Hildebrand; or, The Days of Queen Elizabeth, An Historic Romance, Vol. 1 of 3

by Anonymous

  CHAPTER VII.

  It was a fortunate circumstance for Inez, apart from anyimmediate inconvenience it might have occasioned her, thatGonzalez did not turn round from the casement at the moment hetore back the curtain; for if he had done so, he could hardlyhave failed to observe her utter bewilderment and amaze. But asthe abortive issue of his proceedings had caused some surprise tohimself, he hesitated before he turned round; and Inez had timeto subdue, in a great degree, every trace of the emotion whichhad so deeply stirred her.

  There was a quiet smile on her face when she again met the gazeof her guardian. This, however, failed to convince Gonzalez thathis suspicions of her incontinence had been without ground,though he thought it better, in the absence of any certainevidence, to conceal those suspicions, and defer all measuresof severity till he should discover something that would excusethem. Nevertheless, his fury was not calmed. He hesitated toresume his attack on Inez, but it was because, during the manyyears she had been under his guardianship, he had become toosensible of her unbending spirit, and haughty and resolutetemper, under provocations less serious than that which he hadfurnished on this occasion, to suppose that he would come off thevictor; and not from any feelings of delicacy or forbearance. Butthe old governante, whom he could discharge from his service athis pleasure, did not come under these protective relations, and,therefore, he felt no hesitation in discharging his fury at her.

  “So, thou old beldame!” he exclaimed, “wouldst thou bring thypestilent gallants into our very chambers? ’Tis well, indeed,thou canst find them no place of resort but my house.”

  “Don Gonzalez, this is past all bearing,” cried Inez, steppingin to her confidant’s rescue. “I will put up with thy cruelsuspicions and arbitrary rule no longer. I will petition theKing, Sir, to have thy guardianship cancelled; and have myinheritance, which thou engrossest solely to thyself, turned overto my own hands. Come, good Amina,” she added to her governante,“let us retire.”

  “Aha! would you go plot again?” cried Gonzalez. “No, no! we’llno more on’t to-night. Get thee to thy chamber alone for once;and, harkye, thou old hag!” he added to the duenna, “get thee tothine, or I will have thee made do penance in the public streets.Petition the King, eh?”

  “Remember, thou hast been warned!” said Inez.

  Uttering these words, she turned abruptly to the door, and passedto the contiguous gallery. Here she was joined by her governante;but before they could interchange any communication, Gonzalezfollowed them, and they were obliged to separate. A femaleservant, who was in waiting in the hall below, furnished themeach with a light, and, with this in their hands, they passed insilence to their respective chambers.

  But though Inez repaired to her chamber, she did not retire torest. Indeed, to have sought repose in the state of mind shewas in, agitated with contending influences, would have beenthe extreme of folly. Yet it was not any remembrance of theconduct of her guardian that engaged her attention. The anger andindignation arising from that source, though deep and bitter,was soon lost in her anxiety concerning the disappearance ofher lover. She started a whole host of conjectures, as to themanner in which he had effected his escape, but none of themcould reduce, in any material degree, her excruciating doubts ofhis safety. Whatever had been the mode of his egress from thecasement, she fancied that he could not descend from so great aheight, by his own unaided efforts, and under the disadvantagearising from the darkness of the night, without incurring injury.A thrill of anguish shot through her frame, as, pursuing thistrain of reflection, she thought that he might now be lyingdisabled on the damp ground, writhing under the torture of abroken limb. Yet, how could she afford him any succour? how couldshe even ascertain, without the cognizance and sufferance of herguardian, that he needed succour?

  She pondered on the subject till she grew distracted. At last,after she had thought of every possible mode of proceeding, sheresolved to wait till the household should have retired, and thensearch for her lover in the garden.

  She did not determine on this step without some hesitation. Inmaking an assignation with a stranger, without so much as knowinghis name, or ever interchanging a word with him, she may seemto have manifested little delicacy, and committed excessiveindiscretion; but, before passing judgment on her conduct, itmust be borne in mind, in reference to her being the first moverof the assignation, that this was in accordance with the customof her country, and was no way singular or unusual. She invitedHildebrand to meet her, if his sentiments were such as, on thetwo occasions she had seen him, he had endeavoured to revealto her by his looks; and though this might not be a legitimatefavour, it was a gallantry that was every day practised, and thebachelors of Cadiz hardly ever ventured to address a young lady,especially when she was remarkable for her beauty, till theyreceived some such licence.

