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

by Eliza Parsons

  When they arrived at a part of the country where the road separated, one direction to the East towards Stutgard, and the other in a direct line to Renaud Castle, a little to the South West of Baden, the Gentlemen halted; the Count once more earnestly pressed his friend to accompany him: "For a few days only shall we be separated," said Ferdinand; "I am mortified that I cannot ask you to my brother's Castle, but an unexpected, perhaps an unwelcome guest, myself, I dare not run the hazard of your reception: If I find a welcome, I will immediately dispatch a messenger to you; if on the contrary I meet neither a brother or a friend, within eight days I will insure to myself the possession of the latter by joining you. Whatever may be my reception, you may depend upon me to accompany you on the earliest notice." Satisfied with this assurance, the Count only requested that the servant might attend him, as he would then have a proper person either to send to him, or to wait upon Ferdinand, when he gave him the pleasure of his company. This friendly desire being complied with, they parted reluctantly, both agitated and occupied by unpleasant reflections.

  That same evening, at the close of day, Ferdinand reached his brother's mansion.—He rang at the gate, and when the servant appeared, asked, in the same moment as he dismounted, if Count Rhodophil was at home? The man instantly recollected his voice, and drew near to him: "Heavens bless you, Sir!" exclaimed he, in an accent of joy, "how glad I am to see you returned! No, Sir, my master is not at home, but Mr. Ernest is, and he will be joyful indeed." Ferdinand recommended the servant with him, whose name was Anthony, to his care, and took his way to the steward's apartment. Knocking at the door, the old Gentleman bid him "come in."

  "An unexpected friend salutes you," said Ferdinand, as he opened the door. The voice announced him, and in a moment he caught the good Ernest in his arms.—Wonder and joy precluded speech, and the large drops run down his cheeks as he pressed the former to his breast.—"My dear, dear master!" he exclaimed.

  "My worthy friend!" returned Ferdinand, "you are doubtless surprised to see me; but I seized a favourable opportunity to see my dear boy, and express my thanks to you." He had taken a seat as he spoke, and requested Ernest to resume his: "I have a thousand things to say, and many questions to ask; but tell me, I conjure you, how affairs stand in this Castle; I find my brother is away from home."

  "Yes," replied Ernest, "I believe he is on his daily visit to the Lady Bonhorff."

  "But," said Ferdinand, "he wrote to me that he was very low spirited, and had some thoughts of travelling; the former you confirmed."

  "True," returned Ernest, "and he is still at times seemingly much oppressed, yet I have reason to believe his design of marrying is in a speedy way of being concluded, from the alterations and preparations ordered, and making in the house."

  "Most cordially I wish him happiness," said Ferdinand, adding, with a sigh, "May his union prove a more fortunate one than mine has been; at least he will have no act of disobedience to reflect upon, nor be a weight upon his spirits."

  "Ah! Sir," cried Ernest, 'there are more causes for being unhappy than one, every man has his share of troubles; but, my dear master, you told me you had found a friend, thank Heaven for that." Ferdinand then briefly mentioned his ramble to the Count's Castle, whom he described as a Gentleman retired from society on account of great misfortunes; but that his arrival had made a change in the Count's sentiments, and they were now going to Vienna to attend the opening of the campaign, and he hoped a friendly intercourse would tend to lighten their mutual misfortunes: "You, my good friend (added he) have it much in your power to alleviate mine, if you choose to do so."—"Pray, Sir," cried Ernest, "don't break my heart by such a reflection; what I have sworn to I must fulfil; and do your faithful servant the justice to believe, that, could I communicate one word of comfort or pleasure, I would not with-hold it a moment; for Heaven's sake therefore cease to think on what is past. Let me tell you that master Charles is all you can wish, and that a day will come when every thing concerning Madam Claudina will be cleared up, although you never will see her more."

  "Good Heavens!" exclaimed Ferdinand, "what a torture is suspense! Tell me, however, is she in a Convent?"

  "At present," replied he, "she is not; but in a situation equally dead to the world, and to you: But now, Sir, how do you mean to meet your brother?"

