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

by Eliza Parsons

  "I introduced myself to the Signora d'Orfo; she received me with courtesy, and instructed me where to seek you. Contrary to my expectations, you was beyond the boundaries of the walls. At the time that you passed near the shrubbery on your return, I was conversing with Ambrose, who, I was in hopes, might have seen what road you had taken, but who was unable to give me any satisfactory intelligence.

  "I have now, my Laurette," continued Enrico, "acquainted you with all; and, from the circumstances I have related, you may guess all I feel, and all I fear. We must part—a temporary separation is unavoidable. I must go in search of my much-injured mother; and if she has not been seized by banditti, but has been torn from her home, her family, and all who are dear to her, by the daring machinations of designing villainy, I will not rest till I have discovered the authors of this premeditated cruelty—till I have restored her to her tenderest connexions, and have exposed the artifice of her persecutors. There are laws, and if they cannot be enforced, I have a sword, never yet drawn but in the exercise of justice, but which shall be raised against the heart of the oppressor, in the cause of defenceless innocence.

  "But, Oh Laurette! before I am compelled to quit these heavenly regions, dear to me, because consecrated by your presence, and, in compliance with my wayward destiny, prepare to bid you a long, and if obliged to engage in any desperate enterprise, perhaps a last adieu; tell me, I conjure you, that I am not indifferent to you, and that the recollection of our juvenile felicity will endear to your remembrance him who was a sharer of it—the companion of your earliest days; since this is the only reflection that can soften the rigours of my fate, and dissipate the cloudy atmosphere of my future prospects?"

  Laurette, who had marked with concern every circumstance which he had related, and had been comparing them with those that had fallen under her immediate notice, now yielded to the softness that oppressed her mind; and, leaning tenderly upon his arm, covered her face with her handkerchief, and wept unrestrainedly.

  "By heaven this is too much!" cried Enrico, endeavouring to command his emotions, "forgive me, dearest Laurette, if, in the attempt of drawing from you a mutual confession, I have renewed that grief I ought to have mitigated.—Say but that you love me and, from this moment, all the energies of my soul shall be exerted in your cause, and for the security of your happiness."

  "Is it possible, Enrico," replied Laurette, "that you can doubt the sincerity of my friendship—a friendship I have so long, so tenderly indulged; or believe that the son of my amiable benefactress, who supplied to me the place of a parent, and deprived of whom, I now feel the wants of one, can be reflected upon without esteem and gratitude."

  "Esteem and gratitude!" repeated Enrico, "and is this all I must expect or hope for—is the cold sentiment of friendship a sufficient reward for inviolable affection—is this all you can bestow as a recompence for the innumerable cares and anxieties I have endured?—rather hate and abandon me at once—teach me to think of you, and adore you no more—and let me wander over this desolated earth, without a hope to stimulate exertion, or an object to endear existence.—There was a time when I indulged the transient, delusive idea that I could have insured your affection; but I have been deceived, unhappily deceived, and you have assisted in the deception that has undone me."

  "You wrong me, indeed you wrong me," replied Laurette, in a voice scarcely audible, "how have I deserved this censure? and why, by affecting to misunderstand me, will you thus add to my distress? Enrico, you are not calm—you do not listen to the dictates of reason, nor resign yourself to the guidance of discretion. By endeavouring to work upon my feelings, in thus appealing to my heart, you have been striving to wrest from me a confession, which perhaps I ought not to make.

  "I am not insensible to your merit, nor do I affect to be so; but the peculiarity of my situation forbids any advances but those of friendship and brotherly affection, which I have ever tenderly cherished. To enter into any engagement without the sanction of those under whose protection I am placed, would justly expose me to censure, and would appear, to the unprejudiced and discerning, as the height of indiscretion and ingratitude.

  "Besides, would not such conduct lessen you in the estimation of the person, on whom your dependance, as well as mine, is placed? Would not the Marchese openly resent the want of confidence we had betrayed, and consequently withdraw his patronage, not only from me, but from you; and should I not then consider myself as the author of your misfortunes, and feel acutely the uneasiness such a reflection must occasion?"

  "Has he not withdrawn it already?" returned Enrico; "has he ever expressed a wish to see me, or exerted his interest to procure my advancement? How slender would be my hopes if they rested entirely upon him—But are you determined, Laurette, to resign yourself to the power of the Marchese?"

  "Alas! on whom can I depend?" replied she, sighing; "I have no friend but him on whom I can rely for immediate support, no relation living, at least not to my knowledge, and am totally unacquainted with the authors of my existence. If the Marchese proves himself unworthy of my confidence, and I find any thing in his conduct which may eventually prove injurious to my peace, it will then be time enough to relinquish his protection, and to secure another asylum in a less splendid and dangerous situation."

  Finding that she was too firm to yield to the force of a premature attachment, and was too strictly guarded by delicacy to avow more than a sisterly affection, till it was sanctioned by those who had a right to the disposal of her; Enrico only ventured to request that, should her present abode be less eligible than she expected, and he sufficiently fortunate in his military department to secure an independence, or at least the prospect of one, that she would then allow him to resume the subject, and in the mean time permit him to write to her; and that she would continue to think with tenderness upon him, whose whole existence was dedicated to her service.

