Mean time his mind could not be easy; he had every reason to imagine his father never would approve of a connexion so mean and unsuitable to the future views he had for his establishment; he dared not mention his attachment, and hourly dreaded the discovery and its consequences. His brother often rallied him upon his passion, and at first persuaded him greatly against the indulgence of a love so improper; but finding Ferdinand inflexibly determined to persevere, he had for some time ceased to speak on the subject. This young man grew daily more enamoured, and every moment more vexed and mortified at her humble situation, and the dangers to which she was exposed by her residence with an unprincipled woman. He had her taught privately several branches of education, and was charmed with her docility and the progress she made in her studies; every hour his love increased, and he determined to marry her privately.
One day walking in the garden, in a very pensive mood, Rhodophil joined him, and affectionately inquired into the cause of his melancholy.—Ferdinand, whose love for Claudina had by no means lessened his affections towards his brother, after a little hesitation, confessed the cause of his embarrassment, his resolution to wed Claudina, and the dread he entertained of displeasing so good a father, whom he dearly loved and honoured.
"If your resolution is taken," replied Rhodophil, "it would be a waste of time to enter into any arguments with you on the subject; the disadvantages attending it must be as obvious to yourself as to me. Your father never will give his consent, and if you do marry her, you must keep the affair secret; your father cannot live for ever."
This last observation shocked Ferdinand extremely.—"Good God!" exclaimed he, "shall I enter into an union where my only chance of happiness must arise from the death of a parent so tender and respectable? Perish the thought! No, let me be miserable from the disappointment of my wishes, but never let me be criminal, detestable in my own eyes." Rhodophil observed, that he was more hurt than was necessary at the hint he had dropped, which meant nothing more than a natural conclusion: "However," added he, 'to prove the sincerity of my fraternal affection, marry Claudina; I will add to your allowance by a portion of mine; you will then be enabled to maintain her, and by removing her to a different quarter of the town may elude all suspicion and observation."
How unequal was the prudence and resolution of eighteen to withstand the incitements of passion, or decline the indulgence of it when sanctioned by a brother! Ferdinand embraced his generous brother with transport, and, blind to all the ill effects that might be dreaded from an union so rash and unsuitable, he no longer hesitated, but the following day he informed Claudina and her aunt of his resolution, and for the first time asked, "Who, and what were her parents?" The aunt answered, "That her father, in early life, had been in the army, an officer; but dying soon after her birth, her mother had only a small pension to live on, which poorly supported her for about three years, when she also died, leaving Claudina to her care; that she (Dupree) having only a hundred crowns a year to live on, had remained in the country until this last year, when she thought it best to remove near the city, in the hope that her niece's beauty would get her a good husband." With this account Ferdinand was satisfied, and not a little pleased to find his mistress owed her birth to an officer, though she was poor and friendless. In a very few days he was united to his Claudina, and removed her to another quarter in the suburbs, where she lived decently, if not elegantly, and having an affectionate heart, and a good understanding, she was grateful for the advantages Ferdinand's love procured for her, without extending her wishes beyond them.
He had been married about six months; his wife promised an increase to their family, when one morning his father, who had appeared uncommonly grave at breakfast, ordered Ferdinand to attend him to the library. He obeyed; the manner, more than the words, struck him, and with an agitated heart he appeared before him.
"Ferdinand," said the Count, in a tone of solemnity, "I ardently wish to see you settled in life, an opportunity now offers not to be rejected. Count Benhorff has offered to give you his daughter, the Lady Amelia, whose large fortune and personal charms render the alliance most truly desirable, and entirely unobjectionable." He stopped, Ferdinand was thunderstruck; this was an occurrence that he had never once dreamt of. He hesitated, faltered, at length muttered out something about 'the impropriety of being married before his brother."
"That is not your business, Sir," resumed the Count; "your brother has other views; Count Benhorff and his daughter have done you the honour of a distinguished preference, and it only remains for you to receive my orders, and I should suppose, to comply with them immediately with gratitude and transport, suitable to an offer so splendid, and so much superior to my expectations of settling you in life; as you well know you have only a share of my personal fortune to expect." "With whatever share you have the goodness to appropriate for me, Sir, I hope I shall be content and thankful, nor meanly wish to aggrandize myself by marriage without I could love and honour the Lady. Pardon me, Sir," added he, gathering a little more courage, "pardon me, therefore, if I do not so readily accord to your wishes as you may expect, but never will I marry a woman I cannot love."
"And what, Sir," said the Count, kindling into a rage, "should prevent you from loving the Lady Amelia, who has a hundred adorers, though she has condescended to single you out, undeserving as I fear you are of the distinction. Tell me, Sir, what are the obstacles to your being attached to so charming a young woman?" Never did Ferdinand experience equal perplexity to that moment; he trembled, and his emotions scarcely permitted him to speak.
"I have no knowledge of her temper; her——."
"Say no more," cried the Count, interrupting him; "no more equivocation, I see I have not been misinformed, you have formed another attachment; say, tell me, is it not so?"
