Mean time, Ferdinand felt a good deal of vexation at Fatima's conduct. His reverence to the memory of his father would have led him any lengths to have preserved his child from infamy; but it was too evident that her heart was debased by the way of life she had chosen for herself, and that the loose principles of the parent had descended to the children. Again he sighed at the truth painful experience had taught him, 'that the principles and character of parents is an essential consideration, when about to form a union with a young person for life; since example, as well as precept, must influence the disposition and actions of young and ductile minds, and lay the foundation for progressive virtue or vice."
At a proper hour, the two gentlemen repaired to the house of Dr. Renau, and were introduced to Louisa.—She was seated in an arm chair, and accompanied by Madam Blomfielde, the physician's aunt, who rose at their entrance, and after a few compliments, left the room. They congratulated the invalid on her appearance, so much for the better.
"I am indeed," said she, "under infinite obligations to you, gentlemen, and to the good Doctor; and feeling myself in safety from the power and machinations of the most profligate of men, has restored a comparative peace to my mind, which has its influence on my general state of health. Permit me also to felicitate myself and you, on your preservation from death, an event so unquestionably believed by all your friends, that seeing you, Sir (addressing Ferdinand) follow the Turk into the room, occasioned the faintings I was seized with, the weakened state of my head at that moment leading me to suppose it was your spirit emerged from the grave. Forgive me, therefore, if I am desirous of knowing why the report of your death was circulated, and why you have concealed yourselves from your friends."
Ferdinand, without entering into a particular detail, briefly mentioned their captivity, and recent return into Germany; adding, that they had sent off letters to all those whom they supposed might be interested in their fate, and hourly expected letters.—"You may be certain," said he, "we did not omit writing to Mr. D'Alenberg."
"Ah!" cried Louisa, "had those letters reached him before we quitted Suabia, 'tis more than probable we should not have undertaken this journey, and my dear friends would have been spared much sorrow and anxiety. If you will allow for the pauses my weakness may occasion, I will give you a short account of the events which have thus, fortunately for me, procured us a meeting.
"For some time after your departure, my friend Theresa exerted herself to heal the wounds of my mind, and administer to the recovery of my health. I was grateful for her kindness, though it had not its deserved success. Unhappily she caught the contagion of melancholy, and from a disposition of the most enchanting vivacity, changed to a despondency, a kind of habitual gloom in every word and action, that alarmed us inexpressibly. The distress and despair of Mr. D'Alenberg cannot be expressed. She resisted every persuasion, even prayers and tears, to draw from her the cause of such an alarming change, always protesting she could not account for it; that she had no disquietudes, nor any thing that afflicted her mind, but that she had taken an inclination for a monastic life. This inclination her worthy father opposed, and besought her, in the most moving terms, not to desert him, and render his future days wretched.
"With some difficulty she was brought to relinquish her design, and promised she would struggle against the malady that oppressed her.
"I reproached myself incessantly as the cause of her disorder; I would have left the house which I had infected with melancholy, but she protested violently against my design, and I was compelled to submit. Mr. D'Alenberg could assign no other probable idea for her distress of mind, than that she had deceived herself, and was actually warmly attached to the unworthy Count Wolfran."
"Impossible," exclaimed Ferdinand, warmly.—"A mind pure and exalted as her's, could not, for a moment, entertain a preference for such a wretch."
"The event," resumed Louisa, "justifies your assertion. As I felt conscious that her unhappiness, from whatever cause it proceeded, must originate from me, I tried to assume a new character, to stifle my own feelings, and to cover a breaking heart under the mask of cheerfulness. Every effort of mine was exerted to amuse her. We went to Stutgard, compelled her to go into company, to mix sometimes in the entertainments of the city. She refused no request of her father's, but no change appeared in her disposition.
"One day Mr. D'Alenberg received a letter from his friend, who had introduced Count Wolfran to his notice. He lamented that he had not the power to punish a villain who had so basely deceived him, but that, after the most minute inquiries, he had reason to believe the Count had left the kingdom, to avoid the disgrace and shame attendant on a conviction of such vile actions as he had been guilty of.
"This letter the good gentleman read to his daughter in my presence, both of us carefully watching its effects on her. No change appeared in her countenance.—'Poor wretch,' said she, 'what a mind must he possess, conscious of his base duplicity!'
"'How, my dear!' exclaimed Mr. D'Alenberg, 'do you pity him?'
"'I do, Sir,' answered she.—'When we can despise the man, and know he has failed in his pursuits, that he has had no power to injure us, and must be covered with confusion and guilt, charity may induce us to pity one so completely mean and detestable.'
"Those words, delivered without any emotion either in her person or voice, convinced us that Count Wolfran had no share in the disorder of her mind. A thousand different conjectures we then hazarded to each other, but in three days after, the whole was elucidated at once. Mr. D'Alenberg received some intelligence that grieved him, and too hastily communicated it to his daughter:—Its effects were instantaneous; she fell into violent and repeated fits, that ended in a delirium, and discovered the secret so tenaciously observed, so strictly guarded, that I was equally surprised with her father."