  To this she cheerfully assented, and giving him her hand with the most charming frankness, reminded him of the time they had been absent from the cottage, and proposed their returning to it immediately.

  Having watched, for a few moments, the sun sinking slowly upon the surface of the water, they gradually descended the extreme point of the mountain, and entered the cottage.

  The Signora had been expecting them some time and, as her ankle was still very painful, had sent one of the servants to the castle to order Ambrose to bring a horse, for the purpose of conveying her home.

  As no animal, except a mule, could traverse without danger the steep ascent of the eminence, she was compelled to go near half a league round; which obliged Laurette and Enrico to return without her by what way they should think proper.

  Ambrose soon appeared; and the Signora being mounted behind him, our young wanderers took leave of the kind-hearted peasantry, and agreed, as the difference in the length of the way was inconsiderable, to return by the other side of the mountain, and to visit the solitary ruin.

  Having descended the eminence by a lone and entangled sheep-path, frequently turning aside to mark the purple tints of the western sky, to listen to the last flutter of the breeze among the half leafless trees, or the distant sound of a flute, or a vesper-bell, they arrived at the long-neglected and forsaken abbey.

  The deepening glooms of the twilight, which fell fast around them, rendered the solitary grandeur of this lonely ruin still more impressive and sublime, whose interesting appearance was materially increased by the correspondent melancholy of the scenery. A clump of dark firs, on one side, cast an almost impenetrable shade, whilst the other opening upon an extensive heath, was exposed to the merciless beatings of the not unfrequent storm. All here wore an aspect still more dreary and deserted, from the total want of vegetation which was every where visible.

  "The thistle was there, on its rock, shedding its aged beard; the old tree groaned in the blast; the murmur of night was abroad."

  The abbey was originally built round a quadrangle, in the manner of a fortified castle, with spires instea
d of turrets. The entrance into the court was rugged, overgrown with long grass, and scattered with the fragments of the fallen edifice. The walls which marked the circumference, wore an appearance of great antiquity, and of such ponderous strength, that they contemplated with astonishment the invincible attacks of time. The ivy and the elder had taken root in the crevices of the stones, which were encrusted with moss, night-shade, and wild gilliflower; and from the loop-windows, which were fringed with weeds, a solitary sprig of the ash and the arbour were occasionally seen waving mournfully in the wind, and replying to the murmurs of the rising blast.

  The spires of the building were crumbling fast into dust, and the body of this once massy structure was nearly sharing the same fate. Indeed the whole of the remains were in so tottering a state, that Laurette could scarcely prevail upon Enrico to allow her to enter what had once been a door, to examine it more minutely.

  A pile stupendous, once of fair renown.

  This mould'ring mass of shapeless ruin rose.

  Where nodding heights of fractur'd columns frown,

  And birds obscene in ivy bowers repose;

  Oft the pale matron, from the threat'ning wall,

  Suspicious, bids her heedless children fly;

  Oft, as he views the meditated fall.

  Full swiftly steps the frighted peasant by.

  -LANGHORNE

  On the eastern side of the court was a small chapel, which was less ruinous than the rest of the fabric, though the narrow Gothic windows, once filled with painted glass, that cast a dim and fading light, were now shattered and decayed; whilst the pavement leading to the entrance, which once resounded only to the foot of devotion, was now rude and grass-grown.

  Impressed with the awful scene of desolation that surrounded her, Laurette felt a sublime and tender melancholy stealing upon her mind; and as she surveyed the venerable pile sinking slowly into oblivion, her imagination reverted to its former inhabitants, now long since mingled with the dust.

  The door of the chapel being made of the most lasting materials, retained somewhat of its primitive appearance; a large stone, by way of a step, was placed at the entrance, which being broken, and covered with moss and fallen leaves, exhibited an aspect of gloom, neglect, and silence.

  The door was not quite closed, and desiring Enrico to follow her, Laurette entered the chapel. It was dark, and was considerably larger than she expected to have found it. A narrow window, at the farther end, just discovered its extent; and turning round she distinguished, in that part of it where the altar had been formerly erected, a figure in the dress of a white friar, kneeling, and deeply engaged in devotion.

  The idea of the mysterious Monk darted instantly across her mind, and not being sufficiently tranquil to endure new scenes of surprise and terror, she seized the arm of Enrico, and would have hurried him from the place, without farther explanation.

  Astonished at the alarm she expressed, and the sudden paleness of her looks, he endeavoured to learn the occasion of her fears, and to quiet them; informing her, in a low voice, that she had nothing to apprehend, since it was doubtless some Friar from a neighbouring monastery, who, walking round the ruin, had been suddenly inspired to offer up his evening prayer at that once holy altar.

  Laurette acknowledged the apparent probability of the remark; but at the same time repeated her resolution of retiring, in a manner which sufficiently displayed how much of terror was mingled with amazement.

  Smiling at what he believed to be merely superstition, yet secretly touched with the earnestness of her manner, he was leading her towards the door, when the Monk, who either did not hear, or did not regard the murmur of their voices, arose and advanced with quick steps towards the entrance.