  Though she was precipitate, ardent, and romantic, and placedscarcely any bridle on her headlong passions, Inez had neverentertained a gallant before. It was the noble form, and fine,manly countenance of Hildebrand, which the contrast theypresented to the persons of her countrymen rendered more thanusually prepossessing, that wakened a sense of love in her breastfor the first time. Yet it was not love, but rather a feelingof satisfaction, if a term so cold may be used, that her charmscould win from such a cavalier the homage of his looks. She feltgratified by his admiration; his appearance struck her with aresponsive impression; and it was this influence, more than anyother, that induced her to invite him to an assignation.

  Precipitation in an affair of the heart is often attended withperil and mischief. Inez was the creature of impulse, and, inher correspondence with Hildebrand, all had been hurry andaction. She had not paused once. Moreover, from the moment thatshe had opened a direct communication with him, the novelty andexcitement of every individual circumstance, by associating himconstantly with her thoughts, had combined to invest him witha new interest. The expectations raised by his approach, thefeelings awakened by his first address, by their progress to herchamber, by the intrusion of her guardian, and by his mysteriousdisappearance, with the tormenting doubts which she entertainedconcerning his safety, knit him to her heart, and opened tohis hand its most precious sympathies, and all its pricelessaffections.

  The heart may seem too lightly won that surrenders without astruggle. Even the love that has sprung from time, by slowand gradual degrees, and under the propitious influence ofintimate fellowship, often retains some taint of selfishness,and acknowledges a fixed and distinct limit. But it is thosewarm natures which, once aroused, abandon to their love theirevery thought, that are soonest and most easily vanquished. Theymight endure the vicissitudes of a slow and gradual attachmentwith perfect equanimity; but the magic force of love’s firsttouch, taking them off their guard, awakens in their bosomstheir deepest springs of feeling, and hurries them over everyrestraint, and past every opposing scruple, into all the excessof unbridled passion.

  In the impetuosity of her nature, Inez had unlocked to herunknown lover the inmost recesses of her heart. He was thelight and key to all her thoughts. What would have been to hisdisadvantage with some, by enforcing caution, and keeping beforethem the necessity of acting with prudence, pleaded to her inhis favour; and her very ignorance of his name and station madeher look upon him with a more ardent and passionate interest.

  At length, the silence that prevailed, and the lateness of thehour, which was now past midnight, led her to suppose that thehousehold must all have retired, and she proceeded to put inexecution her purpose of visiting the garden. Softly opening herchamber-door, she looked out into the gallery, and found that thelights in the hall below had been extinguished. Nevertheless, shewas afraid to bring her own light forth, and she set on her wayin the dark.

  Wrapping her mantilla tightly round her, she pressed close to thewall, and proceeded, with a light but quick step, to descend tothe hall. She soon reached the bottom of the stairs, and, witha beating heart, groped her way to the rearward door. It wasvery dark, but, from long familiarity with the buildi
ng, both bynight and day, she knew where to tread, and she made out thedoor without difficulty. She raised her hand to draw back thebolts; but, to her surprise, she found that, either from neglector accident, these were not secured, and the door had been leftunfastened.

  It was not without some qualms of fear that Inez looked out onthe pitchy night. The rain was still falling, though not with anyforce, and the light showers drew from the foliage of the trees,as they fell upon it, a distinct vibration, that gave to theprevailing darkness an unearthly terror. But her apprehensionsof peril from fellow-mortals, which her venturing out alone atso late an hour might well inspire, repressed any superstitiousfears in the bosom of Inez, though they rendered her equallytimid and irresolute. After a brief pause, however, her decisionreturned, and, drawing the door close after her, she passed out.