"Ah!" said Ferdinand, "may we presume to ask——?"
"Pardon me for interrupting you," returned Louisa; "I would not hear a question that should make me doubt of your delicacy or prudence; all that I can, in honour confide, you, gentlemen, have an undoubted claim to be informed of; but a secret retained with so much perseverance by my friend, can never be at my discretion to reveal."
"Amiable Louisa," exclaimed Ferdinand, "I stand corrected, and take shame to myself, but do justice to the purity of my motives."
"I do," replied she; "I know they were friendly ones, and I saw the same question trembling on the lips of the Count."
"I own it," said he; "and you must allow it was a natural question, if not a discreet one, and the impulse of the moment; but, pardon our impatience and interruption."
"This secret discovered," resumed she, "gave the severest affliction to Mr. D'Alenberg.—He had not the power to relieve her distress, or procure happiness to his child.—There were certain circumstances that impeded every hope of restoring her to a cheerful turn of mind, and his despair on the conviction was little less terrifying than the dreadful state in which my charming friend continued for six days.
"At the expiration of that period, Heaven heard the prayers of this worthy father, and restored her to reason. It was near a fortnight before she could leave her bed; and then how affecting was the figure she presented! A delicate skin thrown over a skeleton, a look of dignified sorrow, that wounded every eye, and a struggle for that composure so necessary to her father's peace, which now seemed the only object she had in view. So shadowy was her frame, that we almost feared to breathe, lest it should dissolve into air; and when she spoke, so faint, so sweet was her voice, that it penetrated to the very soul.
"Judge what a father must feel; for I see you are affected. Not to dwell, therefore, on a situation so painful, the fortitude she sought to acquire, and her consideration for her father, which still rendered life valuable to a duteous mind like her's, uniting with youth and a good constitution, restored her to comparative health.—The physicians advised travelling, that change of air, and a variety of objects, might dispel that gloom which seemed to impede her nat
ural cheerfulness, and undermine her strength.
"In compliance with this advice, for near two months past we have lived a desultory kind of life, without any fixed plan, but moving from place to place, as fancy or inclination directed. By this management, we have succeeded in amusing Miss D'Alenberg; and though that playful gaiety, and animating vivacity she once possessed, appears to be entirely lost, yet there is a soft complacency, an earnest desire to look contented in every word and action, that highly gratifies her father, and inspires hope, that time and effort may restore her tranquillity.
"About ten days ago, we arrived at Ens, in which city lived a relation of Mr. D'Alenberg, who received us with great kindness. The next evening I accompanied my friend in a walk by the side of the river, not far from our residence. We strolled sometime on the banks; the evening was delightful.—Several boats were passing; the moon was rising in majestic splendor; its beams playing on the smooth surface, and conveying unspeakable tranquillity to the mind. We stood for some time in fixed admiration of the scene, forgetful of the hour, 'till a servant came to remind us of the time we had been absent.
"We were so enchanted with our evening's walk, that we resolved to repeat it the following night, and declined having a servant to attend us, because we apprehended no danger, and wished to be unobserved.
"Unfortunately we were indulged in our request, and we extended our walk, thoughtless of the distance, until no more boats passing, we recollected that it grew late; we turned to quicken our pace home, when suddenly a boat drew towards the shore, and three ordinary looking men jumped out and followed us. Fear lent us wings, though we knew not that they meant any ill. Miss D'Alenberg was more nimble than myself; hastening after her, my foot struck against something, and I fell. Two men instantly seized me; I screamed.
"'Stop her mouth,' cried one of them, 'and bear her off; the other has got the start of us.'
"I heard no more, but found myself carried to a boat, which rowed off with great swiftness. A large cloak was thrown over me, and between terror and affright, I was scarcely in my senses.
"How long we continued on the water, I know not; I was carried out still wrapped up, and incapable of making any resistance. At length I was uncovered; some bread and wine was given to me, which I refused. I saw only strange faces, and demanded to know why I was thus dragged from my friends?
"No answer was given; and in a short time after, a handkerchief was tied across my mouth. I was again tight wrapped in a cloak, and put into a carriage.—When in the high road, I was uncovered—and high time it was, for I was nearly suffocated, and had suffered great agony. We came within sight of a town; I was then obliged to undergo the same misery again, until we had stopped, changed post horses, and were once more on the road.
"Not to tire you with more particulars, in this manner we proceeded, without stopping to sleep on the road, and only taking some bread and wine from the post-houses. At length we entered a wood: No longer able to preserve silence, I cried out, 'Ah! my God, what is now to become of me!'
"Being so frequently muffled up, and having only once taken any refreshment, both my spirits and strength were exhausted, which, with the terror I felt on entering a thick wood at the close of day, entirely overcame me, and I fainted. How long I continued in this situation, I know not; but on my recovery, I found myself in a very decent apartment, with two men and an elderly woman.
"The former perceiving that my senses were returned, ordered the woman to retire; she obeyed, and after a short whisper, one of the men followed her.
"The other having shut the door, advanced close to me, and, to my infinite astonishment, taking off a false covering of hair, and removing a pair of black eye-brows, discovered to me the features of Count Wolfran. I shrieked with the wildest affright.