  They stopped for a few seconds by the side of a pillar to let him pass; and as he swept by them, as if before unconscious of witnesses, he turned aside his cowl to survey them. It discovered a thin spare face, marked with age and affliction; a ray of light that fell upon it, gave life to a large, full, melancholy eye, that was lifted up with an expression of mingled pity and sadness. There was indeed nothing in his figure or countenance expressive of severity or austere devotion; and Laurette thinking she recognized the person of her mysterious visitor, clung still closer to Enrico, and endeavoured to conceal herself behind one of the columns.

  As he passed, Enrico bowed, and would have addressed him; but he drew his cowl close, and heaving a deep sigh, left the chapel.

  When they crossed the court, they beheld him standing by the side of the building, as if surveying it, and frequently turning to see whether he was observed. As they pursued their walk, Enrico gently rallied her upon her superstition; for his mind, being somewhat reassured by the promise she had made him of accepting his protection, should she be obliged to relinquish that of the Marchese, he felt more disposed to cheerfulness.

  When they had arrived near the castle, Laurette turned, and perceived the Monk, at some distance, apparently following them. Her suspicions concerning it being the identical Friar who had delivered the portrait, were now more strongly confirmed; but not seeming to regard him, she hastened her steps, and, faint and fatigued, arrived at the castle.

  The Signora was already there, waiting with the evening's refreshment; and after relating to each other the incidents of the day, they separated and retired to their rooms: Laurette to reflect upon the conversation during their ramble, with the strange adventure at the abbey; and Enrico, upon the charming object of his regard, who was never absent from his thoughts.

  CHAPTER V

  When morn first faintly draws her silver line.

  Or Eve's grey clouds descend to drink the wave;

  When sea and sky in midnight darkness join.

  Still, still he views the parting look she gave.

  -ROGERS

  Enrico had remained some days at the castle of Lunenburg before he had collected a sufficient degree of fortitude to enable him to endure the idea of quitting it; till the dutiful impulses of his nature directing his harassed thoughts towards his mother, determined him to fix an early day for his departure.

  This intention being imparted to his Colonel by letter, who was still resident with his regiment, he began to reason himself into composure, and to mark the limits of his intended route. No places, he believed, were so likely to afford information as the hotels and village inns on the borders of the Rhine, which made him resolve to let none of them escape his enquiries.

  Now secretly accusing himself of inattention by this transient delay, and now yielding to apprehensions he could not possibly eradicate, the mind of Enrico endured the most painful conflict; and so acute were his feelings, that it was long before he could assume serenity enough to acquaint Laurette with the day which he had appointed to leave her, and to conjure her never to forget him.

  On the evening preceding the time fixed for his journey, he detained her for some hours longer in the saloon than was his custom, inflicting new torment upon himself, by reflecting upon the fleeting nature of his happiness, and the anguish of being compelled to leave her innocent and defenceless beauty exposed to the rigours of a destiny so full of danger; and the melancholy, but not improbable conjecture, that they might meet no more.

  These sad presages, which Laurette found it impossible to dispel, she endeavoured to assuage, by representing the causelessness of his surmises, and the indispensible necessity of exercising the virtues of resignation and fortitude.

  Enrico listened, and attempted to profit by so bright an example of meekness and patient endurance, internally suffering from disappointment and uneasy apprehensions, yet suffering with the most collected firmness; but though his mind was naturally strong, noble, and vigorous, it required an effort beyond it to bear to leave her alone to contend with the adversities of her fate, without the possibility of his being able to overlook the conduct of those in whose power she was placed, or of investing himself in that authority, which would give her a claim upon his immediate protection.

 
; She had, however, promised to correspond with him, to remember him with the affection of a sister, which recollection, at the same time that it operated as an antidote to his present inquietude, permitted him to look forwards to the future with less regret and solicitude.

  On the morning that was to separate him from her, in whose society he enjoyed all the felicity he was capable of experiencing, he arose, pale and unrefreshed by sleep, long before the sun had risen upon the hills that bounded the eastern horizon, and paced as usual, with slow and thoughtful steps, the grand terrace walk, which was under the range of apartments occupied by Laurette, the Signora, and other branches of the family.

  None of the domestics being arisen except Ambrose, who had opened him the door of the portico, a deep and universal silence prevailed, disturbed only occasionally by the distant sound of a cataract, the stroke of a wood-cutter, or the distant and mellow tones of a flute, to call the sheep from their nightly folds.

  At length the sun emerged gradually from the waters into a clear and cloudless sky, spreading over the whole extent of ether a meek and silvery glow. The grey mists that had dimmed the summits of the mountains, crept slowly into the interstices of the rocks, and the gentle responses of the birds were heard feebly from the neighbouring woods.

  With a mind too much absorbed in its own reflections to be able to feel the full force of sylvan beauty, or to listen with pleasure to those simple and rural sounds so dear to the heart of the enthusiast, Enrico continued to walk along the terrace with perturbed and unequal steps, till he was roused from his thoughtfulness by the opening of a casement. He turned—it was Laurette; she did not instantly perceive him, and he retreated a few paces backwards to observe her motions.