  Without the door, there was a stone landing, guarded on eitherside by an iron rail, which led down a flight of steps to thegarden. Above the landing, on a level with the top of the door,was a sort of veranda, open at the sides, which ran the wholelength of the rails. Inez now perceived, what she had not thoughtof before, that this veranda was immediately beneath the casementfrom which her lover had made his egress, and she doubted notthat he had easily lit upon it from the casement-sill, and thenceleaped to the ground. A thrill of joy shot through her frame, as,measuring the height of the veranda with her eye, she perceivedthat he could do this without incurring any hurt; and the promptmanner in which he had seized such a means of escape, when thedanger must have been yet remote, and the expediency of retreatcould hardly have occurred to him, led her to look upon his imagewith more confirmed admiration.

  Nevertheless, he could not have got out of the garden; for, onhis entry with her duenna, the latter had locked the gate which,as was shown heretofore, opened into the street, and there was noother outlet but through the house. She determined, therefore,pursuant to her original intention, to seek him in the garden,and lend him her aid to get clear off.

  She passed on for some little time, without observing anythingto cause her the least alarm. At length, turning a sweep in thewalk, where the area was less confined, her eye took in a moreextended range, and she was able to distinguish objects moreclearly. Here, as she gazed earnestly round, her eye fell on alarge orange-tree, a few paces in her front; and she distinctlydiscerned two men, muffled in long cloaks, standing against itstrunk. She turned to flee directly, but, in the hurry of herretreat, she forgot how necessary it was to proceed with caution,and the tread of her feet, reverberated by the wet ground, madethe two men sensible of her vicinity. One of them called to her,in a voice which she recognised as her guardian’s, to come to ahalt, and, at the same time, prepared to give her chase. But Inezfled at her last speed. Turning the sweep already noticed, shecame abreast of a walk which, breaking through a small shrubbery,led to the further end of the garden; and this suggested itselfto her as a safe route for retreat. But the steps of her pursuerswere close in her wake, and the difficulty of escape, if itdepended solely on her speed, became every moment more and moreapparent. Moreover, her breath was failing her, and her energieswere, what with fear, and what with her exertions, nearlyexhausted. In this dilemma, she came to a stand, intending todeliver herself up. As the steps of her pursuers drew nearer,however, her desire to escape revived, and, with something likerenewed hope, she stepped out of the walk, and hid herself amongthe contiguous shrubs.

  Her pursuers soon came abreast of her hiding-place. To hergreat terror, however, they did not pass on, but halted rightbefore her. She kept her eyes continually upon them, everyminute expecting to see them move away; but minute after minuteexpired, in slow and melancholy succession, and they were stillstationary. Her stooping position, though relieved of some ofits weariness by the support of her hands, was growing painful;but she was afraid to move--she hardly ventured to breathe. Theexcitement was becoming intolerable, when, after an interval ofabout half an hour, one of the cavaliers spoke.

  “Dost think it was he?” he asked of his companion.

  “No,” answered the other. “I fear me he hath got off.”

  “Art thou sure he was ever here?” asked the first speaker.

  “Did I not tell thee I dogged him, and the old duenna, Amina,almost to the very gate?” replied the other.

  “Thou canst hardly be mistaken, then,” said the first speaker.“If he have escaped, ’tis through thy pestilent knave of a groom,whom we sent, with a charge to use his utmost despatch, for theguard of alguazils.”

  The other cavalier made some reply, but it was in so low a tone,and the rain at the moment made so much noise, that his wordsreached the ear of his comrade only, and afforded no trace oftheir purport to the anxious Inez. Whatever their purport mightbe, however, they evidently directed them to some other quarter;for they moved away without more ado.

  Inez now breathed more freely. It was a great relief to her tostand upright; but her tender limbs, unused to any hardship, andcramped by her recent stooping, suffered severely from the wetand cold. She was still afraid to move out of the shrubbery;for she doubted not, from what she had overheard, that the twocavaliers continued on the watch, though they had removed fromher immediate vicinity. Their brief dialogue also apprised her,in terms too broad and distinct to be misunderstood, that theywere aware of her having received a visit from a gallant; andthis circumstance tended to increase her uneasiness, and makeher more and more melancholy. But she was somewhat assured bythe reflection, arising out of this train of thought, after shehad started all manner of conjectures, that Hildebrand had gotclear away; for if he had effected his descent from the casementwithout incurring any hurt, she thought it highly improbablethat he would pause or linger in his retreat and suffer the lowwall of the garden, the only remaining obstacle, to prevent hismaking off. The matter, however, was involved in uncertainty;and her conjectures, and hopes, and apprehensions, rising oneupon another, in quick and unbroken succession, harassed herexcessively, and subjected her mind to the most exquisite pangsof suspense.