  "That depends upon him," answered the other; "I come not to ask favours of him, I have a noble friend, who is more than a brother already; but the voice you mentioned as having alarmed him, that strange unaccountable circumstance, has it disturbed any other part of the family?"

  "Never," replied Ernest. "Our master's questions, the night he was frightened, gave some strange suspicions to the servants, which were strengthened by a recollection of the odd occurrences about Madam Claudina; but I endeavoured to dispel their apprehensions by several arguments between jest and earnest, and if they still entertain any doubts or fears, they do not express them openly. Last week, my dear master, I gave a sealed packet into the hands of my nephew, directed for you, with a strict charge never to let it pass his hands until my death, without my consent should be first obtained.

  "I mention this for your guide whenever the event takes place that closes all my earthly concerns, and I conjure you, Sir, not to let my nephew be ignorant of your residence wherever you go."

  This request Ferdinand assured him he would observe. They then entered into a detail of family occurrences, until the bell at the gate announced his brother's return. Ferdinand hastened to the parlour, and there waited the Count's approach, as he supposed the servant would mention his arrival.

  CHAPTER IX

  In a few minutes Count Rhodophil entered the room, and with an exclamation of joy embraced his brother, which was as cordially returned. For a moment Ferdinand forgot all past events, and his brother's coolness on former occasions; the seeming sincerity, and warm reception he so little expected, vibrated to his heart, and he felt a true fraternal affection. The Count, after many expressions of joy to see his beloved Ferdinand returned, inquired what had happened to procure him a pleasure so little hoped, though so much wished for? Ferdinand, who had recovered from the momentary transport, was very limited in his confidence, nor gave the smallest hint relative to the story of Count M***; he avowed his intention of returning to the army accompanied by that Nobleman, and that the visit, which affection and gratitude demanded at Renaud Castle, was chiefly owing to the design his brother had intimated of travelling, in consequence of indifferent health and bad spirits; he was agreeably surprised (he added) to observe in the Count's appearance no traits of either the one or the other.

  "I am indeed much better," answered the Count, "and (smiling) have some thoughts of making a different arrangement in my household, which will at least suspend, if not entirely supersede any necessity for a journey. In short (added he) I am going to be married, and what will perhaps surprise you, to the very Lady once offered to you, the Lady Amelia Bonhorff! What say you to this, brother?"

  "That I most sincerely wish you happy," replied Ferdinand.

  "Permit me to observe," said Rhodophil, hastily, 'that you shall not be injured by my marriage; I will still be your banker, and answer all your demands, as I know you are very moderate."

  "I am much obliged to you," returned Ferdinand; "but one motive which brought me here is, to thank you for all past favours, and to acquaint you that henceforth I shall make no farther demands on your generosity."

  "What do you mean?" asked the other.

  "I mean that I have accepted an offer to share the fortune of a friend, not as a dependant, for his soul disdains the idea of conferring favours; but he has given me a title to an independence, that we may be on an equality, and considers himself as the obliged person by my acceptance."

  "A rare instance of generosity indeed," cried the Count, much disconcerted; "you are wonderfully fortunate in acquiring such a friend: But, my dear brother, are you well acquainted with the character of Count M***, for I suppose he is the man? Are you su
re no injurious or unworthy design lurks under the semblance of generosity? He binds you in chains by this free-will offering stronger and heavier far than a state of dependence, which you can at any time reject without reproach; know your man well therefore before you decline the kindness of a brother, and fix yourself the slave of a stranger."

  "I thank you for your caution," answered Ferdinand, coolly; "but I do know the man, and can read his heart, where there is neither guile nor duplicity. There are some minds that are superior to falsehood or reserve, such are open to every intelligent person; his is enveloped by no dark schemes, he has no points to carry, no errors to disguise, under a semblance of friendship."

  "Well, well," cried the Count, greatly confused, which he sought to hide by a haughty air of contempt, "enough of your faultless man, I wish he may prove a disinterested friend. How long pray may I flatter myself you propose to stay in the Castle?"

  "Three days," answered Ferdinand, "if you will permit me to do so."

