence to her father.

  "You can better conceive than I can describe (said he) the feelings I experienced on perusing this story. I wept for my mother, I blushed for my father, and my heart was divided between affliction and resentment.

  "With the natural impetuosity of youth, I determined not to let another day elapse without pleading for those rights which I had been so long and so unjustly deprived of; but convinced that my agitation would not permit me to plead for them in person, as I could wish, I resolved on sending a letter by a special messenger to the castle of Montmorenci, where I knew my father resided, declaring the late discovery of my birth, and the manner in which I had been protected from the distresses his desertion had exposed me to.

  "I accordingly withdrew from Elvira as soon as I was sufficiently composed to pen my letter, which I did in the most respectful yet energetic manner, and enclosed within it a small miniature of myself, drawn by the Countess de Valdore's desire a few months previous to her death, along with her daughter's, for the purpose of ornamenting a cabinet, whence I now received it from Elvira: I sent it with a hope that it might perhaps, by recalling to his memory some feature of the woman he had injured, and once tenderly loved, soften his mind in my favour, and incline him to do me justice.

  "My sufferings till the return of my messenger mock description. At his first appearance I flew with breathless haste to meet him. The Marquis of Montmorenci (he said) was too ill to answer my letter, but he desired me without delay to repair to his castle.

  "Oh! gracious Heaven, how rapturous were the feelings of that moment!—I could not doubt but that he desired to see me for the purpose of blessing, of acknowledging me as his son, of vindicating the fame of my injured mother.

  "Elvira thought as I did; and while a tear of regret for my intended departure strayed down her cheek, congratulated me in the most fervent manner on the prospect there appeared of having my wishes realized.

  "I set out unattended for the mansion of my father, which I entered, though with hope, with emotions that shook my frame; the dom
estics were prepared to receive me, and immediately conducted me to the apartment where their Lord lay, apparently much indisposed, and exhibiting but the ruin of those graces which had captivated the too susceptible heart of my mother.

  "Trembling I approached, and knelt before him, supplicating by my looks his blessing.

  "'With pleasure (said he, extending his hand) I acknowledge you as my son; to disown you never was my intention.'

  "I pressed his hand to my lips, but could not speak; the reception I met with, the idea of being able to vindicate the fame of my mother, quite overpowered me. Alas! short was the duration of my joy.

  "'Rise, (continued my father) I have much to say; but ere I proceed, let me (looking as he spoke towards a young man who sat at some distance from the couch, and whom my agitation had hitherto prevented me from noticing) let me present you to the Count St. Julian, who has kindly promised to consider you as a brother.'

  "Surprise, intermingled with indignation pervaded my heart, on hearing the Marquis address another person by the title to which alone I had a right. I suppressed those feelings however from a hope that an explanation would ensue, which should appease them.

  "'Chance (proceeded my father) made him acquainted with your story: During a late illness, from which I am now but barely recovered, I ordered every letter or message which came to me to be delivered to him—consequently your's fell into his hands; I therefore deemed it requisite that he should be present at our interview, deemed it an absolute duty to him, his mother, and myself, that he should, whilst he heard me acknowledge you as my son, solemnly disacknowledge you as the heir of Montmorenci; no ties but those of love ever existed between your mother and me, and if you have been credulous enough to give implicit credit to the artful tale she fabricated, all my schemes in your favour must be defeated:—Be wise, study your own interest, declare your total renunciation of your chimerical claims, and ensure my kindness and protection.'