  She remained standing in the shrubbery for nearly half anhour. Then, finding all quiet, she stepped over the parterre,and ventured out on the walk. No one was in sight, and sheresolved, though not without hesitation, and many lingering fearsrespecting the safety of Hildebrand, to endeavour to returnunperceived to the house.

  She set forward with a trembling heart, but she grew moreconfident as she progressed, and discovered nothing around, sofar as she could distinguish, to indicate the presence of asingle living creature. Her heart quite bounded as she arrived infront of the house, and she mounted the flight of steps at thedoor, under the shelter of the veranda, with a sense of recoveredbuoyancy. Passing over the landing, she paused in front of thedoor, and clutched eagerly at the latch:--the door was fastenedwithin.

  Her head reeled again as she made this discovery; and yet, on amoment’s reflection, she could hardly bring herself to believethat the door was really fastened, and she fixed her hand onthe latch once more. But the door resisted her efforts, and shetried it over and over again, sometimes with all her force, andat others gently, but still with the utmost earnestness, with thelike disheartening result.

  She was very cold, and wet withal, and her tender and delicateframe, from the severe manner in which it had been tried, wasalready fast sinking from exhaustion. How could she bear up tillthe morrow? What resource was left her, in her utter helplessnessand misery, against the terrors and hardship of a night in theopen air?

  In vain she pondered on her situation. The more she thought ofit, in a fruitless pursuit of some one hopeful reflection, thegreater became her misery, and the more confirmed her despair.Nor were the great personal apprehensions that she entertained,and which every moment augmented, the most afflictive element ofher distress; for the solitude around now raised within her ahost of ideal and superstitious terrors, far more grievous anddepressing. For some minutes she hardly ventured to raise hereyes from the ground. The sputtering of the rain on the veranda,a few feet above her head
, made her thrill with fear; if shesought to relieve her wearied limbs by changing her position,either by supporting her arm on the hand-rail, or by leaningagainst the door, the rustling of her drapery, whenever shemoved, turned her heart cold, and conjured up before her the mostmorbid and distracting fancies.

  She might have remained in this position till the morning, but,happening to glance on one side, her eye fell on the dim outlinesof an outhouse, stretching away from the main building, only afew yards from where she stood. This she knew to be the kitchen,and, though she had no doubt of the kitchen being duly secured,she recollected that there was a wood-house adjoining, in a linewith the kitchen, the door of which was fastened only with astaple, and would, therefore, afford her ready access. Poor assuch a refuge would be, it would, in her present destitution,still be a refuge; and it no sooner presented itself to view thanshe hastened to embrace it.

  Quickly descending the flight of steps, she kept close againstthe side of the house, in order to screen herself in its shadow,and pushed forward to the kitchen. On arriving before thisbuilding, she paused a moment, and looked anxiously round. Butshe could discern no trace of any overlooker, and, drawing adeep breath, she again pressed against the wall, and resumed herprogress to the wood-house. As she passed along, however, keepingclose to the wall, she came against the kitchen-door; and,yielding to her involuntary pressure, which its situation in anindenture rendered more forcible, the door flew open.

  A sensation of pleasure rose in her bosom at this unexpectedprospect of a comfortable retreat. Before the feeling had wellsprung up, however, it was overtaken by an opposite one; foras she was about to avail herself of the passage afforded bythe open door, something like the rustling of drapery salutedher ear, and she shrank back in dismay. Looking quickly round,she fancied that she saw a shadow, which had protruded from thedeeper gloom, hastily flit back, a few yards further up the walk;but if this had really happened, it retreated so fleetly, andthe variety of shadows thrown out by the trees and shrubs wereso perplexing, that she could not but regard it with uncertaintyand doubt. Nevertheless, she kept her eye on the spot for severalminutes, intently surveying its every outline, without discerninganything confirmatory of her fears; and, somewhat reassured, sheturned to the door again.