  "Most certainly, if you can spare me so much of your company: I am sorry you will not remain here long enough to witness my nuptials, which will take place within three weeks."

  "O, Rhodophil!"—cried Ferdinand, wounded to the soul by a painful recollection, "O, Rhodophil! may your marriage be fortunate and happy; blind, inconsiderate and rash, I have dearly suffered for the impetuosity of my passions. You speak not, you ask not after Claudina, yet surely her strange conduct, her sudden disappearance, must sometimes have a place in your thoughts.—Did you never in my absence make any inquiries concerning her?"

  "Why should I?" answered he, in a quick tone, "What expectations could I form, that, if she absented herself from you, any information would be granted to me?—In short, brother, I wish you to forget an ungrateful woman, and therefore I never shall revive the subject." Supper being then announced precluded farther conversation, and Ferdinand retired early to his apartment.

  He retired, but not to sleep; a thousand bitter thoughts obtruded to agonize his mind; he had carefully examined Rhodophil; he saw confusion, restlessness and perturbation, in every word and look; there was a mystery hung about him that he could not penetrate; yet he saw enough to convince him there existed no brotherly affection in the Count, and that he was not a little pleased to get rid of one he considered as a tax upon his honour and generosity. He next reverted to Claudina, then to the voice, which, though he was not credulous in the belief of supernatural missions, yet was it wholly unaccountable in any other light. He passed the night without rest, and when day-light appeared, gladly left his bed, and repaired to that part of the Castle inhabited by Ernest.

  The good old man had just opened his window shutters, and was surprised to see Ferdinand thus early, who entered without ceremony, where he could insure to himself a welcome. They had a long conversation, as the Count was no early riser. Ernest mentioned the shepherdess and her father, with whom Ferdinand had passed a night in the cottage under the hanging rocks: The steward had provided them with a safer and a more comfortable habitation, and they blessed the day which brought the strange Gentleman to the side of the rivulet. Ferdinand declared his intention of going after breakfast to see his son, and of leaving the Castle the following day.

  "Will not the Count be displeased that you shorten the time you first purposed to stay?" asked Ernest.

  "I believe not," replied Ferdinand; "my preference can give neither pleasure nor information; if he is not sincere in his professions of affection, he will be glad to be relieved from the irksomeness of dissembling, and of beholding a man whose penetration he may fear; if on the contrary, I do him injustice, he can set no value on my company, when he knows I have preferred a stranger, by declining all pecuniary favours, and have consented to owe obligations to another;—thus, every way, he can derive no satisfaction from my being here, and he has sufficient employment in his new prospects to engross all his attention." Ernest subscribed to the justice of this opinion, and Ferdinand soon after attended his brother.

  A very general and uninteresting conversation took place at table; both seemed equally desirous of avoiding particular subjects, and when breakfast was over Ferdinand ordered his horse, and set off to see his little boy. The meeting was truly affecting; poor Charles hung about his dear father, and repeatedly cried, "My poor mamma is dead, Yes, indeed, my poor mamma is dead!"—Stung to the heart by the infantile tone of sorrow which accompanied these words, and the reflection that his child was deprived of all those maternal cares so necessary at his early age. Ferdinand could not repress his emotions, but pressed his boy to his bosom, whilst the big drops fell on his face.

  Mr. Dunloff, the nephew of Ernest, now entered the room, and relieved both. To him the anxious father recommended his little Charles in the most moving terms, beseeching him to be a father to his child, and to watch over the first dawning of reason, that, as his mind expanded, his ideas might be properly directed to the practice of truth, humanity, and a proper pride to disdain a mean or unworthy action. "Pardon me, my dear Sir (added he) for presuming to dictate to you, but I am well convinced, that were children accustomed from the earliest dawn of reason to a strict observance of truth, humanity, and generosity; if the virtues were inculcated with the same care, which is generally bestowed to teach them different languages before they are capable of understanding their own properly; if the morals of children were more attended to as the foundation for future improvements, we should see wiser and happier men than are generally met with; but unhappily, in most seminaries for education, the useful is neglected, because the shining, or rather superficial part, is supposed to reflect most credit on the master."