"I am above uttering a falsehood," answered Ferdinand; "I own it, Sir, there is a young woman——."
"Foolish, imprudent boy!" exclaimed the Count, in a violent rage; "your youth hath been seduced into an intrigue with an artful wanton."
"By Heavens! No," cried Ferdinand, "I have not been seduced, nor is she a wanton."
"Hold, insolent!" returned the Count, "and hear me; if you have formed an imprudent connexion, break it off, I will enable you to give a handsome sum, and have done with it. Prepare to carry your addresses to the Lady Amelia; these are my absolute commands, which I expect you to obey, or you are no longer a son of mine."
"Oh! my father," cried Ferdinand,—"reverse that cruel sentence, command not impossibilities."
"I do not," answered the Count, a little softened; "an affair of gallantry has nothing to do with an engagement of honour, an union for life. You are young, and have been drawn away by your passions; but decency forbids you to continue your attachment whilst you are soliciting the Lady Amelia's hand: I therefore request you, Ferdinand, I will not command, I desire you to dissolve your present connexion, and let me have the happiness of seeing you established in my life-time. You are the only pledge left me of a too tender affection: Your angel mother died in giving you life; let not that life so dearly purchased render my latter days unhappy; let me meet her in the realms above with the conscious delight of having completed the happiness of her child."
The Count's voice faltered as he pronounced the last words. Ferdinand was in agonies; he threw himself at his father's feet:—"Spare me, spare your wretched son; oh! Sir, happiness and Lady Amelia cannot be joined with me; happiness consists not in titles, grandeur, or riches: I am moderate in my wishes; my brother will aggrandize your house."
"And you," said the Count, interrupting him with fury, "you resolve to disgrace it. Just Heaven! how am I punished for my errors in the person of my darling son! Yes, you are my punisher; you have chosen to be the instrument of vengeance, to retaliate upon your father, and hasten the few short days that are allotted to me, full of sorrow and despair: But hear me, once more I command you to promise me that you will give up your present infatuation, that you will quit the soci
ety of that woman who has seduced you from your duty. Speak, say you will obey me."
"I dare not deceive my father," replied Ferdinand, with grief and horror in his countenance; "I dare not forfeit my integrity."
"You persist then in your folly, in your crimes," exclaimed the other, in a rage little short of madness; 'then mark my words: The allowance I have given you, I shall resume as long as you resist my will; the creature who has bewitched you I will punish, and if you dare to form any legal sacred connexion with her, my everlasting curses attend you both!"
"Stop, oh! stop," cried the frantic Ferdinand, "she is my wife!" The Count dropped into a chair.
"Wretch! unnatural wretch! what hast thou done?" said he, in a tone of horror, 'thou art now an alien to my blood. I recall not what I have denounced; my curses are registered above; go, leave me, see me no more; dare not to enter any mansion where I reside, for I solemnly protest this is the last time I will behold thee!"—He rose from his chair, withdrew to a closet, and rang the bell. Orders were given to carry every thing belonging to Ferdinand out of the Castle that instant, and never to admit him more within its gates.
CHAPTER VII
Mean time the unhappy youth had fainted on the floor, where he was found by his brother, who recovered and tried to sooth him into composure; but the dreadful curse still vibrated in his ears, distraction was in his looks, and his tongue refused utterance to the emotions of his heart. He was conveyed to Rhodophil's apartment, who assured him he would leave nothing undone to soften his father's displeasure.—"Comfort yourself, my brother," said he, "all violences must subside, time must be allowed, fear not, I will be your friend and advocate, and for means of subsistence you may rely on me."—Ferdinand could make no reply; he pressed his brother's hand, and, attended by the faithful Ernest, left the Castle, and returned to his wife. The moment she saw him she screamed. Never was a man so altered in so short a time. Ernest was obliged to explain to her the discovery which had been made, and she no longer wondered at the grief and despair visible in her husband; she blamed and execrated herself as the cause; and in the height of her agitations absolutely proposed to him to give her up, to renounce her society, and permit her to spend her days in sorrow and obscurity. But Ferdinand would not be outdone in affection and generosity.—"You are my wife," said he; "you have not offended, and it is both my inclination and my duty to protect you, my dearest consolation, under every affliction." Ernest endeavoured to calm the grief and agitations of both; he promised to assist the entreaties of Rhodophil, by every representation that could soften the Count towards Ferdinand, and induce him to think favourably of Claudina.
But in vain was every effort to mitigate the Count's resentment, until one day, long after Claudina had been brought to bed of a boy, (whom Ferdinand named Charles Rhodophil, after his father and brother) when she was walking with her child in her arms, in the skirts of the forest for air, the Count and Rhodophil, who had been on a hunting party, met her; the latter dropped back to speak to her; the Count eyed her attentively, and when his son came up, inquired who she was; with some hesitation he acknowledged she was the wife of Ferdinand. He started, and was silent for several minutes; at length, sighing deeply, "I own," said he, "she is extremely beautiful; she has a child too!—Ill-fated Ferdinand! thou hast undone thyself, and rendered me culpable and wretched; but the infant is at least innocent; I did not curse, not reprobate that, therefore I will allow something to keep it from want."—On his return Ernest was called, and directed to pay them quarterly twenty crowns. The old man was overjoyed, and tried to obtain a larger allowance, but his master was immovable: "To keep them from want is sufficient, it is the charity I would bestow on a stranger, they have no claims upon me."