"'Once more,' said he, 'I have you in my power.—You, who have destroyed my happiest prospects, and blasted all my hopes; who have injured my character, and procured for yourself protectors at my expense. What have you to offer as an atonement for the mischief you have done; what reparation can you make for the ruin and disgrace you have brought upon me?'
"I was speechless at this address: The effrontery, and the well-known villainy of the man, filled me with the most dreadful apprehensions, and impeded any attempt at articulation; he saw, and enjoyed my terror.
"'I see,' said the wretch, 'conscious guilt ties your tongue: Know then, that I have taken my measures too securely for you to entertain any hope of an escape from my power. I have two proposals to make, one of which you must choose—Death or marriage. I should suppose the alternative will not be difficult to decide on.'
"Indignation restored my speech.—'Marriage,' I exclaimed.—'You well know that I am your wife.'
"'Aye,' said he, 'there is the point on which we differ: That is the assertion which I deny.—You were once indeed a kind obliging girl, and chose to patch up your reputation at the expense of mine. But to have done with this foolery,' said he with a stern look, observing my agitation, 'know, that you are either to marry my servant, your old acquaintance, or this house is your grave.
"'Understand me—I do not want your murder to hang upon my spirits, but I am determined to secure you from doing me further mischief. My valet shall marry you, and in justice to him, I shall indulge him with a few days to amuse his pretty wife;—after which, by his authority, you will be placed in a situation that will effectually secure me from any more discoveries of yours.
"'I now leave you.—To-morrow, at an early hour, we shall conclude the business.'
"He then opened the door, and retired.—I heard it locked and bolted on the other side.
"For some moments, I remained fixed in astonishment and terror. I knew him too well to doubt of his resolution, and I saw no means of escaping from his power.—Furious and malignant, he was capable of the most atrocious actions, and I had every evil to apprehend.
"The alternative of death would have been my preferable choice, but that was only thrown out to alarm me.—Murder was not his choice.—For some hours I sat almost stupefied with horror: I found, that during the deprivation of my senses, my pockets had been emptied of their contents. I looked round the apartment; it was a decent room, but without a bed; a sofa, a few chairs, and a table, composed all the furniture.
"One window very high from the ground, with a chintz window curtain: No light was left with me, but fortunately the moon shone sufficiently through the window for me to discriminate every object.
"Rousing at length from the stupor of terror, I placed a chair on the table, and looked through the window; a large garden was under it, and beyond the wood. The distance from the ground was so great, that to reach it, appeared almost impossible; but what will not despair attempt, and ingenuity contrive.
"With some difficulty I got off the window curtain, and with my teeth affected different breaks, by which means I tore it into six parts; but the fear of being heard, obliged me to be long and cautious in doing it.—At length I effected my design; I tied each part together in repeated strong knots; I opened the window softly, and letting it down, saw that it reached the ground.
"There was a chance indeed that it might break, or that my hands might slip; yet as death was far preferable to the evils that impended over me, I was not terrified by the apparent danger. I fastened the end of the curtain to the iron across the window, and with a courage desperation only could inspire, ventured from it, holding firmly by the kind of rope I had made.
"My weight carried me quick down to the first knot: Here my hands were stopped, and it was with the utmost hazard I freed them;—but, by the time I reached the second knot, they were too feeble to support me, and I fell from a great height, but most providentially on a bed of earth, fresh turned up;—and though stunned with the fall, I soon found I had broken no limbs, and in a short time got on my feet, and made towards a door that led into the wood. I had here another difficulty to encounter, to get over the wall, but it was not very high, and I accomplished it, though not without
some injury to my person.
"I was now in the wood, unacquainted with any path-way, and exposed to a thousand dangers; but all weighed light in comparison of those I had escaped from: I therefore pierced through the trees, and walked with all the swiftness my strength would permit, though often obliged to sit a few minutes and rest.
"I believe I must have walked upwards of four hours, when I observed a path to the right, which I entered upon, and in a short time came to a descent, from whence I thought I could discern the top of a house.—The idea gave me spirits; I hastened down the declivity, and arrived at that house where most fortunately I met with you.
"That it was the Count who came next morning, I have no doubt: Nor am I surprised that he should take the lady; but as doubtless she betrayed me, I am greatly astonished that he did not return, and force me from thence.
"Thus, gentlemen, I have accounted to you for my appearance.—Heaven, doubtless, sent you for my preservation; but I feel most poignantly for the affliction I know my amiable friend and her benevolent father must suffer, from the incertitude of my fate."
Louisa having concluded her story, Ferdinand proposed setting off immediately for Ens, to relieve the inquietude of her friends. She gratefully thanked him, but said, she had many reasons to prefer sending a messenger, as it was not unlikely that Mr. D'Alenberg might have left Ens, and the journey prove fruitless; but if he would have the goodness to procure a courier, she would endeavour to write both to him and the gentleman they had visited, and by that means should certainly gain intelligence of their route, if they had quitted the city. This method was adopted, and a proper person soon obtained, who was dispatched with the letter.
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 186