  Mr. Dunloff received those remarks of Ferdinand with much complacency, and assured him, that whilst he presided over the child, it should be his unremitting study to do his duty in the strictest sense of the word, by forming the mind, as well as the manners, of his young pupil, as his reason appeared to expand. "I shall teach him to love me (added Mr. Dunloff) and when I have obtained his affection my work will be very easy, for he will fear to offend."

  Ferdinand was perfectly satisfied with this Mr. Dunloff: "Ah! (thought he) here is the counterpart of our good Ernest; my boy, under his care, will prove a worthy man." After spending a few hours with little Charles and his master, Ferdinand tore himself from the caresses of the former, and returned, oppressed with melancholy, to his brother's house.

  In the evening at supper Ferdinand announced his intention of pursuing his route to the Castle of his friend on the following day. Rhodophil made some faint efforts to detain him, but his manner wanted that cordiality which might have been expected from a brother, and therefore the other found no difficulty in persevering. He arose at a very early hour the next morning, that he might have an hour's conversation with Ernest.—The good old man deeply regretted the necessity which obliged him to leave the mansion of his forefathers, but in the present state of things he could not urge his stay. The conversation that ensued it is unnecessary to repeat, as it afforded no information to Ferdinand, and consisted chiefly of assurances on the part of Ernest to watch over his interests, and to pay a fatherly attention to his little son.

  When the brothers met to take leave, Rhodophil assumed an air of affection and concern, which Ferdinand really felt. He had been for many years accustomed to consider Rhodophil as a brother and a generous friend. The late strange occurrences had deprived him of every comfort, the coldness of Rhodophil, and a suspicion of his duplicity, completed his misfortunes, and obliged him to turn his eyes towards a stranger for every future expectation of peace and support; but the natural and habitual affection he had so long indulged could not be eradicated entirely, and when Rhodophil embraced him his heart glowed with tenderness. "I leave you, Rhodophil, and perhaps for ever; if I die, remember my child; the prospect that now awaits you, may in a short time inform you, what the feelings of a parent are. May you never experience the agonizing pangs I have suffered; but when you become a husband and a father, think of, and pity me."


  His emotions became too powerful to proceed; his brother was still more agitated; with difficulty he pronounced a "farewell," and turned quickly into another apartment. "What! (thought Ferdinand) is he really grieved? Then have I wronged my brother!" That moment Ernest, who had been a distant witness of this scene, observing the looks of Ferdinand, and guessing at his sentiments, drew near to him: "Heavens bless you, my honoured Sir, doubt not of its protection;" adding, in a low voice, "be not deceived by appearances, pursue your plan."—This roused Ferdinand from a momentary self-reproach, and shaking the friendly hand that was humbly extended: "I thank you, my good friend, and will endeavour to deserve your good wishes;" then lowering his voice, "I will remember your admonitions." No more passed; Ferdinand, attended by the servant who had accompanied him, pursued his route to the Castle of Count M***, which was about thirty miles to the East of Baden, between that and Stutgard, the capital of Suabia.

  The wind was high, and the cold very piercing, which retarded his speed a good deal, and finding it would be impossible to reach the end of his journey that night, they hastened to a small village about twelve miles short of it, and arrived, just as the day closed in, at a mean looking inn, at the extremity of a few scattered houses, and, as they were informed, the only house of accommodation in the village. Here, to Ferdinand's great mortification, he found already accommodated Mr. D'Alenberg, a German Nobleman, his daughter, and several servants; in short, there were already many more persons than could be conveniently lodged in that place, and they were consulting in what manner to dispose of their company, when the arrival of Ferdinand and his servant threw them into fresh difficulties.

  The master of the house came out to inform them they could have no room there. A violent drift of snow came suddenly on, the night was dark, and they had a wood to pass through; these circumstances made it impossible to proceed.—"At least (cried Ferdinand) permit me to sit by your kitchen fire; I can be contented without a bed, but to go on a journey of some miles now, you must see, cannot be thought of."