Glad even to have gained this point, Ernest hastened to them with the intelligence, with a quarter's advance, and bid them look on it as a lucky omen of future reconciliation. Ferdinand was transported; he wrote to his father a letter full of acknowledgments, deep contrition for having offended him, and every possible submission his situation would allow of; but his letter was returned unopened, and Ernest forbidden to mention his name.——Rhodophil frequently visited them, and often made Claudina little presents, which were very acceptable, for they experienced a loss which made their little income very confined. One morning, on coming down stairs, there seemed a disorder in the room very unusual; no fire was made, no preparation for breakfast, and the door of the house left on the latch. Their aunt, who had always performed all the offices of a servant, assisted by Claudina whilst Ferdinand nursed his little boy. This aunt it was plain was gone out, but for what, or where to, they could form no conjecture; however, they exerted themselves to do the necessary offices, but when they came to prepare their breakfast, they could find no spoons, and in a short time after discovered the drawers in the room had been opened, and all Claudina's linen was taken away; they likewise missed Ferdinand's watch, which hung in the room.
Strangely alarmed, they made every possible search, which only served to discover more losses, and to convince them they had been robbed, and by this aunt. Their consternation cannot be expressed; but the cruel truth was unquestionable, and with the very little money they had, they were obliged to purchase necessaries for use, which was a heavy drawback. What could have induced this woman to injure and desert them they could not imagine; but the fact was certain, and the loss and inconvenience great. Claudina was again with child, and this event added to the continued displeasure of the Count, which affected her husband with a deep melancholy, threw her into a low nervous disorder, which rendered her but little capable of domestic business, and but for the kindness of Rhodophil and Ernest, they must have perished. Mean time it was very visible that a heavy dejection overwhelmed the Count, his constitution grew weak, his spirits sunk, his appetite lost.—Every one was alarmed; the physician gave it as his opinion that it was a constitution breaking up, but no immediate danger; at length he confined himself solely to his apartment, and saw only Rhodophil, the physician, and his valet.
Ferdinand was informed of his father's situation, and was nearly distracted. He entreated Rhodophil to intercede for him, 'that he might once more throw himself at the feet of his justly offended parent, and receive a last blessing." His entreaties were rejected—his presence forbidden. He then wrote a few lines, imploring his beloved father to revoke the heavy curse he had laid upon him and his wife.—His brother returned the letter, his father had refused it, and commanded him to mention his name no more. The truly wretched Ferdinand used to walk before the Castle gates for days together, imploring admittance, but all was fruitless; no servant dared to disobey orders, so positively given to the contrary.
One morning, whilst leaning his arms on the outside gate, Ernest came to him: "I will run the risque, follow me to my chamber, Sir, no time is to be lost." More dead than alive, he attended Ernest without speaking, when, at the very entrance of the house, they met his brother. He started back with amazement: "Good God! Ferdinand! how came you here?"
"Pardon me, Sir," said Ernest, much confused; "but from what I hear, my noble master is at the point of death; now, and now only, when he must solicit mercy from his heavenly father, is the time to try if he will extend that mercy, on his part, which he must supplicate from the Almighty."
"You are right," replied Rhodophil;—"Come with me to the anti-chamber, my dear brother, and I will procure you admittance, though all others are forbidden."—Ernest bowed and withdrew; with a beating heart and trembling limbs Ferdinand entered the anti-chamber, where Rhodophil's valet sat, who also started at seeing the unexpected guest his master brought in.
"Wait without," said Rhodophil, "nor at your peril permit any one to enter."—The servant quitted the room.
"Now," said the former, "I will go in and see the state our father is in, and administer a cordial to support his spirits."—Scarcely daring to breathe, Ferdinand waited near a quarter of an hour in all the agonies of suspense and terror.
Rhodophil at len
gth appeared:—"He sleeps," said he, "every thing depends on rest, we must not disturb him, wait a little." Ferdinand bowed his head, he could not trust to his voice, his heart beat with increasing violence. Near half an hour elapsed, when his attention was suddenly roused by two or three deep groans. He started, and flew to the door; a short gallery communicated to the bed chamber of the Count, there he listened, a kind of bustle seemed to be in the room, but the groans were not repeated; his hand was on the lock, hardly sensible whether he intended to open it or not, when it was suddenly opened on the other side. The Count's valet appeared: "Be so good to return!" said he, "all is over, my master is no more!"
Ferdinand tottered back into the other room, and fell lifeless on the floor, where his brother found him on his return to the library, at which period this history began.
The subsequent circumstances have been fully related, and having sent Ferdinand to Vienna, we shall attend to Claudina and her children, who were for several days inconsolable for the departure of her husband.
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 153