  Passing in, she softly closed the door, and glanced around. Someembers of a fire were gleaming in the andirons, on the side ofthe room opposite to the door, and the light they afforded,though no more than rendered the darkness visible, served as amark for her steps, and enabled her to grope her way forward. Asshe came up to the andirons, her dress caught in something at herfeet, and, stooping to see what it was, she found that there wasa heap of furze, or dried heather, on one side of the andirons,ready for use in the morning. She threw a handful of this intothe fireplace; and the dim embers, revived by her breath, whichshe blew upon them with all her force, mounted into a flame. Alog of wood which she found at hand, and which she laid on thetop of the furze, soon provided her with a good and cheerfulfire.

  The light thus furnished enabled Inez to look round the kitchenmore narrowly. It inspired her, too, with more courage--if thatwhich was derived from an extraneous influence, not from anysource within, might be called courage. Still her glance wastimid and hasty, and the cheering effect of the fire, though itrendered her situation more tolerable, had evidently not relievedher of her many depressing apprehensions. Indeed, this very lightitself, by revealing to her the outlines of every part of theroom, soon presented her with some ground, beyond that whichsprang from her natural timidity, for her very worst fears. Asher survey progressed, she observed the door of a neighbouringcloset, on which the fire shed its full light, slightly pulledback, as though it had been a little open, and was drawn close bysome person within. Her terror was excessive, but it was of thatkind which, by representing escape to be impracticable, impelledher forward, and she made one desperate spring to the closet-door.

  She drew the door open, and the light, pouring full into thecloset, revealed to her the person of a cavalier. But though shestarted, it was not with fear, but surprise; for the cavalier, inwhom she had expected to find a ruthless enemy, was no other thanher lover.

  “Is’t thou?” she exclaimed. “Come forth to the fire.”

  Hildebrand, thus invited, stepped out of the closet, and advancedwith her to the fire.

  “How camest thou hither, dear lady?” he inquired.

  “I came to seek thee, Senhor,” answered Inez, blushing. “I wasafeard, from the manner of thy retreat, that thou mightst havemet some mishap, and be lying disabled in the garden. How didstthou come hither?”

  “It may be briefly told, dear lady,” said Hildebrand. “WhenI had got me behind the curtain, in thy chamber, I found thecasement was open; and, looking out, I observed the veranda overthe rearward door, by which we had gained ingress to the house,only a few feet beneath. Meantime, thy churlish guardian, as Isuppose him, did intrude on thy presence, and I heard him andthee bandying high words. It struck me, on this hint, that, ifhe should hap to fall on my covert, ’twould bring on thee moreparticular injury; and, so thinking, I sought to get me beyondhis reach. The casement being already open, I turned myself overthe sill with ease; and the noise made by your voices, whichanger and jealousy had raised to the very highest parlance,prevented my proceedings from being heard.”

  “’Twas well we talked so loud,” smiled Inez. “But how then?”

  “Clinging round the lower frame of the casement,” resumedHildebrand, “I dropped my feet to the veranda, and there,standing upright, surveyed its height from the ground. It lookeda marvellous great distance, but I knew, from my experienceof such matters, that it got this look of magnitude from theprevailing darkness; and, supposing it to involve but littleperil, I made a bold spring for ’t. My conjecture proved correct,and I lit safely on the ground.”

  “’Twas bravely done,” said Inez, unwittingly clinging more fondlyto his arm. “But having reached the garden, how was it thou didstnot pursue thy retreat?”

  “By this hand,” answered Hildebrand, raising her trembling handto his lips, “I could not have won the street, an’ I had beenminded. I had scarce touched the ground, when a man startedout on the path before me, with something in his hand, which Itook to be a rapier. Though I was not afeard to encounter him,I had no desire to spill blood, and, therefore, I resolved tokeep _perdu_ a while. But he was on the watch, and, whether hesuspected my vicinity, or simply sought to overlook the house,he held his ground, and so kept me close. This wearied me, andI determined, whatever should ensue, to set forward again. Thedarkness favoured me, and, keeping close to the house, I creptstealthily onward, and paused not till I came here. After stayinghere a space, I had concluded to sally out, and, if no one shouldbe about, try to gain the street; but at this juncture, I heardthy step approach, and that, of course, brought me to a stand.Not doubting that thou wast some enemy, I looked round for ahiding-place; and, by good fortune, espied yonder closet, wherethou didst happily discover me.”

  “’Tis a downright tale of adventure,” observed Inez, with a smile.

  “And I will be surety,” remarked Hildebrand, in reply, “thyprogress hither hath also been venturesome. How didst thou fare,lady?”

  Inez, quite reassured by their seeming security, did not hesitateto meet his inquiry with a full account of her excursion, andthe thoughts and apprehensions that, according as its incidentswere favourable or adverse, or her anxiety for Hildebrandmore or less pressing, had marked its progress. Her narrativehad a deeper effect on Hildebrand, whom his recent moments ofreflection had rendered more collected, and less subservient tothe wild impulses of passion, than she supposed; and inspired himwith a more apparent interest than she had looked for. Indeed,in its detail of risks and terrors, it exhibited such a devotedaffection for him, above what he had sought to excite, that hecould no longer regard her as a mere light-of-love, or safelyventure to trifle with her heart. The artless narration awakenedhis better nature, and, by the very confidence that it place
din him, called up in his bosom a sense of remorse, that was farfrom lending a stimulant to the dictates of passion. In therevelation of her fears and anxieties, he saw the tendernessand deep sensibility of her amiable heart, and became aware, bythis discovery, that her character was not composed of the lightelements he had imagined, but of all the choice and sterlingqualities of her sex.

  It would have been well for Hildebrand if he had paused on thisinterposition of his better judgment. It would have been a happyreflection for him, at a more advanced period of his life, thatthe first compunctious qualms of his warm and generous nature hadnot been unheeded, and that he had made a timely retreat from thetemptation which he had so diligently sought. But his remorseand hesitation lasted only while he remained silent. Directly hereplied to Inez, they began to subside, and, with the renewal ofthe conversation, his passion revived.

  If Hildebrand betrayed such indecision under this first trial, itmay reasonably be expected, from her youth and inexperience, notto mention the greater weakness of her sex, that Inez should beoff her guard in an equal degree. Her passion, indeed, was trueand genuine, and was becoming deeper and more deep every moment.It was attachment--not only to his person, but to his thoughts,wishes, and character; an interest in everything that, now orhereafter, in any measure concerned him, and which was graduallyand imperceptibly absorbing all thought and care of herself, andmaking him the leading influence of her most precious affections.

  Her attachment had just attained that crisis, if we may usesuch a term, at which it would be difficult, but might not beimpossible, to uproot or restrain it. Here she might pause, buta single step more, with whatever caution it were taken, must bedecisive and final, and could never be retraced. Whether she knewthis, or not, or ever gave it a thought, she did not pause once,but left her affections without the least guard, and exposedto all the impressions which a fervid and sanguine temperament,free from the least taint of selfishness, could derive from thedangerous and very striking peculiarity of her position.

  The timidity she had manifested on discovering Hildebrand in thecloset gradually wore away, and, whether from the excitementof conversation, or the fellowship that sprang from a senseof surrounding peril, by which they were both alike affected,she shortly became more confident. She had dropped her hold ofHildebrand’s arm, but had suffered him, by way of requital, toretain possession of her small hand, which he probably considereda greater favour. Whatever light he viewed it in, however, itdid not lead him to forget, in the pleasure of the passingmoment, that his situation was one of some danger, and that itwas expedient to make an early effort to gain the street. Afterconversing with Inez for a while, he reminded her of this, andproposed that he should now set out.

  “Ah, art thou so hasty?” said Inez, plaintively. “Even thusrestless, I fear me, will be thy professed love, which will soonwander from me, to light on some other.”

  “I’faith, fair Inez, ’tis thy reproach that is hasty,” answeredHildebrand. “But”--

  “Hush!” whispered Inez, shrinking back on his arm.

  Hildebrand, following her eye, glanced anxiously at the door.Listening a moment, he distinctly heard the tread of footsteps,and some voices, as it seemed to him, conversing in whispers. Hehad hardly time to seize the hilt of his rapier, when the doorwas thrown open, and two cavaliers, with their rapiers alreadydrawn, sprang into the room. The light of the fire, which thedraught through the open door had somewhat brightened, enabledHildebrand to distinguish their faces; and, to his surprise,he recognised in the foremost cavalier an old and unexpectedenemy:--it was Don Felix di Corva.